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(APPLAUSE)
Well, thank you so much for that.
Thank you so much for inviting me back to the Opera House.
I remember the first time I spoke here,
I thought, "This is definitely going to be the last time,"
but it's now, I think, even my fourth time here,
so it's an incredibly generous gesture on the part
not only of the Opera House
but also of the whole city of Sydney.
I can't thank you enough.
What I want to talk about today is my new book
and the themes that underlie it,
and I guess it's worth saying that throughout my career,
I've been in search of guidance.
I don't believe that the business of living
is very obvious.
It's not very obvious to me.
On a daily basis, I'm reminded of how little I know
and how things are extremely complicated
and don't necessarily have easy answers.
And this has led me to look in a number of different areas
for what I could broadly call wisdom.
I've looked at the world of philosophy.
I've looked at the world of literature,
of art, of sociology,
and then a few years ago, I began to be interested
in the field of religion.
Now, this surprised me as much as anyone else
because I didn't happen to believe anything,
and still don't believe anything,
and in our society, we assume, naturally,
that those who don't believe
won't really care very much for religion
and won't be able to see anything in it,
but I suppose my whole argument is
that that's perhaps not entirely true.
One of the major divisions of the world nowadays
is between those who believe and those who don't,
between atheists, or agnostics, and believers,
and for about the last, I would say, 10 years or so,
it's been relatively clear, in the minds of many,
what being an atheist means.
Being an atheist means someone
who not only believes that God doesn't exist,
but it also means someone
who thinks that anyone who believes that God does exist
is a simpleton.
(LAUGHTER)
Or an idiot, to put it more politely.
So, in other words,
a rather virulent kind of atheism stalks the land
that essentially believes
that there is something quite wrong with believers.
They are not simply making another choice.
They made very much the wrong choice
and need their errors pointed out to them
in intellectual ways.
They've made an intellectual error,
and therefore, they need an intellectual corrective.
I've got a few quibbles with this,
and my approach is slightly different.
I don't believe
that the question of God's existence or non-existence
is the most interesting one in this topic.
In fact, I think it's incredibly boring and sterile,
because one never really makes any headway.
You know, on the one hand, you've got the believers,
who think the atheists are going to hell,
and on the other hand, you've got the atheists,
who think that the believers are rather stupid,
and that kind of divide is, for me, painful and sad,
and I don't really want to dwell on it.
So I'm taking a different road.
For me, I am an atheist, and so I want to begin, really, now
with something which may surprise you,
and if you feel very strongly about it,
please make your ways to the exit,
and I won't hold any grudges,
but, you know, let's be honest with each other.
I don't think God exists.
Now, let's move on.
-(LAUGHTER) -If we can.
I think that's the end of the matter.
-Now, the greater question is... -(LAUGHTER)
..where...
The greater question is, where are we gonna go from here?
Now we've settled that question, where are we gonna go from here?
How are we going to live a good life? How is our society...
How are our societies to be managed
with that insight in mind?
And I suppose I'm writing for someone
who's a little bit like me, who thinks something like this.
I don't believe in the doctrines of religion,
but I do like singing Christmas carols,
and I quite like some of the passages of the Old Testament,
and I love the music of Bach,
and there's something about Zen Buddhist temples,
and there's something about the moral structure
that you find in certain religions, etc, etc.
You know the sort of person - someone who cannot believe
but is attracted to aspects of religion.
Now, for too long, the choice has been either
you sign up to all the doctrines,
involving many supernatural incidents, etc,
and then you get all those nice bits,
or you find you can't sign up to these doctrines,
and then you're left in a sort of wasteland,
where there's a lot that isn't really attended to.
I want to suggest a different strategy.
I want to suggest it not just for myself
but, as it were, for our own times,
and that's a strategy of stealing from religions,
that atheists should learn to inform themselves
about what religions are up to
and then selectively steal the best bits.
Now, this has been described to me sometimes
as a bit of a pick-and-mix approach,
and the truth is, that's exactly what it is,
and I'm very, very proud of pick-and-mix
when it comes to religion.
Some people say, you know,
I've rifled through the buffet of religions.
Well, that's great. I think that religions are a buffet.
They lie before us, and a lot of what you might put on your plate
is, to my eyes, not that appetising.
But there are some really lovely bits,
so I'm gonna go round with my plate
around some major religions and pick the nicest bits,
in my eyes.
That is my overt strategy.
I don't mean to offend,
but I think that if you'd believe, as I do,
that religions are essentially cultural products,
that they were made by humans,
then there seems to be nothing wrong with choosing among them
like one would with any work of culture.
I mean, imagine... Take music.
You know, imagine you like the Beatles,
and somebody said, "Oh, right, you like the Beatles,
"so I hope you're committed to the Beatles
"and will listen to every single track
"and never deviate and make no time for,
"you know, "Robbie Williams,
"because, really, you must stick to the Beatles,"
that would seem bizarre.
We naturally rifle through the buffet of cultures,
be it in music or in literature -
you can go from a bit of Jane Austen to a bit of Shakespeare
to a bit of James Joyce, and that's allowed.
You can create a playlist.
And that's what I want to suggest
that contemporary society can do as regards religion too.
So, what I want to do tonight is take you through the buffet
and show you the bits that I'm picking.
You may want to pick out other bits.
What I'm trying to show you is a method, and...
'Cause I think at the end of the day,
the method is more important than particular choices, but...
Let me take you through some of these choices.
So one area that I think religions are fascinating in
is the area of education.
Now, education is something that the secular world
prides itself on taking very seriously.
Huge amounts of money are devoted to education, and...
Now, the question is, what is education for?
Well, when politicians talk about it,
the prime explanation is that education will provide us
with the skills necessary to take up a place
in modern capitalism.
So education will give us technical and business skills
to make our societies richer and safer.
But there's another claim that you often hear made
on behalf of modern education,
and you sometimes catch it during the more lyrical moments
of politicians' speeches
or at the end of graduation ceremonies.
And that's the suggestion that education can, in some ways,
make you into a better human being,
a fuller, richer, nobler person -
it can make you into a grown-up citizen.
Now, I like those claims.
I think they do sound rather beautiful.
And I want to explore them, because I think in some ways,
we've failed to honour that second claim
associated with education,
and I think we've partly failed to honour it
because we've forgotten about religion.
Let me explain.
In the 19th century, in the UK,
church attendance started falling off a cliff.
In the middle of the 19th century,
the numbers really collapsed year by year.
And this set off a real panic amongst many people,
who wondered where on earth society was going to find
its sources of consolation, its ethical framework,
its guidance, its morality -
where were these things gonna be found?
They had been the preserve of religion.
Where were they gonna be found?
Now, there was one influential group
among whom you might call the chattering classes of Britain
who came up with a fascinating answer.
People like John Stuart Mill and Matthew Arnold suggested
that there was a ready-made replacement for religion,
and that replacement was called, with a capital 'C', Culture,
works of culture, ranging from the essays of Plato,
the plays of Shakespeare, the novels of Jane Austen -
they comprised a corpus of knowledge and wisdom
that could do very much all the things
that religions have traditionally done.
They too could be sources of guidance,
of morality, of consolation.
In other words, culture can replace Scripture.
That was the dream of a certain kind of reformer
in the mid-19th century.
Now, I actually think this was a really good idea.
I fervently believe that culture can get us through
some of the great challenges of our life.
I'd add a few more things, like cinema
and photography and music,
but all of these things together are vital tools to a good life,
and I think these reformers were absolutely right.
The problem is that that insight
has fallen entirely by the wayside
as regards the modern educational establishment.
I mean, imagine if you went to any university, in Australia,
or even anywhere in the world - say you went to Harvard,
apparently the best university -
and you said, "Look, I've come to study at Harvard
"because I want to find a moral framework.
"I need ethical guidance.
"I need to learn how to love, to live and to die."
The administration people
would start looking at you so strangely,
they'd be dialling up the ambulance,
if not the insane asylum.
This is simply not what the modern educational system
believes it's in the business of doing.
It doesn't believe that it's providing ethical guidance,
a moral framework or consolation.
And the reason it doesn't is that it assumes that people,
once they've become adults,
sort of know how to live.
It's a fairly obvious business, knowing how to live.
You know, you get up in the morning
and you find a life partner and you have children,
you find a job that you like
and you watch your parents die and your friends get ill,
and eventually you're diagnosed with a fatal illness,
and then it's time for you to head to hospital
and gradually shut the coffin
and slide yourself easily into the earth,
and it's kind of obvious - we don't need help.
All of that's kind of pretty much taken care of
without any further need.
Now, that's their view, so their view is,
"Don't drag culture into the business
"of telling us how to live.
"A proper academic, a proper university,
"does not soil itself with these questions."
And that's why the university education system
is suspicious of questions of relevance.
You know, "Why do we want to make this thing relevant?
"There's no need.
"We're rational beings, fully in command of ourselves,
"and we can make this journey on our own, thanks very much."
Now, religions start
from a completely different point of view.
For a start, for religions,
we're only just holding it together.
All of us are in trouble, real trouble.
For religions, all the major religions, at various points,
call us children.
And what do children need? They need help. They need guidance.
And so religions assume us to be broken creatures
who throughout our lives are going to need help.
There is nothing obvious about the business of living,
and we will need assistance throughout it,
throughout our lives,
so guidance is absolutely fundamental.
You know, the Christian concept of original sin
has many dark undertones and associations,
but really what it's trying to get you to take on board
is that from the very beginning,
there's something a bit wrong with you,
and that's what religions tend to believe,
I think, not wrongly, as I'll go on to show, so...
So religions start with this idea of our fragility,
and they see themselves as in the business
of helping us along that journey.
I don't necessarily believe in the advice they give us
at every stage along that journey.
In fact, only at very select moments
can I agree with what they say,
but, but, I'm fascinated by how they feel
that we need this guidance.
Have a think about the ways in which religions
deliver their knowledge to people.
You know, in the secular world,
when people want to deliver knowledge,
they give a lecture.
When religions deliver knowledge,
they deliver a sermon.
And what's the difference between a sermon and a lecture?
Well, a lecture wants to, you know, share some facts,
and a sermon wants to change and perhaps save your life -
in other words, a much more urgent, didactic process
is going on in religions.
So, as I say, I don't necessarily believe
what they're telling us all the time,
or, indeed, for a lot of the time,
but I'm fascinated by the urgency
that religions bring to the business of living,
and I think there's something that the secular world
leaves really quite absent - there's a real gap here.
Now, moving on, moving slightly along this buffet,
kind of a related point -
I've been discussing, as it were, the form of education...
..sorry, the content of education,
but I now want to discuss the delivery mechanisms of education
that religions are working with.
I think religions can be seen
as supremely successful educational machines.
There's never been educational machines
as accomplished as they are.
So let's look at what they do.
Let's look at how come they're so good
at getting their ideas across.
Well, one of their first insights
is that human beings are incredibly forgetful.
Our minds are like sieves.
Religions have been very influenced in the West
by the Greek insight that we suffer
from what the ancient Greek philosophers called akrasia.
Now, what is akrasia?
'Akrasia' is translated as 'weakness of will'.
So weakness of will suggests that there are lots of things
that intellectually we know full well
but practically we don't do or abide by
because we get swept away by the hubbub of events.
Our wills are weak.
And so, for religions,
what you need to do is to strengthen that will
in order to make
the knowledge that you actually believe in effective,
in order to make ideas stick.
So, because you're so forgetful,
one of the first things that religions recommend that you do
is repeat things.
All religions emphasise repetition.
Think of prayers, you know.
At 9:00 in the morning, you get down on your knees
and you say some stuff.
By midday, you'll have forgotten it, so back down on your knees.
By evening time, you'll have forgotten it again,
so back down on your knees, you know, and...
Now, of course, in the secular world,
we associate repetition with sterility.
It's like, "Oh, I've already seen that film.
"Oh, I read that book a year ago."
That's the sort of modern approach.
Now, the problem is, with that approach,
is that it does mean that a lot less sticks.
You know sometimes when you come out of a film
and it's been a really good film and you come out and you think,
"Wow! I want to transform my life."
"'Cause," you know, "that sense of energy
"or love or beauty that was in that film,
"I want to flood my life with it
"and kind of make a new start."
Problem is, by the time you're having your sandwich
at lunchtime the next day,
you've forgotten the film.
And, you know, the next month,
you wouldn't even remember the title.
Ditto with books. We forget everything.
Our minds are like sieves.
And yet the secular world keeps thinking
that you can sit somebody in a classroom at the age of 20,
pour in some really vital stuff and it'll still be there
across a 40-year career in management consultancy.
(LAUGHTER)
The problem is, it generally doesn't work like that.
So, religions are much more careful.
They're careful with time.
Now, what all the religions do is manage our calendars.
You know, our diaries tend to be packed with lots of things,
but when you look at what they're packed with,
they tend to be packed with the appointments of capitalism -
a meeting here, a business appointment,
you know, checking in with a tax inspector.
They're things that we need to keep our working lives going,
or our social lives going.
That's what we put in our diaries.
Now, religions are interesting, 'cause they have diaries -
all of them have diaries - but they put
slightly different things in those diaries.
They put things related to our inner self.
They try and give us appointments
with psychologically important ideas
from a belief that unless they are in our diaries,
we'll just forget about them.
So they want to lend structure,
so every religion has a structure of some sort, so...
Take Catholicism.
You know, on 31 March, you will be thinking about St Jerome
and his qualities of humility and patience, etc.
Every day has an idea associated with it.
And I think it's rather useful,
because I think many of the things that we care a lot about
do slip through the cracks.
Take the moon, right?
Looking at the moon is, I think, a really wonderful,
beautiful, calming thing to do.
You look at the moon and you think, "Well, I'm so small.
"This thing's so far away. The universe is so large."
And somehow your soul is stilled,
some of the anxieties of the day lessen
as you look up at the moon.
And often one thinks,
"You know, I should do this a little bit more often."
But the problem is that we don't.
You know, none of us spend much time looking at the moon.
The reason is we're too busy, other things come along, etc,
so it goes by the wayside, but, but, if you're a Zen Buddhist,
you've got an appointment with the moon,
and that appointment comes in the middle of September,
at the festival of Tsukimi,
where you'll be asked out of your house
and made to stand on specially made canonical platforms
and you'll sing some songs and recite poetry
in honour of the moon,
and you will remember the fragility of life,
the importance of friendship and the brevity of life on earth,
all the while eating some rice cakes.
So it's a charming ritual, a charming ceremony,
designed to put a place in the diary
for psychologically important ideas,
and that's really what a ritual is, you know.
Religions are full of rituals. What is a ritual?
A ritual is a social event that has as its ultimate goal
some inner transformation,
some psychological transformation,
and rituals really throw up the difference
between modern society and religious society.
Modern society is obsessed with spontaneity.
We think we'll find our way to the important stuff
on our own, in our own time.
"No-one should tell me what to do and when to do it.
"It should just bubble up."
And the problem,
however beguiling that is as an idea conceptually,
the problem is, you know, we don't really do it.
Take springtime.
Another lovely ritual that you find, in Judaism this time,
is called Birkat Ha'ilanot
where every springtime, you take a rabbi, or the rabbi takes you,
out into the fields
and you look at the new blossom on the trees
and you recite some poetry and some prayers
in honour of the beauty of the fields and of the new year.
Now, Wordsworth was also doing this.
You know, if you read Wordsworth,
that's what it's all about, or a lot of it's about -
welcoming the new year, blossoms, etc.
The problem is,
and the reason why the ritual of Birkat Ha'ilanot
perhaps has got an edge over Shakespeare in some ways
is that none of us really read Sha...
..not Shakespeare, Wordsworth.
The problem is that none of us actually read Wordsworth.
Well, we might have touched on him at university,
but, basically, you're not really gonna go and dig out
your Wordsworth nowadays.
It's something that is a theoretical possibility
that gets left by the wayside,
and religions, much more forceful,
try and timetable that.
Now, the other thing that religions know
in the field of education and delivery of education
is that if you have an important idea,
it's not enough simply that it is important and reasonable.
You need to get it across in a convincing way,
and in order to get it across so that it will stick,
you need to be a really good public speaker.
I'm letting you down here, but that's the idea.
You need to be a really good public speaker.
Otherwise, however good the idea is, it's just gonna fall limp,
which is, again, why the major religions
invest a lot in oratory,
and you find this at its best, probably,
in the American South, in the Pentecostalist tradition,
and any of you who've been to a Pentecostalist service
on a Sunday down in the American South
will know it's an extraordinary event.
You know, these preachers are amazing.
They'll say some stuff,
and when it gets really convincing and good,
people will say, "Amen! Amen! Amen!"
And if there's a really rousing point,
then members of the congregation will stand up and say,
"Thank you, Saviour. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, Christ."
And there's a kind of call and response with the audience
and, you know, it's a real frenzy.
Now, compare that with the modern university.
-Everybody's there... -(LAUGHTER)
And... You know...
'Cause the prof...the prof
thinks that it's enough that, you know...
He's got a PhD and his ideas are really logical,
so he thinks that's enough, but the problem is it's not,
'cause it's not gonna stick.
And so my suggestion is that some of the profs
be sent over to Alabama for a little bit of instruction
with these Pentecostalist guys
so that at the end of our university lectures,
you'll get people standing up going, you know,
"Thank you, Montaigne, thank you, Shakespeare,
"thank you, Jane Austen."
And there'll be, you know, some real energy in the room.
But until then, things are gonna be quiet in the university.
Now, there's something else that religions remember
when they're trying to teach us something,
and that is that we are not merely brains.
We are not merely machines of reason.
We are embedded creatures.
In other words, we exist within bodies that are sensory,
that are passionate.
We have senses of smell, of sight, of hearing, of touch,
and if you want to try and teach someone something,
religions allege,
you have to involve these senses.
It's not enough simply to target reason.
And so all religions do this to one extent or another.
Take again Zen Buddhism.
One of the most charming lessons of Buddhism
is delivered along with the drink of a beverage,
and that is the Zen Buddhist tea ceremony.
Now, what is the Zen Buddhist tea ceremony?
At one level, it's a lesson in the brevity of life,
the importance of friendship, the value of the community,
all of these things, but it's not just lectured to you.
It's combined with the ritual drinking of some hot tea.
And there's a curious collaboration
and, if you like, sympathy
between the moral of the words that are used
and the moral of the tea,
so something physical is supporting
something psychological or intellectual, if you like,
and you find religions doing this all the time.
Take in Judaism -
Judaism, a religion really interested in forgiveness,
in notions of forgiveness,
but you don't just hear lectures on forgiveness.
If you live in an Orthodox community, every Friday,
the rabbi will lead you to the mikveh, the ritual bath,
which is often in a beautiful setting,
and you're asked to go back over the week,
confess to things that you've done
and ask for forgiveness,
forgiveness both of your friends and also of God,
and then you plunge into some water from head to toe -
you have a really good soak.
Now, I think all religions recognise
that there's some connection between water and lessons.
You find this across the religions.
And we know this from our own lives, our secular lives.
You know, sometimes,
when you want to change your mood in some ways,
you say, "I'm gonna take a bath. I'm gonna take a bath."
But the really life-changing capacity of water,
the capacity of immersion to effect a change,
is something that only religions are picking up on
with their full depth, and I mention this
because it's a characteristic move of these religions
to employ the body to make a lesson.
Let me go on to a few other things on the buffet.
Another area
that I think religions are really interesting in
is the world of art.
Now, in the secular world,
we think we've got art pretty well wrapped up,
'cause we invest a lot in museums, in galleries.
There's a lot of surplus wealth that goes towards the arts.
But I want to suggest that in a way
our relationship to the arts is not going as well as it could be
and that some of the reason is that we haven't properly studied
how religions use art.
It's sometimes said that museums are our new cathedrals,
but in some ways,
I don't think they're quite doing what cathedrals did,
for various reasons.
One of the reasons why art isn't quite living up to its message,
or the claims we make for it,
is that we're obsessed in the modern world
with that ancient... well, old 19th-century adage
which says that art should be for art's sake -
in other words, that a successful work of art
exists in its own realm, in the aesthetic world,
and that it shouldn't have an attempt to change society
or to have an impact directly on people.
It exists in art world,
in that special world called the world of art.
The other thing, the other piece of ideology
that surrounds the display and interpretation of art
is a veneration of mystery.
It's almost as though the more complex
and interesting a work of art,
the harder it will be to explain
what it's doing or what's going on,
and so nice people like you, when you go to a museum,
especially a museum of contemporary art,
one of the common feelings one comes away thinking is,
"What did that mean?"
And that's often a feeling you often get
reading museum catalogues, which often seem
as though they're translated from the German,
even when they're not, so...
So there's a kind of air of mystery
and there's an air of removal from daily life.
Now, this is not at all what religions believe
when it comes to art.
When it comes to art, religions are very simple
about what art is for.
Art is for two things.
Firstly, it's to remind you of what is good -
how you should live, the good way to live -
and secondly, it's to remind you of what's bad -
what's unfortunate, what's sad, what's away from fulfilment.
So that's the dual mission of art.
In other words, art is didactic, and it's a piece of propaganda.
All religious art is propaganda.
Now, when people hear the word 'propaganda',
it's never too far till somebody thinks of Hitler
and somebody else thinks of Stalin.
So in saying this, I'm aware that I'm on a slippery slope.
But I want us to try and hang on
to somewhere in the middle of that slippery slope.
We don't necessarily have to tumble down to the bottom.
And I think religions show us how.
Because if you look at the history of religious art,
the sort of things
that propaganda has been made on behalf of
have often been some quite nice things.
I mean, take something like Rembrandt's
Christ crossing the Sea of Galilee.
Beautiful painting. A piece of propaganda. On behalf of what?
The fascist state? Or, you know, the worker's paradise? No.
It's a piece of propaganda on behalf of courage.
It's trying to remind you of what courage is like,
and it's trying to instil in you
a sense of how you might be more courageous
by looking at the example of some courageous guys
who were crossing the Sea of Galilee one day, and...
Now, why do religions think that we need this kind of art?
Why are they calling up people like Rembrandt?
The reason for religions doing this
is that they think that there are all sorts of ideas
that we have in our minds
that basically lie dormant and ineffective
until they are reawakened by a work of art.
Art turns cliches into things that we actually believe in
and can act by.
So we all believe, for example, that it's nice to be nice
and that we should be good and we should love our children,
we should love the environment and all these things,
and we know all of this, and it's all wise and it's all true.
The problem is we don't really tend to act on it
until a great work of art comes along,
and I'm thinking, you know, it could be a film by Tarkovsky
or 'Hey Jude' by the Beatles, or whatever it is,
and suddenly you think, "Oh! That's what love is."
Or, "That's why I should be," you know,
"caring about the world or loving my children
"or trying to be more tolerant of my partner,"
or whatever it is.
We are reminded in a visceral, active sense of truths
which would otherwise have left us cold,
and that's why religions believe
that you need some artists to hand,
and that's why they've had the phone numbers
of some of the greatest artists in the world at all times.
They knew who to call, and they knew the art needed to be good,
'cause if it was gonna be bad art,
the message wasn't gonna get across.
Now, just think about how different that is
to the way the modern world works.
You know, in the modern world,
there are people of ideas, right,
and, you know, they write their books and they do their things,
but do they ever call up,
you know, the great artists, the great filmmakers?
No, not really - you know, the artists are in one corner
and the sort of thinkers are in another,
but the way you have to conceive of religion
is it's joined up - the thinkers are in touch with the artists.
The thinkers might be telling the artists what to produce.
Very, very different from a kind of modern mindset.
But I think it may be just very important to do that.
There may be something quite essential
about animating our beliefs
by using the works of the great artists.
I suppose what religions are really saying
is that the aesthetic realm is not just superficial,
that the way things look and feel and sound
isn't just something over there
that belongs to a kind of 'House & Garden' magazine
or, you know, 'Interior Design' or some sort of trivial thing.
It's right at the centre of importance,
and it's important because we, as humans,
respond to sensory material.
I remember a few years ago, I was looking to get married,
and I thought, "Right, well, how am I gonna do this?
"Where shall I go, as a nonbeliever?"
And I thought, "Right, well,
"I'm not gonna go to a church or anything like that,
"because, you know, that would be wrong."
So I looked on the website of an organisation
called the British Humanist Association,
and I clicked on their website,
and from the moment the screen came up,
I thought, "Something's a bit wrong here,"
'cause it looked like it had been done by a 12-year-old,
the website - you know how html goes wrong and it's a bit wonky?
Anyway... And then I thought, "I'll keep going."
And then there was a bit which said, "Find your own celebrant",
a guy who's going to help you to celebrate,
so I clicked on the celebrant, and some pictures came up.
And I looked at the pictures of the possible celebrants
I was gonna entrust to this special day,
and I thought, "Ooh, dear."
And partly, I thought,
"Their clothes! They're so badly dressed!"
And then I'd read their prose that they put, and I thought,
"Ooh, there's so many spelling mistakes.
"And it's not very eloquent."
Now, this could sound sort of bitchy and superficial,
but I don't mean it to - I don't mean it to.
What I'm trying to say is that if we're to make a viable world
beyond religion,
we're gonna have to study
what religions get up to very carefully,
and we're gonna have to learn that hats are really important
and shoes are really important and clothes are really important
and the way that language is put together is really important,
and we can't just say, "Right, well," you know,
"there were some errors in the tales of the loaves and fishes,
"and Genesis doesn't quite stack up, so that's enough."
We're gonna need to work a little bit harder,
and religions know this.
Let me move on a bit.
Something else. Moving on the buffet.
Something else that religions are very practised in
and sort of intelligent about, and that is
that if you want to change the world, you've to get organised.
Right? You've got to group together with other people.
It's not a coincidence that the major religions are also known
as organised religions.
In other words, it's not just a chap or two with a good idea.
It's a group of people who've coalesced
and have shown discipline around a set of ideas.
Now, it's interesting - when you look at the modern world,
when you look at people who are interested
in what one could broadly call the soul...
I'm using that in a completely non sort of supernatural way -
the soul, the inner part, you know, the kind of...
..the weighty, important stuff.
The people who are interested in the soul in the modern world
are basically lone practitioners.
You know, they're the poets in their bedrooms,
the writers in their bedrooms, you know, the guitar players,
the psychotherapists, the painters -
you know, they're all off in their little sheds,
in their little studios,
you know, doing their stuff, saving the world.
And...
In other words, the view is, if you care about the soul,
you're on your own, you're supremely individual,
and that's a legacy of that romantic world view
that crops up in the 19th century which says,
you know, "If you've got an important contribution
"to make to humanity, speak alone with your own voice.
"Only the singular lone voice is important.
"Don't learn to read a spreadsheet.
"Don't group with other people."
You know, "Speak purely from the mountain top."
So that's the kind of modern world view.
Now, religions differ a lot. They are organised.
They are multinational. They have rules on how to behave.
They are branded. They're the leaders in branding.
And they show extreme coherence in a lot of areas.
Now, the only thing that's comparable
to religions in the modern world
is multinational corporations.
If you look at the structure
of multinational corporations and religions,
they're eerily similar -
branded, multinational, disciplined, etc.
Lots and lots of similarities.
Except they do, of course, slightly different things.
The religions are in the soul space.
They're doing the kind of soul bit, feeding our soul.
And the multinationals tend to be in the...
..you know, more physical space.
They're, you know, shipping us cement or selling us pizzas
or shoes or whatever it is,
so in the modern world, we've got, you know,
the soul-focused religions, organised, well organised,
you've got the corporations that are well disciplined and focused
but they're selling us shoes,
and on the other hand,
you've got the poets and the psychotherapists
in their bedrooms.
And this seems kind of striking and, I think, a real loss.
No wonder, in a way,
that religions continue to be so powerful
and that the messages of the very good ideas
that secular society has come up with
often don't get through to us.
You know, the revenues of the Catholic Church last year
were $97 billion.
When people scratch their heads and go,
"Why is it that Catholicism
"remains a very powerful force in the world
"when some of their arguments don't make much sense?"
Well, you know, look at that $97 billion for a moment at least.
They're very organised.
They're pooling together the intelligence
of large numbers of people
and they're showing great discipline.
In other words, I'm trying to suggest
that if in the secular world,
the ideas that we fervently believe in
are to have real traction in the world,
we may have to think about organisation,
that organisation seems key to getting things across,
and that the lone practitioner, however pure he might be,
however untainted by commerce and fellowship with others,
is ultimately a very, very weak voice in a lonely world.
We tend to assume that if you want to change the world,
just, you know, write a book and then that all will be fine.
But religions are not just books.
They may have books at their centre that are very important,
but they're also about schools and they're about music
and they're about eating and they're about calendars
and they're about funeral services -
they're about all of this sort of stuff.
And to think you can move on by just, you know,
chucking a few wisely aimed arguments against them
and the whole edifice will collapse,
dream on - of course it won't.
Right. I want to move on to just a few other things on the menu.
Let's look at community.
One of the things that religions
are indisputably rather good at doing
is creating communities, turning strangers into friends,
and one of the things
the secular world clearly has a problem with is community.
I think the modern world is lonely.
We're all hunting for that one very special person.
That's how we start off, you know, in adolescence,
in our early 20s -
we're searching for that one very, very special person
who can spare us a need to mix with everybody else.
So we're all kind of selfishly looking for that special person,
but the group... the group is...
You know. We don't really like the group.
Now, I think it's actually very important to live in groups,
and I think a lot of our neuroses and anxieties
comes from the fact that we're not living
in the sufficiently group way.
Now, don't get me wrong - in the modern city,
in Sydney, in Melbourne, in London -
there are all sorts of gatherings all the time
of people, like tonight and everywhere,
places where you can hang out with people.
There are bars and restaurants.
So for someone to come along and go, you know,
"We're lonely. There's no-one around,"
that's clearly wrong - there are lots of people.
The problem is we don't talk to them, ever,
unless I perform an exercise
which could both be embarrassing and quite fun,
but I don't think I will,
of doing that thing that many religions do,
which is asking everybody
to introduce everybody to each other
by turning to the left and the right,
but I won't do that quite yet - we'll see how it goes.
You guys are not gonna get to know each other.
You're just gonna file out and that's it.
Now, religions regularly take people into a space
and they basically perform a host function.
They introduce them to each other.
They introduce us to each other.
Now, I think below the surface, we're not as grumpy as we look.
You know, when we're walking round, we're all a bit grumpy,
you know, sort of look a bit strange, you know, and...
And the reason is we're scared.
We're scared of rapists and we're scared of murderers
and we're just scared of all the bad people we've read about
and paedophiles and nasty people, so...
That's why we've got to be very careful as we wander around.
But deep down, under a layer, we're actually quite friendly.
Most of us are friendly.
The problem is that it normally takes, you know, a flood, a fire
or a snowstorm until anyone talks to anyone else,
'cause it's just too sort of embarrassing.
Someone did say to me, "That's just 'cause you're in England,"
but I suspect it's a little bit...
..it's a little bit everywhere.
Anyway.
So, what do we need to bring out our sociability?
What we need is a good host.
Now, you know the host from a party, right, so, you know...
Again, quite English.
When you go to a typical English party with a bad host,
everybody's standing like this, looking quite glum,
sheepishly, with their drink,
and it's all quite stiff and quite awkward,
but if there's a good host, they'll go,
"You meet so-and-so, you meet so-and-so, talk to so-and-so,"
and suddenly the party is going.
Now, writ large, without any disrespect,
religions are hosts in their societies.
They introduce people, they bring people in a room
and they say, "It is safe to talk to people here."
It's a very basic thing.
It doesn't require belief in the supernatural.
Many people will often say,
"Look, I've kind of lost my faith a while ago,
"but I do love those services.
"I do love the after, you know, bit
"when you have the tea and the biscuits, that kind of thing."
And they're not wrong. You know, why are they like this?
Because there's not much else going on.
Some people say, "What about the football club
"or," you know, "the swimming club, or the pub?"
And the problem is that not everybody likes swimming
or football or anything else,
that we don't all belong to these specialised hobby groups.
The modern world has hobby groups,
whereas religions have communities,
and the difference between a hobby group and a community
is that in a community, a group of people are gathered
who have, in a sense, nothing in common with each other.
They look weird to each other.
You know, they're different races, ages, colours, etc,
and maybe they're a bit scary-looking,
but the whole process, the kind of spiritual journey,
is to turn that alien person into a human being,
to discover the humanity below the surface,
and that seems like an incredibly
sort of valuable exercise that religions make us do.
Now... I'm really running on. So I'm gonna conclude.
Really, what I want to end by saying
is that even if you don't believe in anything,
as I don't believe in anything,
it really seems vital to learn enough about religion
that you can draw on those bits of it
that still seem to have an awful lot going for them.
You know, if you're in the world of community-building,
look at how religions build community.
If you're in the art world, look at how religions do art.
If you're an educator, look at how religions educate.
Ultimately, ultimately, and I want to end with this point,
ultimately, religions are far too complex, wise, rich, nuanced
to be abandoned simply to those
who actually happen to believe in them.
-(LAUGHTER) -They're for all of us.
They're for all of us, especially nonbelievers.
-Thank you very much. -(APPLAUSE)
Thank you.
But I did want to start with one question from Alison Badahoss,
who says to Alain, "Your latest book refers heavily
"to Christianity, Judaism and Buddhism
"but rarely mentions Hinduism or Islam.
"Why was that?"
Well, I knew from the start that this wasn't going to be a work
of comparative religion.
This wasn't going to be a work
where I kept comparing one religion to another.
If there is a comparison, it's between the secular world
and the world of religions,
and for this,
you don't necessarily need an infinite array of religions.
What matters is to get to know some religions really well.
And they double themselves up in many, many areas.
So I didn't want another Abrahamic religion,
having already got Judaism and Christianity,
and I was very fascinated by Buddhism,
which I didn't know that much about
and now know a little bit more about,
so it was a personal choice,
and, well, almost to say, one shouldn't read too much into it.
We had some wonderful questions from Oliver Damien,
who says, "Do you consider that the cultural means
"atheists can borrow from religion
"will be as potent
"if they are divorced from the bedrock of a firm belief
"in a supernatural reality,
"which, arguably, is what gives them their power?"
Look, I think this is an anxiety on the part of many.
I mean, when I was in London, I did a debate
with a Catholic priest,
and he said to me, rather waspishly, I thought -
he said, "Look, you think you understand Bach, but you don't."
(LAUGHTER)
And he said, you know, "You think you've looked at Titian,
"but your eyes are closed."
And...
You know, and he said, you know,
"And you think you've read John Donne, but you haven't."
And I sort of started getting a bit depressed about this, and...
And then I thought, "Well, look,
"I don't know what you're getting out of all this stuff."
You know, "I don't know what the full-strength dose feels like.
"But as far as I'm concerned, it's not bad."
You know, "I'm really revving up there
"with the Mass in B minor by Bach."
You know, "It's doing something for me."
So I think it's always going to be possible
for believers to say to nonbelievers,
"You don't get it, do you?"
To which, as a nonbeliever, one can only say, "Perhaps,
"but I don't have access to the kind of sensory data you do,"
so all I can say is, it seems enough.
I think we can be getting on with quite a lot
and getting quite a lot out of cultural works
even without the supernatural structure
for which they were, indeed, once invented or created.
Can we go back briefly to your question about organisation
and your very funny reference
to the psychotherapists and artists in their bedrooms -
how do you think they could get out?
How could they get out? That's a big question.
Look, take something like psychotherapy,
which is really close to my heart.
In London, first of all, if you go and see a therapist,
people will still say, "Oh, I'm terribly sorry.
"How is your madness?"
(LAUGHTER)
And you want to say, "Look, it's not that bad.
"I'm just trying to, you know, get more out of life,"
but the dominant assumption - you are a marked person,
you're crazy.
And then when you call up a psychotherapist,
you shuffle along to your GP and you ask for a therapist
and you get referred and you dial a number in Hampstead
and then somebody picks up with a Hungarian voice
and goes, "Hello?"
And you think... "Hello. I'd like to make an appointment."
"Hello?" And the whole thing... And you sound...
You know, the whole thing is just intimidating and peculiar
and very, very odd.
And I contrast that with the priesthood.
You know, contrast that with the Catholic priesthood.
Now, after one's said every last horrid thing
about the priesthood and paedophile priests
and blah, blah, blah - all of which I'm well on top of,
very well aware of, don't forget for a minute -
the priesthood is still a rather interesting institution.
Really, what it is is a group of people
whose task is to minister us through the key stages of life,
from birth to death,
and to offer advice, consolation,
reflection, conversation, etc.
Now, what's the equivalent of that? We don't really have it.
The equivalent is probably psychotherapy.
But the psychotherapists are in their bedrooms,
so, what do we need to do?
Look, I mean, I'm sure there are some entrepreneurs in the room.
The question is not different from any other problem
requiring what one might call an entrepreneurial solution.
It requires that we band together the therapists,
that we give them a nice logo,
that we give them a coherent pattern, etc,
and that we learn why religions are effective
and we use that when designing something
that might work for the secular world.
So, taking inspiration and being creative.
I think, you know, we're still at the dawn of history.
Sometimes it can feel like
we're really, really at the end of everything,
the Romans, and all the rest of it, so long ago,
and we've tried everything, and the basic assumption is,
if it's a good idea, it's already been done,
and if anyone's suggesting now
anything at this very late stage,
it must be mad.
Let's reverse that. We're very much beginning things.
We're learning to live, many of us, now, for the first time,
the first generation without organised religion,
and we're stumbling around,
and we haven't necessarily got all the answers,
but I very much believe that this is a creative moment.
Do we have someone at microphone two?
WOMAN: I'm sorry, I'm a bit short.
Hello, Alain. I'm Sally.
It's a bit related to that last question.
I'm on the same page with you so far - that's great.
I'm just wondering, you know, what's the next step?
Where is this organisation going to come from?
Are you the next leader, or are you merely a prophet, or...
(LAUGHTER)
..is somebody coming along?
And will this new group
include the phrase 'pick-and-mix' in the title?
Right. Well...
One of the funny things about publishing a book is that...
You know, some people say it's absolutely terrible, it's awful,
and sometimes you get emails going, "I've read your book
"and I'd like to sign up - where do I sign up?
"And I'd like to give you all my wealth
"and devote myself to you."
So this can happen... It hasn't. The last bit was exaggerated.
But it...it...it... Look, it can happen.
Look, my answer is, I think we are beyond
the world of organisation
at the level of neo-religious organisation
in the sense of, you know, one structure, with one head,
you know, directing things, etc,
so I believe in organisation, but in miniature organisation,
the organisation of the therapists
or the organisation of people who are going to bury people
or marry people appropriately, etc.
There's lots to be done, and there's lots to be organised,
but I don't think the creation of a new papacy
with a secular pope
is on the cards or is in any way desirable.
We live in a wiki world where truth is multiple,
where we're fiercely individualistic,
and insofar as we do organise ourselves,
it's in relatively spontaneous clusters,
and I think the answer is...
Look, my book is full of suggestions
of things that need doing
in the secular world, everything from building community
to, you know, organising the therapists,
to reorganising travel - there's a whole host of sort of ideas.
And my hope is that, you know, reading the book,
someone might think, "Oh, that's a good idea.
"I might have a go doing that."
And they would organise themselves and... You know.
So it's not like it's gonna be a central thing.
It might just be something that you're inspired by.
Or someone might say, "Look, my idea's not in this book at all,
"but there's something that's kind of analogous
"that will inspire me,"
so I'm aiming to seed inspiration
and get the reader working, by all means, organised,
but no new papacy.
And we were so looking forward to the shoes and the hats.
-At microphone number four. -MAN: Thank you.
Mr De Botton, you spoke about universities and their role.
I'm just interested to know where you think
they should be really filling a similar purpose in society
to what you've spoken about,
turning people into grown-up citizens,
because universities only are going to educate in Australia
about a third of our citizens.
What about the other two-thirds?
Shall they stay not grown-up,
or is there something else for them?
Well, first of all, I'd say a third is not bad,
so at least if we got one-third right,
that would be a really good start -
we could then work on the next two-thirds,
so, you know, looking at the first third,
institutions of higher education are failing there,
as far as I'm concerned, in delivering that promise,
and, as I was trying to suggest in my talk,
they're partly failing because
they have a non-instrumental view of learning.
They do not believe that there is a particular purpose
that can be frankly stated in a few words
to studying literature or philosophy or theatre
or the arts or whatever,
the importance...
You know, one tends to get tautologies -
"It's important because it's important."
And anyone who asks why is either a government official
trying to reduce funding
or a vulgar, nasty person, an accountant,
who's trying to make life meaner,
rather than just someone who genuinely wants to know,
so that's the one-third.
As for the other two-thirds, well, let's look at how
the dominant mood of society is set.
It's set through the mass media.
And the interesting thing about the mass media is
that we've abandoned that to the free market.
The secular world believes in the free market
in all sorts of areas, including the world of ideas,
and the underlying reason for that free market
is a belief deep down that a lot of what you read and hear
doesn't really matter,
so, you know, if you've spent an hour driving
and you've looked at a billboard selling you chocolate
and another billboard selling you a holiday in Thailand
and a third billboard selling you a 4x4,
doesn't really matter, it's not gonna sink in,
it's not really important.
That's the kind of official thing -
it doesn't really matter what we see and read.
All that matters is... Well, we're such grown-ups.
Of course we know what we want.
We're not gonna get sidetracked by an advert. You know.
Now, of course, if you think about that,
of course, we are gonna get sidetracked by an advert,
but, then, that's really tricky
for the governments to take on board,
'cause if we're gonna get sidetracked by an advert,
that means there shouldn't be any advertising,
which is a real nuisance if you're relying on tax dollars
to keep things going,
so suddenly, you're in a really tricky political area
where commercial propaganda, if you like,
turns out to have quite a big impact,
and the question as a society we have to try and work up is,
in the so-called free market of ideas,
what ideas do we want out there?
Is it right that the only people who can pay for a billboard
are certain corporations with certain intentions on us?
And do we want to level that playing field?
And I guess I'd just like to draw your attention to the way
that religions are very, very concerned with public space.
They know that public space affects the inner being.
In the secular world, we think public space
can be sold off to the highest bidder
and it doesn't really matter.
Religions think, no, public space influences private space
and you've got to watch it carefully.
We'll go to microphone three and then we will turn around
and talk to this gentleman here.
So microphone three.
Thank you very much. My name's Nicholas.
And can I say thank you very much to Alain de Botton?
I was reading you when I was 16,
and it's been a long time coming -
I'm glad I got to hear you speak.
Now, you know, I completely agree with your first premise,
that, you know, atheism is right and that there isn't a God
and that, you know, we should all consider how to live.
The problem with trying to find
an atheistic institution, in my mind,
is that the religions always have an advantage
in that they have one central source of authority.
You know, once you take your central premise
that there isn't a God,
how to live can become very interesting.
You can have more relativists, who believe that, you know,
we can go over and live in carrots and kill people,
and then you can have people who believe
in Kant's golden rule,
and so having a group where you can discuss how to live
within different frameworks
becomes a lot more complicated because, you know,
in religions, you at least have one framework to work with.
Yep. I think...
I think that's a really good question
and a really good anxiety
because it's an anxiety right at the heart of modern society.
We live in a world of moral relativism.
And what is moral relativism?
Moral relativism is the fear that any assertion
could be shot down from another side,
so, you know, "Look, I don't believe in eating babies,
"but maybe you believe in eating babies,
"so we'd better watch out.
"I believe that it's fine to," you know, "hit children,
"but maybe," you know, "you don't,"
so we've got to be very, very careful
about saying any things - we might upset somebody.
And anything that you say might get you back the retort,
"Who are you to tell me what to do?"
Now, my secret conviction is
that there's an awful lot of agreement -
there's, in fact, far more agreement than disagreement.
And rather than imagining that once religion has disappeared,
we can't agree on anything
and we're just left in this complete moral vacuum,
we don't know what to do, what to believe or who to trust.
Actually, if you gather a group of Australians,
like everyone in this hall tonight,
and if you said to them,
"OK, let's take a poll about what people believe,"
I would suspect that there would be enormous congruence
around some central beliefs.
I think that people here will tend to believe in love,
in kindness, in generosity towards children,
in generosity towards strangers, in the environment, etc,
in equal opportunity, in fairness.
A lot of assumptions can be generalised from
and made to be at the heart of secular society.
We don't lack things to believe,
and we don't lack things that we can agree on.
What we lack is things
that will make the ideas that we already agree on stick
and effective at key moments of our journey through life.
(APPLAUSE)
So, basically, what this gentleman is saying
is that if you look beneath the surface
of many works of modern culture,
you will find a religious substructure.
Gentleman was talking about 'Lord of the Rings'. And...
Now, I agree
that if you look beneath many works of modern culture,
you do find...
You know, if you follow the work of someone like Joseph Campbell,
you do see that there are these archetypes -
the hero, you know, the myth, the mother,
the return, the prodigal son, etc, etc.
These are our stories.
Now, sometimes religious people say, "Aha!
"This shows that we're right, because it shows
"that even though you guys think you are secular,
"in fact, you are still following our stories."
Now, as an atheist, I would flip that round, and I would go,
look, it doesn't mean to say that anyone is right.
It just means that there are some archetypes
in the human mind,
which religions have drawn on
and non-religions have drawn on, and so it goes.
I wouldn't privilege the fact that these myths
have cropped up perhaps first and foremost
within religious texts.
This seems to be more an accident of timing
than a feeling that this is divinely revealed.
MAN: Alright, good evening.
Thank you very much. That was a fascinating talk.
I've got a double-barrelled question
because I believe in getting my money's worth.
(LAUGHTER)
I was interested to know whether there was a precedent
or if you were blazing a new trail
or whether there were any thinkers or philosophers
that you're aware of
that have explored this territory before,
and I was also curious to know about the reaction
from various religions
and perhaps some of the other classical pit bull atheists
such as Richard Dawkins,
if they had come out swinging against your blasphemous work.
-(LAUGHTER) -Yeah.
Well, to answer that,
there was, weirdly, a small cheer at my publisher, Penguin,
when Richard Dawkins did come out
and very grumpily said, "The whole thing's very unnecessary."
-(LAUGHTER) -And, you know...
"We're all OK as it is." So...
And in a way... Look.
In a way, it was interesting, because in the world view
of some of these more militant Oxford atheists,
the idea is that life
is a relatively easy business to get through, you know.
You know, you do your scientific research, you're at high table,
and, you know, things are basically OK,
and, you know, there are just lots of
sort of horrible thick people out there
who all the time, you know, they're just weeping at Mary
and believing in odd things,
and they just need to be set right with some solid reason.
And I think what they tend to underestimate is vulnerability,
and I think that's what, emotionally,
I have a problem with there.
We are clearly all vulnerable creatures,
and to try and persuade someone out of their religion
without paying attention to the vulnerability
and its role in their religiosity
seems, I think, a cynical ploy,
so, anyway, that's...
So the atheists, yes...
Certain kind of militant atheist has been out...
I received a wonderful email.
Someone said, "You have betrayed atheism,"
which seemed to me paradoxical, and...
But as for precedent in history, yes.
Look, there was one guy, called Auguste Comte,
the French 19th-century sociologist,
who, in the mid-19th century, analysed modern society
and decided that we were all gonna fall apart
and fall prey to mental disorders and anxieties
because the only thing that secular society
was gonna be living for
was work and romantic love,
and he believed that a society
fixated on work and romantic love
would be twitchy, and he didn't put it like that,
but, essentially,
would have a wide variety of nervous disorders,
and he believed that what he had to do was to invent a religion,
a secular religion,
that could help people to cope with their anxieties,
so he invented this religion
called the religion for humanity.
It was very, very batty indeed but quite touching.
It had at its centre a maternal figure,
who was actually Comte's girlfriend...
-(LAUGHTER) -And...
Although they weren't actually sleeping together.
It was very much unrequited love.
And he thought that by making her
head of this new religion, she would be grateful,
and indeed - I'm not making this up - indeed, she was,
and they did sleep together, but then she fell prey
to terrible nervous disorders
of the kind the 19th century produced,
and he went crazy and the whole experiment collapsed, but...
-(LAUGHTER) -Nevertheless...
Nevertheless, it's a fascinating thing,
and if ever you find yourselves in a big library,
look up Auguste Comte and his...
I mentioned him in my book,
because he's onto something rather interesting,
and he holds a place...
You know, lots of sociologists are aware of him,
and he never quite goes entirely out of fashion,
because he's touching a raw nerve
that I think we know has not yet been appeased
or kind of dealt with in the modern world.
Number two.
MAN: You may be familiar with the fact
that there is a small schoolyard tiff going on
in our capital city of Canberra today,
and I wondered, apart, perhaps, from shinier shoes,
what you feel our political leaders
may be able to draw from religion
to restore public faith.
(LAUGHTER)
-Goodness. -(APPLAUSE)
Well, look.
Let me give you a non-religious answer, which is mine.
I think the fact you're having this squabble
is not a sign that Australia has reached a new low.
It's a sign of real privilege.
It's a sign that you guys have it good.
Because most countries can't afford this sort of behaviour.
(LAUGHTER AND APPLAUSE)
So even though it's a little bit tedious
and a little bit peculiar,
enjoy - it's not gonna last long, they're gonna sort it out,
and have fun with it, yeah.
I think that's probably the most interesting response
to this whole thing that any of us are gonna hear.
Number three.
MAN: It's actually, I guess, a follow-up on that question.
If attendance at church collapsed in the 19th century,
in the late 20th century, the similar collapse is in
belonging to a political organisation.
What do you think...
Do you think politics played the role of religion
in the meantime, between the 19th century and now,
and is now failing to do that, for a secular world?
And do you think
that the last bastion of that politics as religion
is in the American presidential kind of system?
ALAIN: Well, look,
I think that one of the great innovations
and wisdoms of Christianity
was the separation of Church and state,
at least for a time and in its original form -
"Render unto Caesar," etc -
the idea that there is earthly power and spiritual power.
And even in a secular context, that distinction continues,
and I think that most people, in Australia, in the UK,
in many modern societies,
take it really badly when we feel
that power, that political power,
is edging into the world of religion -
in other words, the world of ethics,
the world of the soul, etc.
When David Cameron responded to the London riots last summer,
he started making comments in praise of personal morality
and discipline, etc, and the world went nuts -
no-one allowed a politician to say that sort of thing.
We don't want our politicians to do that.
That's a very ingrained thing.
So, by all means, organise and use a public voice
for issues of morality and ethics, etc,
but I think the ability to join up political power
with moral authority...
At this point, I probably will invoke Hitler and Stalin,
which I was resisting doing.
I do think that at that point, the slope gets really steeper,
so I am not for giving a moral authority to Julia or Kevin.
That said, I did give...
Two nights ago, I gave my book to Julia.
We were staying in the same hotel -
the Park Hyatt in Melbourne.
And I went to give her my book.
So we'll see what happens.
(LAUGHTER AND APPLAUSE)
And we thought that she was staying up late at night
making a phone call.
I just wanted to ask...
I think that the way that you explained
how secular society can draw from
the traditionalism and the repetitiveness of religion
is...is a really good thing - I love how you explained that.
But I also want to ask, do you think that there's a detriment
or a stagnation that comes from traditionalism
in an emerging society such as ours,
where our understanding's always changing
and, you know, we're learning new things all the time
about our world and our reality, and that's always shifting.
Do you think that that traditionalism
actually stagnates that...
..that update or that shift in thinking or...
Like, a good example of that would have been
Galileo and his discovery of our place in the solar system
and how that was rejected by traditionalist structures,
but then, years later...
I think it's really good that you mentioned Galileo,
because that reminds us that insofar as
the modern world is addicted to novelty,
what's often driving that is science,
and I absolutely believe that's right,
that science needs to march forward, and, you know,
if we were to keep repeating the experiments of Pythagoras,
we'd be lost,
so I don't believe in repetition
in the scientific or technological area,
but there is a real distinction between that area
and what you could more broadly call the humanistic area.
This crops up in...
You know, not to knock the universities,
but let's have one more knock.
You know, the way in which the universities are arranged
is you get scientists in universities
who are trying to advance knowledge
and they're trying to push ahead and do new things all the time,
and they have fantastic discoveries,
they're inventing retinas and growing toenails, etc,
and doing wonderful things.
And then there are the guys in the humanities departments,
and they think, "We'd better pretend to be like scientists,
"so we're going to invent a new discovery, and we're gonna...
"..a new interpretation of Wordsworth
"and a new interpretation of a letter in Keats
"or," you know, "the way that Proust used the alphabet
"or the way that Joyce used the full stop,"
you know, "a new, a vital discovery
"in the world of the humanities," you know.
This is the way that the modern university works.
And I think most people who've looked at that close-up think,
"Well, that's actually nonsense,"
because in this area, unlike in science,
repetition is possible because our psyches, as we all know,
don't show dramatic evolution minute by minute.
The truths that we need to feed our souls
are relatively stable ones.
We keep coming back to some of the same themes.
And if you look, indeed, at the history of literature,
they circle - things are already circling.
The great artists are circling. We're all circling.
And that's OK. So I would make that distinction.
MAN: Is Facebook part of the problem,
or is it part of the potential solution?
Is Facebook part of the problem,
or is it part of the potential solution?
Well, I don't think it's, in itself, part of the solution,
because it's a typical modern instrument
in grouping people together by what they like,
by their personality, and as I tried to point out,
what's interesting about religion as a community
is that it's literally a group of strangers
who might not like each other very much.
In all religions,
there's an idea of hospitality to the stranger, literally -
someone you think, "Ooh! I don't want to sit with that person.
"They look horrid!"
Nevertheless, you're supposed to sit down with them,
and even though they're a bit smelly, maybe,
or they speak a foreign language or they just look a bit odd,
the point is that you undergo a journey
to see the humanity in that person,
and I don't think Facebook's there.
(LAUGHTER AND APPLAUSE)
I'm very glad we did get to the Facebook question,
but to conclude, one of the wonderful questions
that came in via email
was, "Where do you draw the line?
"What are the aspects of religion
"that we should steer clear of?"
Well, look...
I think, you know, there are some obvious things -
cruel abuses and violence and all the things that...
..you know, that we know about, and that, you know,
the Inquisition and the Crusades, blah, blah, blah.
But I think, more interestingly, I, as an atheist,
there are moments when I have to draw the line with friends
who believe or who are spiritual in some way,
and often it goes like this.
People will say things like, you know...
We're standing outside. It's a beautiful night.
Looking at the stars.
And I say, "Gosh, it's amazing," you know,
"One feels so small under this giant cosmos,"
and they'll go, "Yeah," you know, "absolutely, we do."
And then they'll say, "Just...it makes you think
"that there's something there."
And at that point, I go, "No. Not really. Not really."
And I think that's the moment of difference. So...
But by that time, one's...
There's a lot of friendship to be had up to that point.
-You've enjoyed the moon. -We can enjoy the moon together.
Anyway. Thank you.
-(APPLAUSE) -Thank you very much.
Thank you. Thank you.
Thank you.