The title of this book is a nice pun: not just how we conceive of (think about) God, but also where man’s belief in God was first conceived. But it’s obvious that the author sees religion as not just false but harmful. The first hundred or so pages examine the conflict between science and religion from prehistory to Darwin. But this is a polemical work, with not even a wink towards even-handedness: science is right; religion is wrong.
The study of religion has moved on since the social-evolutionary theories of late 19th-century anthropologists and sociologists of religion such as Comte, Spencer, Tylor and JG Frazer. The author mentions Malinowski and Lévi-Strauss, but the major social science scholars of religion of recent decades are missing: no Bryan R Wilson, no Ninian Smart, no Mary Douglas.
He writes in absolutes, speaking of the “inevitable relationship between religion and social discrimination”; he claims “all religions have awful as well as more comforting features”; he describes the idea that there are two kinds of knowledge as “dangerous”, “insidious” and “sustained deceits”. He states that “supernaturalism inevitably leads to oppressive government and the destructive notion of benign dictatorship”, but makes no mention of oppressive governments opposed to supernaturalism, such as the Soviet Union or China – but then, they’re not benign dictatorships…
How did religion originate? The author sets out his own theory – after first, in a couple of sentences, dismissing a century of scholarship on the functions of religion. He denounces the well-known Durkheimian stance that religion holds society together, instead insisting that “religion fragments societies”. He goes on: “Contrary to the common claim, the unity that religion appears to bring is illusory”; one might expect this to be followed by some debate – but no.
Lewis-Williams identifies three domains of religion: experience, practice and belief – a simplified version of similar models developed by Ninian Smart and others – and devotes a chapter to each. These chapters are the most interesting because at last he sets out his own theory: a neurological explanation for early man’s need for religion. Consciousness is a spectrum from waking to unconscious, and including daydreaming, hypnagogic states, dreaming and various altered states of consciousness up to hallucinations. Religious experiences, he says, are cultural interpretations of neurologically-caused altered states of consciousness. But instead of positing this as one amongst several possible ideas behind religion he states bluntly: “Neurological activity in the brain, not sociality, comfort in distress or a need for explanation, is the foundation on which the whole edifice of religion is built.”
Even the three-tier cosmology of many religions, with worlds above and below, fits into his theory: “Both descent into a tunnel and flight to a realm above… are sensations wired into the human brain and are activated in certain altered states of consciousness.” It’s an interesting idea – but he doesn’t argue this; once more, he just asserts it.
Lewis-Williams is an emeritus professor of cognitive archæology and a specialist on rock art; one might expect some understanding of pre-literate societies. In literate societies beliefs are written down: “Writing dictates precision, and precision inevitably leads to intolerance. On the other hand, small-scale, pre-literate societies do not have a mechanism for pinning down and passing on an approved formulation of beliefs; as a result, they are more humane.” In addition to all the unexamined assumptions in this, has he never heard of oral tradition?
A very odd chapter compares the visions of Hildegard of Bingen and the rock art of the San people of southern Africa; the fact that the San sometimes mixed animal blood with their paint somehow becomes a “striking” parallel with one of Hildegard’s illuminations of Christ’s blood pouring into a chalice. He follows other writers in ascribing Hildegard’s visions to migraines, analysing several of the illustrations of her visions in terms of classic symptoms. Ever the objective commentator, he describes one of Hildegard’s canticles of praise as “superstitious mumbo-jumbo”.
Astonishingly, in the final chapter Lewis-Williams suddenly says “I certainly do not wish to ridicule the devout for whom [religious experiences] mean a lot”, and begins to engage in calm, almost gentle discussion. He asks why America is so strongly religious when western Europe is largely post-Christian. More seriously, he doesn’t enquire why many intelligent people, including scientists, have religious beliefs.
His conclusion seems to be that religion and science could come to a happy rapprochement if only religion would give up all belief in anything supernatural.
This could have been a fascinating book if the author had managed to overcome his bile against anyone who, today or in history, holds religious beliefs. Writing about belief in miracles, he snaps: “Indeed, when should we stop talking about ‘the faithful’ and instead refer to ‘the gullible’?”, while he says of SS Augustine and Thomas Aquinas: “They were not merely ‘of their time’. Their obsessed, twisted minds verged on madness.” Just as in the case of Richard Dawkins (whom he praises), any merit in his arguments is drowned out by the volume of vitriol.
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