The Undercover Revolution

An amazing older book that looks at the destructive appeal of secular literature (starting with 'good' authors like RLS, and the like.Not a 'warm fuzzy' evan-jelly-goo book, but strong meat for honest Christians to know that we must always guard our minds against being 'formed in the world's [perverse] image. [Rom. 12:2]

If one desires to know the history of the Christian church one must first go to the greatest living expert on the subject. Dr. Murray is impeccable in his research and always makes things very "readable".

A must read! Very insightful and helpful!

Very interesting

Another must read from Murray's pen.

The content of this book is the essence of what Mr. Murray gleaned while reading from a library in Sydney (p. vii.) The man makes good use of his time; he reads to inform himself and to instruct the public. What he read on that occasion were biographies of authors. He asserts that these authors brought about a revolution, and that they did it covertly. It is true that novels became more popular as the 19th century neared its end; and it is a fact that many novelists of that period were anxious to write what had hitherto been forbidden by the guardians of culture. But a title like The Undercover Revolution is too big a door to swing on the hinges of the few novelists that came to Iain Murray’s fleeting attention. The title was probably not Murray’s idea; but he should have resisted it. The subtitle promises even more than the title does. This booklet is not the story of How Fiction Changed Britain. First, fiction, by itself, has changed no nation; second, to the extent that it has changed Britain, more information than what Murray has provided needs to be submitted for proof. To prove the title’s thesis, the biographies of a few novelists will not suffice. The biographies and works of many more novelists than the ones whose lives are overviewed here need to be dissected before attempting to conclude that a covert revolution has taken place. A more pertinent title for this tiny book would be, A Closer Look at Some 19th Century Novelists. A modest essay deserves a meek title; otherwise the reader will feel misled and cheated; his feeling will be well-founded; and the author will be at fault.Though Iain Murray’s effort is not the feat that a fulfillment of his fabulous title would be, it is worth the little time that it takes to read it. The first half is about R. L. Stevenson and Thomas Hardy; the latter half is about subsequent secular novelists, with concluding remarks on whether or not Christianity is fiction. 'Is Christianity Fiction?' is an odd question. What he means, I think, is whether or not Christianity is based on facts and history rather than myths, fabrications, falsehoods, and delusions.Murray does not think the writing of fiction is wrong (p. vii.) What is wrong, and has been wrong for over a century, is the drift in fiction away from moral duty (p. 57.) This fault is easy to spot. What may be easily overlooked, however, is a story’s presentation of the world as the only reality—a godless worldview (p. 69.) This is the most valuable thought in The Undercover Revolution.Though I never took R. L. Stevenson for a Christian, I was surprised at how secular and contemptible he was. The stories that I have read of his do not reflect his character. His Misadventures of John Nicholson so parallels the parable of the prodigal son that I have no doubt that it was for this reason that Charles Neider excluded it from his edition of Stevenson’s Complete Short Stories. Just as Impressionism had much to commend it, being one of the first steps down the ladder toward modern art, a similar observation might be made about the stories of Stevenson, I suppose. In his and Hardy’s day, highly principled reviewers were in the vanguard, and they were sure to catch a novel’s faults, which helped to restrain authors from drifting as far as they would like (pp. 37, 60.) The pressure to conform fiction to high standards of morality was intense. Stevenson conformed more than Hardy did (p. 37.) A Presbyterian minister could mistake Stevenson for a man of faith, even after Stevenson had written all that he would write (p. 59.) The absence of moral pollution is often taken for Christian faith.There are some threads that Iain Murray leaves hanging, and they are bothersome. Though the father sorrowed over R. L. Stevenson’s unbelief, he enabled him in his ungodly course by generously supporting him for most of his adult life (pp. 17, 18, 24.) Murray could have, and should have, followed up on this, and given at least one paragraph of commentary on it. The father was not a victim of a rebellious son; he was a guilty enabler. The other thread left hanging is the opinion of Wilbur Smith that Hawthorne was a ‘believing Christian’ (p. 61.) Murray should have taken a closer look at the life of Hawthorne; if he had, he would have overruled Smith’s opinion. By his writings Hawthorne aimed, not only to entertain, but also to reform the morals of his readers. But morality is not of the essence of Christianity. A Christian is moral; but a moral person is not necessarily a Christian. Hawthorne’s behavior was not wanton, but neither was it saintly. Arlin Turner’s biography abounds with evidence by which to insist that Hawthorne had no saving faith.Writers who are hostile to Christianity usually, probably always, reveal that they are neither agnostics nor atheists. I notice this on a regular basis. They harbor a hatred of the God they know exists. For example, Thomas Hardy, if we are to believe his wife, took pains to avow that God and Christ did not exist (p. 40); on the other hand, he traced a missed opportunity of marrying a certain lady to ‘a stupid blunder of God Almighty’ (p. 42.) Another thing that I regularly notice is that when put into practice, atheism ends in failure. We see this everywhere socialism is implemented. We see it in our public school systems. Bertrand Russell tried for five years to make a school succeed that was sexually open in a brazen manner (pp. 71, 72.) It did not work. Moral license is just one reason why universities have lost their intellectual luster. And immoral professors demand more money than their services are worth. If not for subsidies, many universities would cease to operate.Fiction is more than decadent now; it is fully decayed. A novel by H. G. Wells from 1909 was described as ‘a tract masquerading as a piece of romantic fiction’ by his biographer (p. 51) because it pushed the moral boundaries in such a blatant manner. The novel was ‘banal, humourless, and sentimental.’ This is precisely the complexion of novels that are accepted by our social-engineering publishers one hundred years later. These novels advance lifestyles that are extremely abnormal; as such, their wicked objective is transparent. Because pushing an agenda supersedes everything else, the novels are neither piquant nor plausible; they are boring, bitter, and immature.

It has been noted by other reviewers that Murray utterly fails to substantiate his claim regarding “the influence of fiction upon society” (vii). He claims that fiction is the reasons why “Christianity is a thing of the past for most people in Britain today” (3), that “books were the main means by which it came about” (4).I bought and read this book because Robert Louis Stevenson was reported to be treated prominently, and as I find Stevenson’s fiction to be delightful and profound, I wondered what dangers Murray found in it. Though he has an entire chapter devoted to Stevenson and a few reflections in a later chapter on him, in all of it Murray gives not a single example of Stevenson’s fiction producing the effects he claims.Instead, he focuses on Stevenson’s personal life, and his rejection of the strict Scottish Calvinism of his parents, and indeed of Christianity itself. Having recently finished a full length biography of Stevenson, I can attest that that is all true, but really beside the point, if the point is that his fiction is what did the damage.Further, I’m afraid Murray’s treatment of Stevenson is a bit unfair in places. In one place he quotes W.E. Henley’s criticism of RLS as “incessantly and passionately interested in Stevenson,” i.e. self-absorbed (66). However, the context of their relationship reveals a disgruntled Henley, extremely bitter over a perceived slight on the part of Stevenson’s wife, and perhaps an expression long-standing jealousy. Is that really a fair way to portray Stevenson? Hardly a reliable perspective.As a way to prove a point, he points out that “the last three years of Stevenson’s life were deeply unhappy” (69). However, context again elicits compassion rather than victorious comparisons. His wife suffered from mental illness and her behavior was a source of deep trouble for RLS. Nevertheless, he stayed with her to the end, and did his best to accommodate her. Stevenson’s physical ailments also were a source of pain, and his poor diet and alcohol and tobacco consumption didn’t help either. I read the same biography that Murray quoted from here, and my reaction was the opposite.His personal life aside, I actually think the opposite is true of Stevenson’s fiction. He explores the complexities of human nature, of relationships, and of our experiences of good and evil in ways unlike any other writer. The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is the most famous treatment, but The Master of Ballantrae, Kidnapped, The Black Arrow, even the boyish Treasure Island and the much maligned (but a personal favorite) Prince Otto all push the reader to wrestle with reality which is often more messy than our preferred idealized constructions. Stevenson makes you feel like few other writers to, and I think his fiction should be welcome to a thoughtful Christian, contrary to Murray’s (unsubstantiated) claims.

On the long and winding road of cultural immorality, it doesn't take much to go from books on fiction to open access to pornography. In "The Undercover Revolution" the erudite Ian Murray chronicles the turning point that helped lead western culture and society into profligacy. He offer an alarming and penetrating analysis of this journey towards darkness.Dr. John MacArthur endorses this volume and all pastors should read this revealing brief treatise (112 pages). There Are Moral Absolutes: How to Be Absolutely Sure That Christianity Alone Supplies

This insightful and well-researched little book should be very widely read. Robert Louis Stevenson, Thomas Hardy, H. G. Wells, George Bernard Shaw, and others - well-known English writers of fiction - and philosopher Bertrand Russell - in the late 1800s and early 20th century, wrote their fiction with an agenda, to destroy Christianity in Britain. In this little book, they are exposed for what they were. It is chilling and salutary to read of Stevenson's apostasy, Hardy's renunciation of the Christian church. This group of writers promised the nation freedom but they themselves made shipwreck of their own lives and marriages. On page 50, Murray refers to Strachey;s book Emminent Victorians, and says 'It proved itself far more destructive of the old British values than any legion of enemies.' Strachey anticipated - in 1918 - that 'Our time will come about a hundred years hence' and here we are in a society whose leaders cannot identity what British Values are! On page 71, Murray mentions Bertrand Russell's experimental school, Beacon Hill, which he founded and where he wanted his ideals to be worked out: no authority, no rules, no punishments, no taboos, no sexual limits, nudity encouraged, no national history etc. It seems to this reviewer that his microcosm - which was such a notable failure - is now appearing in the macro of British liberal society. It is a nightmare really, but it is necessary that such an expose of the bankruptcy of liberal socialism (small s) is known.

With this book you get what it says on the label. Fiction changed Britain, and this is an account of part of that process. I feel that this is an introduction to the subject, which one hopes will be expanded and developed further. Well written, easy reading, I recommend it.