I see Satan Fall Like Lightning. Rene Girard, Orbis, 2001, 199pp Third Way, 2003, 26 (2):29-30 Girard's breathtakingly innovative book is a Biblically informed anthropology of the role of violence in human society. Although his work has been widely read in secular scholarly circles -this present book even making the national best-sellers list in his native France- it has been sadly neglected by Christian thinkers. The publication of I See Satan Fall Like Lightning in English ought to go some way towards rectifying that. Drawing on striking parallels between Biblical and classical mythical texts on group violence, Girard argues that societies are structured by what he terms a 'single victim mechanism': disputes, conflicts and tensions within societies are resolved by identifying a victim (the scapegoat), who is then violently expelled or killed. This process is cathartic, defusing latent tensions and re-uniting disparate elements within society. Girard identifies the operation of this mechanism in non-Biblical classical literature, such as accounts of the miracle of Appolonius of Tyana, and the expulsion of Oedipus. In these stories, the victims truly deserved their fates, because they had transgressed boundaries and brought ill to their communities. Superficially, the same process appears to be at work in Old Testament texts. Yet for Girard, the Bible is unique in that it exposes the single victim mechanism by taking the side of the victims. The archetypal account is the vindication of Job against his assembled friends, but the idea permeates other passages from the story of Joseph to those psalms that lament that all the world is against them, yet affirm that God is on their side. Girard claims that, in the classical literature, Biblical texts pioneered this subtle yet significant departure from the myths. The New Testament continues and completes this prophetic innovation of the old: in John the Baptist's murder, but of course, chiefly the life of Jesus. In accounts such as that of the woman caught in adultery, Jesus exposed and confronted the single-victim mechanism. Yet the Passion is Girard's key example: the crowd violently turn against Jesus; former enemies Pilate and Herod are reconciled; Pilate skilfully calms a frantic crowd that threatened public order; the crucified criminals join in the mockery; and even his own friends curse and disown him. Yet, as Paul argues in Colossians, the cross publicly shamed the powers and authorities. Jesus' life, teachings and death exposed the single victim mechanism, the violence upon which human society is built. The cross completes the theological and anthropological revolution of the Old Testament. For Girard, this new knowledge of the innocence of victims is a leaven that works itself out in the concern for victims that characterises those societies influenced by Christianity. However, Girard argues that most Christians were blind to this. It took Nietzsche to discover it: yet he despised Christianity as a 'slave morality' that affirmed the lowly against the powerful. Although Girard does not develop his theme politically, his thesis surely has wide application in the analysis of contemporary British politics, from the demonisation of asylum seekers to the Bush-Blair attempt to stir up an international consensus in favour of war on states that they define as belonging to an 'axis of evil'. Just as Rowan Williams built his critique of the Afghanistan war around the story of the woman caught in adultery, Girard's argument might be used to inform a distinctly Christian contribution to many national debates. The book is not without its shortcomings. Girard offers little historical evidence for the hugely controversial claim that our modern culture of concern for victims is of Christian origins. The text is also haunted by its absence of a discussion of the meaning of innocence. Job, Joseph, John the Baptist and Christ were indeed exemplars of blameless victimhood- but the reader is left wondering whether all victims of violence can usefully be described as innocent in the same way. Nonetheless, Girard's lucid text and compelling argument is a model of Christian scholarship that rigorously engages with the secular academy. It deserves the widest possible readership. Nick Megoran Third Way, 2003, 26 (2):29-30 Girard's breathtakingly innovative book is a Biblically informed anthropology of the role of violence in human society. Although his work has been widely read in secular scholarly circles -this present book even making the national best-sellers list in his native France- it has been sadly neglected by Christian thinkers. The publication of I See Satan Fall Like Lightning in English ought to go some way towards rectifying that. Drawing on striking parallels between Biblical and classical mythical texts on group violence, Girard argues that societies are structured by what he terms a 'single victim mechanism': disputes, conflicts and tensions within societies are resolved by identifying a victim (the scapegoat), who is then violently expelled or killed. This process is cathartic, defusing latent tensions and re-uniting disparate elements within society. Girard identifies the operation of this mechanism in non-Biblical classical literature, such as accounts of the miracle of Appolonius of Tyana, and the expulsion of Oedipus. In these stories, the victims truly deserved their fates, because they had transgressed boundaries and brought ill to their communities. Superficially, the same process appears to be at work in Old Testament texts. Yet for Girard, the Bible is unique in that it exposes the single victim mechanism by taking the side of the victims. The archetypal account is the vindication of Job against his assembled friends, but the idea permeates other passages from the story of Joseph to those psalms that lament that all the world is against them, yet affirm that God is on their side. Girard claims that, in the classical literature, Biblical texts pioneered this subtle yet significant departure from the myths. The New Testament continues and completes this prophetic innovation of the old: in John the Baptist's murder, but of course, chiefly the life of Jesus. In accounts such as that of the woman caught in adultery, Jesus exposed and confronted the single-victim mechanism. Yet the Passion is Girard's key example: the crowd violently turn against Jesus; former enemies Pilate and Herod are reconciled; Pilate skilfully calms a frantic crowd that threatened public order; the crucified criminals join in the mockery; and even his own friends curse and disown him. Yet, as Paul argues in Colossians, the cross publicly shamed the powers and authorities. Jesus' life, teachings and death exposed the single victim mechanism, the violence upon which human society is built. The cross completes the theological and anthropological revolution of the Old Testament. For Girard, this new knowledge of the innocence of victims is a leaven that works itself out in the concern for victims that characterises those societies influenced by Christianity. However, Girard argues that most Christians were blind to this. It took Nietzsche to discover it: yet he despised Christianity as a 'slave morality' that affirmed the lowly against the powerful. Although Girard does not develop his theme politically, his thesis surely has wide application in the analysis of contemporary British politics, from the demonisation of asylum seekers to the Bush-Blair attempt to stir up an international consensus in favour of war on states that they define as belonging to an 'axis of evil'. Just as Rowan Williams built his critique of the Afghanistan war around the story of the woman caught in adultery, Girard's argument might be used to inform a distinctly Christian contribution to many national debates. The book is not without its shortcomings. Girard offers little historical evidence for the hugely controversial claim that our modern culture of concern for victims is of Christian origins. The text is also haunted by its absence of a discussion of the meaning of innocence. Job, Joseph, John the Baptist and Christ were indeed exemplars of blameless victimhood- but the reader is left wondering whether all victims of violence can usefully be described as innocent in the same way. Nonetheless, Girard's lucid text and compelling argument is a model of Christian scholarship that rigorously engages with the secular academy. It deserves the widest possible readership. --