A copy of this book was hurled across St. Paul's Cathedral, London, England, by the Archbishop of Canterbury, to the stupefaction of a vast congregation gathered there to pray for Christian unity. A journalist bought a copy to use it as a "shield", expecting to be attacked by the three thousand people who had participated at the launching of the book in the Ulster Hall, Belfast, Northern Ireland, simply because they approved of its contents. The book was also kicked, trampled and spat upon by a Catholic student in Belfast.

None of these people had read a line of it.

The Anglican primate had lost his temper—and, even more tragically his reason—as swiftly as had the newsman and the university intellectualloid, at the mere sight of its title.

A striking demonstration, if there be need for one, of how religious disputes can still madden people beyond redemption.

If to this is added political strife, then the two turn into the most perilous explosive.

Nations react more irrationally even than single individuals. Since the cumulative weight of history, wishful thinking and vested interests will trigger off the most emotional fanaticisms within otherwise civilized lands.

Yet, wise is the nation which makes ready for the worst to happen.

Avro Manhattan,


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