persuasions is worthwhile, it all too often ends up smudging the boundaries between private and public realms. It ultimately undermines the idea of a shared secular social space where people are judged by what they say and do rather than what they get up to in their heads or behind closed doors. On the other side of the coin, religious institutions have begun to defend themselves in terms of 'social cohesion': they claim to offer communities a space where people can come together in mutual activity, provide comfort and support to families and get yoof off the streets. To get rid of them, the new defence goes, would unravel the very fabric of our society. And it's hardly wrong that religious institutions attempt to deal with contemporary concerns and respond to the public mood. A recent meeting at St Mary le Bow Church in London, for example, discussed the role of neuropsychology in debates about God and the psychological necessity of religious experience; religious leaders have begun both to market themselves as 'therapists' and to get annoyed by the trend. But most worrying in this new defence of religion is the way it's played out in terms of state-set agenda, as if religious institutions and practices become legitimate once they begin to deliver policy objectives. What's interesting is that this move towards premising the more innocuous parts of religion is made by those defending and attacking religion alike. It reflects a more generally fragmented world-view. Undeniably, having a community is