I received death threats when I edited Church of Scotland's magazine

The Herald Scotland

26-05-2025

The magazine's editor, Lynne McNeil – formerly of the Herald – has been in post for 23 years. Facing the Assembly's great debating chamber, she delivered a statement in which she spoke regretfully of 'living in a market of diminishing returns', and of the fact that with every church closure and union the magazine lost readers. With church membership now around 68,000 – a staggeringly low figure given its once central position in Scottish life – she said that even if Life & Work were to be reprieved, 'the reality is we would be facing the same situation in six to twelve months'.
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Although the magazine's circulation has been declining for the past two decades, until as recently as 2020 it was still boosting the Kirk's coffers. That's an achievement of which Lynne McNeil should be proud. Oddly, however, even as its impending closure was confirmed, there was a brief discussion of a new publication to replace it at some point in the future, although no details were forthcoming.
This was baffling. If the Kirk needs a magazine to reflect its work and ideas – arguably more essential now than ever – why ditch a well-recognised and long-respected title? Surely with a bit of imagination and willpower there are several cost-effective ways in which Life & Work could continue? To suggest only a few, it could go entirely online, become a quarterly, or outsource its editing and production, as do many public bodies, while retaining editorial oversight and control.
As a former editor of Life & Work, I am saddened to see it go. It's not entirely surprising though. In recent years the Church has been in freefall, haemorrhaging members and money so fast it has taken even the most cynical of us by surprise. It is not just the magazine that is under threat of extinction, but the entire institution.
What became evident while I was editor was that the Kirk's greatest asset – that it represents a wide spectrum of views, from the evangelical to the liberal and all points in between – is also its greatest weakness. Lacking a single cohesive voice, it struggles to make its message heard.
Whereas the Catholic church's well-known figureheads regularly broadcast its position on political and cultural issues, the Kirk often appears to be silent and invisible. Because the Moderator is only in post for 12 months, those outside the pews generally have no idea of who its leader is. Added to which, the multiplicity of views this 'broad church' contains means you could get a different response on affairs of the day depending on whom you ask.
Life and Work magazine is to close (Image: free) The variety of theological positions the church embraces is in many ways admirable – far more appealing, to my mind, than a monolithic institution that imposes a single orthodoxy. But it does not always make life comfortable. As I have witnessed, the tone of debate at the General Assembly can be brutal, even venomous, each side carving slices off opponents with such relish it makes Prime Minister's Questions look like a Quaker meeting.
This was one of the factors that made editing Life & Work challenging. Features, columns and essays had to reflect attitudes from all wings. When one party was displeased – as happened regularly under my watch – the response could be apoplectic. As well as letters and emails of support during my 20-month tenure, during which circulation began to rise, I received death threats and a petition demanding my resignation. And it was to get worse.
I doubt it would be possible to avoid criticism in such a role, however one approached it, but the ferocity and frequency of complaint was gruelling. The only way to avoid conflict, I reckoned, was to stick to the middle of the road and publish material so bland nobody could possibly baulk at it. The problem was, this would also be unbearably dull, and where's the satisfaction – or fun – in that?
Much is made of the fact that Life & Work is editorially independent, but once I was in post it became clear that this assurance was meaningless. Indeed, I wonder if some church members might already be well aware of that since, when discussing a publication to replace Life & Work, one or two Assembly-goers emphasised the need for a publication that can 'speak truth to power'.
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I got my comeuppance when I published an article about Prince Charles's attendance at Crathie Kirk. It was a thoughtful, well-informed reflection on the prince's spiritual search, but Life & Work readers never had a chance to see it.
The day it was to go to press, the panjandrums at 121 George Street read the proofs and went ballistic. Deeming it disrespectful to the royal family, they pulped the entire edition, at a cost of thousands. Later they said that I had willingly agreed to this. The hypocrisy, and the sense of closing ranks, was shocking. Around this time my husband suggested renaming the magazine Pulp It. Soon after, I joined The Herald.
That is ancient history, but what concerns me is that Life & Work will soon be history too. Surely it is not too late for a stay of execution, while a viable rescue bid is mounted to secure its future? Is there no well-heeled benefactor willing to step in and save it?
If not, then by bidding farewell to a magazine that has informed and enlightened the faithful for a century and a half, the Church of Scotland seems to be signalling it is reaching the end of the road.
Rosemary Goring is a columnist and author. Her most recent book is Homecoming: The Scottish Years of Mary, Queen of Scots. Its sequel, Exile: The Captive Years of Mary, Queen of Scots, is published in July