The riddle of the world

Previously posted on this blog on July 26, 2018 under a different title. This is what I want to believe in, when I´m not entirely awake or something!

"Lectures on Divine Humanity" by Vladimir Solovyov is a somewhat difficult book, in which the Russian philosopher-mystic expounds his particular version of Christian panentheism. I nevertheless felt right at home. But then, I've been immersing myself (somewhat haphazardly) in panentheist literature for some time. Solovyov draws from a wide variety of sources when spinning his own philosophy: I recognized obvious affinities with Plotinus, Leibniz, Hegel, Schelling, Fichte and Schopenhauer. However, his main font of inspiration must have been more mystical sources. The kabbalists are the usual suspects. Indeed, some of the other names on the panentheist laundry list were probably also inspired by such sources. Finally, I recognized affinities between Solovyov and later writers, including Steiner, Barfield, Grant-Watson and even the process philosophers.

It seems Solovyov is the best blend! He is also believed to be the prototype of Alyosha Karamazov. Both Dostoevsky and Tolstoy were present when Solovyov delivered his lectures on divine humanity. Dostoevsky obviously paid attention - at least to Solovyov's personality (he seems to have been quite a character), while Tolstoy rejected him as absurd and childish.

Solovyov's philosophy is difficult to summarize, so what follows are just a few short sketches.

The most fundamental metaphysical objects, simply called "entities", have three aspects: the atom, the living force or monad, and the idea. The most basic mode of knowledge is a form of subconscious, intellectual intuition which predates both rational thinking and empirical observations. This reminds me of the panpsychism of Whitehead, with its "creative occasions" and "prehension" or "radical empiricism". However, Solovyov's version seems to be a form of idealism, since neither the "atom", the monad nor the idea seem to be really material. At one point, he even says that the existence of the outside world can't really be known for sure, except through faith, a position presumably taken from Fichte. I'm not sure if Solovyov really believed this, since his metaphysics sound very "objective" and centered on God rather than individual consciousness. But then, perhaps Solovyov didn't see any necessary contradiction between an objective and a subjective perspective? In his system, God and the world are con-substantial, and the Trinity is somehow reflected everywhere in creation. The Trinity is the solution to the problem of unity-multiplicity.

There doesn't seem to be any point at which creation "began". Rather I got the impression that Solovyov believed in a constant creation in the Neo-Platonist fashion. Thus, there is permanent unity-multiplicity, rather than creatio ex nihilo. Solovyov explicitly argues for a compatibilist view of divine freedom. Creation and love are necessary for God.

The cosmic fall is the fall of the world-soul or Sophia away from its true source in God. The world-soul is also a unity-multiplicity: both a single organism and a collection of many different entities. (This is presumably similar to the Primal Man, Purusha or Adam Kadmon.) By falling away from God, the world-soul looses its unity and fractures into complete chaos. However, the love of God works to lure the world-soul back to its original state. Our universe is the result of divine love working on the fractured, chaotic multiplicity of fallen Sophia. It's slowly evolving back to God. (Note both the similarity and difference with process philosophy, really a truncated version of this more supra-cosmic vision.) Many of the beings regarded as "spirits" or "gods" are former aspects of our own selves, which have been separated from us as a result of the fall. They are said to be in charge of the evolutionary process. Presumably, they used to be our higher selves. A similar position can be found in Anthroposophy and Theosophy.

In contrast to Schelling, Solovyov doesn't seem to locate the origin of evil in God himself. Rather, evil is the result of the world-soul's free will to fall away from God. Evil results from the fragmentation and finitude of each living creature, which strives to expand itself and survive in hostile competition with other creatures. In the fallen world, evil is inevitable. Everyone is born with radical evil in his heart, and the problem is therefore metaphysical.

At several points in his lectures, Solovyov discusses the evolution of religion. He sees several different stages in this process, which have a dialectical relation to each other in a scheme of thesis-antithesis-synthesis. Original paganism is negated by Buddhism. Greek philosophy and the Judaism of the Law are both negated by the Judaism of the Prophets, with Christianity as a grand synthesis of everything that went before. There are also different stages in original pagan religion: star worship, sun worship, etc. Solovyov's attempts to squeeze the history of religions into a Hegelian (?) scheme aren't very convincing, but his main point seems to be that Christianity is a natural, evolutionary zenith of previous religious traditions, rather than a completely unique revelation de novo. He even attempts to trace the Trinity to pre-Christian notions, Philo in particular. Clearly, Solovyov wouldn't feel threatened by parallels between Christ and the deities of mystery religions. One is reminded of C.S. Lewis in this respect.

Indeed, it's not entirely clear whether the actual person Jesus Christ is a product of internal cosmic evolution or a divine personage coming "from the outside" to the fallen world. Perhaps he's both, or perhaps it really doesn't matter. The universe is, after all, "in" God even in its fallen state. The entities simply doesn't realize it, having posited themselves as completely autonomous. Also, Christ is not simply a person (human or divine), but a kind of collective organism or Primal Man presumably similar in character to the original world-soul before its fall. Solovyov says that the incarnation was natural, in the sense that the world was ready for the incarnation of Christ due to its upward evolution. The end-goal of the process is less clear, but the author does suggest that the Church, or rather the Universal Church (perhaps a mystical category) is a divine organism which wants to freely convert and hence unite with all men on Earth.

Solovyov's view of history is also, I take it, Hegelian. He doesn't reject modernity and secularism out of hand. Rather, he sees the modern West as a necessary antithesis to the institutionalized Christianity of the Middle Ages and Russia, which is no longer based on love. The synthesis will be a voluntary Christian union and society, and Solovyov hopes that his own motherland will lift itself up and bring in this happy state of affairs. (He later lost faith in intra-historical salvation, as seen in his famous "Short Story of the Anti-Christ".) While I consider Solovyov's political ideas the weakest spot in his entire philosophical edifice, he did have two sympathetic traits: he seems to have rejected the most virulent forms of Russian and pan-Slavist nationalism, and he doesn't sound anti-Semitic. Indeed, at one point he writes that the Jewish prophets' combination of positive patriotism and universalism should be a model for Russia!

For more on Vladimir Solovyov, see Frederick Copleston's "History of Philosophy. Volume 10: Russian Philosophy" and N.O. Lossky's "History of Russian Philosophy", which also mentions Solovyov's mystical side and somewhat peculiar personal habits.

Meanwhile, I will give this panentheist best blend five stars.

A sneak peek at Owen Barfield

"History, Guilt and Habit" contains four short essays by Owen Barfield, a British supporter of Rudolf Steiner's Anthroposophy often regarded as an interesting philosopher in his own right. Barfield is otherwise most known for being a friend of C.S. Lewis and Tolkien. Three of the essays are based on lectures held in Vancouver, the fourth on a lecture in California. As usual, Barfield talks about the evolution of consciousness, the development of language and the inability of materialism to explain these things. Not bad, but only a teaser trailer!

Those seriously interested in Barfield can't stop here, but most continue with "Saving the Appearences", "The Rediscovery of Meaning" and "Poetic Diction". Personally, I find Barfield hard to follow and even harder to swallow (his mentor Steiner is even worse!), but he *is* interesting. For a relatively readable introduction to Barfield, see "Romantic Religion" by R.J. Reilly.

Since "History, Guilt and Habit" might perhaps work as a sneak peak, I will give it three stars, but as I said, you can't really stop here...

Not very useful

Owen Barfield's "History in English Words" is something of a disappointment. It's essentially a long-winding exposition on the origins of various English words, usually loan words. I suppose the point is to illustrate the evolution of consciousness, but I don't think Barfield manages to make the tie-in very persuasively or forcefully. The book could be interesting as philology 101, but it's hardly even Barfield 101!

The world according to Albert Linderman

A review of "Why the World Around You Isn´t What It Appears" by Albert Linderman.

I admit that I didn't really like this book, a popularized introduction to the thought of Owen Barfield. Linderman is probably an Anthroposophist, although the back matter doesn't say. Nor does he mention Barfield's connection to Rudolf Steiner and Anthroposophy. He does mention Henri Bortoft, author of two books on Goethe and Gadamer, reviewed by me elsewhere. He also peddles the urban legend that Barfield decisively influenced C.S. Lewis, an idea Barfield himself rejected. The legend is, however, popular among Anthroposophists...

I happen to find many of Barfield's ideas interesting, so I don't necessarily disagree with everything Linderman is saying. The evolution of consciousness, the role of language in shaping our worldview, and the criticism of strict dualism are such interesting notions, although I doubt the evolution of consciousness is as neat and tidy as Barfield (following Steiner) seems to be suggesting.

My main problem with the book (and with Barfield and Bortoft, too) is the contradiction between the idealist idea that "our minds create the world", and the more reasonable idea that our minds "co-create" the world, but that the world is in some sense nevertheless objective.

Sometimes, Linderman takes the second position, as when arguing that Reason exists already before human minds learn to grasp it, or that Thinking precedes both subject and object. Another example is when Linderman argues that the world can be seen from several different perspectives, one of them being the spiritual one, while nevertheless being objectively real. Taking a cue from Barfield, he also regards the mechanistic worldview of modernity as idolatrous, and wants us to break with it, thereby revealing the *real* world. Bingo! So there is a real world, after all, somewhere underneath the modern idols?

However, most of the time, Linderman follows Barfield and Bortoft at their worst, claiming that the only "material" stuff that is real are the subatomic particles of the quantum flux, while objects (such as chairs and tables) are created by our minds through a process of "collective representation". The evolution of consciousness therefore means that *the world itself* is changing. Thus, medieval man didn't just experience the world differently from modern man, the world *really was* different 1000 years ago than it is today. But surely, this is absurd: if medieval man had been sucked into space, he would (of course) die of suffocation, just like modern man, despite imagining space to be nurturing, spiritual and full of meaning... (Perhaps NASA should recruit astronauts from pre-modern cultures in New Guinea?)

Linderman points out (correctly) that we don't see a table "directly", but only through applying a pre-existent concept of a table on a mass of sub-atomic particles. People who were born blind but get their sight restored in old age, don't really "see" a table, or much of anything else, since they lack the concepts necessary to organize the confused jumble of impressions suddenly thrown at their eyes. But this is *not* an argument for a mind-dependent world, but the exact opposite! It's precisely because the world *isn't* mind-dependent, that the formerly blind can't make much sense of it. Why can't they simply create a "collective representation" all their own? It's also ridiculous to suggest that the table isn't really "there", just because some humans don't see it, or don't see it as a table. I can assure you that they will run into the table and hurt themselves, regardless of what "concepts" or "representations" they have... That they won't know what hit them, is just tough. Finally, where does the concept of "table" come from in the first place? Why does this particular messy swarm of quantum particles give rise to a "table", but not to a "chair" or a "philosopher named Barfield"?

These may sound like pretty basic objections, so why do these people nevertheless insist on making the same errors, over and over?

What practical conclusions follow from adopting Barfield's worldview, according to the author? He mentions bio-dynamic farming, which is based on astrology, and various holistic health practices based on meditation, mind-over-matter control of the body, etc. Linderman hopes that a Barfield-inspired vision will lead to a more empathic and harmonious society, more balance between Man and Nature, and a reverential attitude towards life and the cosmos. Following Bortoft and Steiner, the author mentions "Goethean science" as an alternative to modern science. While this is all interesting, it is perhaps a bit too idealistic...

Perhaps that is why some groups of people need to believe that the world is their own "collective representation". A world that really does exist out there, independently of our puny little minds, is a world that doesn't necessarily bow to our wishes and wants. It may take different forms, and be seen from different perspectives, but it's not really ours to command.

For good or for worse, I think that's the only world there is...

The Real Jack

“The Discarded Image” is C. S. Lewis' introduction to the medieval worldview. It was first published in 1964, and has been reprinted on a regular basis ever since. Lewis is mostly known for his tales about Narnia, his science fiction novels about John Ransom, and his Christian apologetics for the general reader. Lewis' “real” job, if that's the name for it, was that of a scholar specializing in medieval and Renaissance literature. Thus, in a sense “The Discarded Image” is the real Lewis.

Of course, it's virtually impossible to describe or even summarize “the medieval worldview”, although Lewis occasionally pretends otherwise in his book. What he is really describing is presumably the high medieval worldview of literate people in England, France and northern Italy as seen through the prism of medieval works of literature and their echoes during the Renaissance. As behoves a series of college lectures, Lewis is occasionally somewhat rambling or frankly boring, but I suppose that goes with the territory!

A few points stand out. Lewis points out that virtually all educated people during the Middle Ages knew that the Earth was spherical, not flat. They also knew that our planet was very small and insignificant, compared to the vast distances in the surrounding space. While it's true that the medieval worldview was geocentric, ideologically Earth wasn't considered the most important part of the cosmos. On the contrary, Earth was the *least* important part. When Dante sees the “true” outline of the universe in “The Divine Comedy”, God's heaven is in the centre, with the material world being a circumference. The medieval literati also knew that the stars were larger than the Earth, and that the sun was larger than the Moon.

Lewis (perhaps taking a cue from his friend Owen Barfield) also believes that the Ptolemaic system was a mere model, not to be taken absolutely literary. It's function was to “save the appearances”, and as long as this could be accomplished by adding new epicycles, that's what happened. Copernicus could avoid the wrath of the Church by proposing his heliocentric system as another mathematical model. However, the medievals never realized that the universe was infinite. Lewis likens the medieval model of the cosmos to that of a cathedral. It may be enormous, but it's not infinite. Above all, it's meaningful, with God at the helm. Medieval man didn't have Pascal's fear of the dark, silent skies.

Other topics covered by “The Discarded Image” include the relationship between Christianity and philosophy, astrology, the Longaevi (otherwise known as fairies or elves), Neo-Platonism, and the Platonism of Chalcidius' important Latin translation of “Timaeus”. Lewis also discusses historicism, and makes the observation that the Hebrew scriptures weren't the only ones with a teleological sense of history. What about Roman epics, such as the Aeneid?

Lewis ends his lectures by pointing out that the medieval model was…well, wrong. However, he also says that perhaps no model is “right”, surely another possible influence from Barfield. “The Discarded Image” isn't for the general reader, but advanced students of the Middle Ages (or the history of science!) might want to sink their teeth into this one. Four stars. And hush…they say Aslan is on the move…

Owen Barfield has a case

"The Case for Anthroposophy" is a small book edited by Owen Barfield, containing extracts from Rudolf Steiner's "Riddles of the Soul". Barfield was a life-long student of Anthroposophy, the spiritual worldview associated with Steiner and his Anthroposophical Society. I readily admit that Barfield's translation of Steiner's article is excellent. This must be the first time the notoriously unreadable Austrian occultist speaks to us in fluent English...or fluent anything! Besides, the Steiner extracts are extremely interesting. I don't think it's a co-incidence that Barfield, who usually stayed clear of the stranger ideas of Anthroposophy (at least in his published writings), choose to translate, edit and publish a relatively sophisticated philosophical text by his spiritual mentor.

"Riddles of the Soul" is an attempt by Steiner to justify Anthroposophical "spiritual science" (really a form of paranormal clairvoyance) epistemologically. It's intended to be read by sceptics and materialists, and functions as a kind of opening to Steiner's explicitly spiritual-religious works "Occult Science" and "How to know higher worlds". The article (or at least Barfield's edited version) doesn't really make a sustained, systematic argument. Rather, Steiner throws out pointers towards a more spiritual worldview.

He makes three especially pertinent observations. First, that empiricist epistemology sooner or later comes to a point beyond which it cannot go, an impenetrable mental wall in our own minds. To modern science and materialism, these are the "limits of knowledge". Steiner observes that those who press against the wall, continuing their search for further knowledge, eventually experience a kind of breach, and gradually acquire new "spiritual organs", making it possible for them to "see" a spiritual reality previously unknown. This, I think, is correct - it's certainly "phenomenologically" correct, since seers and mystics surely do experience this particular "breach in the wall". Steiner, naturally, interprets this phenomenon as representing something real. In this context, he denies that Anthroposophy has anything to do with hallucinations, "visions" and the like. It represents a higher stage of cognition than conclusions based on mere sense-impressions, not a lower one (compare Ken Wilber's pre-trans fallacy).

Second, Steiner points out that the "representations" given to us through our sense organs only represent one dimension of the observed phenomena, and a relatively restricted one at that. The real phenomenon is "deadened" by the process of representation. Yet, we *do* experience other dimensions of the surrounding world, too, but not through our sensory organs or the nerves. Steiner speculates that we experience feelings through the respiratory system, and willing through our metabolism. The bottom line is that most of our experiences are usually subconscious (compare the "prehending" of Whitehead's process philosophy). His point, of course, is that the spiritual realities are "hidden", as it were, in these subconscious experiences, but can be brought into consciousness by spiritual training.

Third, Steiner makes a few philosophical observations. He points out that empiricism has to posit the existence of logical laws without being able to really explain their origins or validity. How can something purely sensory or corporeal be in tune with the laws of logic? Isn't the psyche's discovery of logic a purely spiritual activity? In another extract, Steiner discusses the faculty of judgment and reaches the conclusion that a "sense of hearing" is different from both "being aware of words" and "comprehending thoughts". A "hearing" per se is no more a "becoming aware of words" than touching implies seeing! The point here is that our perceptual activity must be based on more than just the five senses. Where does the ability to bestow *meaning* come from? (Compare C.S. Lewis' "dangerous idea".)

"Riddles of the Soul" also contain some more surprising statements. Steiner actually says that clairvoyant experiences aren't "literal" in the sense of being similar to observations made through sense-impression. Thus, when a clairvoyant says that he sees something "yellow" in the spiritual world, he is actually suggesting the experience of something which evokes similar feelings as the earthly colour "yellow", not that he is observing something literally yellow. Steiner distinguishes between three quite different mental processes: psychic processes leading up to a spiritual perception, spiritual perceptions themselves, and spiritual perceptions translated into the concepts of ordinary consciousness. I find this statement intriguing, since Steiner's clairvoyant investigations of the spiritual realms are notoriously detailed and, indeed, literal. As far as I understand, devout Anthroposophists do interpret them literally: Lucifer and Ahriman are real beings, Atlantis and Lemuria are real sunken continents, Old Saturn or Old Moon are real former incarnations of Earth, the Norse god Vidar really does accompany Christ in the etheric, demons with webbed feet really do live near crocus plants (sic), and so on. Yet, in Barfield's rendering, Steiner takes the more sensible position that, of course, "spiritual science" isn't literal in *this* sense, but merely attempts to render spiritual realities into earthly, sense-organ bound language! It's "real" but not literal - daimonically real, perhaps? (Compare Patrick Harpur's ideas about a daimonic reality.)

"The Case for Anthroposophy" is one of the more interesting books I've read lately, and this review can't really do it justice. I gladly give it five stars, despite not being convinced by the more concrete "case" for following Steiner in particular (I'm not an Anthroposophist, nor even a fellow traveller). I nevertheless regard many of Steiner's arguments in these extracts as almost obviously true. It seems Barfield's case for Anthroposophy is definitely stronger than unthinking materialism...

From a Russian mystic with love

This is a translation of Vladimir Solovyov's "The Meaning of Love", with an introduction by Owen Barfield. Solovyov was a prominent 19th century Russian philosopher, perhaps most known for his "Short Story of the Anti-Christ". Working within the Christian tradition, he was nevertheless inspired by "occult" sources, which may explain why Barfield (a lifelong student of Rudolf Steiner) found him interesting.

Despite being short, "The Meaning of Love" is difficult to summarize in a review, containing many interesting ideas and speculations. The main idea is that love between man and woman (including sexual love) is a reflection of the Divine, and in some sense points forward to union with God and the restoration of true humanity, which Solovyov pictures as androgynic. For this reason, Solovyov rejects homosexual unions, since they aren't complementary and hence can't restore the androgyne. Solovyov further argues that only rapturous, ecstatic love can overcome egoism, both in the lover and the beloved, since only such love makes it possible for us to feel that our individuality (and that of another) has absolute and infinite worth. Since our empirical, earthly selves obviously cannot have such worth, all by themselves, love points towards a perfect human archetype, which can only exist in God.

Solovyov rejects a purely biological, evolutionary explanation of love (in the above sense of the term). Most living organisms procreate without love, some don't even have sexual reproduction. Humans usually also procreate without love. Even stable families are possible without love. Yet, love in the highest degree undoubtedly exists among humans. Where does it come from? Its sources must be spiritual. Thus, the Russian sage rejects the biologistic notion (common even among religious believers) that the only function of sex is the begetting of children.

But why is sex needed at all? Why not have a purely spiritual, "Platonic" love? Solovyov believes that sexual love is higher since it's directed towards both the body and soul of the beloved. Humans aren't pure spirits, and the goal is the resurrection of the whole human, including the physical aspect. Thus, Solovyov connects his positive view of the sexual aspect of love with a distinctly Christian anthropology. He further argues that even spiritual love, when it's directed to a personal conception of the divine, seems distinctly "sexual". His examples are the Song of Songs and Revelation, but he could also have mentioned Bernhard of Clairvaux or Bernini's famous sculpture of Theresa of Avila. An interesting take on a tradition usually regarded as semi-celibate or fully celibate!

Sometimes, "The Meaning of Love" is difficult to comprehend. Thus, Solovyov connects love between two partners with love towards the entire community, nation or humanity. However, such love surely lacks the erotic aspect of love between spouses. There is also a tension between emphasizing the individuality of humans, and the perfect unity of the Divine, the ultimate goal even of humans. Solovyov somehow wants to synthesize individual freedom and a more "organic" collectivity (a bit like Steiner), but it's not clear from this particular text how this can be achieved concretely. At times, the author sounds patriarchal, depicting women as "passive", while at other times, the Divine Feminine (Sophia) is the *active* mover behind or within God. It's almost as if Solovyov wants to reconcile potentially radical notions (androgyny, a female aspect of the Divine, sex without procreation) with the everyday realities of conservative, 19th century Russia.

Neither Solovyov himself nor Barfield says anything about Solovyov's sources, but as already indicated, some kind of "Tantric", "heretical" source is a prime suspect. (See Arthur Versluis' study "The Secret History of Western Sexual Mysticism" for some real or purported examples of such "heresies" in a Western context.) Solovyov's view of the cosmos as slowly evolving towards perfection is reminiscent of Theosophy (which existed during Solovyov's lifetime - his brother Vsevolod was briefly a member of Blavatsky's society) or Anthroposophy (which was created by Steiner only after Solovyov's death). Here, too, there might be earlier sources in the background, perhaps Goethe and the Romantics? (For a more comprehensive introduction to Solovyov's ideas, see his "Lectures on Divine Humanity".) Solovyov may also have been inspired, although perhaps in a more roundabout or negative way, by his contemporary Nikolai Fyodorov and his curious ideas about overcoming death through technology and hence also through "evolution" (see George Young's study "The Russian Cosmists").

"The Meaning of Love", though written in a deceptively easy style, is really a hard read, unless you have been exposed to this kind of ideas before. Ultimately, of course, it's difficult to "prove" (or disprove) Vladimir Solovyov's speculations by empirical research or formal logic. They can only be lived. Barfield hopes that at least *somebody* reading the work will experience a "Beatrician moment" and act accordingly.

Somehow, I find that hard to believe. But then, cosmic evolution is a slow process... ;-)

An inkling of magic

How much did Jack know?

Gareth Knight is a Christian esotericist of long standing. He is currently associated with the Society of Inner Light, associated with Dion Fortune. “The Magical World of the Inklings” is Knight's study of C S Lewis, J R R Tolkien, Charles Williams and Owen Barfield. The book is uneven, but then, it *is* difficult to write an elaborate analysis of these four giants of literature and spirituality.

For obvious reasons, Knight concentrates on the esoteric dimensions of the “Oxford Christians” (as they are sometimes called). The esoteric influence is most obvious in Barfield, a lifelong Anthroposophist and admirer of Rudolf Steiner, with Williams as the runner up, due to his involvement in A E Waite's offshoot of the Golden Dawn. However, Knight argues that even the fairly orthodox Christians Lewis and Tolkien were at the very least influenced by esotericism. Since both “esotericism” and “Christianity” are fairly broad terms, this isn't really surprising, but it may be dismaying for those who try to claim Lewis and Tolkien for some kind of main-stream evangelical Christianity.

The most interesting chapter deals with Lewis. Knight argues that Lewis' writings (except the popular apologetic works) are so imbued with occultism, that somebody with a detailed knowledge of the Western mystery tradition might well assume that Lewis was an initiate attempting to drape his esoteric message in Christian language! While Knight doesn't doubt Lewis' Anglican Christianity, he nevertheless argues that the Hermetic and pagan traits found in Lewis' works aren't simply literary devices (although, of course, they are that as well). He believes that Lewis was drawn to esotericism, perhaps at a subconscious level, while nevertheless also being deeply suspicious about many of its concrete manifestations. Lewis studied occultism in his pre-Christian days, conferred with Barfield (whose Anthroposophy can be seen as an esoteric form of Christianity) and was fascinated by the personality and ideas of Charles Williams (who never left the Golden Dawn very far behind). At the same time, Lewis for some time also believed that a friend of his was driven mad by dabbling in occultism, and he certainly didn't dabble in it himself. Knight's ultimate conclusion is that Lewis did believe in a Hermetic or Neo-Platonist worldview, where the cosmos is filled with countless of spiritual sub-creators, but he didn't believe that Christians should be too interested in them, instead directing their worship and obedience to the true God and his Son.

Once you accept this, many “esoteric” traits in Lewis' output are easily spotted. Venus plays a central role in his space trilogy as the unspoiled sister world of Earth. Each planet is ruled by an angel or planetary spirit, called Oyarsa. Ransom travels to Venus in a coffin, an implement often used in initiatory rituals into esoteric orders. Ransom's secret society in “That Hideous Strength” use white magic to counter the black magic of NICE. They awaken Merlin (a “Christian” magician) and make the planetary spirits appear one by one (compare astrology, etc). In "The Chronicles of Narnia", Prince Caspian and his explorers meet a magician who turns out to be a solar or stellar Logos, who even reincarnates. Caspian's ship sails through a dangerous "astral" sea, which Knight likens to the Abyss on the Qabalistic Tree of Life. Less easily spotted are themes perhaps inspired by Barfield, as when the consciousness of a person makes the same phenomenon appear as either threatening or benign, depending on spiritual perspective (Ransom and the insect at Venus). Knight's most startling claim is that the initial encounter between Merlin and Ransom in “That Hideous Strength”, when the Celtic magician asks the space traveler a number of extremely cryptic questions, isn't a sheer product of Lewis' imagination. Quite the contrary, he is describing an authentic secret ritual known only to a few British occultists, presumably from one of the Golden Dawn groups! I haven't seen this potentially sensational claim anywhere else.

Less sensationally, Knight believes that the method of the Inklings was “magical”. They all believed in the power of creative imagination, and saw it not as mere fancy, but as a technique to access a higher spiritual reality. Theoretically, this was elaborated upon by Barfield in his comments on Coleridge. Practically, this was the method Lewis and Tolkien used when they were writing their fiction. They entered into a kind of meditative state, in which ideas and pictures would freely enter their minds, as if propelled by an outside force. I found this interesting, since it explains Tolkien's claim that he wrote “Lord of the Rings” under divine inspiration and that the story was in some sense “true” – claims which seem almost literally insane unless put in context. No matter what you think Jack and Tolkien “really” saw during their magical spells, it's also interesting that so much pagan-esoteric material emerged from their subconscious (or the Overmind). Jung might have been impressed…

I haven't read literally all of “The Magical World of the Inklings”. The book tends to get tedious at times, as Knight obsessively mines every possible esoteric nugget even in lesser known or posthumously published stories of the four writers. As already mentioned, Barfield (who only wrote a few fiction stories) can be seen as the unofficial theoretician of the group, while Williams' literary output was truly “esoteric” and hardly even comprehensible to his friends, Lewis and Tolkien being the great popularizers (perhaps despite themselves) of the Western inner tradition. But yes, Knight is interesting and he does make a lot of intuitive sense. Somehow, both the space trilogy and “Lord of the Rings” become more comprehensible and even logical, if the esoteric angle is taken into account (alongside all the others!).

Only for the cult following

"Owen Barfield on C.S. Lewis" is an incredibly narrow book. I admit a certain fondness for such books, but I don't think Barfield's book is suitable for the general C.S. Lewis aficionado. Rather, this is a book for the absolute cult following.

Since there are Lewis societies in different nations, I'm sure Jack has such a following, although something tells me it's much smaller than the band of crazy kids who are into Tolkien. As for Barfield, I wonder whether he even has a following?

Barfield and Lewis were long-time friends, and apparently it was Barfield who took care of the legal work surrounding Lewis' books. (Barfield was a solicitor.) However, they were also philosophical opponents. The correspondence between Lewis and Barfield is, somewhat facetiously, called "The Great War". Lewis was a subjective idealist who became a traditional Christian, while Barfield was a maverick Anthroposophist. So *that's* why Lewis mentioned Goethe and Rudolf Steiner in "The Abolition of Man"...

"Owen Barfield on C.S. Lewis" is an anthology, containing Barfield's reminiscences of his deceased friend and opponent. Most of them have been published elsewhere, but usually in quite obscure journals or books. The book also contains a previously unpublished conversation between the editor, Tennyson, and Barfield himself.

Barfield's articles covers many different aspects of Lewis, including his private witticisms, his literary style, his reactions (both positive and negative) to Barfield's ideas, and, of course, the main differences between the two men. However, it only occasionally touches on Lewis' more private side, including his view of sex and his conversion - both subjects, perhaps, being somewhat too controversial. (Apparently, there were sides even of his conversion which Lewis refused to discuss.)

Barfield apparently saw himself as a Christian, but his "Christianity" was heavily tinged with Anthroposophy, with Coleridge playing the role Goethe had played for Steiner. He had an evolutionary perspective on the universe, human consciousness and revelation, while Lewis was "static" and anti-evolutionary. He also believed that Lewis was somewhat contradictory on these issues, and that he too uncritically accepted Church dogma, as if that hadn't evolved over time (I wonder whether Lewis ever commented on Newman's ideas in this context?). Nor did Barfield accept Lewis' view of hierarchy as natural or beneficial, or Lewis' "fideistic" side. To Barfield, faith wasn't enough - man must evolve until he actually *knows* the spiritual realities.

As I said, a very narrow book!

But yes, it could be of some interest to the small part of humanity who absolutely must *know* how the Second Friend (or Evil Twin?) viewed C.S. Lewis.

There is another book on this somewhat obscure subject as well, Lionel Adey's "C.S. Lewis Great War with Owen Barfield", but I haven't yet read it. Something tells me the two books should be read in tendem, since "Owen Barfield on C.S. Lewis" references it several times.

Stay tuned for further evolutionary developments...

The Tao of C S Lewis

C.S. Lewis pulls no punches in this book, "The Abolition of Man". Since I disagree with Lewis on virtually everything (I'm a feminist, for starters), reading this book was a real guilty pleasure. And why not? Lewis has always been the thinking atheist-agnostic-seeker's favourite Christian apologist. And writer in general, too. My favourite? "The Great Divorce".

Lewis is, of course, right that there is an objectively valid morality, which he for some reason chooses to call Tao. (A Catholic would presumably call it "natural law".) He believes that the Tao cannot be derived within the narrow confines of a materialist worldview. At least by implication, he also rejects the evolutionary explanation for morality. Instead, the Tao must be based on something transcendental.

I believe Jack was on to something here. Evolution might explain why certain behaviours have evolved, but it cannot justify them morally. After all, behaviour we consider immoral is also a product of evolution. Indeed, they seem to go together. As Frank de Waal points out in his books on chimpanzees: only a creature with empathy can be consciously malicious, precisely because it knows exactly how the victim will feel. So what makes empathy "moral" and malice "immoral"? The difficulty of justifying morality within a materialist worldview was the primary reason why I eventually abandoned materialism. Another, of course, is the sheer existential impossibility of upholding a consistent nihilist or relativist view (those who claim to do so, are either psychos...or not really being consistent). Today, I'm a seeker.

The main problem with "The Abolition of Man" in the opinion of even sympathetic readers is Lewis' "fideist" view of the Tao. He believes that the Tao cannot really be justified from a neutral ground. You are either within it or outside it. Only those who have the Tao, can understand the Tao. Is this a subconscious influence from G.E. Moore? Or is it connected to Jack's strong emphasis on obedience and hierarchy within the faith and the Church? It seems the Tao can only be grasped in some intuitive fashion, and those who for whatever reason cannot do so, are beyond the pale from the outset. Something tells me Kantian or Aristotelian philosophers will take strong exception to this. Will Korsgaard and MacIntyre please stand up?

I readily admit that I have a certain sympathy for the old man on this question, as well. Perhaps the solution to Eutyphro's dilemma is to simply tell Socrates to shut up! Somewhere, there has to be a first principle, something that cannot be questioned without logical or existential problems and contradictions. Perhaps it's the Tao. Perhaps it's some principle over and above the Tao. However, it's still a first principle, and as such can only be grasped in an intuitive way.

Does this solve all our moral conundrums? Obviously not, and even Lewis admits that much, since he agrees that *some* development and progress is possible even within the Tao, although it must somehow be based on the Tao itself. Again, I tend to agree. Why is Lewis' hopelessly patriarchal view of women wrong, immoral even? Because some tribe somewhere is matriarchal, or because some lizards in Texas are, dare I say it, lesbian? Well, no. The real reason is surely that patriarchal hierarchy collides with other principles within the Tao, such as "Do unto others" etc.

"The Abolition of Man" is not just a treatise on morality. It also deals with other issues: aesthetics, public education, the real or perceived evils of social engineering, etc. I came to think of Aldous Huxley's "Brave New World" when reading the concluding, title essay. Unfortunately, Lewis was prophetic in the same way as Huxley's seemingly bizarre novel, which was written even earlier. There is also a famous reference to Goethe and Dr. Steiner in this text, a reference no doubt influenced by Owen Barfield, Lewis' friend, solicitor and on-off philosophical adversary, who was an Anthroposophist (although, as a good Englishman, more into Coleridge than Goethe). Barfield loved "The Abolition of Man", despite the obvious differences between his ideas and those of Lewis, which to me shows that Jack hit the nail squarely on the head with this one.

I haven't seen this edition (the one with the dog on the front cover), but my copy of this work contains the following appreciative blurb by Barfield: "There may be a piece of contemporary writing in which precision of thought, liveliness of expression and depth of meaning unite with the same felicity, but I have not come across it".

Indeed, my main objection to the edition of "The Abolition of Man" with the dog on the front cover, is that it somehow insults dogkind, something not even the anti-pantheist Lewis would have dreamt of doing. What Lewis feared was not really that we would be turned into animals by the despotic social engineering of the World Controllers. What he feared was a world of robots ruled by devils. With AI, cloning of human babies, moral relativism, and an establishment more and more out of control, I share that fear. However, I suspect that what we will really get is not a bizarre version of the Roman Empire, but rather an even bloodier version of the fall of Rome. Even more bizarrely, I somehow prefer that option to a totalitarian world state! It can hardly be denied that "science" and "progress", untempered by morality, are evil.

With that, I end my reflections on C.S. Lewis for the time being. RIP, Jack, wherever you are.

Anthroposophy comes of age

I readily admit that Owen Barfield's "Saving the appearances" is one of the strangest books I've ever read. I somehow understand it, and yet I don't. Is that how C.S. Lewis felt like, when attempting to argue with his "second friend"?

Barfield was an Anthroposophist, and he admits at one point in his work that it's really intended to soften the impact on the reader of Rudolf Steiner's ideas. Steiner was the founder of Anthroposophy, a new religious movement with many of the usual ideas (reincarnation, meditation, Atlantis etc).

The main idea in "Saving the appearances" is that all of reality is actually a "collective representation" created by human consciousness, which in turn is somehow identical to God's ditto. This somehow reminds me of Bishop Berkeley's subjective idealism, but in Barfield's version, human consciousness is evolving. Primeval man had something the author refers to as "original participation", apparently a kind of pantheistic near-fusion with nature. Gradually, this changed to another form of consciousness during Greek antiquity and again during the Middle Ages. During the modern era, humanity have forgotten that the world is really a collective representation of our own making. Instead, we treat our collective representations as if they were really "out there", thereby turning them into idols of the mind. (Hence, the sub-title "A study in idolatry").

Barfield is surprisingly consistent, even to the point of absurdity, as when he writes that our knowledge of prehistory (when no humans existed) is really a "symbolic" knowledge, since no "real" world could have existed before the advent of Homo sapiens. (George Berkeley solved the problem by postulating that the world permanently exists in the mind of God.) However, Barfield also suggests that perhaps the world *did* in some sense exist even before consciousness, since consciousness have always existed, but in a dormant and subconscious manner. I admit that I didn't quite got this part!

Barfield believes that the next step in humanity's evolution is something called "final participation", which I suspect is a kind of clairvoyance of the kind Steiner claimed to posses. Jesus came to Earth to speed up this evolution from idolatry to final participation. This is somehow connected to "the mystery of the kingdom", as well.

Please note that Barfield isn't simply saying that humans have perceived the world in different ways during different periods. He quite literally believes that the world *was* different when perceived by our medieval or Stone Age ancestors. Presumably, we can therefore change the make up of the universe by changing our collective representations of it. Quite an idea! Especially if "final" participation is really a version of Steiner's "spiritual science", by the help of which the Anthroposophical leader claimed access to information about the spirit-world, the past, the future, etc.

I admit that I haven't really assimilated this curious book. Although Barfield was on many issues more sympathetic than C.S. Lewis, I nevertheless feel a breath of fresh air and sanity every time I return to Lewis after reading the musings of his second friend. Somehow, traditional Anglicanism seems more logical!

I believe Owen Barfield once quipped: "Lewis had a need to believe in an outside world". Well, Owen, so do I. So do I. Indeed, I even suspect that might be the only way in which to truly "save the appearances"...

A narrow turf war?

This rather obscure book analyzes the 1925-30 philosophical correspondence between C.S. Lewis and Owen Barfield, humorously referred to as "the Great War". At the time, Lewis was still an idealist, while Barfield was already an Anthroposophist. The Anthroposophical Society is a new religious movement founded by Rudolf Steiner. It has some "Christian" traits, but is otherwise more akin to what we would regard as New Age or even occultist beliefs. Later, C.S. Lewis would convert to Christianity and become one of the leading Christian writers of the 20th century. Barfield, by contrast, remains obscure to this day, perhaps even among his fellow Anthroposophists. (Another reviewer calls him "my favourite unknown writer".)

"The Great War" is interesting to scholars studying Lewis, since it took place the years immediately preceding his conversion. Did Barfield influence Lewis in any way, and if so, how? Barfield once quipped: "I'm not sure in what way I was supposed to have influenced Lewis. I mean, he never listened to what I said!" After reading Lionel Adey's book, I tend to concur with Barfield's assessment.

The main difference between the two men revolves around Lewis' firm belief in an absolute distinction or duality between subject and object, and the related idea that imagination has to do with meaning but not facts. Also, there was a streak of nominalism in Lewis, not to mention a kind of anti-evolutionary perspective. Barfield, apparently following Rudolf Steiner, believed in a kind of pantheism in which the subject-object distinction isn't absolute, and where the imagination therefore *can* make factual statements. Also, he was a realist rather than a nominalist, and believed in a fundamental ontological polarity, something Lewis regarded as laughable and even mocked. As a good Anthroposophist, Barfield also had an "evolutionary" perspective on God, humanity and consciousness. Lewis, for his part, seems to have regarded Steiner's movement as either laughingly absurd or somewhat sinister. He wanted to "de-convert" his friend from the clutches of the Anthroposophical Society.

It's easy to see the very same tendencies at work in the later, Christian career of Lewis: the anti-evolutionary perspective (usually hidden in Lewis' apologetical works, however), the "nominalist" emphasis on the individual rather than on society or History, and the strong belief in an objective outside world. Lewis, of course, was fond of writing allegorical novels, and I always got the impression that he *somehow* believed that myths could be true. However, if Adey and other scholars are to be believed, this was not really his position. It was rather the position of Barfield and Tolkien. Lewis, rather, believed that allegories could convey meaning precisely because they were *not* factually true. In some sense, it seems that Lewis baptized his old ideas when he converted to Anglicanism freshly out of the Great War.

Lionel Adey's book "C.S. Lewis' Great War with Owen Barfield" is an interesting survey and analysis of the unpublished correspondence between the two men. Barfield was still alive when Adey did his original research for the book, and gladly contributed with his own explanations and expositions. The book has a foreword by G.B. Tennyson, who edited the anthology "Owen Barfield on C.S. Lewis". It's not clear what relation Adey and Tennyson has to Anthroposophy, a new religious movement I frankly regard as crackpot. My lingering suspicion is that they indeed are Anthroposophists.

Adey believes that Lewis' apologetics for Christianity were a tragic failure, being too conservative and traditionalist. I disagree. I disagree with Lewis on most issues, but he was surely *anything but* a failure. Everyone interested in Christianity essentially has to read and come to terms with his books, and more than one atheist-agnostic has been struck by their honest, reasoned and almost "rational" character. Barfield or Steiner is another thing entirely...

"C.S. Lewis' Great War with Owen Barfield" is not a biased book, however. Adey presents the issue with admirable objectivity. It should be noted that the book is too complicated, philosophical and "abstract" for the general reader. The chapters have headings like "Imagination and Truth", "Self-consciousness" or "Form, Will and Meaning". This is a book for a very special kind of philosophy students, perhaps those who feel too old fashioned for a utilitarian-Wittgensteinian-postmodern philosophy faculty? A very advanced student of Steiner's writings could perhaps digest it as well, or somebody with an almost cultish interest in Coleridge (Barfield was a great fan of Coleridge - what Goethe was to Steiner, the British poet was to Barfield, amen).

I readily admit that I found this book somewhat too narrow!

Yet, it deserves five stars on its own turf.

What Barfield thought

"Romantic religion" is ostensibly an analysis of the ideas and writings of the Inklings: Owen Barfield, C.S. Lewis, Charles Williams and J.R.R. Tolkien. In reality, most of the book is about Barfield, who seems to be some kind of personal favourite of R.J. Reilly's.

Nothing wrong with that.

In fact, "Romantic religion" is the best introduction to Barfield's thoughts I have seen. Barfield is notoriously hard to understand, and even more difficult to really "get". Reading the extensive Barfield chapter in this book might be a good place to start. It should be noted that Reilly isn't an expert on Rudolf Steiner, Barfield's main inspirator, and therefore reads Steiner through Barfieldian glasses, as it were. But then, so did Barfield himself, so this is not necessarily a minus either. Personally, I consider Steiner to be frustrating, since he seems to have combined interesting philosophical insights with sheer bunk, occasionally bordering the ridiculous or insane. (Steiner founded a new religion, known as Anthroposophy.) I'm surprised that a seemingly intelligent person such as Barfield could have so uncritically fallen for this man.

The chapters on Lewis, Williams and Tolkien are also interesting, but are really a kind of afterthought to the bulk of the book. In the chapter on Lewis, Reilly argues that Lewis' Christianity was really a kind of baptized Romanticism, and that Barfield had a decisive influence on him. Others would differ, including (somewhat ironically) Barfield himself! For another perspective, see G.B. Tennyson's "Owen Barfield on C.S. Lewis" and Lionel Adey's "C.S. Lewis Great War with Owen Barfield".

The most fascinating chapter deals with Charles Williams, whose works I've never read, but who was apparently a former member of the Golden Dawn (the A.E. Waite version), while also considering himself a Christian. Judging by Reilly's description, his interpretation of the Christian message did emphasize romantic love (including erotic love), and had affinities with Hermetism, Neo-Platonism and the Kabbala. This erotic mysticism is surely connected to the Golden Dawn in one way or another.

I only skimmed the Tolkien chapter, but it seems to be the least interesting one, essentially a rather heavy and scholarly literary criticism of "The Lord of the Rings". Sounds familiar?

In sum, "Romantic religion" might not tell you much about Lewis and Tolkien, while giving a few tantalizing glimpses of Williams. But above all, it's a work about what Barfield thought!

Clivi Hamiltonis Summae Metaphysices contra Anthroposophos

"An outline of esoteric science" isn't a general or popularized overview of Rudolf Steiner's teachings, which I assumed when ordering it. Rather, it's an incredibly torpid, boring and extensive survey of just a few aspects of Anthroposophy.

Steiner describes, in almost impossible detail, the "cosmic evolution" of humanity through various re-incarnated versions of planet Earth (!), which he calls Saturn, Sun and Moon. Apparently, further re-incarnated Earths await us in the future, including a Vulcan incarnation. The other planets of our present solar system are inhabited by spiritual beings on different levels of evolutionary accomplishment. Many of these ideas are obviously derived from Madame Blavatsky's Theosophy, but have been subtly altered by Steiner in various ways.

Humanity emerged (sort of) during the Old Saturn incarnation of Earth, with some aid from various angelic beings. A kind of cosmic fall or mistake took place when the Moon separated from Earth. The details escape me, but because of this evolutionary mishap, humans are influenced by two alien spirits known as Lucifer and Ahriman. Of these, Ahriman seems to be the worst. The Christ being is a solar spirit who works to reverse the negative developments, a process which will take millennia.

But how are we to know that Steiner isn't making it all up? The second half of the book deals with this question. Steiner believes that anyone can develop the clairvoyance necessary to see and confirm his "esoteric science". This part of his work is truly fascinating! Thus, Steiner claims that those who *don't* have visions identical to his own, are being deluded by their own subjective consciousness or perhaps by evil spirits. To get the right kind of visions, the student should prepare himself by reading Steiner's books, so he knows what awaits him. The student should also feel reverence for true and accomplished spiritual teachers. Steiner himself, perhaps?

It's obvious even to a casual reader, that Steiner's spiritual "science" is really a form of dogmatic self-suggestion. The author also writes that everyone on the true path will meet his own double in the spirit-world (the guardian on the threshold) and eventually the Christ himself - obviously another attempt to induce the right kind of visionary experiences in his followers. Incidentally, this particular work only mentions one meditation technique, and Steiner therefore refers interested chelas to his more well-known work "How to know higher worlds".

I have no doubt that Dr. Steiner's methods do work. A defector from the Anthroposophical Society in Sweden even says in one of his books that he saw *Steiner himself* during one particularly vivid vision caused by meditation. He even spoke to the man (Steiner, of course, died already in 1925).

I'm beginning to understand why C.S. Lewis was a wee bit sceptical to Owen Barfield's life long entanglement with this curious and even somewhat bizarre new religious movement! But perhaps Clive and me just don't have the chakras necessary for esoteric science?

Barfield´s self-allegory

"Night Operation" isn't really a dystopian science fiction novel about fear of terrorism. That's just the marketing pitch. Nor was Owen Barfield one of the 20th century's most significant philosophers, as stated at the back cover. The fact that "Night Operation" is published by Barfield Press UK gives the game away! We're talking about some rather high-handed, posthumous promotion of Barfield's ideas by a small group of admirers.

Owen Barfield was a life-long Anthroposophist. His fame derives from his friendship with C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien. The short story "Night Operation" doesn't even come close to Lewis' Narnia cycle or Tolkien's LOTR, however. In fact, Barfield mostly wrote non-fiction, his only well known book being the curious (and perhaps crypto-Anthroposophical) philosophical tractate "Saving the appearances".

Another problem with "Night Operation" is that you probably need to be a scholarly expert on Barfield's non-fiction to really understand it. The main character, Jon, is really an allegorized version of Barfield himself. Jon's friends Jak and Peet symbolize Lewis and Cecil Harwood. The latter was a leader of the British Anthroposophical Society.

Jon, Jak and Peet live in a futuristic society built underground in the sewage system of an abandoned city. All meaningful education has been abolished, and the population is completely obsessed with sex, fecal matter and vomit. This is Barfield's parody of the degeneration of modern society, in particular modern art. The Underground looks like Huxley's Brave New World minus the recreational drugs. Small wonder Jak, Jon and Peet want to get out! Other traits of the story are more reminiscent of "1984". People in The Underground speak a kind of Newspeak stripped of all words such as "honour", "holy", "chaste" and "virtue". Unfortunately, Barfield also comes across as an anti-feminist and homophobe. Feminists are apparently driven by Freudian envy, resenting the potent male reproductive organ. Yawn.

Eventually, the three dead White males stage a break-out and manage to reach the Earth's surface (here the story presumably alludes to Plato's allegory of the cave). They witness the "night operation", a kind of UFO phenomenon which turns out to be spiritual, although it's somewhat unclear what the UFOs actually do. Replenish the Earth's energy fields? Incarnate as humans? After some deliberation, Jon, Jak and Peet return to the underground city in order to create a dissident movement. There the story ends.

"Night Operation" is plain boring, lacks both suspense and real plot development, and is impossible to really understand unless you have a working knowledge of both Barfield and Lewis. The work might also contain hidden Anthroposophical references which I don't understand. The night operation itself is an obvious candidate. Essentially, this is Barfield's self-allegory.

Two stars.

The boring Barfield

Are we to believe the back matter, Owen Barfield was one of the 20th century's most significant philosophers, widely known and with an important influence on both C.S. Lewis and Tolkien. Imagine that! So how come you never heard of him?

;-)

In reality, Barfield was a somewhat obscure figure utterly eclipsed by his more famous colleagues. The idea of Barfield as the eminence gris behind Lewis and Tolkien is almost comic, and Barfield himself would no doubt have agreed! But yes, perhaps Barfield's philosophical work "Saving the appearances" *is* more interesting than Lewis' mere Christianity and Tolkien's neo-mythology. Personally, I suspect that Barfield's life long adherence to Anthroposophy might have something to do with his lack of recognition. Rudolf Steiner did say some pretty weird things, and it seems as if Barfield uncritically accepted his entire system, warts and all. This seems to have affected his fiction, as well.

"Eager spring" is a short story about Vi, a graduate student of English literature drawn towards environmental activism and (surprise) Anthroposophy. She's also into courtly love, Renaissance painting and dream interpretation. (For some reason, Goethe isn't mentioned. Barfield was more into Coleridge!) The message of "Eager spring" is frankly unclear. Barfield attacks the Green movement for its left-wing political stances, feminism and egalitarianism. Apparently, the NHS is bad too. Yet, his hero Vi nevertheless teams up with the "Earth lovers", a fictitious but realistic direct action group. At the same time, the author seems to believe that traditional political action simply isn't enough or might be the wrong starting point altogether (here, there are some similarities to Lewis and Tolkien).

But what is Barfield's alternative? Courtly love and a belief in the occult? One of the characters in the story turns out to be the Devil himself, or rather Ahriman, the closest Anthroposophical equivalent. Apparently, he is in some sense behind the present industrial civilization. I didn't get the part about meteorites, but I guess it's connected to some esoteric theory of Steiner's. (In the story, Ahriman can be killed only by a magic dagger made by meteorite iron.) When Vi catches a possibly terminal illness, she reflects on the necessity of death for the evolution of Spirit, and our place as cells in a cosmic organism: "The trouble about that vast Organism was that each cell had a will of its own. That was what happened in cancer; cells took off on their own". So should we all just submerge, then?

Frankly, I didn't like this story. "Eager spring" lacks everything fiction should have: plot, suspense, interesting characters. I'm not against Anthroposophists writing Anthroposophical fiction (what else should they write? Muslim poetry?), but Barfield's story simply isn't an engaging read. Lewis presented his Christian message (with which I mostly disagree, by the way) in a more interesting manner in both the Space Trilogy and the Narnia stories.

"Eager spring" doesn't even come close. It's just plain boring.

A Barfieldian extravaganza

Morris Berman's book "The Re-enchantment of the World" is broadly Green and even more broadly spiritual. While the author doesn't seem to be explicitly religious, he does have a soft spot for Carl Gustav Jung, Robert Fludd, Carlos Castaneda and (surprise) Owen Barfield. A less spiritual favourite is Wilhelm Reich. Berman also references R.D. Laing and devotes three entire chapters to Gregory Bateson.

Berman argues that the modern worldview with its scientific knowledge and subject-object dualism isn't really "objective", but rather an alienated and almost psychotic perspective. Drawing on Barfield, the author believes that humanity originally had an animistic consciousness of deep immersion in the surrounding nature. This state of "original participation" was characterized by the lack of a real ego, and the absence of a body-mind duality. For some reason, the ancient Jews and Greeks eventually broke with this form of consciousness and started to evolve towards a real ego-consciousness. However, this process wasn't completed until circa AD 1600, and coincided with the arrival of capitalism and modern commercial civilization. And, of course, modern science. Berman's main whipping boys are Francis Bacon and René Descartes. He is also intensely hostile to Isaac Newton, who in the author's opinion was downright clinical (I admit that his dissing of Newton is great fun!). Instead, he extols William Blake.

Today, our alienation from Nature and Body is threatening our civilization with collapse, and Berman hopes for a Green, decentralized, de-industrialized, non-hierarchic society. His vision includes the mastering of parapsychological powers and a high aesthetics. (Berman admits that the art and literature of the Early Modern period was more advanced than that of earlier epochs, but somewhat curiously also likes Surrealism.)

Unfortunately, Berman doesn't really know how to bring this happy state of affairs to fruition, but then, who can blame him? The last chapters of "The Re-enchantment of the World" are therefore less coherent than the earlier ones. The diagnosis is easier than the prescription, it seems. Interestingly, Berman does not call for a simple return to archaic consciousness, which he at several points dubs "naïve animism". After all, original participation was non-reflective. Berman, on the other hand, reflects on both archaic and modern consciousness, which means that he is "modern" at least in this respect. (I'm reminded of Ken Wilber's distinction between prepersonal and transpersonal here, although I suspect Wilber would nevertheless consider Berman too "Green", in the Wilberian sense of that term.) Instead, Berman wants a holistic science that can somehow combine scientific and discursive thinking with a kind of immediate participation that does away with the subject-object dichotomy. He believes that Bateman was on to something in this respect.

In many ways, Berman's book is an easier-to-read version of Barfield's weird classic "Saving the appearances". It may therefore be of considerable interest to admirers of this particular thinker. In a sense, it's a virtual Barfieldian extravaganza! Deep ecologists are another obvious audience for this work, and so are New Age believers. I found it to be quite interesting myself, but I had to read it twice! And yes, I noticed certain similarities with Neil Evernden's books, although Evernden sounds more Existentialist and hence "alienated" from Berman's perspective. (Frankly, who doesn't?)

People who will heartily hate "The Re-enchantment of the World" include positivists, behaviourists, sociobiologists, the Wise Use movement, the Royal Society and (arguably) the Revolutionary Communist Party.

Mere Anthroposophy

"Romanticism Comes of Age" is a collection of essays by Owen Barfield, a close friend of C.S. Lewis. Barfield was an Anthroposophist and avid follower of Rudolf Steiner. This anthology contains his most explicitly Anthroposophical material.

Barfield discusses the Consciousness Soul, the Anthroposophical periodization of history, the significance of England and Germany for mankind's future spiritual evolution, etc. Steiner's complex theories about different astral bodies, spirits and souls are given pride of place. There are also articles dealing with Barfield's own specialty: the evolution of consciousness as seen through the prism of English literature. Thus, the author analyzes Shakespear's "Hamlet" in the light of the occult teachings of Anthroposophy. A surprisingly rambling speech on Goethe has also been included (with some mea culpas from the author - he must have felt that it's not very good).

As usual, Owen Barfield makes my head spin. This is about as far away from C.S. Lewis' "Mere Christianity" you can possible get! I admit I was weirdly fascinated by this book, but I honestly didn't get it.

Nor, it seems, did anyone else...

In a personal foreword, Barfield admits that his biggest disappointment in life was that nobody took Steiner seriously when he attempted to introduce Steiner's message to those who cared to listen. Even Lewis rejected Steiner's teachings out of hand, without ever bothering to study them in-depth. Interestingly, Barfield points out that many people who were interested in his own ideas nevertheless recoiled from Steiner, despite the fact that Barfield's thoughts were based on the very same Steiner. Rudolf Steiner, after all, was the founder of Anthroposophy.

Somehow, I get the feeling that Barfield was such a dyed-in-the-wool true believer in Steiner's system, that he couldn't see what everyone else noticed long ago: Anthroposophy, while having an interesting (and fairly complicated) intellectual side, also contains a lot of dross. Or bunk, if you're less diplomatic. After all, Rudolf Steiner did say some pretty weird things: humans are descended from the Old Saturn incarnation of Earth, every human has a demonic double secretly attached to his astral body, the Etheric Christ returned in 1876 (or was it 1933?), Atlantis and Lemuria really did exist, Jesus was a solar spirit etc. etc. And this is just for starters! In "Romanticism Comes of Age", Barfield avoids this twilight zone, but it's obvious from context that he swallowed Anthroposophy hook, line and sinker. He even says, with a straight face, that nature spirits (such as gnomes) actually exist! Since Barfield doesn't strike me as barking mad, I can only wonder at his credulity towards every comma in Steiner's conceited new religion. Here, I feel a certain sympathy with Lewis...

The foreword also explains why Barfield was initially drawn to Anthroposophy. He seems to have been a sceptic with a somewhat bleak outlook on life, until he became seriously interested in poetry. I almost get the impression that poetry was a kind of spiritual revelation for the young Barfield. Not only did his consciousness expand as a result of reading poetry, he also began looking at the world in an entirely new way through its prism. He felt that poetry made the world intensely meaningful, and began exploring the epistemological and ontological consequences of this (if any). This eventually led him to Anthroposophy and the entire notion of evolution of consciousness. Barfield was drawn to Anthroposophy for another, but related, reason as well. He admired the British Romantic writers and poets, but bemoaned their lack of a clear philosophy. Barfield believed that he had found the lacking ingredient in Anthroposophy. Steiner's teachings are Romanticism grown up. (Steiner claimed to be something of an exegete of Goethe, and Barfield himself was interested in Coleridge's philosophy, seeing affinities between it and both Goethe and Steiner.)

Personally, I'm downright bewildered by Rudolf Steiner. Some of his ideas remind me of Hegel, at least if Hegel is read in a more "spiritual" manner á la Frederic Copleston or even Ken Wilber. The notion of spirit working itself out within human history sounds like Hegel, although Steiner's version is stranger, inspired as he was by the Theosophy of Madame Blavatsky. Further, Steiner believed that even the fragmentation of the modern world (the Consciousness Soul) is a necessary and therefore positive development. The human spirit needs to come to its own as a self-conscious individual entity, and the only way to accomplish this is to temporarily sever its ties with nature and the spiritual hierarchies. When the Consciousness Soul has been developed, the Christ impulse will somehow influence it and make it return to Nature and Spirit, but at a higher, self-conscious level. Thus, Steiner didn't want a sheer return to the premodern. Rather, he longed for a new synthesis in the distant future. This also sounds a bit like Hegel, who believed that historical progress takes place by a dialectical struggle between opposites, eventually transcending both.

My main problem with this scenario is that Anthroposophy, despite the above, *does* sound premodern. I'm not a follower of Wilber, but to use his terms, Steiner was still "Red", "Magic-Mythic" or "Retro-romantic". He longed for a decentralized Arcadia based on biodynamic agriculture, a steady-state economy and Waldorf pedagogy (which seems to be so much flim flam). By contrast, modern technology is supposedly teeming with evil spirits! The 60's counter-culture would have recognized themselves in many Anthroposophical practices (but perhaps not in the convoluted theories and conservative sexual morals). Barfield himself expressed strong support for the Green movement in some other works, including the novel "Eager spring", where he claims that modern industrial civilization is the work of Ahriman, the closest thing to a devil in Steiner's system.

That being said, I nevertheless give "Romanticism Comes of Age" four stars, for being a book that actually stimulated my thinking. Another good Barfield anthology is "The Rediscovery of Meaning", which also includes a number of defences of the Anthroposophical worldview.