John Muir´s war

 

This is a somewhat bizarre article from Live Science, arguing that a recent and sharp increase in bear attacks in Japan can be attributed to a lack of acorns. Apparently, if teddy doesn´t get his favorite snack, he beheads Japanese fishermen instead and munches on their tender flesh?! 

Not being a scientist specializing in the feeding frenzies of Nipponid ursids, I can´t really say, but surely there could be other explanations? Maybe somebody´s population has exploded lately (ursid or Mongoloid hominid), maybe some bears are improperly habituated, or maybe it´s just a co-incidence?

Or maybe, just maybe we see the beginnings of John Muir´s war...   

Bear attacks in Japan

God´s wilds

 

John Muir said that if humans and bears would ever wage a war, he would feel obliged to support the bears...

We´re not the same

Are all religions essentially the same? Do they all lead to the same goal? The YouTube channel Doug´s Dharma says "no", which is interesting, since Doug is a very modernist and secular Buddhist! On this point, however, he is something of an "exclusivist". 

Doug traces the idea that all religions are really the same to 19th century American Transcendentalism, and regard it as an attempt to save religion from scientific criticism, by making its essence identical to ineffable mystical experiences, forever beyond the horizons of science or materialism. The main problem with this view is that religious practitioners themselves (including many mystics) disagree with it. They insist that their respective paths are indeed different. Also, the "universalist" or "perennialist" perspective isn´t really universal, but based on a hidden hierarchy, with Advaita Vedanta in top position. He and his source are  not the only people to have noticed this! 

As for Buddhism, the Buddha often polemicized with other teachers (often unnamed), whose paths in his opinion didn´t lead to the cessation of suffering. Despite all this, Doug believes that "universalism" can be a "skillful mean" to draw people closer to the truth, train your own compassion, avoid religious strife in society, and so on.

An interesting little piece. 

Pure Land in the West? The Making of Buddhist Modernism

"The Making of Buddhist Modernism" is a book by David L McMahan, an Associate Professor of Religious Studies in the United States. The book was published in 2008. It comes across as a hybrid between a historical overview, a scholarly analysis and the author´s own essay-like reflections. 

The topic is the often radical re-interpretations of Buddhism which has gained traction in the Western world since the 19th century. While McMahan believes that modern Buddhism is a "hybrid" rather than a fake, many of the new takes on the Buddha´s message have remarkably little in common with the original formulations. McMahan´s book isn´t an all-out polemic: he does believe that there is often *some* connection between the themes found in modernist Buddhism and the "original" message. But even then, modernist Buddhism reframes the issues in a way typical of modernity, not tradition. Somewhat ironically, even traditional Buddhism can be "modern" in the sense that we sometimes see a "re-traditionalization" of previously modernist currents. The fact that Western adherents of Buddhism can become more traditional and live in their own enclaves is in itself a product of modern globalization and "postmodern" culture. But I´m getting ahead of the story...

The themes woven together to create Buddhist modernism are varied and complex, McMahan doing a valiant attempt to disentangle them. One important theme is the "Protestant" character of modern Buddhism. Instead of monkish tradition, the scriptures of the Pali canon are central. Empty ritualism (once again monopolized by monks) is replaced by individual connection to the Divine through meditation. Laymen and their associations become progressively more important than monks and "priests". Other elements are: intense self-scrutiny, Victorian moral codes, an emphasis on social and political action. It´s not difficult to see the similarities with the Reformation´s insistence on "sola Scriptura", or with Pietism and the Social Gospel. Modernist Buddhist in Ceylon even carried out "counter-mission" against actual (British) Protestants, in effect mimicking the organizational methods of their adversaries! 

Two other sources for modernist Buddhism are really contradictory: scientism or Enlightenment rationalism on the other hand, and Romanticism on the other. Yet, this in itself shows the modern character of neo-Buddhist discourse, since the opposition between scientism and Romanticism is typical of Western modernity (or its more intellectual denizens). Connected to Romanticism are perennialism, Jungian psychoanalysis, Neo-Vedanta, Theosophy and the latter´s grand-children in the New Age. I was frankly surprised that many ideas about religion and spirituality that we take for granted are really reworked versions of the opinions of the German Romantics. (Hmmm...) Sometimes, the criss-crossing influences are almost ridiculous. Thus, Ralph Waldo Emerson and other American Transcendentalists believed themselves to be influenced by Hinduism and Buddhism (rather than simply repeating Romantic talking points). Later, modernist Buddhists would repeat *Emerson´s* views as an example of "Buddhism"!

Strictly speaking, there isn´t one monolithic Buddhist modernism, there are many. And while the initial impulse for reform in the Buddhist nations of Asia came from the West, it was quickly taken up by some Asians themselves. McMahan calls this phenomenon "strategic occidentalism" (a kind of strange mirror image of "orientalism"), with Sinhalese nationalist Anagarika Dharmapala in Ceylon as a prominent example. Dharmapala portrayed Buddhism as compatible with Darwinism, science and non-belief in a theistic god, while attacking *Christianity* as superstitious and backward. He even contrasted "Aryan" Buddhism with "Semitic" Christianity, apperently knowing exactly what strings to play when communicating with certain Westerners. Dharmapala was a modernist, but his modernism was nevertheless a different project from Western modernity - an important insight, since today we can clearly see that there are indeed many modernisms, not just one (the Western liberal one).

In contrast to the scientist-nationalist reinterpretation of Dharmapala stands the "occult science" interpretation of Buddhism advocated by Colonel Olcott of the Theosophical Society (whose "Buddhist Catechism" is still used in Sri Lanka - note the Protestant title!) or the perennialist-Romantic view of Zen brought to the United States by D T Suzuki from Japan. (It´s interesting to note that both Dharmapala and Suzuki were at one point members of the Theosophical Society.) What seems to have happened in many cases is that a modernist Buddhism emerging in Asia under Western influence (and Western pressure) was exported to the West by Asians, where Westerners became avid followers, perhaps without understanding that they were simply responding to *Western* modes of thought all along. As already noted, however, the Asians weren´t just passive envoys for this curious process. They wanted to counter Western colonialism and imperialism by selectively chosing modernizing themes to strengthen their own nations. Even the perennial Romantic Suzuki was really a kind of Japanese modernizer, supporting Japan in World War II. Asians still participate in various versions of modernist Buddhism, the current Dalai Lama being a good example. 

While the author tries to be as charitable as possible towards the neo-Buddhistas, I must say that their doctrinal innovations are sometimes rather glaring. The most extreme is the Jung-inspired notion that the frequently bizarre deities of Tibetan Buddhism are really just psychological archetypes. The author points out that Tibetan Buddhism (which must look very superstitious to a believer in modern science and very "Catholic" to a modern Protestant) simply couldn´t make it in modern Western circles without this extremely radical (in my view, almost conceited) reinterpretation of "The Tibetan Book of the Dead". (At the same time, the Tibetan case is complicated by the fact that many Westerners *also* want Tibet to be a Romantic pre-modern haven, which ironically could be used by Tibetan Buddhists as an argument for *not* modernizing lest they lose the interest of affluent Westerners looking for noble savages.)

Other innovations include the notion that karma simply means "cause and effect" in the modern scientific sense (hint: it does not), or that dependent co-origination proves the deep ecological worldview. While the latter might actually be "true" in a sense, most forms of Buddhism consider the intricate web of the universe to be a samsaric yoke to be liberated from, not something to celebrate. (The author has managed to find one ancient Chinese form of Buddhism, Huayan, that´s actually "pro-nature", probably due to pre-Buddhist Chinese cultural influence.) As for Zen, it seems that essentially nothing you ever learned about this Sino-Japanese form of Buddhism from a modern Western book is true. Real Zen practice has nothing to do with "spontaneity", becoming enlightened while changing dipers or the art of motorcycle maintenance. (Isn´t Alan Watts the man, then?) Apparently, my favorite novel "Siddharta" by Herman Hesse has very little to do with Buddhism either, due to its perspective of individual seekership without any guru. The fact that most Buddhists in the United States tend to be politically liberal is surely another obvious difference with traditional Buddhism. 

What way Buddhist modernism? The book was written 13 years ago. One trend that certainly is still going strong is mindfulness meditation. About five years ago, I ended up at a class for unemployed people in Sweden which featured...guess what...mindfulness. (We only did the most basic drills, as in "lay down on the floor and do nothing", so I didn´t even feel the right modernist-liberal vibes. What a pity.) There is also the persistent rumor that Hillary Clinton lost the 2016 election due to too much mindless mindfulness meditation. Perhaps the author is right when he, somewhat tongue in cheek, talks about the emergence of a "global folk Buddhism", comprising Buddhist or "Buddhist" techniques completely disconnected from the actual Buddhist religion. One also wonders how SJW struggle sessions and cancel culture will affect liberal modern Buddhism in the US, given the compassionate niceness of the latter, perhaps making them easy victims of the SJW juggernaut? The interface between climate protests and Buddhism might also be interesting to look into. The Dalai Lama recently had a video conference with Greta Thunberg. More ominously, a kind of Buddhist fundamentalism is still strong in Sri Lanka, Myanmar and perhaps other places...

It seems everything is in constant flux in samsara, even the dharma. 

The unknown panentheist

“The Religion of Solidarity” is a short text written by Edward Bellamy when he was 24 years old. It was posthumously found among Bellamy´s papers by his biographer Arthur E Morgan and subsequently published. Bellamy is, of course, famous for his utopian novel “Looking Backward” (1888). One of the serious lacunas in my knowledge of things large and small is that I never actually read it. Back in the days, the novel triggered an entire political movement, known as Nationalism (with a capital N). Most of its members soon joined the more successful Populists.

I expected “The Religion of Solidarity” to be a materialist-positivist-populist screed of some kind. It isn´t. Unexpectedly, it turns out to be a spiritual text, obviously based on Emerson and the New England Transcendentalists. And while the little piece isn´t *that* interesting, I admit that Bellamy was a better writer than Emerson, Thoreau and Alcott. In a note appended much later, Bellamy writes that he tried to live according to the principles expounded upon in “The Religion of Solidarity” all his life. He even asks for the text to be read at his funeral!

Bellamy reflects at length at the opposition between the individual and Spirit (my term), the latter being infinite and immortal. The “centripetal” and “centrifugal” forces are said to be basic to the universe, one leading to unity with Spirit or impersonal consciousness, the other moving in the direction of individuality. The most common mistake of men is to live as if the individual is immortal. This is said to characterize Napoleon and Caesar, whom Bellamy doesn´t seem to fancy. The Christian idea of individual immortality is criticized. That the Spirit is real can be sensed in nature mysticism, poetry, love and sexual union. The text gives the impression of being written by a desperate young man longing to live life to the fullest and prove himself thereby – which, of course, it was.

Interestingly, it´s not entirely clear what Bellamy *really* wants to do, based on his insights into the immortality of the universal soul. We somehow expect the future prophet of socialism and industrial armies to say something, well, socialist and industrial army-ish. Instead, Bellamy rather says the opposite. Since our individuality counts for nothing compared to the infinite Spirit, we may as well live our lives with a certain reckless abandon, indifferent to our fates, since we are ultimately nothing and yet immortal at the same time. Later in the text, however, Bellamy sounds more serious-minded, and draws the obvious conclusion that since everything is One, the moral thing to do is to identify with the One and sacrifice yourself for the One. Patriotism, oneness with Nature and ultimately an oneness with the entire cosmos is said to follow from this. Friendship and family is also said to be important.

Well, thank you.

The text is incomplete, or rather Bellamy misplaced a few pages, in which he attempted to reconcile his essentially pantheist perspective with belief in a personal god. His argument strikes me as “panentheist”. Just as humans are both personal and impersonal at the same time, a Supreme Being might be both. To find Edward Bellamy of all people in a gallery of panentheists is intriguing, to say the least.

With that, I end my little reflection.

Ex Occidente Lux. Or at least Yoga

“A History of Modern Yoga” is an extremely interesting book, and could be quite shocking if you are an anachronistic “true believer” who thinks everything New Age-related is really ancient wisdom from Vedic India, Tibet or Atlantis. Actually, all those ideas you grew up with comes from your own backyard in California! People with a more fearless experimental-experiential mentality won't become scared by Elizabeth de Michelis' work, however, and ultimately it's that seeking New Age is supposed to be about in the first place. A small word of warning for the general reader, though. While “A History of Modern Yoga” is more accessible than most scholarly tomes, it *is* scholarly and can therefore put off people who aren't used to the terminology of comparative religion studies. Words such as “cult”, “cultic”, “esotericism” and “occultism” are used in unusual ways (thus, “cult” means almost the exact opposite in the book's scholarly universe compared to everyday usage). You might also want to check up the meaning of terms such as “emic” and “etic”. The author, a former practitioner of Modern Yoga, writes as an outsider to the “tradition” and therefore treats Hindu gurus such as Ramakrishna and Vivekananda as fallible humans rather than quasi-divine teachers. However, she isn't hostile to the traditions she is describing. This is a serious work of scholarship, not a scandal-mongering screed.

Elizabeth de Michelis makes a number of interrelated claims in her book. First, she argues that Western esotericism underwent significant changes during the 18th and 19th centuries. The “esoteric” components of the current New Age movement therefore aren't primordial, perennial or genuinely Eastern. Rather, the origins of New Age religion can be traced to Mesmerism, Transcendentalism, Spiritualism, Theosophy and New Thought, all Western and all products of a fundamental transformation of the Western esoteric heritage. To mentions just three aspects, this form of esotericism is individualistic (compare Ralph Waldo Emerson), evolutionary (compare Romanticism or Theosophy) and makes claims to be “scientific” (compare Mesmerism). There is also a strong connection to holistic health concerns, alternative medicine and positive thinking (compare New Thought). Modern Yoga has been fundamentally shaped by these new currents of thought, including those forms which still retain explicitly Hindu terminology (or even Indian teachers).

Second, Michelis argues that Swami Vivekananda (1863-1902), often credited with bringing Hinduism, Advaita Vedanta and Yoga to the West, was strongly influenced by modern Western esotericism. It wasn't simply an attempt to communicate ancient truths in modern language. No, Vivekananda was himself a modern reformer. His teachings are best described as Neo-Vedanta or Neo-Hinduism. Modern Western esotericism wasn't unknown in India during the 19th century. Quite the contrary, it was actively propagated there by Freemasons, Unitarian missionaries and Theosophists. The Brahmo Samaj, a “monotheist” Hindu reform society close in spirit to Unitarian Christianity, was the main conduit of this influence in India, most notably in Bengal. Western alternative medicine was also popular, most notably homeopathy. The works of Emerson was eagerly studied, as well. (Thus, Emerson influenced circles in India more than India influenced Emerson.) Vivekananda was thoroughly steeped in these ideas when he arrived in the United States, where he was quickly adopted by the cultic milieu in California and Boston. There, he deepened his understanding of the issues, and essentially became a modern Western esotericist in Hindu garb. The author believes that a closer analysis of his seminal text “Raja Yoga” proves this.

Third, the author argues that Vivekananda and Ramakrishna were extremely different. This is really a no-brainer, but since Vivekananda's Ramakrishna Mission and related organizations claim spiritual descent from Ramakrishna, the point could be controversial in some quarters. Ramakrishna was a more traditional Hindu, didn't adhere closely to Advaita Vedanta and was a rowdier mystic and ecstatic than the civilized Vivekananda. Nor was Vivekananda ever properly “initiated” by Ramakrishna. I noted with some surprise that some stories about Vivekananda's relation with Ramakrishna have a strong Christian flavor. Brahmo Samaj also used Christian imagery and terminology. The author argues that it was really the symbolism of “esoteric” Christianity (“esoteric” in the modern sense). Related to this is the author's claim that Vivekananda's teachings are strikingly different from those of Shankara and Ramanuja, the two fonts of Vedantic orthodoxy.

The last section of the book deals with Iyengar Yoga, a modern form of hathayoga widely practiced in both India and the West, arguing that a close reading of its canonical texts prove that we are dealing with a modern synthesis. Here, the author introduces the appealing neologisms “Neo-Hathayoga” and “Neo-Vishishtadvaita”. Where do I sign up? ;-)

Although “A History of Modern Yoga” is extremely expensive (despite being a book of normal length), it is well worth reading and pondering. It did clarify some things which I found murky, or only perceived dimly. But, of course, it doesn't “disprove” Neo-Hathayoga. While I frankly doubt it, it's always possible that the light of liberation really comes from California…

Emerson on Plato...I think

I admit that I don't really know what to say about Ralph Waldo Emerson's essay “Plato, Or The Philosopher” (here called "A Short Introduction to Plato"). As usual, Emerson eloquently talks about everything and nothing (and perhaps about Plato), but it's not altogether clear if anyone is the wiser afterwards. Nor is it obvious where Plato's philosophy ends and Emerson's begins. Sure, the sage of Concord always sounded like this, and perhaps it was a deliberate “guru trick” to make people think harder (or to evoke feelings rather than the rational mind?), but personally, my brain is just spinning. But yes, after trying to read a few works about the chief Transcendentalist (also hard!), I did get the esoteric-Hermetic hints.

Emerson believes that Plato united both “Asia” and “Europe”, both the “infinity” of the Asian mind and the concreteness and practicality of Europe. Philosophically, he acknowledged both the One and the Many, and the “ladder” (great chain of being?) in between. The world (the Many) is understandable, precisely because it flows from the One (the Good, the Soul, the Divine). The scientific and the spiritual can therefore be united. So can, say, mathematics and poetry, which Plato also brought together in his own person.

Emerson doesn't shy away from Plato's elitism, but seems to interpret it in an individualist manner (which fits the American temperament better, but could also be given an esoteric spin). “The Republic” is an allegory of how to educate the human soul. Emerson mentions the need for a teacher, exemplified by Socrates. The teacher teaches by example, or even by his personality or Eros, rather than by mere discoursing. Presumably, Emerson viewed himself as such a teacher. Socrates was all things to all people, apparently an important fact. In passing, I note that Ralph Waldo quotes the Bhagavad Gita and the Quran, but not the Bible. It's also interesting to note that Emerson contradicts himself on whether or not the universe is knowable. At one point, he suggests that it is. At another, that it really isn't – even Plato “perishes”, as “unconquerable nature forgets him”. We are left to study on this for ourselves…

Most of the essay, however, is simply a long rhetorical eulogy to Plato and his immortal contributions. Says Emerson: “Out of Plato come all things that are still written and debated among men of thought. Great havoc makes he among our originalities. We have reached the mountain from which all these drift boulders were detached.” In other words, the entire history of philosophy is a series of footnotes to Aristocles…

I'm not sure how to rate this hard-to-read piece of Concordiana, but since I feel in a somewhat uncharitable mood, I will only give it two!

The demons of Concord

“Demonology” is an essay penned by Ralph Waldo Emerson, the American man of letters and founder of New England Transcendentalism. It's vintage Emerson: hard to read, even harder to understand, seemingly contradictory, and dealing with a dozen different subjects concurrently. One of the few subjects it doesn't deal with at any length is actual demonology! Thus, don't expect any sensational revelations about witches, warlocks or exorcists…

The essay is often said to anticipate Freud, due to Emerson's interest in the interpretation of dreams. I think this is unfair, both to Emerson and Freud, since the “sage of Concord” see dreams as, in some sense, supernatural. Dreams may contain genuine premonitions of the future and hence be prophetic, since every man is simply working out his “fate” (a Hindu or Buddhist would perhaps call it karma). Emerson does connect dreams to our deeper personalities, and in this resembles Freud, but I don't think the father of psychoanalysis would have approved of the black mud of occultism implied in Emerson's esoteric/Hermetic/Neo-Platonic perspective. Jung? Maybe.

But then, Emerson doesn't really approve of the muddier streams of spirituality either. To him, the cosmos is at bottom lawful and logical (or at least should be, to the disciplined mind of the spiritually enlightened). Mesmerism, séances or ghosts strike him as chaotic, with no real connection to anything else, and hence no real meaning. “Nature” (including its spiritual dimension) is sufficiently grand, and so is Man, so why bother with spiritist manifestations or animal magnetism? However, Emerson doesn't entirely rule out the existence of paranormal phenomena. He sees “the demonic” as Spirit's way of reminding humans of its existence. If you don't see the well ordered spiritual cosmos, you will be hit in the head by its chaotic shadow: “Demonology is the shadow of Theology”. This, too, sounds a bit like Freud – it's the repressed contents of the Id coming forth by night, but once again, Emerson connects it to a broader supernatural reality. He quotes Goethe on the “demonic”. And yes, Patrick Harpur's “Daemonic Reality” comes to mind...again!

Instead of seeing Ralph Waldo Emerson as anticipating Freud, perhaps we should see ol' Sigmund de-esotericizing German Romanticism?

Finding God in Concord

A review of "The Spiritual Teachings of Ralph Waldo Emerson" by Richard Geldard. 

The writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson, the founder of New England Transcendentalism, are notoriously hard to understand. Due to certain turns of phrase in “Self-Reliance”, his most well known essay, Emerson is often misunderstood as an individualist bordering the egocentric, something along the lines of Ayn Rand. Other interpretations include American nationalist or nature mystic. The author of this book, Richard Geldard, confirms what I long suspected: while Emerson often expressed himself in the idiom of his day, he was really a Neo-Platonist and esotericist. Geldard himself is associated with the University of Philosophical Research, a subdivision of the Philosophical Research Society founded by prominent esotericist Manly P Hall.

Emerson's “individualism” is really a technique by which the individual discards all the established traditions of his society (including purported religious “revelations”) and looks within himself for the truth. By so doing, the individual discovers the Spirit or the Over-Soul, which is (of course) common to all individuals. He also experiences the Platonic ideas or forms, including the idea of the Good, which lies behind all fleeting phenomena. Emerson's emphasis on freeing the mind is also a Gnostic technique, rather than a call to splendid intellectual self-isolation and armchair punditry. The Over-Soul can only be reached through our minds, but the higher we ascend, the more do our minds conform to the universal spiritual laws of the cosmos. We also realize that whatever happens is for the good and that the universe is in perfect karmic balance.

Emerson seldom discussed who influenced his thinking, since every man must establish the connection with Spirit himself moment to moment, but he did recognize the need for a teacher, and bemoaned the fact that he never found one, while acting as a teacher and guide himself within the small circle of Transcendentalists. Geldard believes that Emerson was strongly influenced by Thomas Taylor's translations and commentaries on Plato's dialogues. He met Carlyle, Coleridge and Wordsworth while visiting Britain. The “Geeta” (the Hindu scripture Bhagavad Gita) was his constant companion.

Interestingly, Emerson wasn't an other-worldly mystic who simply tried to soar the cosmic heights. In many ways, he was a “Descender”, not just an “Ascender”. The material world both hides and reveals the Spirit. In one sense, it's an illusion. In another sense, the world in general and nature in particular, is symbolic and points towards higher truths. This is the ancient Hermetic idea of “as above, so below”, an idea Emerson may have picked up from the writings of Swedish mystic Emmanuel Swedenborg. Since the world is God's garment, the mystic doesn't leave the world. Indeed, humans are the incarnations of God in matter. Guided by conscience, authenticity and courage, the mystic tries to save the world by imparting as much Spirit as possible onto his fellow men. The Spirit-filled man doesn't long for Heaven or personal immortality, but pours out the Spirit where he stands.

Emerson has been criticized for not being consistent on this latter point. He usually refrained from making political statements. Emerson's position seems to have been that little can be done, socially speaking, unless the individuals are changed first. His writings do contain turns which could be interpreted as a callous “Randian” opposition to poor relief and, by extension, the welfare state. However, Emerson wasn't a political reactionary. He opposed slavery and spoke with admiration of John Brown (whom he had met). Emerson's most well known follower Henry Thoreau has been credited with inspiring Gandhi and Martin Luther King. In conversation with Carlyle, Emerson had expressed sentiments similar to those usually associated with Thoreau.

Emerson never “defended” his views through debate or apologetics, believing them to be based on an intuition most people simply didn't posses. He was a “spiritual aristocrat” in that sense. This may explain why he never wrote a popularized introduction to his ideas. Nor did he write a how-to-guide about, say, meditation. We are left with his difficult and hard-to-decode essays. Perhaps the sage of Concord had a point in doing so, but personally, I feel Geldard's book fills a gap. It's not an easy read, unless you happen to be somewhat “tuned in” to these issues, but it definitely does make Ralph Waldo Emerson's Yankee Platonism easier to comprehend. I therefore give it four stars.

Guys, look what I found

In this book, the Über-Professor and Ober-Processor of Whiteheadeanism-Hartshornism-John Cobb Thought, the right venerable David Ray Griffin, finally decides to take on The Man, the Prophet, Seer and Revelator of Dornach, the Goethe Redivivus, the one and only Herr Doktor Rudolf Steiner himself. It's the ultimate conflict, a struggle of titans, a game of thrones, in which only one can become Number One. The seven worlds clearly aren't big enough for both Creativity and The Etheric Christ.

And the winner is...

Yeah, like I'm gonna tell you this early in my review! :P

Actually, "American Philosophy and Rudolf Steiner" is a serious or boring work (depending on your reading preferences) in which a number of broadly spiritual scholars attempt to relate American philosophy to Rudolf Steiner, the founder of Anthroposophy. The book is published by Lindisfarne Books together with Steiner Books. The editor is Robert McDermott, who is associated with the Anthroposophical Society, the California Institute of Integral Studies, Lindisfarne and Esalen. "American Philosophy and Rudolf Steiner" is a collection of eight articles, and some of the material was published already in 1991 in the transpersonal magazine ReVision.

I admit that I "only" read four of the essays, skimmed three others and completely skipped the contribution on Dewey. I bought this book mostly because it contains an article by David Ray Griffin, the foremost living expositor of Alfred North Whitehead's process philosophy, with which I have a kind of love-hate relationship. Of course, I also have a similar relation to Steiner. I mean, who hasn't? Griffin commenting on Steiner is something I simply have to read, and I trust some of you would agree...

Overall, however, I feel that the project of relating Steiner to various American philosophers is a dead end. It's like comparing apples with oranges. McDermott almost admits as much in his essay on Steiner and William James. The most relevant comparisons are with Alfred North Whitehead (who was really British!) and Ralph Waldo Emerson, who is regarded as a kind of precursor by the Anthroposophists themselves. Emerson apparently longed for a Teacher, and Steiner's followers believe that this was a prophetic utterance about, well, Steiner. Unfortunately, Gertrude Hughes' essay on Emerson is rather brief and also assumes a lot of foreknowledge about both men (I lack it in Emerson's case). Of course, similarities between Transcendentalism and Anthroposophy are only to be expected, since both currents of thought were inspired by Romanticism. It's much less clear why the other contributors attempt to arrange ersatz dialogues between Steiner and James, Pierce or Dewey, or with postmodern feminism. You might as well attempt a conversation between, say, Richard Dawkins and William Irwin Thompson! Or talk to the cat? A comparison between Thoreau and Steiner is perhaps more relevant, although it would seem that even they were very far apart.

In a collection like this, everyone is bound to have his or her own favourites, but personally I went straight for Griffin's essay on Steiner and Whitehead. I was both a bit disappointed and a bit surprised. I had expected the "respectable" Griffin (at least pre-9/11) to attack Steiner, whose occult musings were anything but respectable. Instead, Griffin strikes a surprisingly irenic pose, and even sounds somewhat "occult" himself. Have we discovered an entirely new dimension of process philosophy? Thus, contrary to my joke above, Griffin doesn't do battle with Steiner. Rather, he attempts a real dialogue, pointing out both similarities, differences and possible areas for further conversation between process philosophy and Anthroposophy. In the process - pun unintended - Griffin acknowledges the immortality of the soul, a kind of teleological evolution, transformation through meditation, the possibility of paranormal phenomena, and a qualified view of precognition. He even delineates a Whiteheadean version of the Akashic Record! It's obvious that while Griffin doesn't accept all the concrete results of Steiner's supposed clairvoyance (nor those of Edgar Cayce, whom he also mentions), he *does* believe that Steiner and Cayce were in touch with higher, spiritual realities.

In process philosophy, the basic particles making up the cosmos are known as "occasions of experience". The act of experience itself is known as "prehension". Griffin has a curious, holographic view of consciousness, in which each occasion of experience prehends *all* previous occasions. In a sense, each particle in the universe experiences the whole of the universe and also the whole of the past! Usually, most of these prehensions aren't conscious. They seem to form something similar to Jung's collective unconscious. At least part of them can be made conscious, however. From this follows that humans have a certain ability to tap into lost or hidden knowledge through seemingly paranormal means. At least in principle, I could access the collective storehouse of experiences, and retell what *you* had for lunch yesterday! Steiner did claim to have precisely such ability, although he used it for less mundane purposes. He believed he could "read" the so-called Akashic Record, a kind of paranormal energy field where all events in the universe have supposedly been "recorded" and still lingers on. Here, Griffin's exegesis of Whitehead's metaphysics lends a certain support to Steiner.

However, Griffin also (rather skilfully) uses the idea of the Akashic Record to criticize Steiner's more outlandish claims. After all, the founder of Anthroposophy did say many strange things about Atlantis, Lemuria, Jesus and the history of the cosmos which have been disproved by modern science or remains unconfirmed. If something like the Akashic Record truly exists (Griffin believes it's really "the consequent nature of God"), not just events but thoughts, dreams and speculations have been recorded. A seemingly objective fact about Atlantis or the hidden years of Jesus might really be a *speculation* about the same, erroneously interpreted as an objective fact by clairvoyants like Steiner. Of course, Steiner believed that his paranormal powers gave him the ability to discern fact from fiction, and that it's possible to grasp purely objective truths, free of distortions. To Griffin, this is not possible. His explanation for this is rather complex, but it's also rooted in Whitehead's metaphysics. Griffin seems to be suggesting that somehow the creativity of the "occasions of experience" makes the cosmos a place of constant flux, making it impossible to completely grasp "the truth" about any single event, such as the life of Jesus. Further, since our conscious experiences are only a small part of our total experiences (not to mention the total experiences recorded in the mind of God), it's impossible to consciously recollect any single event in its entirety. This is a crucial difference between process philosophy and Steiner. Divine revelation or gnosis in the classical senses of those terms is impossible in the process scenario. Steiner, by contrast, believed that his "spiritual science" was strictly empirical and yielded absolute knowledge. Thus, a process philosopher might consider Steiner's ideas to be interesting proposals, but never dogma, gnosis or revealed truth.

Griffin also criticizes Steiner's pantheism, which he contrasts with Whitehead's panentheism (spelled pan-en-theism in the book). His main objection is that pantheism implies that evil and imperfection are part of the divine nature. While Steiner believed that we should choose good over evil, beauty over ugliness, and so on, Griffin feels that he didn't have a firm basis for that belief if *both* good and evil are part of the divine reality. Why not choose evil? In process theology, God is all-good. Evil happens when the occasions of experience strays from God's purposes. Therefore, process philosophy makes it possible to create a consistent ethic centred on choosing the good. A notorious addendum to this position is that God isn't all-powerful. The future is open and there are no guarantees that the good will be victorious. However, Griffin doesn't consider this a problem. Rather, he sees an additional problem with Steiner's position at this point: the pantheist system seems to be determinist. Steiner claimed to have foretold the exact course of the future, which implies that humans don't have free will, something Steiner in other contexts affirmed that we *do* have. If free will is real, which Griffin takes to be the common sense position, then the future isn't preordained, but this also implies that God cannot be omniescent or omnipotent. Griffin does admit a qualified form of precognition, which would entail tapping into God's knowledge of the "structures" of past and present events. These give God an ability to foresee the most likely course of future events. However, he feels that Steiner went much further than this, in a manner similar to the Hebrew prophets who also claimed *exact* knowledge of the future.

Griffin is surprisingly positive to Steiner's meditation exercises, regarding them as an example of genuine transformation to a higher stage of consciousness. What intrigues Griffin seems to be that Steiner didn't want to extinguish emotions or individuality (a position Griffin associates with Buddhism) but rather increase them and thereby achieving love for all of creation and even a kind of evolutionary emergence. Griffin even proposes that this kind of meditation should be incorporated into the spiritual practices of Whitehead's followers. Whitehead himself was an abstract, theoretical thinker and didn't have any practical proposals for a spiritual path.

One point not touched upon by Griffin concerns Steiner's view of Christ. True, the book is about philosophy, not theology or occultism proper. However, since Steiner was at bottom an "esoteric Christian", this is a potentially serious lacuna. The question is: if Anthroposophy is taken as a whole, including the mystical notions about Christ's work at Golgotha, can it *then* become a meaningful partner in dialogue with process philosophy, which is hardly Christian at all, let alone esoteric? Somehow I doubt it, and this might be the main problem with "American Philosophy and Rudolf Steiner" overall. Steiner's occultism was of such a different order from secular philosophy, that a book featuring Catholic, Orthodox or Traditionalist contributors wrestling with Steiner would have felt more relevant...

I'm not sure how to rate this book with its heterogeneous and perhaps misdirected contributions, but in the end I award it the OK rating (three stars).

RIP, Supertramp

I admit that I don't know how to rate "Into the Wild", or even what to say about it. I suppose slow-paced dramas simply aren't my cup of tea. But OK, here's a heroic attempt...

"Into the Wild" tells the more or less true story of Christopher McCandless a.k.a. Alexander Supertramp, a confused young man on a quest throughout America to find his true self and the meaning of life, while attempting to escape from a dysfunctional family. Like many others, he tries to find ultimate meaning in pristine wilderness, inspired by Thoreau. However, his odyssey ends tragically as he turns out to be unfit for the harsh life in the Alaskan hinterland. Or maybe not so tragically, since he somehow finds closure and enlightenment in his last dying moments...

The main protagonist is offered redemption and meaning at several points during his journeys, for instance by the old hippie couple or by Ron Franz (the old man). Franz also advises him about forgiveness. He is also offered love by a teenage girl. Yet, Supertramp constantly refuses the offers, being obsessed about going alone to Alaska. Perhaps this is the conflict "Into the Wild" wants to explore: are we redeemed by social relationships, or can we find meaning alone? Supertramp clearly believes the latter, constantly quoting his beloved Thoreau. However, the end of the story suggests that the real solution is the former: Supertramp is a complete failure in the wilderness, and his last words about having lived a good life obviously refer to his camaraderie with other members of the human race. Yet, his death isn't portrayed as tragic. Rather, he is reunited with his parents and sister in a near-death experience, after first being swallowed and killed by cruel nature.

I'm not sure if this is the "true" interpretation of "Into the Wild", but if it is, it suggests that what we're looking for cannot be found in pristine wilderness or splendid isolation from our fellow man. Somehow, I find that a more uplifting message than the crank deep ecology many others see in this film, and which I also saw the first time I watched it. I actually skipped most of "Into the Wild" when Swedish TV was showing it a few years ago, seeing it as yet another Timothy Treadwell story. It's obviously much subtler than that.

RIP, Chris McCandless.

Lost in America

Manly P. Hall's "Mysticism of Colonial America" is relatively uninteresting. It contains two short lectures by Hall, a well-known American esotericist. One is titled "The Society of the Mustard Seed", and deals with Johannes Kelpius, a German Pietist and mystic who founded a mystical-eschatological community in Pennsylvania during the 17th century. Some of the statements in the article don't correspond to what I've read elsewhere about Kelpius, who I presume was a somewhat reclusive and mysterious character. The other article, "Transcendentalists of Alexandria, Athens and Boston" is a short exegesis of Ralph Waldo Emerson's spiritual ideas. Vaguely interesting and reassuring, but hardly an in-depth study. Not sure how to rate this product. Two stars? Two-and-a-half?

Finding God in Concord. Or at least berries...

"Wild Fruits" is book based on an unfinished manuscript written by Henry David Thoreau, otherwise mostly known as the author of "Walden". The manuscript was discovered posthumously but not properly published until recently. Christian Science Monitor calls it "an important literary event...well worth any nature lover's attention". Since "Wild Fruits" is unfinished, the book does give a very unkempt appearance, a bit like a wild forest perhaps? It's part cultural history, part natural history, and part poetry. Of course, Thoreau also bemoans modern civilization, while expressing his religious and philosophical views. Like his colleague Emerson, Thoreau was a Transcendentalist.

The editor of "Wild Fruits", Bradley P Dean, dwells on Thoreau's pantheist views in an introductory section. Thoreau explicitly wanted to find God in Nature, and describe its divine features. He wanted a "Bible" drawn not from Egyptian or Babylonian sources, but from New England. In his journals, Thoreau wrote that muskrat houses (sic) will be mentioned in his New Testament, and during a trip to Mount Katahdin, the author experienced something akin to a mystical vision, during which he got "contact" with "the real world". Nature also made him understand the mystery of spirit, matter and body. "In Wildness is the preservation of the World".

While this open religious preaching seems to be absent from "Wild Fruits", Thoreau's almost sacramental view of Nature is an important part of the context of the projected book. Presumably, when Thoreau calls the swamps were high blueberries grow "sacred places" while attacking privately owned huckleberry fields as "cursed spots", he means this quite literally. Thoreau writes that "we occupy the heaven of the gods without knowing it", and says concerning our present predicament that "it would imply the regeneration of mankind if they were to become elevated enough to truly worship sticks and stones".

The manuscript also contains Zivilisationskritik, often through the lens of a young Thoreau picking berries in the forest. As already mentioned, the author disliked private property. As a boy, Thoreau was chased by the owner of a cranberry field, not realizing that some parts of the forest were privately owned! However, he also disliked the rapaciousness and aggressive antics of other berry-pickers, who were presumably out to earn a fast buck. The tragedy of the commons? Even as an adult, Thoreau disliked the human encroachment on the sacred forests around Walden, complaining about being disturbed by a noisy party of blueberry-pickers while eating a supper on milk and blueberries. The author at one point makes a comparison between aggressive pickers of berries, and White settlers stealing Indian and Mexican land.

Thoreau is suspicious of interstate trade and economic growth: "But the worst of it is that the emissaries of the towns come more for our berries than they do for our salvation". At another point, the author exclaims: "Why such haste to go from the huckleberry field to the college yard". Thoreau sees berry-picking as a kind of education (presumably in virtue, frugality or hard work), while his siblings apparently had a different attitude, waiting at home for Thoreau to return with his berries, so their parents could make pie... The sage of Walden Pond half-jokingly calls himself a "Mithridates among the berries", presumably a reference to the wilderness years of Persian king Mithridates VI, which made him hardy and completely immune to poison. But no, Thoreau wasn't actually against eating wild fruit. He brags about finding shad bushes and turning their berries into an appetizing pudding, while the local farmer (who had lived in the area for 70 years) had no idea such a plant even grew around his property. It also seems that even Thoreau occasionally needed cash, not just hardy muscles or puddings. He actually complains about a man owing him money trying to repay the debt in red huckleberries!

The material on natural and cultural history contains many references to Pliny, to older books on North American natural history, and discussions on what various berries are called in the languages of various American Indian nations. Thoreau also calls upon his own knowledge of the area around Concord, for instance when describing the high blueberry. Here, too, he retells some anecdotes. Apparently, his grandmother brought over the first ripe cherries of the year to her brother on the day of the Battle of Bunker Hill, 17 June 1775. The brother was confined in Concord Jail, since he was a Loyalist...

Those interested in buying "Wild Fruits" should note, however, that large parts of the book aren't particularly interesting. It is an unfinished work, after all. The shorter entries may sound like this: "Black Ash, September second". That's all Thoreau managed to tell us about this particular tree. I don't think Thoreau's observations and musings are suitable for the general public, although (ironically) this book is much easier to read than "Walden". That being said, "Wild Fruits" might nevertheless fill a niche, perhaps on the shelves of cultural historians, really hard line botanists, or Thoreau aficionados.

I practiced civil disobedience on this one

A review of "Letters to a Spiritual Seeker" by Henry David Thoreau 

I'm not sure why in Walden's name this collection has so rave reviews. Thoreau's unbearable prose is even more pronounced in these letters than in “Walden”, even apart from the fact that many of the letters are trivial rather than spiritual. Often, the editor's explanatory introductions are more interesting! Two-thirds through, I had to give this book a pass. Or a thoreau trashing.

Marxism among the middle class reformers

“The Origins of American Marxism” is a book published in 1969 by Monad Press, a subdivision of Pathfinder Press, the publishing arm of the U.S. Socialist Workers Party. The author, David Herreshoff, worked with the SWP in the anti-Vietnam War movement. However, since his book doesn't contain any SWP-ish rhetoric, I assume it isn't an official party statement. The book is more bland than I expected, although it does mention some pretty colorful characters. I admit that I bought it mostly because of the subtitle, “From the Transcendentalists to De Leon”. A Marxist trying to claim Ralph Waldo Emerson?

Actually, Herreshoff doesn't attempt to claim the sage of Concorde. According to the author, Emerson did say things that sounded radical, and his sympathies were with the laborers rather than the employers. However, he lacked faith in the ultimate revolutionary capacity of the working class, and didn't believe utopian socialist communes were an alternative either. This led Emerson to emphasize individual self-improvement as a necessary prelude to collective action at some more distant point in the future. Another difference between Emerson and Marx was that the latter regarded the city as more advanced than the countryside, while Emerson thought the opposite (think Thoreau and Muir). Herreshoff then discusses Orestes Brownson, another Transcendentalist with sympathies for the nascent labor movement. Brownson joined the Workingmen's Party of New York in 1828, one of the first labor parties in the world. However, his labor radicalism soon run into trouble as he proposed to support the Democrats (including the slave power in the South) against the Whigs, which he identified with capitalist interests. To hold the labor-agrarian-planter alliance together, Brownson opposed abolitionism. Later, he abandoned labor radicalism (and Emerson's Transcendentalism) altogether, converting to the Roman Catholic Church. Brownson did support the Union and abolition during the Civil War, even going so far as to back the more radical Frémont against Lincoln, but Herreshoff believes that this was a kind of provocation. Brownson wanted to keep the South in the Union to make the United States more conservative, and he really wanted to control the Blacks once the war was over – presumably, he therefore had the same positions as Andrew Johnson! During the war itself, however, the best way to defeat the Confederacy was through a tactical alliance with the most radical abolitionists…

Herreshoff devotes an entire section of his book to German émigrés in the United States, since it was these who brought Marxism with them to the new world. Many also fought in the Union Army. Joseph Weydemeyer may have been the first (and only?) U.S. colonel freely disseminating “The Communist Manifesto” while still in uniform! Friedrich Sorge eventually became the foremost spokesman of Marxism in the United States, after first going through a “bourgeois radical” phase as a militant enlightenment atheist. Herreshoff also mentions Herman Kriege, “the world's first former Marxist”, who broke with Marx already before the publication of the Communist Manifesto.

The main problem for Marxism in the new world was the weakness of the labor movement, reflecting the weakness of the working class itself in a still predominantly agrarian nation. Since any labor party risked being assimilated by one of the two major parties, or swamped by agrarian populists or “middle class reformers”, Sorge concentrated on Marxist propaganda and journalism, coupled with a kind of pure-and-simple unionism which emphasized the economic demands of the workers rather than more general politics. Once the frontier was closed and industrial development was in full swing, the objective factors would change and finally favor socialism, or so Sorge reasoned. Of course, this didn't stop him (nor Marx) from fiercely supporting the Union during the Civil War.

The most peculiar characters mentioned in the book are Stephen Pearl Andrews and Victoria Woodhull, two Spiritualists (sic) who joined the First International's American section. The First International (then known as the International Workingmen's Association) was indeed an international organization which encompassed most socialist currents (and a few non-socialist ones), and within which the Marxists had a strong influence. Andrews and Woodhull led what was essentially a kind of religious sect, with Andrews claiming to be the Grand Master of all Freemasons in the world and a self-proclaimed candidate for the papacy in Rome! Some of their proclamations are unintentionally comic, such as this one: “The Universal Formula of Universological Science – UNISM, DUISM and TRUISM”. They also proposed the creation of an international language, Alwatol. However, these crackpots had a political side which was potentially dangerous for Sorge and the Marxists. Andrews and Woodhull represented the dreaded agrarianism and “middle class reformism”, in the form of action-oriented feminism, demands for greenbacks, and support for President Grant's plan to annex Santo Domingo as a prelude to spread “universal” civilization to the backward nations. The Spiritualists and their Anti-Pope were eventually pushed out of the International by Marx, but by then, the organization had already become moribund.

About half of “The Origins of American Marxism” deal with Daniel De Leon, the central leader and theoretician of the Socialist Labor Party from circa 1890 to his death in 1914. The author is surprisingly charitable to De Leon, who is usually condemned or at least sharply criticized by most currents on the left. While the first Marxists on U.S. soil had to come to terms with non-labor radicalism (or worse), De Leon's main problem was “conservatism” in a rapidly expanding labor movement. De Leon eventually lost that fight, with the SLP becoming a group with little influence, overtaken by the IWW and the Socialist Party of Eugene V Debs.

Overall, I get the impression from the book that U.S. Marxism during the 19th century was a long list of false starts, with the Marxists often retreating into sectarian self-isolation, rather than uniting with the populists, reformers and moderate socialists – the only way to get real influence. This is curious given the fact that Marxists had no trouble supporting the “bourgeois” Union against the feudal Confederacy, even to the point of calling for unity around Lincoln rather than backing Frémont.

The author concludes with a rather bland and noncommittal chapter, in which he bemoans the failure of Marxism to really accommodate itself to American soil, using the Communist Party as a contemporary negative example. While the author says relatively little about the “Negro” question in this book, he does seem to regard it as central, since he here and there criticizes various Marxist (or “Marxist”) figures for not taking it seriously enough. The book ends with the hope that the industrial working class will still prove itself to be a dynamic revolutionary class.

With this, I have to leave you for today.

Baptizing John Muir

A review of "God´s Wilds: John Muir´s Vision of Nature" by Dennis C Williams. 

John Muir is usually seen as a pantheistic nature mystic heavily indebted to the Transcendentalism of Emerson and Thoreau. Dennis Williams disagrees. He argues that Muir was firmly rooted in evangelical Christianity, and that modern Green thinking and counter-culture has misunderstood the point of his writings on Nature.

Personally, I have no opinion on the matter, since I never read Muir's own writings (although I obviously heard of the man).

Firmly evangelical or not, Muir certainly had some ideas modern evangelicals (or Christians in general) would consider rather strange, even heretical. Thus, Muir believed that nature was inherently good and unfallen. Man was a fallen creature, but nature was still in pristine condition, just as God had created it. Love and harmony were the ruling principles of nature. Therefore, humans could learn something about God by studying it, from which follows that nature must be preserved. Muir considered exploitation of nature to be sinful, and seems to have believed that God didn't create it for the benefit of man, something proven by malarial swamps or dangerous predators, which obviously don't exist to benefit humans. And yes, Muir quipped that he would defend the beasts if there ever was a war between humans and animals. There was certainly a streak of nature mysticism in John Muir, but he believed it somehow pointed to the Christian God and revealed something about his character.

Williams believes that the counter-culture of the sixties read Muir's writings through their own, secularist spectacles and turned him into a pantheist. Perhaps.

But is that really so surprising? Somehow, I get the feeling that what Muir really accomplished, was to baptize pantheism...

"God's Wilds" is a scholarly work and could be difficult for the general reader, since it presupposes a great deal of foreknowledge of Muir, his writings and the general intellectual and political climate of 19th century America. Still, the book should be of considerable interest to those who already have a working knowledge of Muir or the relationship between religion and Green thinking.