I did this two-hour radio interview on The Styxxoplix Show in Ft. Wayne, IN, in which we discussed my book The Dynamics of Transformation: Tracing an Emerging World View. It was a fascinating conversation ranging from Aristotle’s four causes and Jean Gebser’s five stages of consciousness to the qualitative nature of time, the exponential acceleration of technology, and the novel world view that seems currently to be emerging.
Tag Archives: Hegel
The suggestion that our culture is undergoing the collective transition to a fundamentally new mode of thought is one that has been unpalatable to the principal modern sensibility, but which irrepressibly continues to crop up, eliciting from those with minds sufficiently unencumbered by conventional assumptions the suspicion that such an emergence is possible, and perhaps even inevitable. Since at least Hegel at the beginning of the nineteenth century, and in the work of some of the most revered thinkers since then, the presentiment that a large segment of human culture is on the cusp of a transformation as fundamental as the revolution that birthed modernity has proven to be extremely persistent. The “new age” movement that began in the nineteen sixties, achieved widespread attention in the seventies, and has since undergone a trivializing reaction, in many cases for good reason, is perhaps the most prominent expression of some of the kinds of insights presented here, particularly the idea that culture is currently experiencing the emergence of a new world view.
However, the new age movement was ultimately a failure in its implied goal—to bring about a new era of human history—though I would argue that it was a necessary step for the widespread publication of the kinds of ideas that had, until then, been the province of deeply rigorous and careful theorists like Hegel and James, Bergson and Gebser, Jung and Whitehead. The great commercial success of the new age movement was also its downfall as a philosophy to be taken seriously, as complex and profound ideas were often appropriated by the lowest common denominator and flattened to fit into a modern mentality, neutered by poor aesthetic taste, simplistic, self-centered spirituality, and overly credulous commerce in tacky paraphernalia. All of these elements that many of us find so worthy of ridicule have served to diminish some of the most significant ideas of the last few centuries to caricatures in collective understanding, often buried behind atrocious pastel book covers, embedded in absurdly grandiose and imprecise language, and inextricably mixed with preposterous and unprovable assertions.
While the present book is most emphatically not party to the new age movement as it is generally conceived, as Whitehead so presciently declared in 1925’s Science and the Modern World: “Almost all really new ideas have a certain aspect of foolishness when they are first produced.” There are numerous thinkers and writers who may have been sympathetic to the initial impulse to birth a “new age” during that movement’s earliest and most hopeful days, but who never acquiesced to that overly compromised designation. These thinkers have been quietly and consistently working to find some middle ground, to build a bridge between modernity and the emerging mode that many have intuited, and of which the new age movement is merely the most facile and publicly digestible approximation.
In particular, scholars such as David Bohm, James Hillman, Charles Taylor, Stanislav Grof, Rupert Sheldrake, Terence McKenna, and Richard Tarnas, among many others, who have all done their work primarily in the second half of the twentieth century and the beginning of the twenty-first century, have taken up the task of carrying forward the epochal philosophical endeavor initiated by Hegel, James, Jung, Bergson, Whitehead, Gebser, and all the rest. They have endeavored to produce novel concepts, forms of language, and institutions through which the emerging mode of thought can be viably articulated and propagated into collective awareness. Therefore, despite the apparently radical nature of some of the ideas expressed in the present work in relation to the main streams of academia, the project of this book is actually a rather conservative one: to synthesize and consolidate the concepts and rhetorical strategies developed by these numerous precursors, and hopefully in the process to assist in differentiating these ideas from the problematic subcultures with which they have sometimes been associated. In short, the kind of thought expressed here seems ripe for an entrance from the liminal margins into the central spheres of cultural discourse, which it has, in fact, already begun to enjoy in the work of those thinkers mentioned above, and that of many others.
[This post is an excerpt from The Dynamics of Transformation: Tracing an Emerging World View.]
The evolution of process in various domains appears to occur through a series of relatively discrete stages, which finds one of its most basic forms in the three-stage schema of premodern, modern, and an apparently emerging mode after the postmodern. G.W.F. Hegel, William James, C.G. Jung, Henri Bergson, Alfred North Whitehead, Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, and many others have generally employed this three-stage schema, whether explicitly or implicitly, and I will often refer to these broad stages extrapolated from these various conceptual systems. However, some theorists have subdivided these overarching divisions in finer detail. For instance, Jean Gebser traces a five-stage schema—archaic, magic, mythical, mental, and integral—further subdividing each stage into “efficient” and “deficient” phases. I will generally employ Gebser’s five-stage schema when a finer-grained approach is wanted, as I have found his terminology and his description of these stages to be the clearest and most useful articulation of the more specific phases of ingression.
These five stages appear to manifest fractally in various progressions at different scales: from nonlife to prokaryotic life to animality to hominidity to human consciousness on the scale of evolution; from unfertilized egg to infant to child to adolescent to adult in individual human development; and from archaic to magic to mythical to mental and, perhaps, on to a novel mode in the collective development of human consciousness. These phases of process are rarely completely distinct from one another, as each stage generally contains the earlier stages within it as the very constitution of its emergence, and there are many compromise formations, regressions, and side roads that complicate the discernment of these stages of development. Furthermore, in contradistinction to premodern and modern hierarchical modes, the emergent view of developmental stages generally asserts that no stage is qualitatively superior to any other stage. So the adult is not superior to the child, who possesses profound imaginal capacities that are inevitably diluted by passage into the more complex later stages. Similarly, earlier cultures possess forms of knowledge and activity that developmentally subsequent stages have generally forgotten, or which have become diminished from neglect. However, while an earlier stage may be viewed as a “golden age” by some, the emerging mode does not usually deem these originary phases of process as qualitatively superior to later stages.
At our historical moment in the early twenty-first century, we live in a world in which cultures at all stages of development coexist, starting with a very few scattered instances of archaic humans, such as those rare children raised by animals, for example, abiding in an undifferentiated, dreamlike, preverbal consciousness nearly indistinguishable from the modes of relation experienced by the most conscious animals such as dogs, cats, and nonhuman primates. However, we have all experienced this mode of consciousness in ourselves and in others as infancy, a stage of development when there is essentially no awareness of self. It seems that this stage of consciousness in humans is only separable from a similar mode in nonhuman primates by the intuitively felt capacity to go beyond this phase facilitated through the enlarged neocortex of the human brain. At this archaic stage, one is essentially an animal, only transcending animality in the completely unarticulated bodily sense that one is destined for something more. But this is not a judgment of value, as the archaic stage is Adam and Eve in the Garden, a pure and undifferentiated innocence and embeddedness to be cherished, and to which we should all perhaps occasionally return. In fact, we do seem to return to something like the archaic stage of awareness every night in dreams.
A significantly larger group of people apparently abide in uncontacted or isolated tribes that primarily inhabit the magic stage of consciousness, though this group still appears to be a small percentage of the current overall world population. In this world view, a self emerges, but this self is pre-egoic and almost completely permeable with the world and with others, so that the inner dialogue, made possible by the emergence of language at this stage, does not differentiate between what is imagined and what the modern mind would generally conceive as external, material reality. One awakens to a body, but the experience of being in magical consciousness is constituted in what mentality would subsequently demarcate into world and mind thinking and feeling together as an undifferentiated unity. Instead of a subject perceiving an object, the magical mode perceives what is, or at least what appears to be at that stage, swimming in a fluid, dreamlike mélange of images, emotions, and significations.
The material production characteristic of magical culture is simple tools and weapons, talismans of various sorts, and cave paintings. However, in a magical culture, the shamans are those individuals who employ what Mircea Eliade calls “techniques of ecstasy,” from fasting and wilderness exposure to psychoactive plants, dance, and vocalization to perceive intimations of further stages of consciousness. It appears from testimonies of these individuals that these ecstatically induced intimations would generally be located in the mythical, but may occasionally go beyond that immediately subsequent mode to experience, however briefly, the mental or the currently emerging mode, or perhaps even later stages as yet unrealized, though these more distant stages would be almost impossible to communicate or sustain in a cultural milieu whose verbal structures and premises about the nature of reality are primarily magical. And we can all recognize this stage of process by remembering our early childhood, a phase that can be grown beyond by different individuals in various cultures at a range of ages, but from which most individuals in our era eventually emerge. However, shamanic “techniques of ecstasy” can certainly be practiced in the context of subsequent stages by individuals who have attained modern mentality, especially in the integrative mode, which specifically integrates the previous modes in an emergent synthesis, incorporating the unique capacities of each stage.
It seems that for a large proportion of people in the present, though perhaps no longer a majority, their gravitational center of consciousness is located in the mythical stage, which is the stage of ancient religions and systems of thought that accompanied the entrance into history and the first signs of what we would consider civilization: writing, agriculture, cities, commerce, laws, kings, and above all, gods. This is the mode of consciousness that permeated Pharaonic Egypt and ancient Mesopotamia, and that produced the code of Hammurabi and Cuneiform tablets. This is the stage of cognizance that the ancient Hebrews first began to go beyond in their rejection of idols, and that Cortes and his crew encountered in Montezuma and the Aztecs in the 1519 meeting that would mark the incipient colonization of the Americas by Europe at the dawn of modernity. Whenever a culture or a group within a culture could conceivably be described as prerational or premodern (though these potentially problematic designations are structurally equivalent to calling a child a “pre-adult”), this usually means that we are encountering the mythical stage of consciousness. In fact, contemporary fundamentalist religious movements, particularly in both Christianity and Islam, appear generally to be composed of the mythically situated masses often cynically led by individuals who have achieved enough mentality to manipulate and control those whose consciousness has stabilized in the mythical mode. However, developmentally later modes can find great value in the capacities individuated by the mythical mode of thought, as well as the archaic and magic modes, forms of knowledge and perception which must be reintegrated if we are to move past the deficient mental phase characteristic of late modernity.
Although there were intimations of mentality in the disclosures of many ancient mythical systems, the first eruption of rational consciousness on a large scale seems to have taken place during the heart of what historian Karl Jaspers has called the “Axial Age” centered on the approximately fifty-year period in the sixth century B.C.E. when many of the world’s most transformative religious and philosophical figures lived, including the Buddha, Confucius, Lao Tzu, Mahavira, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Second Isaiah, Thales, Anaximander, Pythagoras, Sappho, Thespis, Solon, and possibly Zoroaster—in other words the beginnings of Greek philosophy and science, Buddhism, Confucianism, Taoism, Jainism, and a transformed Judaic religion. This profoundly creative period built the foundations for the eventual emergence of rationality as the dominant cultural force in modernity, though it required around twenty centuries of thought, debate, war, upheaval, invention, and discovery for the mental mode of thought to begin to be articulated comprehensively, a process that appears to be nearing completion five centuries further on in late modernity. The Renaissance and Protestant Reformation of the sixteenth century, the ages of Enlightenment and Revolution in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, the age of imperialism, romanticism, and idealism in the nineteenth century, and through all this the development of science and technology have mediated the emergence of the mental stage as the dominant cultural mode in the West and, only in the last few decades, perhaps in the world. In the central spheres of modern culture, the attainment of rationality by the individual is the mark of entrance into full adulthood, and there seems to us something childish, and perhaps deficient or even dangerous, in a grown person who still primarily inhabits the mythical mode of consciousness but is embedded in a predominantly rationalist society.
[This post is an excerpt from The Dynamics of Transformation: Tracing an Emerging World View]
I’ll be turning 35 in January, so I’ve been doing some thinking about age in relation to the trajectory of my career. I’m in the final stages of preparing my first book, How Does It Feel?: Elvis Presley, The Beatles, Bob Dylan, and the Philosophy of Rock and Roll, for publication, and I’m well into my second book, a straight work of philosophy. With these considerations in mind, I decided to look at how old my favorite philosophers (and a few psychologists and a stray scientist and sociologist) were when they published their first major works and some of their best known works thereafter. I haven’t tried to be comprehensive, so please don’t be offended if I’ve left out one of your favorite books or thinkers. Rather, I’ve given a subjectively chosen selection of works merely sufficient to answer my question. To make a long story short, the conclusion I’ve drawn is that we philosophers are doing just fine if we publish our first book by our late forties. Philosophy is clearly not a vocation for those seeking instant gratification.
One caveat: the ages I’ve listed are approximations based solely on the years, not the months, of birth and publication, so there’s essentially a one year margin of error. I could take the time to recheck all the numbers, but you get the idea, and I need to get back to writing my book.
48 – The Principles of Psychology
55 – The Will to Believe
60 – The Varieties of Religious Experience
65 – Pragmatism
67 – A Pluralistic Universe
30 – Time and Free Will
37 – Matter and Memory
48 – Creative Evolution
Alfred North Whitehead
49 – Principia Mathematica
64 – Science and the Modern World
68 – Process and Reality
72 – Adventures of Ideas
77 – Modes of Thought
37 – Psychology of the Unconscious
46 – Psychological Types
59 – The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious
69 – Psychology and Alchemy
77 – Synchronicity
87 – Memories, Dreams, Reflections
44 – The Ever-Present Origin
41 – The Passion of the Western Mind
56 – Cosmos and Psyche
37 – The Phenomenology of Spirit
42 – The Science of Logic
35 – The Copernican Revolution
40 – The Structure of Scientific Revolutions
34 – Emotion
38 – Suicide and the Soul
49 – Re-Visioning Psychology
44 – The Interpretation of Dreams
48 – The Psychopathology of Everyday Life
57 – Totem and Taboo
74 – Civilization and Its Discontents
83 – Moses and Monotheism
50 – On the Origin of Species
62 – The Descent of Man
41 – The Protestant Ethic and the “Spirit” of Capitalism
After the darker novelty of countercultural impulse simmering underground. However, no cultural moment lasts for long, though its effects can be felt long after it is gone. The generally conservative reaction to the horrors of the war, actualized in rationing of food and supplies, which linguistically and archetypally echoes the generally rationalized quality of this era (in Weber’s sense), was itself followed by a seemingly inevitable corrective reaction, embodied in the counterculture, towards freedom, novelty, and the rejection of the privileging of rationality to mediate the reintegration of repressed intuitive, affective, and somatic modes of experience with the predominant modes., the postwar era in generally seems to have consisted of a cultural contraction, a retreat into rationalized conformity, a step back from the destructive abyss witnessed by a generation, with the
Beginning that Easter, a fleet of ‘pirate’ radio ships moored offshore to the east of Essex or Kent, just outside the twelve-mile international-waters limit, and began broadcasting rock ‘n roll on its own terms. Radio Caroline, and later Radio London, showcased the latest records, describing what was fashionable and delivering a new language, sprinkled with words like fab and gear and dig. British kids of every class could agree, in the abstract at least, that music cut through all the bullshit and eloquently expressed all the feelings—frustration, fear, rage, and passion—they’d suppressed for so long (545).
The counterculture’s rebellious attitude, framed in the outlaw image of the “pirate,” generated a new avenue by which the often conservative and repressive forces of G.W.F. Hegel describes it in The Phenomenology of Spirit:, controlled largely by the government, could be circumvented. Rather than lobbying, in the conventional manner, for the inclusion of more rock and roll in the BBC’s programs, the counterculture took matters into its own hands and created an alternate medium through which to communicate its emerging world view. This liminal enterprise, just on the edges of the legislative, political, and geographical structures of Britain, served as a venue for the dialectical return of the repressed as
It is the whole which, having traversed its content in time and space, has returned into itself . . . the mediation of its self-othering with itself. . . . It is the doubling which sets up opposition. . . . It is the process of its own becoming, the circle that presupposes its end as its goal, having its end also as its beginning; and only by being worked out to its end, is it actual. . . . But this result is simple immediacy, for it is self-conscious freedom at peace with itself, which has not set the antithesis on one side and left it lying there, but has been reconciled with it. (7, 10, 12)
Interpreted as a semiotic system, the postwar structure of British media literally went outside itself in a process of “self-othering” to look back upon itself in the form of the pirate radio ships, operated primarily by English people, broadcasting back a “doubling” reflection ofto itself, which was then synthesized with the “mainland” culture in the form of what came to be known as the counterculture. Thus, the rising counterculture was given a voice through music and the novel language of the hipster cognoscenti that ultimately transformed by being “reconciled with it” in the locus of every young person who participated in the counterculture, eventually to become the next generation enacting the emergent, synthetic “simple immediacy” as the new main stream of British culture. And, as Spitz suggests, the primary factor that the predominant culture had “suppressed for so long,” at least in one of its inflections, was “feelings,” gesturing towards the affective quality of experience that was the “antithesis” to the rationalized quality largely characteristic of postwar Britain.