Materialism wants to explain life in terms of dead matter and mind in terms of mindlessness – which means, in effect, that it wants to deny both by explaining each as a complex and exceptional case of its opposite. But this is like saying that intelligence is really only a peculiar form of stupidity.
On the problem of egalitarianism and ‘higher types’
In his last years the great humanist psychologist Abraham Maslow became troubled by the political implications of his psychology of “self-actualization.” Among other ideas, this entailed a concept of being “fully human,” which suggested that, in Maslow’s uncomfortable phrase, “some people are more ‘human’ than others.” Maslow wrote that “the problem of the ‘biological elite’ has inescapably confronted me in my efforts to build a theory of the good society.” By the “biological elite” Maslow meant “self-actualizing” men and women, individuals who, for one reason or another, “actualise” their potential, and, as result of this, experience a greater degree of psychological health than those who do not, evidence for this being the repeated recurrence of “peak experiences,” moments of an almost mystical sense of happiness and fulfilment. What sets “self-actualizers” apart from less psychologically healthy people – everyone from psychopaths to the merely discontented and neurotic – was, Maslow concluded, some innate, biological disposition, something, that is, inside them. To be sure, social and economic conditions can help or hinder one’s “actualisation.” But as Maslow points out, many of the “self-actualizers” he studied came from deprived backgrounds, and made real their potentials, in spite of adverse conditions. (In fact, in some cases, difficult conditions may even be a spur to “self-actualization.”) Maslow envisioned a time “when there is no longer social injustice to serve as an alibi or excuse for one’s own biological inadequacies” and when there “might well be a great increase of […] malicious envy of those who are more successful in their achievements.”
Thinking of ways to “protect the biologically gifted from the almost inevitable malice of the biologically non-gifted,” Maslow suggested something like a new “priestly class to which is given less monetary reward and fewer privileges or luxuries than the average members of the overall population,” given that “self-actualizers” are less interested in material rewards than in the “metagratifications” or “intrinsic values” of “advancing beauty, excellence, justice or truth.”
Maslow’s vision of a kind of Brahmin caste of “self-actualizers,” uninterested in the kind of material gratification that most people desire, and oriented toward more “spiritual” concerns, is a recurring fantasy in the world of occult politics. It’s the basis for Hermann Hesse’s monumental novel The Glass Bead Game, in which, in some unspecified future, a society of philosophers, artists and other “gifted” individuals form a cultural elite, set apart from the masses. In the 1920s, in a book called The Art of Being Ruled, the British painter and novelist Wyndham Lewis, a writer not usually associated with anything even vaguely occult, suggested essentially the same arrangement as Maslow. Lewis argued that with the rise of democracy and egalitarianism, cultural values were increasingly being levelled and that mediocrity was becoming the norm, something we experience today as “dumbing down.” One result of this is that the intellectuals considered the average person a “yahoo” – from Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels – and the ordinary man saw the artist as some sort of freak. To safeguard high cultural values, and to maintain social order, Lewis argued that society should be split into two classes. Instead of the old, inequitable chasm between the “haves” and the “have-nots” – in which a small group of people get to do the things that most of the others want to do too – there would be “something like a biological separating-out of the chaff from the grain,” the “chaff” being the person motivated by material desires and entertainments, the “grain” being the philosopher or artist – or, in Maslow’s term, the “self-actualizer.” See Abraham Maslow “Humanistic Biology: Elitist Implications of the Concept of ‘Full-Humanness’” in Future Visions: The Unpublished Papers of Abraham Maslow, ed. Edward Hoffman (Sage Publications: Thousand Oaks, 1996)
The reader will note that this is among Maslow’s unpublished works, suggesting that he was aware of the difficulty in discussing such inflammatory issues, especially at the time he wrote it, in 1968, when notions of what we call “political correctness” were first taking root. Today, although biological and evolutionary psychology are established disciplines, the difficulty in airing any doubts about the dictums of egalitarianism remain, and indeed, have only increased. About another paper, on the “failure” of liberalism, Maslow’s editor Hoffman remarks that it showed Maslow “slowing moving toward a stance that today would be most closely associated with neoconservatism.” (p. 160). That Maslow was also fond of the work of the novelist Ayn Rand, an outspoken advocate of capitalism and a critic of the welfare state, highlights the complexities of “spiritual politics.” Maslow was one of the major figures associated with the Esalen Institute, the famous West Coast counter-culture “think tank,” whose ethos was as far removed from Ayn Rand’s as possible, and whose lack of intellectual rigour eventually led Maslow to reject its approach. (See the Afterword to my Dedalus Book of the 1960s: Turn Off Your Mind (2010) where I tell the story of Maslow’s encounter with the Gestalt therapist Fritz Perls.) Self-motivation, personal responsibility and self-discipline – character traits of Maslow’s “self-actualizers” – have much in common with the “rugged individualism” associated with the heroes of Rand’s novels, and which was under attack in the 1960s and 70s by a variety of ‘alternative’ schools of thought, from the New Left to feminists.
Similar out-takes are available in Electricty of The Mind: The Anomalist 14.
“Billed as an enquiry into those occult undercurrents which flowed beneath the social revolution of the 1960s, this book burgeons over the course of 500 pages, into something approaching a magical history of the twentieth century – a primer in the significance of Madame Blavatsky, the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, H.P. Lovecraft, Conan the Barbarian, L. Ron Hubbard, Erich von Daniken, Uri Geller, Anton LaVey, the Rolling Stones, and the demon Choronzon. Colin Wilson and Marianne Faithfull are thanked in the acknowledgements.
Gary Lachman, once the bassist for the pop band Blondie, makes a likeable, unpretentious, knowledgeable guide, lacing his text with hints of autobiography which suggest the glamour of his past. While far from being a sceptic, Lachman is nonetheless capable of bracing cynicism when required. Pleasingly, his book is filled with terrific stories, the veracity of which he neither accepts without question nor dismisses out of hand. The most intriguing tales include Charles Manson auditioning for the Monkees, the 1974 ‘kidnap’ of David Bowie by what the singer claimed were ‘ a warlock and two witches’ who wanted him’ to meet the Devil’ and, somehow most cherishably, a description of a Sicilian holiday embarked on in 1955 by the sexologist Alfred Kinsey and the experimental filmmaker Kenneth Anger, in which they made a pilgrimage to the ruins of the former home of Aleister Crowley, where they set to work at once on a project of restoration, soon discovering obscene murals of ‘ one-eyed demons’ and a ‘ magic circle, covered over by a concrete floor.’ “ Jonathan Barnes in The Times Literary Supplement
Estimates of the number of works collected within the library of Alexandria range from 500,000, to more than a million, but as no list or catalogue of the library’s contents has ever come to light, these figures must remain possibilities. The number of scrolls, however, must have been great, as the library was founded by Ptolemy I Soter, and continued to exist in some form until the sack of Alexandria by the Arab leader Amr ibn al’Aas in 639 AD. Asked what should be done with the library, Amr ibn al’Aas is reported to have said that the books ‘either contradict the Koran, in which case they are heresy, or they agree with it, in which case they are superfluous,’ and ordered they be burned to heat the baths for his soldiers. Debate remains over the truth of this, as it does over much that is said about the library, but by this time it had been accidentally burned by Julius Caesar, when he inadvertently set fire to it while trying to prevent Ptolemy III from reaching his ships (48 BC); suffered pillage by the Emperor Aurelian (273 AD); and was destroyed by the Christian Patriarch Theophilus in 391, when the Christian Emperor Theodosius ordered the destruction of all pagan temples. On this occasion, the Serapeum, dedicated to the worship of the syncretic god Serapis, was also destroyed, as were temples to Mithras and other heathen deities.
Alexandria had been a remarkably tolerant city under Greek and pagan Roman rule, but by the time the Christians had control, this liberal attitude had vanished, and Theodosius is credited with inaugurating the practice of burning books on purpose (unlike Julius Caesar, who only did it by accident.) Not long after Theophilus started scouring Alexandria clean of heathens, the pagan philosopher Hypatia, one of the most brilliant women of the ancient world, was attacked by a mob of Christian fanatics, who skinned her alive with oyster shells and burned her remains. They were encouraged in this by Cyril, the Christian patriarch who followed Theophilus, and who was later canonized. Although the Platonic Academy would carry on for another century or so, to all intents and purposes, the pagan world ended with Hypatia’s death.
As the library housed most of the world’s great knowledge it understandably attracted the world’s thinkers and scholars. We can only surmise what other writings could be found in this lost treasure — many, no doubt, that we have never heard of — but known to have been contained in its shelves were the works of Euclid, Archimedes, and the astronomer Ptolemy, whose view of the cosmos would remain dominant until Copernicus pointed out its discrepancies in 1543. Among others whose work could be found in the library were Eratosthenes, who knew the circumference of the Earth, and Aristarchus, who argued that the planets orbit the sun, centuries before Copernicus did. The forty-two books that Clement of Alexandria attributed to Hermes Trismegistus were, he believed, available at the library. These, alas, he also believed had been destroyed by Julius Caesar’s clumsiness.
Hi, I’m Gary Lachman (also known as Gary Valentine), the writer, journalist, and musician who, at least according to one critic, is “an increasingly prolific engine of literate, well-written, and clearheaded books about esoteric history and ‘occulture’.” (Erik Davis at Techgnosis.com, bless him) Here you can find out about my books and music, discover links to some of my writings, and read comments people have made about my work. You can also find notices for my forthcoming books, and updates on my talks, lectures, interviews, and broadcasts. You can also leave your own comments, ask questions, provide answers, or simply say hello. As the cultural historian Jacques Barzun – currently defying entropy at 102 – remarked “The finest achievement of human society and its rarest pleasure is Conversation.” Who are we to contradict him? So please, join in.