URBAN
STERILITY AND THE MODERN SOUL
The real tragedy of
modern life is the overwhelming size of the largest cities. A majority of people are no longer in close or
even regular contact with nature, with the pulsating life of natural phenomena,
but are constantly surrounded by the man-made lifeless forms which constitute
contemporary megalopolis. They live so
close to concrete, steel, glass, lead, rubber, aluminium, plastic, etc., that
they are invariably drained of a great deal of their vital life-force, drained,
if you like, of spiritual potentialities which their less-urbanized ancestors
generally experienced and doubtless took for granted, as the natural property
of mankind. Shut out from regular
contact with natural phenomena, with soil and crops and trees and flowers, they
take on the quality of the sterile environments in which they live or, rather,
exist, becoming increasingly like automata - soulless figures in a soulless
world, that of the big city.
How painful it can be for anyone with a knowledge of the
biological necessity of one's living in close proximity to nature ... to stand
on the pavements in one of the more built-up parts of a big city and note the
absence of vegetation! There are streets
in most major cities where there isn't a tree or a bush or a flower in sight,
where the inanimate so dominates the area that one seriously wonders how anyone
can manage to survive there, so lunar is the resulting impression. And even on streets where some effort has
been made to acknowledge nature, where a few small trees or saplings have been
planted at regular intervals along the edge of the pavement - how inadequate they
usually appear when contrasted with the predominantly commercial or industrial
surroundings in which, one can only suppose, they are doomed to fight a losing
battle, to languish pitifully and painfully in the indifferent and sometimes
hostile environment of concrete, steel, glass, petrol fumes, noise, etc., which
inevitably takes precedence over them!
How hateful to such a person, a person keenly aware of man's
current plight, is the spectacle of crazy paving in so-called front gardens,
where the residents are either too lazy to tend the soil or too busy doing
other things to have any time for gardening, and have accordingly capitulated
to the tyranny of concrete, abdicated their private right to stand-up for
natural phenomena in a society whose ever-increasing preoccupation with the
man-made, with artificial phenomena, is bringing about its own downfall and
inevitable spiritual and moral death.
For how can life, human or otherwise, possibly thrive in a society where
the inanimate has come to play such a dominating role? Is it any wonder that the great majority of
long-term city-dwellers appear so washed out, sickly and mean, or that their
feelings are so often apathetic, shallow, callous, and negative?
No, of course not! You
cannot spend the greater part of your life out-of-contact with the living pulse
of nature and hope to remain healthy.
Sterility begets sterility, and, by contrast to their more fortunate
ancestors, the souls of a majority of contemporary people are most certainly
sterile! They may not be completely
dead, but they are undoubtedly a long way from being fully alive! If they have any feelings at all, such
feelings either don't run very deep or are apt, in the worst cases, to turn
negative. Their possessors are too
greatly the victims of their lifeless environments to have any real
comprehension of or empathy with the soul, to be in a position to properly
grasp the significance of the cultural life from which modern civilization has
irrevocably banished them. As idolaters
at the shrine of the intellect, they can only concur with Nietzsche that
"God is dead" and marvel that churches should still exist. For in relation to the maimed state of their
souls and the preponderance of the inanimate, those manifestations of man's acknowledgement
of the more-than-human - in short, of nature and that which presides over and
also exists supernaturally above it - have indeed become anachronisms, scarcely
to be countenanced by the modern mind.
As Spengler, the German philosopher
of history, so eloquently informed us, 'the Civilization' of contemporary urban
and industrial society is essentially the reverse of 'the Culture' of medieval
and catholic spirituality, and whatever pertained to 'the Culture' can hardly
be taken to heart in 'the Civilization', with its materialistic values. Truly, the West is indeed on the
decline! Modern men are not the
super-enlightened, anti-superstitious people that the liberal intelligentsia
may prefer us to regard them as but, for the most part, unfortunate wretches who
have lost or are in the process of losing their souls. They have simply been transformed, largely
through environmental changes, from predominantly sentient beings into
predominantly existential ones; from creatures firmly under the sway of the
divine life-principle to creatures increasingly coming under the domination of
its diabolic antithesis, and, without a shadow of a doubt, one is less
fortunate in the latter context than in the former! It is better to be a soulful being in close
contact with nature than a veritable automaton who has lost proper contact with
it, because the society in which he lives, in becoming the victim of its
industrial and technological genius, has increased its population to a point
where cities are so large ... that the artificial comes to predominate over
nature and to dominate people's lives, obliging them to live a kind of
environmental blasphemy.
A kind of environmental blasphemy? Yes and no.
'Yes' because, objectively considered, whatever sets itself up against
the natural order of life, and thereupon forces people to pervert themselves,
must be an irreverence, a profanation, a hubris, in which man
pits himself against the preordained nature of things through wilful
disobedience and inevitably brings about his own downfall. Thus his anti-natural confinements and
lifestyles in large cities could be seen as constituting a species of practical
blasphemy.
However, a society in which, largely through the aforementioned
reasons, "God is dead" ... can hardly be accused of blasphemous
activities, insofar as it has ceased to have any genuine relationship with God,
having changed its scale of values in accordance with purely secular or
materialistic criteria. Such a society
does not commit blasphemy when it indulges in heart transplants, for example,
because the heart has ceased to mean anything beyond being a muscle which pumps
blood through the body. It has been
reduced, through the materialistic influence of urban civilization, to the
literal status of a pump, which fights shy of any medieval, and hence cultural,
associations with the "seat of the soul" or other figurative
interpretations proper to 'the Culture'.
Where formerly the heart, to all cultural purposes, was more soul than
pump, it is now merely a utilitarian entity, subject to medical diagnosis, on a
par with the liver or the kidneys! The
figurative interpretation has been swept away to leave - what? A very matter-of-fact conception which ceases
to appeal to the imagination but is in perfect accord with the
scientifically-biased tendencies of urban man, who, having sacrificed his soul
to his intellect, will doubtless regard the medieval estimate of the heart as
an unnecessary superstition!
Such is how matters proceed on the temporal plane, where
allegations of blasphemy would seem to be quite irrelevant. Shut off as it now is in its own urban
isolation from adequate contact with nature, modern industrial society will
probably proceed, if time permits, to develop heart surgery and perhaps even
brain surgery to a point where the Frankenstein myth will become reality, where
the creation of human monsters will be hailed as one of the great achievements
of medical science, and the propagation of such monsters duly be sanctioned by
the state, presumably with law enforcement or military security in mind!
Fortunately, modern society hasn't quite arrived at that point,
but there can be little doubt that it is steadily advancing towards it with or
without the guidance of prognoses, or symptoms, like Brave New World. Divorced, as it largely is, from the
moral-world-order implicit in nature, such a society must increasingly fall
victim to the immorality inherent in any perversion of that order, and thus
eventually reap self-destruction. For
much as it may prefer to wallow in its urban isolation, the natural-world-order
still exists, both within and without, and won't tolerate persistent abuse for
ever. In the long-run, we pay for our
crimes against life, whether they have been inflicted upon us by society or
inflicted upon society by us. Man is the
ultimate loser, not God. [ I should like to assure the reader that the
foregoing attack upon city life is not indicative of a form of Manichean
dualism, whereby matter is considered evil and only the spirit, by contrast,
good, since I have no desire to consider Nature, or natural phenomenal in
general, inherently evil. On the
contrary, if I regard the man-made as evil it is only so in excess, not in
moderation. Thus the vast scale of the
largest cities, with their detrimental effect upon the soul, compels me to
regard them as being in opposition to Nature, and thus fundamentally evil.]
So what, if anything, can be done to reverse this trend and
restore society to something like a healthy state of soul? Not much, it would appear. Having abandoned nature in the development of
our principal cities, we can't very well return to it again. The large populations which were originally
made possible by the Industrial Revolution have to be fed and housed somewhere,
and so the necessity of people living in close proximity to one another in vast
conurbations cannot reasonably be denied.
Whatever the immediate future holds in store for us, we cannot possibly
reverse the trend of 'the Civilization', to revert to Spengler,
and thereupon effect a return to 'the Culture'.
Our buildings, populations, industries, and technologies are the chief
reasons for 'the Civilization', and they can only be accepted on their own
terms. Knowing why we are in the
position in which we now find ourselves may be of some interest to us, but it
cannot reasonably be expected to open the way for a return to former and
intrinsically superior standards. If
there is a price, materially and spiritually, for everything, then Western
civilization is no exception. The price
we are paying, not only for our industrial and technological advances but also
for our social and urban expansion, is a high one. It involves a loss of soul which would have
horrified our cultural ancestors, accustomed as they generally were to a
less-urbanized and more freely natural environment. The fertile 'Culture', in which they lived
and for the most part spiritually thrived, was sold down river for the
comparatively sterile 'Civilization' of today.
Trapped, as a majority of us now are in the great cities which
technological advances made possible, victims of the sterile pavements, roads,
and buildings which surround and imprison us on all sides, we can only live in
accordance with the spiritual limitations such an environment inevitably imposes
upon one, only react in a modern way to the cultural riches of the past.
Strange though it may seem, even the greatest of our
technological achievements are inherently inferior to the greatest cultural
achievements of the past. The
television, radio, gramophone, aeroplane, rocket, car, train, computer,
telephone, etc., may all be wonderful inventions and phenomena of which Western
man can justifiably be proud. But by
comparison with the greatest paintings, music, poetry, literature, cathedrals,
sculptures, tapestries, furniture, etc., of the past, they signify a secondary
order of achievement. Why? Because 'the Culture' takes
precedence over 'the Civilization'.
Because the creation of works in, and made possible by, a largely
natural environment is superior to the creation of works in, and made possible
by, a largely artificial one. Because
the spirit is naturally superior to the intellect, and
works which testify to spiritual greatness can only take precedence over those
testifying to intellectual greatness.
Whether we like it or not, the fact is that we live in an age which, no
matter how great its technological achievements, is intrinsically inferior to
the one that preceded it. We have shut
ourselves off from nature to such an extent that our souls, deprived of the
nourishment they require to thrive, have generally atrophied and accordingly
ceased to govern our conduct. Handed
over to the intellect, as to a hangman, we have become increasingly like automata,
bereft of feeling, enthusiasm, imagination, strong desire, real creative
power. Our souls are still there of
course, but, like invalids in a sick ward, they function in a thoroughly
thwarted and enfeebled manner.
Those of us who remain loyal to the Arts, whose business it is
to leave a cultural record of the times, are acutely aware of this, and whether
the name be Bacon, Moore, Beckett, or Tippett, the
record left is not one that anyone with a healthy, well-nourished soul would
care to witness! In an age when the soul
is starved and maimed, the most sincere artists have no alternative but to
convey, through whichever medium they exploit, the prevailing spiritual
condition, to offer a protest on behalf of the sick soul, and thus acquire for themselves a relatively negative status. This is, needless to say, a deeply
regrettable situation! For no genuine
artist wishes to convey negative feelings and impressions if he can possibly
avoid doing so! The greatest art is ever
a highly positive phenomenon, a record of spiritual wealth, a testimony to
spiritual wellbeing. Such it generally
was from approximately the thirteenth to the eighteenth centuries, when
cultural activities were uppermost. But
from the late-eighteenth century a reversal of this trend increasingly began to
set-in, as, with the expansion of his towns and cities, man grew progressively
more estranged from nature and forced into an increasingly unnatural
lifestyle. Not surprisingly, the artist,
no less than most other people, felt the impact of this environmental
transformation, and, if he didn't attempt to flee from it by portraying
imaginary realms of the past, and thus creating an inferior because largely
irrelevant brand of art, was obliged to record its effects upon his soul and,
by analogy and observation, the souls of the men of his generation or
time. Needless to say, the closer one
comes to the present the more, by a corresponding degree, the true artist is
obliged to convey feelings and impressions of a lower, coarser, more chaotic and sickly nature. The genuine artist invariably has to do this,
since he must relate to the spiritual context of the age, not desert it for
some historical or fantastic realm of compensatory illusion or, worse still,
desert the realm and function of art itself by endeavouring to glorify that
which is fundamentally antithetical to art, that which pertains exclusively to
'the Civilization' rather than to 'the Culture', and takes an overly
materialistic form.
Thus there can be no question of the genuine artist, the
genuine painter, shall we say, creating works which glorify the machine,
industrialism, technological advance, large-scale urbanization, science, etc.,
because such phenomena run contrary to the domain of art and are essentially
inimical to it. Art is for ever at the
service of the divine ideal, the ideal dependent upon and stemming from nature,
which treats of the life of the soul. Hence its allegiance to religion, myth, people, and the feelings
which these phenomena inspire.
When the divine ideal is uppermost, as it must be when artificial
environments aren't too extensive, art attains to its greatest peaks. But as soon as this ideal is threatened and
eventually supplanted by the diabolic ideal ... with its priority on intellect,
reason, technological advance, science, etc., art inevitably declines, being in
legion with the soul. As we have seen in
recent decades, it can decline to a very low level. But it cannot disappear altogether, for the
simple reason that nature and the divine ideal cannot completely disappear,
even in the most materialistic of societies.
No matter how ugly a given painting may be, it is still art if it
remains loyal to the natural foundations upon which true art is built. Inferior art it may well be, but in an age
which is hostile to the arts, where inferior art is the best that can be
expected, it is still preferable to both anti-art and the prospect of no art at
all.
Concerning anti-art, there are, I believe, fundamentally two
main kinds. Firstly, there is the kind
of production which, in turning its back on the natural concerns of genuine
art, seeks to identify with or draw inspiration from the machine, technology,
science, urbanization - in sum, from those predominantly artificial factors
appertaining the 'the Civilization'. A
majority of vorticist and cubist paintings are
undoubtedly of this order, reflecting a futile attempt at sex-change, so to
speak, on the part of art. But just as a
man will cease to be masculine if he undergoes a sex-change, so art ceases to
be art when it abandons its legitimate role in support of 'the Culture' and
goes over to 'the Civilization'. As far
as art is concerned, there can be no question of its identifying with or
drawing inspiration (sic) from science and technology! Whatever seeks to do so is anti-art, which is
intrinsically inferior to poor art.
Aside from this manifestation of anti-art, however, which has
more recently manifested itself in op(tics) and
kinetics, there is a second and possibly more prevalent manifestation at large
in the Western world, which usually takes the form of anarchy and
destruction. Perhaps abstract
expressionist paintings are the chief offenders here, though there are
undoubtedly a great many expressionist, dadaist, and
surrealist works which are equally guilty of making war on art through their
practitioners either failing to understand the true nature of art or refusing
to accept that art is still possible. In
this kind of production, there may be a pleasure in destruction for
destruction's sake, with a total disregard for the rules and principles of art
carried out in a thoroughly anarchic manner.
If art is no longer possible, then one must do one's bit to illustrate
this point by making as chaotic a mess of painting as possible. Such, one feels, would be the credo of the
purveyors of this second kind of anti-art who, not being genuine artists
themselves, doubtless cherish a private satisfaction that circumstances enable
them to do what they do without incurring widespread public disdain. Lacking a deep sense of tradition, the anti-artists
are all-too-ready, one way or another, to identify themselves with modern
times, to turn against art with the kind of atheistic loathing one might expect
from a scientist or an industrialist, and to produce works - if such they can
be called - which probably appeal to these latter as being largely in accord
with their own materialistic mentalities!
Fortunately to say, there are still genuine artists to be found
in the world, artists whose work, while not being particularly great by
Medieval or Gothic or Rococo standards, is nevertheless preferable to anything
the anti-artists might produce. Aware of
the artist's function in society, such men continue to grant allegiance to the
soul, to the divine ideals inherent in nature.
Whatever the styles they have adopted, the soul is portrayed as it is or
appears to be in contemporary life, portrayed in the abject condition to which
it has been reduced by progressive industrialization and urbanization, and thus
portrayed with an underlining implication of despair, dejection, outrage,
horror, etc., as the case may be, but never with either defeatism or
acquiescence in the status quo! So far
as our spiritual/cultural life is concerned, things may never have been worse. But the genuine artist, if he can survive,
will not be one to throw in the towel, as it were, and go over to the enemy's
camp. If he cannot be the good
conscience of the age, the recorder of positive feelings, then he must be its
bad conscience and offer the world or the society in which he exists the
distorted reflection of its starved and
maimed soul in the mirror of his art.
And offer it, moreover, in the most accurately reflective of
contemporary terms. For any painter who
is not also the critic of his age, whether positively, as in the past, or
negatively, as in the present, is not really an artist at all, but either a
charlatan or a traitor. Now what applies
to painters applies no less to writers, sculptors, and musicians, who must
serve the cause of the soul in opposition to any mechanistic principles 'the
Civilization' may have put in their way.
Admittedly, where many modern works are concerned, particularly
in painting, it may be difficult to distinguish genuine artists from sham
artists. For the artist is obliged to
record such a pitiful state of soul, these days, that his works are often as
chaotic and repulsive-looking as those of the anti-artists who set themselves
up against him in their glorification of materialism. In extreme cases, the ultimate criterion must
rest with the artist himself, who should know whether his work is a reflection
of contemporary society or an abdication of art, a criticism, implicit or
otherwise, of technological domination or an unabashed acquiescence in it. But, generally, it should be possible for one
to form a fair estimate as to which side of the cultural fence a given work is
on - whether it is poor art or no art at all, according to the nature of the
subject-matter (if any) and the way in which it is treated. Where no criticism of the modern environment
is apparent, as mostly transpires to being the case with vorticist,
cubist, op, and kinetic works, one can be pretty certain that one is in the
realm of anti-art. For the cold,
mechanical objectivity and impersonality of such forms betrays an allegiance to
the technological age from which they spring, and cannot possibly be equated
with genuine art. In terms of fidelity
to the soul, even the most hideous or pathetic-looking expressionist painting
will be of a superior order of creation to the most intricate and
aesthetically-arranged cubist painting, if it corresponds to the artist's
anguish of soul in the face of contemporary materialism. Poor art it may be, but at least it will be
art, not a double-crossing, self-deceiving identification with contexts
inherently inimical to the spirit and thus to art in general, or, as in the
case of many less-representational works, an identification with destruction
for destruction's sake, or chaos for the sake of chaos, as befits the other
kind of anti-art, of which dada is a notable example. If we do not perceive a protest on behalf of
the sick soul in an age which has turned against the soul, we do not
experience an artist!
That the condition of the soul he is reflecting is unlikely to
get better but, on the contrary, to grow still worse, shouldn't prevent him
from making his protest or criticism known.
Doubtless, he will have to adjust his interpretation of the soul's
worsening condition in accordance with the degrees of its worsening, and we
shall judge him on the basis of his accuracy in pinpointing those degrees,
according to environment, and reflecting our actual state, not underestimating
or overestimating it. Irrespective of
the fact that he has no option but to produce poor art, the finest artist will
continuously be the best diagnostician of the soul, even if, through no fault
of his own, he cannot also be the doctor who cures it. If we do not like his diagnosis - and it has
to be admitted that a majority of contemporary people certainly don't - then we
have no alternative but to accept it, to see it as a legitimate concern of his,
and to treat that concern with due respect.
The temptation not to do so is, however, very real, particularly since
it casts such a poor reflection upon ourselves and is so painful to behold!
We needn't be surprised, therefore, if the genuine artist is
becoming an increasingly feared and hated member of society. For his frank portrayal of our sickness is
not the most flattering of achievements, and by no means the most
conscience-quieting! No wonder that so
many industrious citizens should privately - and sometimes publicly - be of the
opinion that artists ought to be done away with! Aren't they a luxury we can no longer
afford? Aren't they a damn nuisance,
what with their ugly and mean creations, their stunted caricatures of
upstanding people? What has become of
art?
Yes, but why not, rather, what has become of our souls ... that
artists should be obliged to portray us in such an ignominious fashion? And what would become of us if we got rid of
all artists, all genuine artists, that is, and thereby lost contact with the
state of our souls altogether, lost contact, that is to say with a record of
the extent of their sickness? Surely it
would be a more unfortunate thing to blunder-on in the darkness of our
technological preoccupations, without anyone to remind us of the harm we are
doing to ourselves, than to have a record of it there right before our eyes,
like a bad conscience, pinpointing the extent of our spiritual
deprivation! Why don't we give the
artist a welcome opportunity to paint less disconcerting and possibly more
agreeable paintings, by improving our standard of living, i.e. by reverting to
a social environment less detrimental to our souls?
Alas, I think I made it sufficiently clear in the opening
paragraphs of this essay that such a reversion was out of the question! For we cannot do away with millions of people
and pull down thousands of buildings in order to bring nature closer to us,
when these people and buildings are an integral part of our current system, our
industrialized lifestyles. Yet it is the
very fact of our being so cut off from nature which has made for our spiritual
sickness - such as it is.
No, social expediency and common decency prohibit any drastic
measures aimed at restoring our souls to a healthy condition! We have no alternative, short of suicidal
madness, but to accept things for what they are and resign ourselves to living
in 'the Civilization', the age of little feeling and great intellect. Thanks to industrial progress the human
population of the West was enabled to increase as never before, and,
consequently, the cities were obliged to expand as never before, to shut out
more and more of the pulsating life of natural phenomena, thereby confronting
the bulk of their inhabitants with the urban sterility to which we have grown
so painfully accustomed. No wonder that
our souls began to atrophy and our minds to become increasingly atheistic! Isn't it perfectly logical, perfectly
inevitable? Imprisoned in our concrete
hells, we could no longer feel God, no longer relate to
natural phenomena. We had no option but
to adjust to an inferior lifestyle, to resign ourselves to the death-in-life
which our sterile environments were imposing upon us, and put our trust in the
future of the machine. Abandoning God,
we entered 'the Civilization', as upon an epoch of Hell, a few to become
disillusioned by the course of events, many to fall victim to the great liberal
delusion of universal progress and enlightenment.
Progress? Yes, technological advancement there
certainly was and, needless to say, continues to be. But personal spiritual
improvement? Not a hope! We progressively reduced ourselves to our
current state of enfeebled feeling and tyrannous intellect, and called the
result enlightenment, an emancipation from the soul, a
kind of liberation from life. And so,
having starved our souls of natural phenomena and maimed them amidst all the
artificial phenomena which we either chose or were obliged to impose upon them,
we managed to get along without religion.
For religion is an acknowledgement of life, more specifically the life
of the soul, and when one no longer lives but merely exists in existential
lunacy - ah! then there is no point in religion, is
there?
No, none at all! Though
we needn't be surprised or offended if there are still priests of one sort or
another to be found amongst us, men who, like genuine artists, are there to
remind us that we still have souls, if rather maimed ones, and will doubtless
continue to remind us of this fact (even if they cannot do anything to heal
them), until such time as our civilization either destroys itself or is
destroyed from without. But let us not
forget that priests, no less than artists, are representatives of a higher and
better kind of life, even if, like artists, they are generally looked down upon
in this day and age as nuisances, madmen, and anachronisms. Less soulful they may well be than their more
fortunate forebears, who lived in healthier times. But if they are true to their vocation, they
will still know that a life governed by the soul is superior to an existence
lived in the intellect. For, as Christ said: "What does it profit a man if he gains
the world but loses his soul?"
I believe that we are in a better position to appreciate the
value of such a rhetorical question now than ever before, since we have
first-hand evidence of what it means to exist in a world inimical to life. Thus Spoke Zarathustra,
with its invocation to "become hard", may well be the leading
testament of 'the Civilization', but it is somewhat inferior, in essence, to
the leading testament of 'the Culture', which circumstances have largely
obliged us to ignore. We have indeed
become hard, even harder than the negative theologian who invoked us to could
have imagined or would probably have wanted.
But in the cyclical development of life, which Nietzsche himself
endorsed, it is perhaps to be hoped that, if humanity can survive any future
catastrophe which science or technology may have in store for it, a time will
come when we shall become, if not exactly soft, then at least well-balanced
again, when people will know what it means to live on the higher plane of their
souls in close contact with nature, rather than on the lower plane of their
intellects in close contact with all the life-denying forces of the big
city. In the meantime, we can only
persevere with our condition and at least try to get our facts straight. A knowledge of our
plight is better than an ignorance of it, no matter how seemingly hopeless
things may now appear.