we end up with two fundamentalist, reductionist camps that oppose each other. On the one side, a fundamentalist secularism and on the other, fundamentalist religions. This seems to happen in Christianity as it does in Islam and, wherever it happens, the more puritanical and literal the religious interpretation becomes, the more a culture abandons and then even attacks the age-old, symbolic interpretations of its own tradition – those teachings which actually emphasize the necessary limits to our behaviour. With so much emphasis on the historical accuracy of the origins of a religion, the search for mystery appears to give way to a vain search for certainty. What was a traditional attitude becomes a ‘modern’ and ‘progressive’ one, all too intolerant of restraint, and so the limits – Nature’s necessary limits – end up being overshadowed by dogma.
Has this come about as a result of one dimension of our outlook becoming too dominant in our thinking? And if so, what is the nature of that outlook? Having considered these questions long and hard, my view is that our outlook in the Westernized world has become far too firmly framed by a mechanistic approach to science, the one that has increasingly prevailed in the West for the past four hundred years. This approach is entirely based upon the gathering of the results that come from subjecting physical phenomena to scientific experiment. It is called ‘empiricism’ and it is, if you like, a kind of language. It is a very fine one, but it is a language not able to fathom experiences like faith and the meaning of things. Nor can it articulate matters of the soul. It is now the only popularly trusted level of language we may use to articulate our understanding of the world. Don’t get me wrong, it has a very valuable role to play, but the trouble is, empiricism now assumes authority beyond the area it is capable of considering and, consequently, it excludes the voices of those other levels of language that once played their rightful part in giving humanity a comprehensive view of reality – that is, the philosophical and the spiritual levels of language. This is why it conveniently elbows the soul out of the picture.
Think of something as basic as the conversation that might take place in a biology lesson where a science teacher is called upon by pupils to address the moral and ethical questions of whether or not it is a good thing to manipulate genes. At that point, does the teacher act as a philosopher or remain a science teacher? I am pretty sure that the majority of teachers would certainly feel very uncomfortable about assuming the role of spiritual guide when such questions arise. The essential point here is, how far our empirical knowledge can go before it begins to encroach on territory it is not qualified to discuss. Let me be clear about it. Science can tell us how things work, but it is not equipped to tell us what they mean. That is the domain of philosophy and religion and spirituality.
Let me say again – empiricism has its part to play, but it cannot play all of the parts. And yet, because it tries to, we end up with the general outlook that now prevails. The language of empiricism is now so much in the ascendant that it has authority over any other way of looking at the world. It decides whether those other ways of looking at things stand up to its tests and therefore whether they are right or wrong.
This has not always been the case. A specifically mechanistic science has only recently assumed a position of such authority in the world and I want to show how this came to be: how its influence from the seventeenth century onwards spread, and slowly but surely excluded those other levels of language that were once much more a part of the conversation. For not only has it prevented us from considering the world philosophically any more, our predominantly mechanistic way of looking at the world has also excluded our spiritual relationship with Nature. Any such concerns get short shrift in the mainstream debate about what we do to the Earth. They are dismissed as outdated and irrelevant because a thing does not exist if it cannot be weighed or measured. And so we live in an age which claims not to believe in the soul. Empiricism has proved to us how the world really fits together and how it really works and, on its terms, this has nothing to do with God. There is no empirical evidence for the existence of God, so therefore God does not exist. That seems a very reasonable, rational argument, so long as you go along with the empirical definition of God as a ‘thing’. I presume the same argument can also be applied to the existence of thought. After all, no brain-scanner has ever managed to photograph a thought, nor a piece of love for that matter, and it never will, so, by the same terms, thought and love do not exist either.
Behind the familiar images of sacred sites like this figure of Christ on Canterbury Cathedral in England, is a symbolism that goes beyond the particular culture and time in which it was created.
That may appear flippant, but my point is that this is the consequence of doggedly following Galileo’s line that there is nothing in Nature but quantity and motion. Over time it has added up to a serious situation where we are no longer able to view the world much beyond its surface and its appearance. We are persuaded, instead, to follow a way of being that denies the non-material side to our humanity even though, contrary to what is supposed to be a growing popular belief, this other half of ourselves is actually just as important as our rational side, if not more so. It is our means of relating to the rest of the natural world and this is why I have long felt so alarmed that our collective thinking and predominant way of doing things are so dangerously out of balance with Nature. We have come to function with a one-sided, materialistic approach that is defined not by its inclusiveness, but by its dismissal of those things that cannot be measured in material terms.
At work at Highgrove, my home in Gloucestershire, England, laying hedges using age-old traditional techniques. Hedgerows are not only long-lasting, sturdy ways of keeping stock in fields, they are havens for wildlife and are a time-honoured way of stopping the erosion of top soil.
This is peculiar to the history of the West. In general, people from else-where in the world do not understand how Nature has become so secularized. Even many people in the West fail to recognize that so much modern science is not simply an ‘objective’ knowledge of Nature, but is based upon a particular way of thinking about existence and geared to the ambition to gain dominion over Nature. The way in which this has happened has a lot to do with the numbing of our vital inborn or ‘inner tutor’, the so-called human ‘intuition’.
Our intuition is deeply rooted in the natural order. It is ‘the sacred gift’, as Einstein called it. Many sacred traditions refer to it as the voice of the soul: the link between the body and mind and therefore the link between the particular and the universal. If we were to recognize this, we would perhaps once again begin to see our existence in its proper place within creation and not in some specially protected and privileged category of our own making. That is hardly likely to happen as long as scientific rationalism continues to turn people away from any form of spiritual practice or reflection by perpetuating what seems to me to be a widespread confusion. It often comes to light during one of those typical interrogations of a person who experiences faith. They are expected to give empirical proof that God exists. As I hope will become clear later, this question can only be taken seriously when faith and the Divine are regarded as material objects.
A much more integrated view of the world and our relationship with it existed throughout ancient history and right up to that critical period in seventeenth-century Europe when Western thinking began to take a more fragmented view of things. It is not so much the fragmentation, but its causes that I have come to see are the linchpins of the problem and that is why I feel it necessary to explore, in the lightest way possible, how the modern world was born and how we came to regard the world in the overtly ‘mechanistic’ way we do today. By persisting in this view, we ignore, abandon and waste the wisdom, knowledge and skills that have been built up over the entire course of human history. It is, perhaps, not so understood as it should be that so much of the wisdom I am referring to came to humanity from revelation. Revelation is not deemed possible from an empirical point of view. It comes about when a person practises great humility and achieves a mastery over the ego so that ‘the knower and the known’ effectively become
