Contemporary Classical Composer

Schumacher

Reflections on Beauty: Part Two

June 2, 2022

Various critical traditions associated with left-wing politics have promoted apathy or antipathy toward beauty, beginning with Karl Marx, who planted the seeds of the idea that beauty is a distraction from the all-important aim of overthrowing capitalism. Beauty was part of the “ideology” used to validate the privilege and power of the ruling class. Marx’s twentieth-century disciple, Theodore Adorno, openly advocated ugliness in art as a form of protest against the evils of the free market. The vindictive resentment of the far left—whether justified or not—is incompatible with the experience of beauty as a self-transcendent vision. Such an experience would detract from the real end of tearing down capitalism and taking revenge on those who have benefited from it. A similar sentiment is evident in the work of more recent critics such as John Richardson, who condemned Philip Glass’ opera Akhnaten for not doing enough to oppose “the orientialist/capitalist-imperialist project” in its portrayal of ancient Egypt. The power differential between America and Egypt was the real concern. There is, however, no nationalist or imperialist mentality evident in that opera. Meanwhile, there are striking harmonies, compelling melodies, brilliant costumes, fascinating sets, and colorful orchestration—in short, much to miss if one heeds the bad critique.

Certainly some artworks reflect racism or other anti-humanist views, and the critic ought to expose it when necessary; but the critic’s job is also to use wisdom and know when charges of injustice are appropriate. Irresponsible critiques are themselves unjust. Critical theory (as it’s known) errs on this side, i.e. of projecting its concern with oppression onto the work it condemns. Critical theorists, however, are unlikely to admit the error, which they see as a virtue. One can always insist that a pencil drawing is merely two-dimensional, and refuse to admit that two-dimensions are hinting at three, and interpret the diagonal lines as mere angles. In a similar way, the critical theorist—or those infected by his claims—can always insist that the only relevant thing to behold in the art is orientalism or patriarchal oppression, etc. The cost of this fallacy is that one misses out on potentially wonderful experiences, and worse, blocks others from the same. Excellent art—not to mention the seascape, your sweetheart and so on—can and should bring joy without letting political preoccupations get in the way. The extremist’s rage against oppression, however, leaves little psychological room for the disinterested appreciation, let alone the rapt adoration, of beauty. It is a small world to live in.

For the far-left critic, art must explicitly take a political side. The artist must oppose social hierarchies in his work, on pain of being condemned as complicit with the oppressors. You’re either with us or against us, the artist is told. And if you’re with us, you’d better prove it. This mentality has the potential to imperialize the leftist’s brain, so that more and more and soon everything in his world is interpreted through the lens of power differentials. This is unfortunate, not just because it is a sad fate, but because it reflects poorly on the left. “Socialism,” wrote E.F. Schumacher, emphasizes “non-economic values,”—e.g. that which offers “moral, aesthetic, and cultural enrichment.” Socialism wisely rejects the idea that society should be built on the individual’s single-minded pursuit of material profit. Marxism and its related thought-systems, however, envision those with power and privilege on the guillotine, and demand that artists and writers throw garbage at them. This embittered mindset is in competition with the love of beauty. The better versions of socialism, however, are allied with anti-materialism. Similar distinctions can be made of the feminist and anti-racist movements, of which there are extreme kinds fueled by vindictive resentment, and reasonable kinds motivated by the commitment to, let’s say, absolute justice, to borrow again from Plato. These distinctions are important because they show that the problem is not with the left, but with the far-left—which veers into intolerance, authoritarianism, and eventually blood and brutality, as history shows.

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The beauty we see in art, nature, and people is non-trivial. If we allow ourselves to be arrested by its power, we allow the part of ourselves to live that seeks meaning and joy. This thirst cannot be denied indefinitely in the human race, and as a result, the love of beauty which arouses and, to some extent, quenches that thirst will never disappear from human cultures.

We have not addressed another quality that we attribute to art, nature, and even people: the sublime—that which inspires awe and wonder. Beauty and the sublime have different connotations. A list of things under each heading will yield different results. For me, Beethoven’s Ninth is on both lists. But my things, of one kind or another, will differ from yours. Some of them might coincide. Any two people who share the same experiences are more than fellow-humans that owe respect to one another; they are the same kind of person

Read The First Post on this Topic

The Holographic Universe: A Review

Here is the last in my series of posts on books I read in 2015. This one packed a punch:

Michael Talbot, The Holographic Universe: The Revolutionary Theory of Reality [1991] (New York: Harper Perennial, 2011).

Reading this book is like taking a journey into space: it disorients your equilibrium and challenges you to adapt to the new conditions. The Holographic Universe is difficult to process after only one reading, but here’s a brief attempt:

First, when I first read online somewhere that the universe may be a cosmic hologram in motion, the idea appealed to my feeling that material reality is not the ultimate reality, that it is in fact only a reflection of something more fundamental, namely consciousness. Talbot makes this very case in his well-researched investigation of the holographic principle. He begins by introducing neurophysiologist Karl Pribram, whose research suggests that the brain projects and decodes information in the same way that information is encoded in and projected through a holographic screen. The reader’s next acquaintance is physicist David Bohm, whose work in quantum physics (entailing topics including “action at a distance,” the EPR paradox, and plasmons) led him to conclude essentially that the universe as a whole is a holographic “movie” projection from a deeper, more highly organized level of reality. The significance of these ideas is that objective reality is a construct of the mind.

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The rest of the book is a compendium of the supernatural, the paranormal, and the freaky. Heed well Talbot’s invitation in the introduction to keep an open mind—without one you will not get very far. The unsettling part is that the stuff he cites has been documented. I frequently found myself googling names, peoples, and personages, unwilling to yield assent—sometimes even consideration—too quickly. “Why haven’t I heard about this?” I wondered. Sure enough, there are Wikipedia articles on topics like Mirin Dajo, who had himself impaled through his vital organs without suffering harm; the Convulsionnaires of Saint-Médard, who in fits of religious hysteria, witnesses confirm, pleaded to be tortured but reported relief rather than pain, and emerged without sign of injury; the Princeton Engineering Anomalies Research Lab (PEAR) in which effects of psychokinesis—the ability to move something basically using The Force; i.e., to imagine something intently and thereby influence the outcome of actual reality—was apparently experimentally measured; Emanuel Swedenborg, who reported detailed visions of the afterlife realm as well as having interacted with the spirit-beings that dwell there, including the deceased humans; and Therese Neumann—whose name I recalled from Schumacher—a Catholic mystic who according to many witnesses ate and drank nothing for thirty-five years except the daily Eucharist. Different readers will respond differently to such accounts—which, if true, are surely paradigm-shifting. Some may categorically reject them; some may seek to explain them in natural terms; others may not want to be bothered because it would take too much time and effort to rethink their worldview; and others may become obsessed with the supernatural and seek out such experiences like the Holy Grail. To me, the best response is frankly to accept the reality of the supernatural, and, even if skepticism remains toward this or that particular anecdote, allow the paradigm to be shifted away from materialism and philosophical realism toward an acknowledgment of the power of consciousness and of the higher Levels of Being. This can be done without becoming obsessed with the supernatural, naively accepting every fairy tale, or relinquishing your “I’m no fool” card.

Talbot himself nudges the reader toward a pursuit of the supernatural. A refrain throughout the book is that the same transcendent potential exemplified by the mystics and visionaries he cites is “latent within all of us.” To some readers, religious orthodoxy may call for the censure of things mentioned in a positive light in this book: psychic readings, chakras, auras, hypnotism, shamanism, and belief in reincarnation. Whatever your views on such things may be, Talbot’s journalism logically contributes to the ultimate thesis of his work, which I happen to agree with: reality is the product of mind, or “spirit.” In the author’s terminology, the universe is “omnijective”—neither objective nor subjective, but both; a product of consciousness, but also quite real.

The idea that all reality is the product of consciousness may seem esoteric and strange, but it is nourishment to the bones of one whose faith in higher things must (in principle) harmonize with a rational view of the universe. To illustrate: Christians believe in miracles and the existence of a spiritual realm supervening this physical one. If such beliefs are warranted, what is the mode of interaction between spirit and matter? How can mountains be moved, the dead raised? The answer is no longer shrouded in mystery if material reality by definition is subordinate to spiritual agency. Matter obeys whatever spirit—endowed with much greater power than we’re used to—tells it to do. For this curiosity to be explained strengthens the credibility of faith.

Therefore, reading this book confirmed my sentiment that it is the final destiny of man and woman to transcend the limitations imposed by matter at the present level of existence, to ascend to higher Levels of Being, and ultimately to see the face of God. The empirical work of Pribram, Bohm and others is enough to encourage those who “desire a better country” beyond this world, and are committed to living this life with the attainment of that end in mind.

Review: Pope Francis’ Letter to the World

Pope Francis, Praise Be To You (Laudato Si’): On Care of Our Common Home (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2015).

Pope Francis took his appellation from Saint Francis of Assisi, a figure beloved not only by believers, but by rock stars and hippies. The medieval saint was a friend of animals and communed with God in creation. The reigning pontiff has devoted his first encyclical (the full text of which is available here) to the environmental crisis of the modern world, addressing the economic conquest of humanity which has left polluted air, contaminated water, deforestation, and extinction in its wake. Francis echoes and amplifies the warnings of all the previous popes since Saint John XXIII (1958-1963), and speaks out as the prophets of old warning ancient Israel to repent.

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The Pope today addresses his epistle not only to the Catholic church but to the world, and embodies in his pen the “genuine and profound humanism” that he urges all to embrace in pursuit of a noble and generous society. Several of his comments reminded me of Schumacher (whom I suspect he, as many others, has read), such as those urging self-limitation and condemning the “technocratic paradigm” which promotes mechanized efficiency at the expense of human and environmental dignity. One of my favorites is this: “If architecture reflects the spirit of an age, our magestructures and drab apartment blocks express the spirit of globalized technology, where a constant flood of new products coexists with a tedious monotony.” He continues: “Let us refuse to resign ourselves to this and continue to wonder about the purpose and meaning of everything. Otherwise we would simply legitimate the present situation and need new forms of escapism to help us endure the emptiness.”

In a world of globalized technology which tends to compromise genuine community, create social alienation, and express itself in metropolitan expanses of asphalt, smog, and noise, the Pope commends those who positively overcome the isolation and ugliness, as through compassionate generosity and devotion to community. As an artist, I particularly appreciated the following line: “Liberation from the dominant technocratic paradigm does in fact happen sometimes, for example…when the desire to create and contemplate beauty manages to overcome the reductionism through a kind of salvation which occurs in beauty and in those who behold it.”

To address the urgent crisis, Francis calls for political action, and encourages individuals not to underestimate the impact of a conscientious lifestyle. He invokes scripture while envisioning a world that reflects the glory of its creator as humans care both for the environment as well as one another, especially the poor. Standing in the way of this vision is are “obstructionist attitudes,” which “even a part of believers, can range from denial of the problem to indifference, nonchalant resignation or blind confidence in technical solutions.” The Pope condemns the spirit of pride that refuses to acknowledge a principle higher than the self, as well as the relativism and materialism that leave people ethically bankrupt to attempt change. Quoting Pope Benedict XVI, he says:  “When the human person is considered as simply…the product of chance or physical determinism, then, ‘our overall sense of responsibility wanes.'” Writing in an age when materialistic scientism is the dominant school of thought among intellectuals, he articulates a highly relevant truth: “even if we postulate a process of evolution…our capacity to reason, to develop arguments, to be inventive, to interpret reality and to create art, along with other not yet discovered capacities, are signs of a uniqueness which transcends the spheres of physics and biology.”

While I personally agreed with the vast majority of the Pope’s points, I had trouble with his call for a world authority to enforce international compliance with environmental standards. The Paris Agreement of December 2015 seems to me a better model, in which world nations voluntarily committed to some of the necessary measures. No doubt the extraordinary response in Paris among virtually all nations was in part due to the Pope’s influence.

In any case, Francis’ letter to the world deserves our respect, and his call for change, the ongoing commitment of those who call this earth home.

Schumacher: Two Reviews

E.F. Schumacher, Small Is Beautiful: A Study of Economics As If People Mattered [1973] (London: Vintage Books, 1993).

This book is a response to the prevailing materialist paradigm of economics that has been the driving force of developed nations since the industrial revolution, especially since World War Two; it is also a vision of what human civilization could be, based on an economics that prizes not only profits, but human and environmental dignity. Schumacher exposes the folly of devout adherence to the notion that “bigger is better,” and urges a “self-limiting principle” to world economies, especially the advanced ones including his own, Britain. Such economic self-limitation is a stench in the nostrils of those preoccupied with amassing material wealth despite any social and environmental costs, and the ego which is the driving force of that pursuit. Schumacher brings balanced wisdom to the economic problems facing the modern world, acknowledging the necessity of economic profitability and individual freedom as well as the social and environmental consciousness which we silence to our own peril. In the end he navigates clear of the noisy extremes characterized by the defiant defenders of unbridled capitalism and the livid champions of the proletariat. Schumacher decries lifeless factory working conditions, the worship of the machine, and unsustainable consumption of energy (or “natural capital”); and urges emphasis on local economies, practical but non-technocratic assistance to developing nations, and proposes a form of common ownership of large businesses. IMG_2155

Despite the age of this publication, the principles it embodies remain as relevant today as ever. His chapter on education powerfully articulates the beauty of bestowing charity and magnanimity to our children instead of the impoverished metaphysics preached by the intellectuals of the nineteenth century–Marx, Darwin, Nietzsche, Freud, etc. The truth-content in this volume is staggering. Many books one must read long and hard to find some silver or brass, and occasionally some gold; every page of this book pays dividends. Some chapters are pure gold. The most challenging part to me was the concluding section in which he proposes 50% government ownership of businesses that grow past a certain threshold in size. Setting aside any prejudice on the matter and considering the argument through the lens of pure reason in the service of love and freedom, I find his idea very difficult if not impossible to find fault with. In short, Small is Beautiful is a beautiful book written by an uncannily gifted but humble intellectual, respected economist, and friend of humankind.

 

E.F. Schumacher, A Guide For the Perplexed [1977] (London: Vintage Books, 2011).

My review of this book was first published in October 2015 on Amazon.

Schumacher’s A Guide for the Perplexed is the author’s response to the philosophical juggernaut of materialism in the western world. In it, he exposes the intellectual and spiritual poverty of the view that man is nothing more than a naked ape with advanced computing power; that there is no essential difference between inanimate matter, plant-life, animal life, and human life; that all these levels of being merely represent different arrangements of matter; that all reality and knowledge can be reduced to the objective measurement and analysis of physics and chemistry. This has been the prevailing view of scientists and intellectuals in the modern age, beginning with Descartes, and remains so today. In this book, as relevant in 2015 as it was in 1977, Schumacher demonstrates the inadequacy of this philosophy, while pointing to the ancient tradition–confirmed by modern writers and mystics–that matter, life, consciousness, and self-awareness represent progressively higher Levels of Being, and that recognition of this hierarchy is essential to a true understanding of the world. He posits “four fields of knowledge”: knowledge of oneself, i.e. one’s own interior existence; knowledge of the interior existence of others beings, achieved indirectly by communication and interpretation; knowledge of how one is perceived by and exists in relation to others; and finally knowledge of the outside material world. “Materialistic scientism” focuses exclusively on the last of these fields. While the study of this material field has yielded breathtaking results in science and technology, the study of all four fields is essential for a true attainment of human progress, peace, and purpose. Those who ignore the first three fields of knowledge remain ignorant of what truly matters.

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This book is offered to those who, like Schumacher once did, find themselves perplexed that the desires and experiences that make us human—the desire to live a self-transcending life, the appreciation of beauty, our yearning for purpose and fulfillment—are reduced to illusory or accidental byproducts of evolution. The author respects and values the advances of science, but differentiates between these and the preposterous metaphysics with which they are clothed. He warns that the modern world cannot long survive in them.

The author’s distinction between the instructional and descriptive sciences is brilliant and essential reading for anyone working to contribute to human knowledge in any sphere. As a musician, I am particularly inspired by his appraisal of the value of art, how its highest value is evident in the communication of truth.

Schumacher’s power of synthesis and wisdom is evident in his appeal to an impressively wide range of sources—ancient, medieval and modern. In his appeal to the various religious traditions of mankind, he assembles a universal chorus that harmonizes in recognition of the deeper realities beyond the superficial layer of the physical. While Schumacher wrote as a Christian, his intended audience is broad, and he makes no demand that the reader even assent to belief in a deity. Meanwhile, the theist can savor the truths he articulates as if at the table of the Lord. In the chapter devoted to the first field of knowledge, Schumacher emphasizes the importance of meditation, characterizing it as an exercise of self-disciplined focus, and celebrating a variety of methodologies. Here religious disagreements may arise; and yet when viewed within the larger context of challenging materialism and of subordinating the intellect to the spirit, any such disagreements will seem peripheral. In any case, the book is indeed a precious and accessible guide for those perplexed by the inconsistency between their desire to live a meaningful, self-transcending life and the materialistic scientism preached by our modern intellectual authorities.