meaning of individual lives
begins to surface as a disturbing problem, and people become preoccupied
with the meaning of meaning itself. It appears a necessary concomitant
of this preoccupation that such periods are characterized by a sharp
increase in the incidence of madness, or more precisely, of what is seen
to define madness.12 For value systems hold us ( all of us, not merely
"intellectuals"). together, and when these systems start to crumble,
so do the individuals who live by them. The last sudden upsurge in
depression and psychosis (or "melancholia," as these states of mind
were then called) occurred in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries,
during which time it became increasingly difficult to maintain notions
of salvation and God's interest in human affairs. The situation was
ultimately stabilized by the emergence of the new mental framework of
capitalism, and the new definition of reality based on the scientific
mode of experiment, quantification, and technical mastery. The problem
is that this whole constellation of factors -- technological manipulation
of the environment, capital accumulation based on it, notions of secular
salvation that fueled it and were fueled by it -- has apparently run
its course. In particular, the modern scientific paradigm has become
as difficult to maintain in the late twentieth century as was the
religious paradigm in the seventeenth. The collapse of capitalism, the
general dysfunction of institutions, the revulsion against ecological
spoliation, the increasing inability of the scientific world view to
explain the things that really matter, the loss of interest in work, and
the statistical rise in depression, anxiety, and outright psychosis are
all of a piece. As in the seventeenth century, we are again destabilized,
cast adrift, floating. We have, as Dante wrote in the "Divine Comedy,"
awoken to find ourselves in a dark woods.
What will serve to stabilize things today is fairly obscure; but it is a
major premise of this book that because disenchantment is intrinsic to the
scientific world view, the modern epoch contained, from its inception, an
inherent instability that severely limited its ability to sustain itself
for more than a few centuries. For more than 99 percent of human history,
the world was enchanted and man saw himself as an integral part of it. The
complete reversal of this perception in a mere four hundred years or so
has destroyed the continuity of the human experience and the integrity
of the human psyche. It has very nearly wrecked the planet as well. The
only hope, or so it seems to me, lies in a reenchantment of the world.
Here, then, is the crux of the modern dilemma. We cannot go back
to alchemy or animism -- at least that does not seem likely; but the
alternative is the grim, scientistic, totally controlled world of nuclear
reactors, microprocessors, and genetic engineering -- a world that is
virtually upon us already. Some type of holistic, or participating,
consciousness and a corresponding sociopolitical formation have to emerge
if we are to survive as a species. At this point, as I have said, it is
not at all evident what this change will involve; but the implication
is that a way of life is slowly coming into being which will be vastly
different from the epoch that has so deeply colored, in fact created,
the details of our lives. Robert Heilbroner has suggested that a time
might come, perhaps two hundred years hence, when people will visit the
Houston computer center or Wall Street as curious relics of a vanished
civilization, but this will necessarily involve a dramatically altered
perception of reality.13 Just as we recognize in a medieval tapestry
or alchemical text a world vastly different from our own, so may those
people who visit Houston or the tip of Manhattan two centuries from now
find our own mental outlook, from the assumptions of nineteenth-century
physics to the practice of