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| ©Daniel Andreev Charity Foundation, 1997. |
All rights on the text of this book belong to the Copyright Holder. This text is presented for educational purposes only and should be considered in the context of visiting library. |
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1. The Rose of the World and Its Place in History 2. On the Metahistorical and Transphysical Methods of Knowledge
3. The Structure of Shadanakar: Worlds of Ascent |
4. The Structure of Shadanakar: The Infraphysical planes 5. The Structure of Shadanakar: Elementals 6. The Highest Worlds of Shadanakar |
1. The Rose of the World and Its Place in History
1.1 The
Rose of the World and its Foremost Tasks
THIS BOOK WAS BEGUN at a time when the threat of
an unparalleled disaster hung over the heads of humanity—when a generation
only just recuperating from the trauma of the Second World War discovered to its
horror that a strange darkness, the portent of a war even more catastrophic and
devastating than the last, was already gathering and thickening on the horizon.
I began this book in the darkest years of a dictatorship that tyrannized two
hundred million people. I began writing it in a prison designated as a
"political isolation ward." I wrote it in secret. I hid the
manuscript, and the forces of good—humans and otherwise—concealed it for me
during searches. Yet every day I expected the manuscript to be confiscated and
destroyed, just as my previous work—work to which I had given ten years of my
life and for which I had been consigned to the political isolation ward—had
been destroyed.
I am finishing The Rose of the World a few years later. The threat of a third
world war no longer looms like dark clouds on the horizon, but, having fanned
out over our heads and blocked the sun, it has quickly dispersed in all
directions back beyond the horizon.
Perhaps the worst will never come to pass. Every heart nurses such a hope, and
without it life would be unbearable. Some try to bolster it with logical
arguments and active protest. Some succeed in convincing themselves that the
danger is exaggerated. Others try not to think about it at all and, having
decided once and for all that what happens, happens, immerse themselves in the
daily affairs of their own little worlds. There are also people in whose hearts
hope smoulders like a dying fire, and who go on living, moving, and working
merely out of inertia.
I am completing The Rose of the World out of prison, in a park turned golden
with autumn. The one under whose yoke the country was driven to near exhaustion
has long been reaping in other worlds what he sowed in this one. Yet I am still
hiding the last pages of the manuscript as I hid the first ones. I dare not
acquaint a single living soul with its contents, for, just as before, I cannot
be certain that this book will not be destroyed, that the spiritual knowledge it
contains will be transmitted to someone, anyone.
But perhaps the worst will never come to pass, and tyranny on such a scale will
never recur. Perhaps humanity will forevermore retain the memory of Russia's
terrible historical experience. Every heart nurses that hope, and without it
life would be unbearable.
But I number among those who have been fatally wounded by two great calamities:
world war and dictatorship. Such people do not believe that the roots of war and
tyranny within humanity have been eradicated or that they will be in the near
future. Perhaps the danger of one tyranny or war will recede, but after a time
the threat of the next tyranny or war will arise. For me and others like me,
both those calamities were a kind of apocalypse— revelations of the power of
planetary Evil and of its age-old struggle with the forces of Light. Those
living in different times would probably not understand us. Our anxiety would
seem to them an overreaction; our view of the world would seem poisoned. But a
conception of the logical consistency of historical events branded in the human
mind by a half century of observing and participating in events and processes of
unprecedented magnitude cannot be called an overreaction. And a conclusion that
forms in the human heart through the efforts of the brightest and deepest sides
of its nature cannot be poisoned.
I am seriously ill—my days are numbered. If this manuscript is destroyed or
lost, I will not be able to rewrite it in time. But if, sometime in the future,
it reaches only a few persons whose spiritual thirst drives them to surmount all
its difficulties and read it through to the end, then the ideas planted within
cannot help but become seeds that will sprout in their hearts. Whether that
occurs before a third world war or after it, and even if no third war is
unleashed in the near future, this book will not die if but one pair of friendly
eyes passes, chapter by chapter, over its pages. For the questions it attempts
to answer will continue to trouble people far into the future.
Those questions are not confined to the realms of war and politics. But nothing
can shake my conviction that the most formidable dangers that threaten humanity,
both now and for centuries to come, are a great suicidal war and an absolute
global dictatorship. Perhaps, in our century, humanity will avert a third world
war or, at the very least, survive it, as it survived the First and Second World
Wars. Perhaps it will outlive, somehow or other, a dictatorship even more
enveloping and merciless than the one we in Russia outlived. It may even be that
in two or three hundred years new dangers for the people of Earth will appear,
dangers different but no less dire than a dictatorship or a great war. It is
possible, even probable. But no effort of the mind, no imagination or intuition,
is capable of conjecturing a future danger that would not be connected, somehow
or other, with one of these two principal dangers: the physical destruction of
humanity through a war, and the spiritual death of humanity through an absolute
global dictatorship.
This book is directed, first and foremost, against the two basic, supreme evils
of war and dictatorship. It is directed against them not as a simple warning,
nor as a satire that unmasks their true nature, nor as a sermon. The most biting
satire and the most fiery sermon are useless if they only rail against evil and
prove that good is good and bad is bad. They are useless if they are not based
on a worldview, global teaching, and program of action that, spread from mind to
mind and will to will, would be capable of averting these evils.
The purpose of my life has been to share my experience with others—to shed
light on the future panorama of history and metahistory, on the branching chain
of alternatives we face or are bound to face, and on the landscape of
variomaterial worlds that are closely linked with ours through good and evil. I
have tried, and still try, to fulfill that task through fiction and poetry, but
the limitations of those genres have prevented me from disclosing these ideas
precisely and intelligibly in their entirety. The purpose of this book is to set
out that worldview in an exhaustive manner, helping the reader to see how,
though dealing with the preternatural, it at the same time holds the key to
understanding current events and the fate of each of us. This is a book that, if
God saves it from destruction, will be laid, as one of many bricks, in the
foundation of the Rose of the World, at the base of a Community of all humanity.
There exists an entity that for many centuries has proclaimed itself the lone,
steadfast unifier of all people, shielding them from the danger of all-out
warfare and social chaos. That entity is the state. Since the end of the tribal
period, the state has been of vital necessity at every historical stage. Even
hierocracies, which attempted to replace it with religious rule, simply became
variations of the selfsame state. The state bonded society together on the
principle of coercion, and the level of moral development necessary to bond
society together on some other principle was beyond reach. Of course, it has
been beyond reach even until now, and the state has remained the only proven
means against social chaos. But the existence of a higher order of moral
principles is now becoming evident, principles capable not only of maintaining
but also of increasing social harmony. More important, methods for accelerating
the internalization of such principles are now taking shape.
In the political history of modern times, one can distinguish two international
movements diametrically opposed to one another. One of them aims for the
hypertrophy of state power and an increase in the individual's dependence on the
state. To be more exact, this movement seeks to bestow ever greater power on the
person or organization in whose hands the state apparatus lies: the Party, the
Army, the Leader. Fascist and national socialist states are the most obvious
examples of such movements.
The other movement, which appeared at least as far back as the eighteenth
century, is the humanist. Its origins and major stages are English
parliamentarianism, the French Declaration of the Rights of Man, German social
democracy, and in our days, the struggle for liberation from colonialism. The
long-range goal of the movement is to weaken the bonding principle of coercion
in the life of the people and transform what is largely a police state defending
race or class interests into a system based on overall economic equilibrium and
a guarantee of individual rights.
History has also witnessed examples of novel political arrangements that might
appear to be hybrids of the two movements. Remaining in essence phenomena of the
first type, they alter their appearance to the extent expedient for the
achievement of their set goal. This is a tactic, a deception, but nothing more.
Nevertheless, despite the polarity of these movements, they are linked by one
trait characteristic of the twentieth century: global ambitions. The ostensible
motivation of the various twentieth century movements can be found in their
political blueprints, but the underlying motivation in modern history is the
instinctive pursuit of global dominion.
The most vigorous movement of the first half of this century was distinguished
by its internationalist doctrines and global appeal. The Achilles heel of the
movements vying with it—racism, national socialism—was their narrow
nationalism, or to be more exact, the strictly racial or nationalist fences
around their promised lands, the chimera of which they used to seduce and dazzle
their followers. But they too strove for world dominion, and invested colossal
energy toward that end. Now American cosmopolitanism is occupied with avoiding
the mistakes of its predecessors.
What does that sign of the times point to? Does it not point to the fact that
global unity has grown from an abstract concept into a universal need? Does it
not point to the fact that the world has become smaller and more integrated than
ever before? Finally, does it not point to the fact that the solution to all the
problems of vital interest to humanity can be lasting and profound enough only
if undertaken on a global scale?
Taking advantage of that fact, despotic regimes systematically actualize the
principle of extreme coercion or partly camouflage it with a cunning blend of
methods. The tempo of life is accelerating. Monolithic states are emerging that
earlier would have taken centuries to erect. Each is predatory by nature, each
strives to subjugate humanity to its sole rule. The military and technological
power of these states boggles the mind. They have already more than once plunged
the world into war and tyranny. Where is the guarantee that they will not do so
again in the future? In the end, the strongest will conquer the globe, even at
the cost of turning a third of the world's surface into a moonscape. The cycle
of wars will then come to an end, but only to be replaced by the greatest of
evils: a single dictatorship over the surviving twothirds of the world. At first
it will perhaps be an oligarchy. But, as often happens, eventually a single
Leader will emerge. The threat of a global dictatorship—this is the deadliest
of all threats hanging over humanity.
Consciously or unconsciously sensing the danger, the movements belonging to the
humanist mold are trying to consolidate their efforts. They prattle about
cultural cooperation, wave placards about pacifism and democratic freedoms, seek
illusory security in neutrality, or, frightened by their adversary's aggression,
they themselves embark on the same path. Not one of them has put forward the
indisputable proposal that is capable of winning people's trust: the idea that
some kind of moral supervision over the activities of the state is a vital
necessity. Certain groups, traumatized by the horrors of the world wars, are
trying to unite so that in the future their political federation will encompass
the entire globe. But what would that lead to? The danger of wars, it is true,
would be defused, at least temporarily. But who can guarantee that such a
superstate, supported by large, morally backward segments of the populace (and
such segments are far more numerous than one would wish) and rousing in humanity
dormant impulses for power and violence, will not in the end develop into a
dictatorship compared to which all previous tyrannies will seem like child's
play?
It is worth noting that the same religious faiths that proclaimed the
internationalist ideals of brotherhood earliest are now in the rearguard of
humanity's push toward global unity. It is possible to attribute this to their
characteristic emphasis on the inner self and their neglect of everything
external, including sociopolitical issues. But if one delves deeper, if one says
out loud for all to hear what is usually discussed only in certain small circles
of people who lead a deeply spiritual life, then something not everyone takes
into consideration is uncovered. That something is a mystical fear, originating
during the age of the Roman Empire, of the future unification of the world. It
is the indefatigable concern for the welfare of humanity felt by those who sense
that in a single universal state lies a pitfall that will inevitably lead to an
absolute dictatorship and the rule of the "prince of darkness," the
result of which will be the final paroxysms and catastrophic end of history.
In actual fact, who can guarantee that a strong-willed egoist will not assume
leadership of the superstate and, further, that science will not serve such a
leader truthfully and faithfully as a means for turning the superstate into that
exact kind of monstrous mechanism of violence and spiritual disfigurement I have
been talking about? There is little doubt that theoretical models for blanket
surveillance of people's behavior and thoughts are being developed at this very
moment. What are the limits of the nightmarish scenarios that are conjured in
our imagination as a result of the merger of a dictatorship of terror and
twenty-first century technology? Such a tyranny would be all the more absolute
because even the last, tragic means of casting it off would be closed—its
overthrow from without by war. With every nation under one rule, there would be
no one to war against. Global unity—the dream of so many generations, the
cause of so many sacrifices—would then reveal its demonic side: the
impossibility of escape if the servants of the dark forces were to seize control
of the world government.
Bitter experience has already led humanity to the conviction that neither those
socioeconomic movements guided solely by reason nor scientific progress in
itself are capable of guiding humanity between the Charybdis of dictatorship and
the Scylla of world war. On the contrary, new socioeconomic systems, in coming
to power, themselves adopt the practices of political despotism and become the
sowers and instigators of world war. Science becomes their lackey, far more
obedient and reliable than the church was for the feudal barons. The root of the
tragedy lies in the fact that the scientific professions were not from the very
beginning coupled with a deeply formulated moral education. Regardless of their
level of moral development, everyone is admitted into those professions. It
should come as no surprise today that one side of every scientific and technical
advance goes against the genuine interests of humanity. The internal combustion
engine, radio, aviation, atomic energy - they all strike the bare flesh of the
world's people with one end, while advances in communications and technology
enable police states to establish surveillance over the private life and
thoughts of each person, thus laying an iron foundation for life-sucking
dictatorial states.
So, lessons drawn from history should lead humanity to realize that the dangers
will not be averted and social harmony will not be achieved by scientific and
technological progress alone. Nor shall it be accomplished by the hypertrophy of
the state, by the dictatorship of a "strong leader," or by social
democratic administrations that get buffeted by the winds of history, first
right, then left, from inept starry-eyed idealism to revolutionary extremism. We
must, rather, recognize the absolute necessity of the one and only path: the
establishment, over a global federation of states, of an unsullied,
incorruptible, highly respected body, a moral body standing outside of and above
the state. For the state is, by its very nature, amoral.
What idea, what teaching will aid in the creation of such a supervisory body?
What minds will formulate its guiding principles and make it acceptable to the
overwhelming majority of people? By what paths will such a body—a body
foreswearing the use of force—arrive at worldwide recognition, at a position
even higher than a federation of states? If it can in fact introduce into
leadership the policy of gradually replacing coercion with something else, then
what would that something else be? And in what manner would it be introduced?
And what doctrine would be able to solve the incredibly complex problems that
will arise in connection with all that?
The present book attempts to give, to some extent, an answer to the above
questions (although it shall also deal with wider issues). As a prologue to
answering them, however, it is best to first clearly identify what this teaching
sees as the irreconcilable enemy against which it is directed.
From the historical point of view, it sees its enemies in all states, parties,
or doctrines that strive to enslave others and to establish any form of despotic
political regime. From the metahistorical point of view, it has but a single
foe: the Antigod, the Spirit of Tyranny, the Great Torturer, who takes many
shapes and forms in the life of our planet. For the movement I am now talking
about—both now, when it has barely begun to form, and later, when it will have
become the decisive voice in history— there will be only one enemy: tyranny
and coercion wherever it may arise, even within itself. Coercion will be
admissible only in cases of absolute necessity, only in mitigated forms, and
only until that time when the highest body, by means of a reformed educational
system, has, with the help of millions of highly committed minds and wills,
prepared humanity for the substitution of free will for force, the voice of
deep-felt conscience for the decrees of human laws, and a community for the
state. In other words, until the very essence of the state has been transformed
and a living family of all peoples has replaced the soulless and coercive state
apparatus.
One need not assume that such a process will require an enormous span of time.
By systematically immersing the populations of huge countries in a single
meticulously formulated system of education and social conditioning, powerful
dictatorships have irrefutably proven what a powerful lever the molding of a
generation's psyche can be. Each generation formed closer and closer to what the
ruling powers considered desirable. Nazi Germany, for example, managed to
achieve its goals in this area in the span of a single generation. Clearly its
ideals can elicit no response in us other than anger and disgust. Its methods,
as well, must be rejected almost wholesale. But we must take hold of the lever
it discovered and not let go. The century of mass spiritual enlightenment, the
century of decisive victories for a new, as yet barely discernible pedagogy is
approaching. Even if only a few dozen schools are organized on its principles, a
generation capable of doing its duty out of free will, not coercion, a
generation acting out of creative impulses and love, not fear, would form there.
That is the essence of ennobling education.
I picture an international organization, both political and cultural in nature,
setting as its aim the transformation of the state through the consistent
implementation of far-reaching reforms. The crucial stage in the fulfillment of
that aim will be the founding of the Global Federation of Independent States.
But this must carry the proviso that a special body be established over the
Federation - the body I have already mentioned, which will oversee the
activities of the states and guide them toward a bloodless and painless
transformation from within. The key here is "bloodless and painless,"
for in that way it will differ from revolutionary doctrines of the past.
I consider it both premature and unnecessary to speculate on the structure and
name of that organization. For now, so as to avoid constantly repeating a
lengthy description, we will give it a provisional name: the League for the
Transformation of the State. As for its structure, those who will be its
founders will be both more experienced and more practical than I—they will be
leaders of vision, not poets. I will only say that it seems to me personally
that the League should establish branches in every country, with each branch
consisting of several divisions: cultural, philanthropic, educational, and
political. The political division in each country will assume the structural and
organizational aspects of a national party of global religious and cultural
reforms. All such parties will be linked and united in the League and by the
League.
How, where, and among whom specifically the formation of the League will take
place I, of course, do not and cannot know. But it is clear that the period of
time from its inception until the establishment of the Federation of States and
the moral supervisory body over it will be regarded as a preliminary stage, when
the League will channel all of its energies into disseminating its ideas,
recruiting new members, expanding its operations, educating younger generations,
and forging within itself a future body that in time can be entrusted with a
global leadership role.
The League's constitution will not restrict its membership to people of any
particular philosophical or religious belief. All that will be required is an
active commitment to realizing its program and a resolve not to violate its
moral code, the cornerstone of the organization.
Despite all the vicissitudes of public service, the goals of the League must be
attained not at the price of departure from its moral code but as a result of
faithful adherence to it. Its reputation must be spotless, its disinterestedness
not subject to doubt, its moral authority ever increasing, as the best and
finest of humanity will be drawn to it and will constantly strengthen its ranks.
The path to global unification will proceed, in all likelihood, through various
stages of international solidarity, through the unification and merger of
regional blocs. The last stage would take the form of a global referendum or
plebiscite—some form of free vote by every person. It may result in a victory
for the League only in certain countries. But the inexorable march of history
will be on the League's side. The unification of even half the globe will be the
final step in a revolution of people's consciousness. A second referendum will
be held, perhaps a third, and a decade or so later the borders of the Federation
will encompass all of humanity. Then there will be a real possibility of
implementing a series of wide-ranging measures aimed at transforming the
conglomerate of states into a single state that will be gradually altered by two
parallel programs: one external, concerned with political, social, and economic
affairs, and one internal, focused on educational, moral, and religious matters.
From the above, it should be clear that the members of the League and its
national parties will be able to wield as weapons only their words and their own
example, and this only against those ideologies and doctrines that try to clear
the path to power for a dictator or support a dictator already in power.
Although the activities of the great Mahatma Gandhi and the political party he
inspired were confined to the national scale, the League will see them as its
historical predecessors. The first political leader/ living saint in modern
times, Gandhi consolidated a purely political movement on a foundation of high
moral standards, refuting the prevailing attitude that politics and morality are
incompatible. But the national borders within which the Indian National Congress
acted will be expanded by the League to encompass the entire planet, and the
goals of the League will be of a higher historical stage, or series of stages,
than were the goals set by the great party that freed India.
Oh, there will of course be many people who will insist that the League's
methods are impractical and unrealistic. I've met enough champions of political
realism to last me a lifetime. There is no injustice or social villainy that has
not tried to cover itself with that pitiful fig leaf. There is no weight more
deadening, more earthbound, than talk of political realism as a counter to
everything lofty, everything inspirational, everything spiritual. Such political
realists are, incidentally, the same sort of people who in their time claimed,
even in India, that Gandhi was a dreamer out of touch with reality. They were
forced to eat their words when Gandhi and his party, while maintaining high
moral standards, won freedom for their country and led it to prosperity. But
this was not the kind of material prosperity that blinds people's eyes with the
black soot of statistics on the increase in coal production or with radioactive
dust from experimental tests of hydrogen bombs. This was cultural, ethical,
aesthetic, and spiritual prosperity, which would slowly but surely give rise to
material well-being.
Those who are unable to see the good in people those whose outlook has coarsened
and whose conscience has withered in the atmosphere of flagrant state violations
of human rights will also accuse the League of unrealistic methods. They will be
joined by those who cannot see what revolutions in mass consciousness await us
in the not too distant future. The trauma of wars, oppression, and every
possible violation of human rights already has launched a grass roots movement
for peaceful coexistence. Events that destroy our feeling of security, deprive
us of all comfort and peace of mind, and uproot our faith in current ideologies
and the social orders they uphold are constantly taking place and will continue
to do so. The exposing of the unbelievable atrocities perpetrated behind the
imposing facade of dictatorships, concrete proof of the foundation and price of
their temporary victories and apparent successes, will parch the soul like a hot
desert wind. People's spiritual thirst will become unbearable. The elimination
of the threat of great wars, the discovery of paths to uniting the world without
bloodshed, a spiritual leader and living saint who will head a united humanity
in the future, the weakening of state coercion, and the growth of a global
community spirit this is what believers pray for and nonbelievers dream about in
our century. And it is highly probable that a lofty, global teaching, moral,
political, philosophical, and spiritual will transform this generation's thirst
into an international creative enthusiasm.
The fact that humanity's last major religious movement the Protestant
Reformation took place four hundred years ago, and that the last religion of
global impact, Islam, is in its thirteenth century of existence is sometimes
cited in support of the argument that the religious era of humanity is past. But
one should gauge the potential of religion as a whole, not by its specific
forms. What matters is not how long ago the last major forms emerged but whether
the evolution of religion has reached a dead-end: whether it is possible to
integrate the indisputable laws of science into creative religious thought,
whether there glimmers within such a worldview the possibility of making sense
of our experience in the new era, and whether religion will be able to play a
real and progressive role in such experience.
It is true that approximately four hundred years have passed since the last
major religious movement of international scope. It is also true that for many
centuries prior to the Protestant Reformation there had been no comparable
movements. But is that even the point? Is it still not clear that a definite
current of mental, creative work absorbed almost all of humanity's spiritual and
intellectual energy during the last few centuries? It would be difficult to
expect that while maintaining such a rapid pace of scientific, technical, and
social progress and creating such cultural treasures in literature, music,
philosophy, and art, humanity would, in the last centuries, find within itself
the energy to create more universal religious systems as well.
But the turn of the century was the end of an era. The golden age of literature,
art, music, and philosophy came to a close. The realm of sociopolitical activity
has drawn to itself and with time this has become more and more apparent not the
most, but the least, spiritual representatives of the human race. A gigantic
spiritual vacuum has formed that did not exist even fifty years ago, and
hypertrophied science has been powerless to fill it. If I may put it thus:
colossal resources of the human genius have remained untapped. That is the womb
of creative energy where the embryonic global interreligion is forming.
Will religion not its old forms, but the sum religion that the world is now
pregnant with be able to eliminate the most dangerous threats hanging over the
heads of humanity: world war and global tyranny? It will probably be unable to
avert the next world war: if a third world war breaks out, it will likely take
place even before the appearance of the League. But after the nucleus of the
future interreligion has been formed, the League's first and foremost task will
be to prevent all wars that threaten to break out and to prevent the rise of a
global tyranny. Will that religion be able to achieve the greatest degree of
harmony between individual freedom and the interests of humanity, a harmony
conceivable only at the present stage of history? That is only another aspect of
that same foremost task. Will it promote the balanced development of the
creative impulses with which every person is gifted? Yes, except for demonic
impulses that is, impulses toward tyranny, violence, and self-assertion at the
expense of other living beings. Will it, like other movements with similar
global aspirations, require blood and victims in order to emerge triumphant? No
except in those cases when its faithful may be forced to prove their devotion to
its message at the cost of their lives. Will its ideas contradict not only the
philosophical doctrine of materialism (they will contradict that, of course, at
all points from A to Z), but also the objective and indisputable laws of modern
science? Not in the slightest. Is it possible to imagine a campaign during the
period of its ascendancy wherein dissenters will be persecuted, when it will
force its tenets on philosophy, science, and art? To the contrary, its proposed
route leads from partial initial restrictions on freedom of expression to
eventual unlimited freedom of expression. This being so, what remains of the
argument that religion is incapable of responding and providing practical
solutions to the most pressing problems of the day?
One has every right and justification to direct such a reproach not at religion
but, alas, at science. It is that same system of views that fails to look beyond
the limits circumscribed by contemporary scientific knowledge that is incapable
of providing answers to the most fundamental and elementary questions. Does the
Source, the Creator, God exist? Unknown. Does such a thing as a soul exist? If
so, is it immortal? Science does not know the answer. What is time, space,
matter, energy? Opinions are sharply divided. Is our world eternal and endless
or, on the contrary, is it limited within time and space? Science does not
possess the necessary data to give a definite answer. Why should I do good and
not evil, if evil appeals to me and I can be sure of escaping punishment? The
answers are totally unintelligible. How can science be used to avert the
possibility of wars and tyranny? Silence. How can social harmony be attained
with the least human cost? Mutually exclusive proposals are put forward that
resemble each other only in that they are all equally unrelated to pure science.
It is natural that on such shaky and subjective and, indeed, pseudo-scientific
foundations doctrines have arisen based only on class, racial, nationalist, or
party interests that is, on those very systems whose purpose is the
justification of dictatorships and wars. The distinguishing mark of such
doctrines is their low level of spirituality. It follows, therefore, that the
desired moral supervisory body cannot be organized on the basis of the so-called
scientific worldview, for, in essence, such a worldview does not exist. Rather,
it shall arise through communion with the world of spirit; through the reception
of the rays of that world pouring out and into our hearts, reason, and
conscience; and through the application of the precept of active and creative
love to every facet of our lives. The moral level which incorporates all of the
above traits is called sanctity.
There is yet another popular fallacy: a view of religion as a phenomenon that is
reactionary by nature, particularly in our age. But it is just as ridiculous to
speak of the reactionary nature of religion in general, irrespective of the
specific forms it takes, as it is to try to prove the reactionary nature of art
in general or philosophy in general. A dynamic thinker one who perceives
evolving sets of facts and the processes by which those sets are shaped will be
able to distinguish the telltale marks of reactionary and progressive forms in
art, in religion, in all areas of human activity. One may find a large number of
reactionary forms of religion, even more than one would like, but that fact has
no relation whatsoever to the embryonic sum religion with which this book is
concerned. For there have not been, nor are there, more progressive aims or
methods in our century than those that will be fused together in that religion.
As for the scientific method's claim to supremacy, it is powerless to stamp out
the methods of art and religion, in their widest sense, just as an aggressive
religiosity was powerless to stamp out science in its time. That is because
their methods are differentiated not only by how they cognize but by what they
cognize. In the last century, the rapid progress of science and technology gave
rise to predictions about the death of art. A hundred years have passed and the
constellation of arts has not only not faded away but has been brightened by yet
another star the art of cinema. Thirty or forty years ago many in Russia
believed the demise of religion was inevitable as a result of scientific and
social progress. And yet, despite all the resources mobilized against it, the
constellation of religions has not only not faded away but scientific and social
progress has caused it to be brightened by the ability to turn the world's
religions from a collage of separate petals into one single, whole spiritual
flower the Rose of the World.
It follows from the above that a religious movement that integrates humanity's
positive experience into its philosophy and praxis and draws conclusions from
the negative experience that require too much courage and honesty to be made by
other streams of social thought; a movement whose first and foremost tasks are
the transformation of the state into a community, the unification of the entire
world, and the ennobling education of humanity; a movement that will guard
against the distortion of its ideals and methods with the indestructible shield
of a higher morality such a movement cannot but be recognized as progressive,
promising, and creatively young.
A shield of morality! On what principles will such a morality be founded? I
spoke of sanctity. But is it not simply utopian to think that entire segments of
society, and not just single individuals, could be saintly?
It is necessary to state what exactly is meant here by the term
"sanctity." An ascetic life spent in a monastery is not a prerequisite
for the attainment of sanctity. Sanctity is the highest stage of moral
development for a person. Whoever surpasses it is no longer just saintly, but is
a prophet as well. Sanctity can take many different forms depending on time,
place, and a person's character. If we generalize, sanctity, defined negatively,
is the internal state of a person, constant and ending only with death, in which
the will is free from egoistic impulses, the reason is free from slavery to
materialistic desires, and the heart is free from bursts of random, turbid
emotions that demean the soul. To define it positively, sanctity is the
permeation of all one's inner and outer life with an active love for God,
people, and the world.
It is doubtful that the necessary psychological climate for the emergence of a
moral body founded on that same sanctity could be better prepared than in an
organization whose meaning and purpose lie in the hope of this emergence. The
League will be that very organization. Even atheists could number among its
members. But the League's basic tenet the necessity of a global moral body
standing above all the states will be the very thing to fuse the most committed,
creative, energetic, and gifted of its members into a nucleus a nucleus
characterized by an atmosphere of unflagging spiritual creativity, active love,
and purity; a nucleus composed of people enlightened enough to be aware not only
of the danger threatening each of them if their ambitious impulses are unleashed
but of the danger, as well, of a too superficial formulation of religious moral
values, which can lead to ethical formalism, hypocrisy, spiritual staleness, and
sanctimony.
No one but God knows where and when the Rose of the World's first flames will be
kindled. The country Russia has only been designated; tragic events might still
take place that could interfere with that mystical event and force it to be
relocated to another country. The time the sixties has only been projected;
disastrous cataclysms might take place that would move the date far ahead into
the future. It is possible that the first flame will kindle not in the League
for the Transformation of the State but in a different, as yet unknown group of
people. But here or there, in this country or another, a decade earlier or
later, the interreligious, global church of the new age the Rose of the World
will appear as the sum total of the spiritual activity of many people, as the
joint creation of people standing beneath the shower of heaven-sent revelation
it will appear, emerge, and embark on its historical journey.
Religion, interreligion, church I cannot render the idea with the necessary
exactitude using those words. Its many fundamental departures from previous
religions and churches will in time require new words to be coined for use in
reference to it. But even without them, it will be necessary to introduce such a
large vocabulary of new words into the pages of this book that now, at the
beginning, I think it best not to run to the aid of those words but to rely on a
descriptive definition of the distinguishing features of what will be called the
Rose of the World.
It will not be like any restricted religious faith, whether true or false. Nor
will it be an international religious order like the Theosophists, the
Anthroposophists, or the Masons, composed, like a bouquet, of various flowers of
truth eclectically picked from every imaginable religious glade. It will be an
interreligion or pan-religion, in that it will be a teaching that views all
religions that appeared earlier as reflections of different layers of spiritual
reality, different sets of variomaterial facts, and different segments of our
planetary cosmos ("Planetary cosmos" refers to the sum total of planes
of differing materiality, dimensions, and time streams that are necessarily
linked to the Earth. The planetary cosmos is the planet Earth with all the
complexity of the material (and not just physical) planes of its existence. Many
heavenly bodies possess such gigantic systems. They are called bramfaturas. The
Earth's bramfatura is called Shadanakar. A brief glossary appended at the end of
the book gives definitions for those words that are either used here for the
first time or altered by a new sense.). That point of view treats Shadanakar
both as a separate entity and as part of the divine universe. If the older
religions are petals, then the Rose of the World will be a flower: with roots,
stem, head, and the commonwealth of its petals.
The second distinction concerns the globality of the Rose of the World's
aspirations and their historical concreteness. Not one religion, with the
exception of medieval Catholicism, has made the reorganization of human society
its aim. But the papacy, stubbornly trying to contain feudal chaos with the dams
of hierocracy, was unable to weaken the exploitation of the have-nots by the
haves, to lessen social inequality with wide-ranging reforms, or to raise the
overall standard of living. Be that as it may, it would be unfair to blame the
ruling Catholic hierarchy for its failure: the material resources, both economic
and technological, necessary for such large-scale transformations were still
unavailable. It was no coincidence that evil in the world was felt to have
existed from time immemorial (and right up to modern times has been considered
eternal and unavoidable), and that Catholicism in essence focused, like all the
other religions, on the "inner self" alone, teaching individual
perfection. But times have changed, material resources have become available,
and it is thanks to the entire historical process, and not to the Rose of the
World, that the latter can now regard social justice not as something alien to
its purposes, doomed to failure, and not worth the efforts, but can link it
inseparably to the growth of the inner self: work on oneself and social justice
will become two parallel processes that should complement each other.
One often hears that Christianity has failed. If it were only a question of the
past, one could say that from the social and overall moral point of view it has
failed. "Religion has failed." Yes, if humanity's religious creativity
were spent by what has already been woven, religion in the above-mentioned sense
truly could be said to have failed. But at present it is fair to say only this:
the older religions could not substantially decrease the amount of social
injustice, because they did not possess the necessary material resources, and
the lack of those resources gave birth to a negative attitude toward all such
attempts. In that way the ground was prepared for the secular stage of
civilization.
In the eighteenth century social conscience awakened;- Social disharmony was
finally felt and perceived as something intolerable, demeaning, and to be
overcome. That, of course, occurred in connection with the fact that the
material resources that had been lacking began to appear. But the older
religions were unable to grasp that fact. They did not want to take advantage of
those resources, did not wish to direct the process of social transformation,
and it is that same sluggishness, intellectual laziness, conceptual immobility,
and closemindedness that is their greatest fault. Religion discredited itself by
its centuries-long powerlessness in that respect, and it should come as no
surprise that Europe, followed by other continents, fell into the opposite
extreme: the transformation of society by purely mechanical means in
conjunction with a complete renunciation of the spiritual side of the process.
The result, too, should come as no surprise: upheavals the world has never
before witnessed, loss of life that had never been envisaged even in our worst
nightmares, and a decline in the overall moral level, whose very possibility
many people in the twentieth century see as a grim and tragic enigma.
The responsibility for the depth and perseverance of the resulting secular stage
rests to a large extent on the older religions. They also bear responsibility
for the spiritual fate of millions of souls who, in the struggle for social
justice, placed themselves in opposition to religion in general and thus tore
the spiritual roots of their own existence loose from the soil of world
spirituality. But genuine religious activity is a definite kind of social
service, and genuine social service is at the same time religious activity. No
religious act, even the self-abnegation of a monk, is done in isolation from the
whole, and every such work contributes to world wide enlightenment. No positive
social activity can help but increase the amount of good in the world that is,
such activity cannot help but have religious meaning. The pulsing of social
conscience, active compassion and concelebration, unflagging practical efforts
for social justice this is the second manner which the Rose of the World is
distinct from the older religion.
The third distinction concerns dynamism of outlook. There have already been
religions that have incorporated concepts of metahistory-Judaism and early
Christianity—but only in remote and brief periods during their formation did
they try to formulate a spiritual framework to explain the historical processes
taking place at the time. During those brief, half-forgotten times, the
astonishing insights of the Apocalypse remained hidden from people's eyes by a
blanket of allegories and innuendos; its code of images allowed for every
imaginable interpretation. Thus, a genuine framework for understanding
historical processes did not take shape. Historical knowledge was as yet scarce
and limited in scope, geographical horizons were small, and the mystical mind
was not yet ready to grasp the internal logic of metahistory and the incredible
complexity of Shadanakar.
But the appearance of the Rose of the World has been preceded by the scientific
era, an era that revolutionized humanity's view of the universe, of nations, of
cultures, and of their fates. It has been preceded by yet another era: one of
radical social changes and upheavals, of revolutions, and of world wars. Both
kinds of phenomena have loosened humanity's psychological crust, which had
remained for so many centuries unbroken. In that soil, plowed up by the iron
teeth of historical catastrophes, the seeds of metahistorical revelation will
fall. And the entire planetary cosmos will reveal itself to people's spiritual
sight as a constantly evolving system of variegated worlds, a system speeding
toward a blindingly brilliant goal, spiritualized and transformed from century
to century and from day to day. Images from future eras are beginning to show
through our reality—each in all its inimitable uniqueness, in its correlation
of metahistorical forces battling within it. The goal of the Rose of the World
is to become a receptor, fosterer, and interpreter of that knowledge. The
collective mystical consciousness of all living humanity, it will illumine the
meaning of the historical processes of the past, present, and future in order to
assume creative guidance of those processes. If one may speak of any dogmas in
its teaching, then those dogmas will be deeply dynamic, multifaceted, and
capable of further enrichment, development, and long-range evolution.
From that follows the fourth distinction of the Rose of the World, which entails
a program of consistent, spiritual-historical tasks that are entirely concrete
and achievable in principle. I will list once again the foremost of them: the
unification of the planet under a federation of states overseen by a moral
supervisory body; the establishment of economic well-being and a high standard
of living in every country; the ennobling education of younger generations; the
reunification of the Christian churches and the creation of a free amalgamation
of all religions of Light; the transformation of the planet into a garden and
the state into a community. But those are merely tasks of the first order. Their
realization will open the way to tasks of an even higher order— the
spiritualization of nature.
Interreligiosity, the globality of its societal aspirations and their concrete
nature, the dynamism of its outlook, and consistency in its global historical
tasks—these are the characteristics that will distinguish the Rose of the
World from all religions and churches of the past. The bloodlessness of its
paths, the painlessness of its reforms, its kindness and consideration toward
people, the waves of spiritual warmth that will emanate from it— these are the
characteristics that will distinguish it from all sociopolitical movements of
the past and present.
Obviously, the essence of the state, as well as the moral cast of society,
cannot be transformed in the wink of an eye. An immediate and complete
renunciation of coercion is pure fantasy. But that element will decrease over
time and societal space. Every kind of discipline is made up of elements of
coercion and consciousness, and one or another type of discipline results from
the ratio of these two elements. Slave economies, prisons, and concentration
camps boast a high percentage of coercion and an almost complete absence of
consciousness. There is a slightly higher percentage of consciousness present
during army drills. And further, to the extent that the element of coercion is
weakened within disciplinary models, the categorical imperative of inner
self-discipline grows and replaces it. The new pedagogy will be based on the
fostering of that same impulse. Its principles and methods, as well as methods
for the moral rehabilitation and rebirth of criminals, will be discussed in a
later chapter. But it should be clear even now that the external stimulus of
coercion will disappear quickest of all within the inner concentric circles of
the Rose of the World, for those circles will be filled by the very people who
have wed their entire life to its tasks and principles and no longer have any
need of outside coercion. They will be its conscience, and who, if not they,
should occupy the seats of the Upper Council?
Is it possible to overstate the edifying effect exerted by political systems
where the worthiest people stand at the head of society, guiding and creating?
Think not of those whose will is overdeveloped at the expense of other sides of
their self and whose strength lies in their unscrupulous approach to means, but
of those in whom will, reason, love, purity of thought, and a profound
understanding of life are harmoniously developed and combined with conspicuous
spiritual gifts—those we call living saints.
Recently we saw an example of just such a saint: we were witnesses to India's
decisive hour and the great spirit of Gandhi. We were presented with an
astonishing spectacle: a person wearing a loincloth, with no government
authority, without a single soldier or servant at his command, without a roof
over his head, became the conscience and the spiritual and political leader of
three hundred million people. One soft-spoken word from him was enough to unite
those millions in a massive, nonviolent struggle to free their country, in which
the shedding of their enemy's blood gave rise to nationwide fasting and
mourning.
It is easy to imagine how tragically the Indian people's historical course would
have been altered if, instead of that saint, a person of a self-willed nature,
like Mussolini or Stalin, had at that decisive minute stepped forward as
leader—a so-called strong leader, a master of demagoguery and political
intrigue, who masks his despotic nature behind fulsome speeches about the
people's welfare! How skillfully he would have played on the base of instincts
of the people, on their natural hatred for their conquerors, on their envy of
the rich. What waves of fire and blood would have broken over India, flooding
islands of high moral consciousness fostered and strengthened over thousands of
years by the brightest children of that great people! And, in the end, what a
tyranny such a person would have established over the exhausted country, taking
advantage of the people's habit of obedience, formed through centuries of
slavery. Gandhi channelled the country's thirst for self-determination and
national identity down a different path. Here is the first example in modern
times of the power that will gradually replace the sword and whip of state rule.
That power is the loving trust a people have for whomever gives proof of the
moral elevation upon which rests the authority of living saints.
I foresee a host of objections. One is as follows. Yes, such a thing was
possible in India, with its unique characteristics, with its four-thousand-year
religious history, with the moral stature of its people. Other peoples have
different legacies, and India's experience is not applicable to any other
country.
True, every people has its own historical legacy. And India's legacy has led to
its people becoming a pioneer on that road. But almost every nation has
encountered, either within or beside their borders, dictatorships and tyrannies
of all imaginable colors and ideological masks, and each has had sufficient
opportunity to realize into what a disastrous abyss a blind
leadership—unenlightened by sanctity, not even meeting the minimum
requirements of an average moral level—can plunge their country. After all,
government leadership demands self-renunciation, and an average moral level is
too low for that. Many nations, as well, have come to realize that where, in
place of dictators, political parties alternate, faces change like a
kaleidoscope. Diplomats and generals, bosses and lawyers, demagogues and
business people—some are self-seekers, others are more principled, but none is
capable of breathing a new, clean, and vibrant spirit into life or of solving
problems of vital national interest. No one can trust a single one of them more
than they trust themselves, because not one of them has paused even a moment to
think about what sanctity and spirituality mean. They are fleeting shadows,
fallen leaves blown about by the winds of history. If the Rose of the World does
not make its appearance in time on the international scene, they will be
scattered by the fiery breath of willful and merciless dictatorships. If the
Rose of the World does appear, they will dissolve, melting under the rising sun
of its great message, because the hearts of the people will trust one living
saint more than a hundred modern-day politicians.
But an even greater and brighter effect will be exerted on the people and their
destiny if three of the highest gifts—sanctity, religious vision, and artistic
genius—are all combined in one person.
O, so many aspects of religion belong entirely to its past stages. One such
aspect appears to be the power that strictly delineated, didactically
formulated, law-like dogmas incapable of growth have had over people's minds.
Human experience and the growth of individuality during the last centuries have
led to human beings feeling cramped by and suspicious of any dogma. As a result,
no matter how nondogmatic the Rose of the World's teachings will be, no matter
how much they will be permeated by a spirit of religious dynamism, a great many
people will have difficulty accepting them. On the other hand, many millions
will respond to its call, as it will be addressed not so much to the intellect
as to the heart, resounding in masterpieces of literature, music, theater, and
architecture.
Works of art are more capacious and multifaceted than theosophical aphorisms or
philosophical arguments. They leave more room for the imagination; they permit
each person to interpret the teaching so that it is more understandable and in
tune with his or her own individuality. Revelation flows down from many streams,
and if art is not the purest then it is at least the widest of them. Therefore,
every art form and a beautiful repertoire of ritual will outfit the Rose of the
World with colorful and glittering habiliments. And for that same reason, it
would be most natural for a person who possesses three of the greatest
gifts—religious vision, sanctity, and artistic genius—to stand at the head
of the Rose of the World.
Perhaps such a person will never come, or will
come much later. It is possible that a collective of the worthiest, and not one
single person, will lead the Rose of the World. But if Providence sends a person
of such great spirit to our century—and it has sent them before—and the
forces of evil are unable to thwart his or her mission, it will be the greatest
of good fortune for the entire planet. For no one can exert a greater and
brighter influence on humanity than a genius of the word who has become a
visionary leader and living saint and who has been raised to the heights of
being global guide of a cultural and social renaissance. That person, and only
that person, can be entrusted with an extraordinary and unprecedented task:
moral supervision of all the states of the Federation and guidance of nations
with a view to transforming those states into a global community.
O, we Russians paid dearly for the unconditional trust we placed in a
strong-willed man, whom many of us viewed as a benefactor of humanity. We will
not repeat the same mistake! There are unmistakable signs that distinguish a
person worthy of such a mission from an evil genius. The latter is gloomy; the
former is bright with spiritual vitality. One consolidates power with executions
and torture; the other will not spend a single day seeking power, and when that
individual accepts power no one's blood will be spilled. One will cultivate the
cult of personality across the land; the other will consider such glorification
ridiculous and repellent. One is unapproachable; the other is open to all. One
is wracked by an unquenchable thirst for life and power and hides from imagined
dangers behind impenetrable walls; the other is free from worldly temptations
and calm in the face of danger, with a clean conscience and unshakable faith.
They are two antipodes, the ambassadors of two irreconcilable camps.
Of course, such elected leaders would be but the first among equals in an Upper
Council. In everything they would rely on the cooperation of many, and their own
activities would be monitored by many. They would be able to assume their
extraordinary post only after undergoing rigorous tests. Such a post cannot be
filled by the young, not even by the middle-aged, but only by those ripened by
old age. Temptations and negative emotions must be long overcome. As for the
election itself, it seems to me that it could be conducted only in the form of
one or another kind of plebiscite. And even during the term of office of the
High Mentors, the Council would be keeping watch on their activities. Departure
from their path would result in the transfer of their powers to the worthiest.
In general, all the issues involved could be carefully thought out, the dangers
foreseen, decisions precisely weighed and later adjusted. But as long as the
High Mentors keep to the preordained path, they will be the mystical links
between humanity and the other worlds, the revealers of the will of Providence,
the spiritual guides of billions and the guardians of their souls. There is
nothing to fear by uniting all spiritual and secular power in the hands of such
people.
Some will say that such people appear perhaps only once in every five hundred
years. I will go one step further: individuals of such stature, who possess the
sum of these above-mentioned gifts, could never have existed before. An Einstein
could not have appeared among the Maoris of the nineteenth century. It would be
ridiculous to expect to find a Dostoyevsky, such as we know him, among the
subjects of Tutankhamen or Theodoric. He would have possessed a different sum of
gifts then, and many of them would not have found outward expression in his
life. People like those I am speaking of could not have realized the gifts they
were endowed with even in the recent past, and their contemporaries would have
remained in the dark as to their true stature and potential. The prerequisite
conditions already seem to be taking shape as the new age begins; the Rose of
the World will see them ripen in such a way that the social and cultural
atmosphere will provide the High Mentor with a chain of successors worthy of the
post.
Some will also say that even all the above-listed gifts are not enough for such
an extraordinary position, that such people also need a versatile, sober, and
practical political mind. No doubt. Such a leader will have to deal with
thousands of the most varied problems; knowledge and experience—economic,
financial, judicial, even technical—will be needed. But the age of Aristotle
is long past; minds of encyclopedic breadth are unthinkable in our day and age.
And the activities of those I am speaking of are just as unthinkable apart from
the collective mind, from the Upper Council. The most profound minds, those wise
in the vicissitudes of leadership, as well as specialists from every branch of
knowledge, will take part in it. It is wisdom, not encyclopedic erudition or
practical management skills, that will be demanded of the High Mentors: wisdom
to understand people at first sight, to go instantly to the heart of complex
issues, and never for a second to remain deaf to the voice of conscience. The
High Mentors should be so elevated morally that love and trust in them will
replace other methods of rule. The use of coercion or force will be a torment
for them; they will resort to it only in the rarest of cases.
But that is only one possible option, although it is in my opinion the most
desirable. It is easy to imagine an alternative: leadership of the Rose of the
World, a relationship with the Federation government and legislative bodies,
where the collective principle will be limited by nothing and no one. The task
of working out a constitution belongs to the far future, and our fortunate
descendants, not us, will have the chance to choose one option from the many
possible.
But isn't that a theocracy? I dislike the word theocracy. Theocracy is the rule
of God; to use it in reference to any kind of social or political system would
be absurd from the point of view of atheists and blasphemous from the point of
view of believers. History has never witnessed, nor will it witness, a
theocracy. Not theocracy, but hierocracy, the rule of a priesthood, should be
used in reference to the ecclesiastical states of the Pope or the Dalai Lama.
The system I have described is the exact opposite of any type of hierocracy: the
church will not disappear into the state, which swallows it up and rules in its
name. Rather, the entire conglomerate of states and assembly of churches will
gradually merge into a global community and interreligious church. Posts in the
higher bodies—legislative, executive, and supervisory—will not be occupied
by the upper hierarchy of a church but by the finest representatives of all
nations, all faiths, all social classes, and all specialties.
Not a hierocracy, not a monarchy, not an oligarchy, not a republic: something
qualitatively different from all that has come before will emerge. It will be a
global-wide social system working toward sanctifying and enlightening all life
on earth. I do not know what it will be called. The point is not in the name but
in the essence. Its essence will consist of work in the name of spiritualizing
individuals, all of humanity, and nature.
LITTLE BY LITTLE a new attitude toward
everything will arise: there would not be the slightest reason for the Rose of
the World to come into being if it only repeated what has been said before. A
new attitude and way of thinking will emerge in regard to every aspect of life,
large and small: cosmic and historical processes, planetary laws and the links
between variomaterial worlds, personal relationships and approaches to personal
growth, states and religion, the animal world and the environment—in a word,
everything that we group under the concepts culture and nature.
A new attitude toward everything will arise, but that does not mean that every
old attitude will be discarded or vilified. In many cases a point of view will
merely be presented whereby past attitudes will no longer contradict, but will
complement, each other, revealing each as merely a different aspect of the same
reality, or even of many realities. Such an approach is often effective, for
example, when examining the older religions and the realities behind them. This
book is devoted in its entirety to that new attitude. The subject matter is far
too broad and complex to be even briefly outlined in one chapter. Although this
chapter is entitled "Perspective on Culture" and the following
chapter, "Perspective on Religion," one should not expect an
exhaustive treatment of these subjects. All six books of this work are permeated
with a new way of looking at various spheres of culture, various historical
events, various religious systems, and various realms of nature. These first
chapters are merely intended as a sort of introduction. They contain a synopsis
of certain fundamental principles, no more.
In our century science has assumed the dominant role in culture. The scientific
method lays claim to absolute supremacy; for that reason this chapter will begin
with a description of the perspective offered by the Rose of the World on the
scientific method itself. It must be stated promptly and plainly that no matter
how many illusions the partisans of the scientific method have tried to create
in that regard, it has never been, is not now, nor will it ever be the only mode
of inquiry or the only means to know the material world. One need remember that
besides the artistic method— with which the scientific method now
condescendingly and grudgingly shares its preeminent status—the foundations
for a mode of inquiry and a method to know the material world were laid long
ago. The study of that method is inextricably linked to people's work on their
spiritual selves and the enlightenment of their moral selves. There is even the
possibility that it will become to a certain degree the dominant method in the
future. I have in mind not so much magic or occultism, which have been
discredited by a number of misunderstandings, but rather the concept of
spiritual work. Various systems and schools of that type can be found in all
religions with long spiritual traditions. Having in the course of centuries
developed practical techniques for bringing the will to bear on the human
organism and on external matter, and guiding a person to that level only after
protracted moral preparation and manifold tests, they have elevated, and elevate
now, hundreds, perhaps thousands, to what is in layman's terms called miracle
working. That arduous method, which has aroused the intense hatred of modern-day
philistines, is distinguished by one principle foreign to science: work on and
transformation of one's own being, as a result of which the physical and ether
coatings of one's self become more pliable, elastic, and obedient to one's will
than is normally possible. That path leads to such allegedly legendary phenomena
as passing bodily through threedimensional objects, levitation, walking on
water, teleportation, the healing of incurable diseases and of blindness
and—that highest and rarest attainment—the resurrection of the dead.
What we are dealing with in such cases is the manipulation of laws that hold in
our materiality, and the suspension of lower laws by higher ones, which as yet
are unknown to us. And if, in the twentieth century, the majority of us live our
entire lives without encountering indisputable examples of such phenomena, it
does not necessarily follow that such phenomena do not occur, or that they are
impossible in principle, but only that the prevailing conditions—cultural,
social, and psychological—in the secular era (especially in the West, and even
more so in the countries belonging to the socialist camp) have to such an extent
impeded the study and mastery of that method that the number of such phenomena
has been reduced to a handful of isolated cases.
Certain truly momentous events that took place nearly two thousand years ago
(they will be discussed later) are responsible for the fact that it has become
impossible to usher not individuals alone but whole masses of people onto that
path of knowledge. With the passage of time, the psychological climate of the
secular era obstructed more and more any movement along that path. Nowadays,
enormous obstacles face anyone wishing to embark on study of the method. In
certain countries such study has become, for all practical purposes, impossible.
But there is no reason to suppose that the method will remain that slow and
arduous forever. The areligious era is not endless; we are living at its close.
It is difficult to imagine anything appearing more unwieldy, unrefined, crude,
and impotent than do the achievements of modern technology when compared with
the achievements of the method of which I am speaking. If the incalculable
material and human resources that are now swallowed up for the advancement of
the scientific method were invested in the development and study of this other
method, then the panorama of human life—creative work, knowledge, the
organization of society, and morality—would undergo radical changes. The
psychological climate of the era of the Rose of the World will create conditions
more conducive than ever before to the development of that method. But that
belongs to the future, and not the near future at that. Until that time arrives
we have no alternative but to use in the main a different method, much less
refined and not leading very far, but dominant everywhere at the moment.
From that follows the Rose of the World's overall perspective on science and
technology at the current stage of history. Laboriously gathering facts,
deducing regularities from them without understanding the nature or orientation
of those regularities, manipulating them mechanically without the ability to
foretell what inventions and social upheavals its discoveries will lead to,
science has long been open to everyone regardless of their moral level. The
consequences are in front of our eyes and above our heads. The chief consequence
is that not one person on Earth can be sure that a hydrogen bomb or some other,
more appalling scientific achievement will not be dropped on them or their
fellow citizens at any moment by highly educated minds. It is therefore natural
that one of the first measures the Rose of the World will undertake after it
begins supervision of the states' activities will be the creation of an Upper
Scientific Council—that is, a committee staffed by members from the inner
circles of the Rose of the World itself. Consisting of people who combine the
respect of the scientific community with a high level of moral integrity, the
Council will assume executive management of all scientific and technological
work, serving both planning and regulatory functions.
What is involved in the protection of the vital interests of humanity appears on
the whole straightforward enough, at least in its principles, and there is
hardly a need to pause over it now. As for the issues involved in the protection
of the interests of the animal and plant worlds, they will be discussed in those
sections of the book devoted to the animal world and the world of the
elementals. That is perhaps the only area in which the outlook of the Rose of
the World and the views of the majority of contemporary scientists cannot be
reconciled. The conflict, however, does not pertain to any scientific theory.
Rather, it applies only to certain of science's practical methods that are
incompatible with the basic demands of goodness not only in the view of the Rose
of the World but also in the view of nearly every religious moral teaching and,
indeed, of nearly every humane person.
Outside those purely methodological clashes, there are not, nor can there be,
any conflicts between the Rose of the World and science. There is nowhere for a
conflict between them to arise. They deal with different things. It can hardly
be a coincidence that the erudition of the majority of this century's scientific
geniuses did not prevent them from holding personal religious beliefs and from
sharing and even creating bright, spiritual systems of philosophy. Einstein and
Planck, Pavlov and Lemaitre, Eddington and Milne-no matter what the field of
their scientific inquiry, all remained, in their own way, people with a firm
belief in God. I am, of course, disregarding here Russian scientists of the
Soviet period, some of whom were forced to proclaim their materialism not out of
any philosophical convictions but for completely different reasons, which are
obvious to anyone.
Leaving aside philosophy and politics, we can say that in areas purely
scientific the Rose of the World does not make any claim that science would have
sufficient grounds to reject. What is being asserted is that science has been
silent thus far about the realities the Rose of the World describes. But that is
a situation that will not continue for long. As for the social, cultural, and
moral tasks that the Rose of the World will attempt to carry out, it is
impossible to imagine that they would meet with any objections in principle from
authorities in the scientific community.
It is reasonable to suppose that it will not be the very idea of planning
scientific activity that will be the subject of debate in the future but the
limits of what will be subject to planning and of its practical methods. No
doubt special study will be devoted to the planning and coordination of
scientific work carried out in certain states of the midtwentieth century. But
only individual features will be borrowed from their experience, if only because
the Federation will be made up of many states, both large and small, that will
have just been unified and will be at varying stages of economic development,
states formed against the backdrop of different cultures and possessing
different sociopolitical systems. Systems distinguished by greater economic
centralization will find it easier to be assimilated into the inexorable process
of global socialization; others, accustomed to a laissez-faire system, will be
drawn into it more gradually. That, as well as the variety of cultural
traditions, will result in an extremely mixed global economy and interplay of
cultural heritages during the first stage.
Deep-rooted national antagonisms will also long continue to make their presence
felt. It will take time to balance and harmonize the needs of different
countries and different layers of society that will benefit from, say, the
priority development of such and such a branch of industry in such and such a
place or the sale of their products somewhere or other. In order to reach an
equitable solution to those kinds of problems, a new psychological trait will be
required from those who will head the Scientific Council and the Rose of the
World itself mastery of the inner sway of personal, as yet entirely natural,
cultural-ethnic bonds—that is, a complete impartiality toward nations. What
effort, what moral authority and even self-sacrifice, will be necessary just to
weaken deep-seated antagonisms, such as Anglo-Arab, Russo-Polish, or Turko-Armenian!
What will Germans, English, Russians, or Americans have to do to enable so many
countries to forget the hostility those Western nations have aroused in them?
What educational programs will be needed to soothe the wounded pride that
prevents many small or middle-sized nations from being on friendly terms with
their neighbors and that escalates into aggressive dreams of attaining greatness
at the expense of other countries?
But that is only one side of the coin. Many Western nations will have to rid
themselves of the slightest trace of their old feelings of superiority over
others. Russians will have to realize that their country is not the crowning
glory of creation and is in fact no better than many other nations. The English
will be forced to perform colossal work on their inner selves so as to renounce
their habit of favoring the interests of the inhabitants of the British isles
over the interests of citizens of Indonesia or Tanzania. From the French will be
required the ability to take to heart the interests of Paraguay or Thailand just
as passionately as they do their own The Chinese and Arabs will liberate their
hearts and minds from the once justified, and now anachronistic, distrust of
Europeans, which they have nursed for so many centuries, and will learn to
bestow no less attention on the needs of Belgium or Greece than on those of
Shanghai or the Sudan. The citizens of the republics of Central America will
have to cease caring and complaining only about their own situation and take
part in the distribution of the world's wealth, taking into account the needs of
Afghanistan, Cambodia, and even Yakutia. The citizens of the United States will
be expected to remember that they call themselves Christians and that
Christianity is incompatible with a savage hate for any race, blacks included.
This psychological remolding will be, as anyone can see, incredibly difficult,
but it is the only way freedom from wars and tyranny can be won. As one would
expect, nobody can hope to take part in the work of the global planning bodies
without that remolding.
Nations will even have to learn to make sacrifices—not of their blood, not, of
course, of the lives of their sons and daughters, but of dollars. For the more
affluent nations will be faced with the necessity of sharing their resources
with the peoples of the East and South, and disinterestedly at that, without an
eye to turning such aid into big business. In short, all those in the leadership
of the Rose of the World must be able to feel themselves as, above all, members
of the entire cosmos, then as members of humanity, and only then as members of a
nation.
The overall goal of the Rose of the World—or to be more exact, of the gigantic
spiritual process that began thousands of years ago and of which the Rose of the
World is but one stage—is the enlightenment of Shadanakar. And the foremost
task of our age consists in establishing everywhere, without excluding a single
human being, a standard of living worthy of humans, simple day-to-day
well-being, and fundamentally decent moral relations between people. The idea
that every person without exception should be assured of worthwhile work, rest,
leisure, a comfortable old age, decent shelter, access to all democratic
freedoms, and satisfaction of their basic material and spiritual needs will
begin to be actualized more and more in everyday life.
Only much later, in the very last chapters, will I be able to shed light on
concrete measures, on that program of integrated reform whereby these principles
will, I believe, take on flesh and blood. For now, only the principles are under
discussion. Thus, those in whom these principles awaken no sympathy will not
waste their time and energy on further reading, while those in sympathy will be
able to get a feel for the inner spirit of the Rose of the World before moving
on to an investigation of the possible paths for making these ideals a reality.
The above is the basic attitude of the Rose of the World toward science and
technology, as far as I can explain it without delving into metahistory and
transphysics. That should also be the role played by the scientific method in
the next few historical periods.
Several decades from now, the ever-increasing rate of economic growth will reach
a level we will be fully justified in calling global prosperity. Living
standards now enjoyed by citizens of the economically advanced nations will be
established in the remotest corners of the globe. The rechanneling of the
massive sums that are now spent on weapons into peaceful uses will impart almost
unimaginable acceleration to economic growth. Universal elementary education
will likely be achieved even before that. Eventually, even universal secondary
education will be felt to be insufficient. The borders of the intelligentsia
will encompass all of humanity. The development of newer and newer means of
communication, along with their accessibility and practicability, will virtually
eliminate the distance between nations and cultures. As the working day shrinks,
new reserves of time will be freed up. Physiological science will devise
technology that will enable the human brain to memorize input quicker and
indelibly. Leisure time will increase. And those matters that now occupy the
majority of people—the economy, politics, product improvement, technology, the
further upgrading of material comforts—will lose their interest. It is
entirely realistic to think that the generations of those times will find it
baffling and strange that their ancestors could have been so engrossed by and
emotional about decisions relating to such boring and trivial matters. Their
energy will be channeled into the creation of riches of a higher order, since
the economic base, being firmly grounded and global, will not be subject to any
sharp fluctuations.
Issues connected with technology and economics will cease to engage people's
overriding attention. They will be dealt with in their respective committees and
will be subject to public scrutiny, just as issues of restaurant hygiene or
sewage are now. Humanity's gifts will be put to a different use, dictated by the
thirst for knowledge, a love for all living beings, a need for higher forms of
creative work, and a passion for beauty.
The thirst for knowledge, which at one time drove explorers to embark on voyages
through uncharted waters and to range over unopened continents, will send them
first (perhaps even before the rise of the Rose of the World) into outer space.
But the other planets are inhospitable. After several exploratory missions the
launches will halt, and the thirst for knowledge itself will begin to shift in
focus. Methods will be devised to activate and develop the dormant organs
possessed by every human being: organs of spiritual sight, spiritual hearing,
deep memory, and the ability to separate at will one's inner, variomaterial
bodies from the physical body. Voyages around variomaterial worlds, around the
unfolding planes of Shadanakar, will commence. It will be the age of cosmic
Magellans and Columbuses of the spirit.
What systematic views on the individual's value, rights, obligations, and growth
will help to create a new psychological climate and hasten the dawn of the
golden age?
The absolute value of individuals lies in the fact that they share with God an
innate capacity for creative work and love. The relative value of individuals
depends on the level they have reached in their spiritual ascent, on the sum of
efforts—both their own and Providence's—spent on the attainment of that
level, and on the degree to which they manifest in their lives those gifts for
divine creative work and love.
The terrestrial leg of the cosmic journey of an ascending monad is that stage
when its gifts for creative work and love already can and should be brought to
bear in elevating its natural and human environment—that is, lessening the
tendency of individual parts and units within that environment to assert
themselves at the expense of others. Evil consists of just that tendency. Its
forms and magnitude are almost endless in their variety, but at its root it is
always the same: the attempt to assert oneself at the expense of everyone and
everything else.
The older religions judged the relative value of individuals by the degree to
which they obeyed the prescriptions of a given religious-moral code. Religions
with ascetic leanings believed the highest stage to be sainthood, defining it as
either pure monastic service or as martyrdom for one's faith. In so doing they
relegated love to the background. A monk's or martyr's self-denial were
performed not out of love for humanity or for all living beings but out of a
yearning to merge with God and to avoid the torments of hell. I am, of course,
referring here to the predominant tendency, the prevalent attitude, and not to
such astonishing individual apostles of love as St. Francis of Assisi, Ramajuna,
or Milarepa.
Monstrous though it may seem to us, even the eternal suffering of sinners in
hell did not arouse in the majority of adepts of those religions the desire to
enlighten the world's laws, including the law of retribution, or karma. Eternal
punishment for temporal sins appeared to them a just act of God or in any case
(as in Brahmanism) an unalterable and absolutely immutable law. Buddha burned
like a torch with the flame of compassion, but he, too, taught only how to free
oneself from the wheel of iron laws and not how to enlighten and transform those
laws. As for creative work, its intrinsic nature was not recognized at
all—such a concept did not even exist—while little importance was attached
to concrete forms of creative work accessible to ordinary people, with the
exception of religious works in the narrow sense of the word: acts of charity,
theology, missionary service, church architecture, and religious service.
Other religions that are not given to asceticism, such as Islam and
Protestantism, modified the ideal of sanctity, broadening it and, at the same
time, lowering it, making it more accessible, more popular, even going so far as
to require the observance of commandments vis-a-vis God, the state, one's
neighbor, one's family, and, lastly, oneself. It should be emphasized that
neither one nor the other group of religions set themselves the task of
transforming society, let alone nature. Accordingly, the conception of an
individual's obligations also remained deficient and narrow.
It was only natural that such tasks were finally advocated by secular teachings,
though in an extremely simplistic form. A lower, internally contradictory moral
standard was proclaimed that blindly mixed progressive features with others that
fell below a moral minimum one would have thought long beyond question. People
dusted off the old formula "The end justifies the means" and,
hesitating to proclaim it openly and honestly, began applying it in practice.
The moral aspect of historical events was wholly ignored when the events were
subjected to scrutiny or evaluation; verdicts were passed based only on
consideration of the overall progressive or reactionary orientation of the given
event. No one was disturbed by the fact that such a practice led to the
justification of atrocities committed by many despots of the past, even such
outrageous mass slaughters as the Jacobin terror or the activities of the
Oprichnina. Many timehonored achievements in social progress—such as freedom
of speech, the press, and conscience—were cast aside. Generations raised in
such an atmosphere gradually ceased to feel even the need for those freedoms—a
symptom that speaks far more eloquently than any tirade of society's shocking
spiritual decline. Thus, as society further embraced that moral standard in the
form it took in real life, those positive features that it did possess were
nullified. For the future held only the prospect of the dominion of material
satiety, purchased by a renunciation of spiritual freedom, by millions of human
lives, and by the exile of billions of souls to the lower planes of Shadanakar,
souls that had sold their divine birthright for a meager pottage.
One can only hope that humanity will learn from that terrible lesson.
The Rose of the World will teach the absolute value of individuals and their
divine birthrights: the right to be free from the yoke of poverty and the
oppression of power-hungry groups, the right to well-being, the right to all
forms of free creative work and the public unveiling of the fruits of that work,
the right to religious searchings, and the right to beauty. The right of people
to a secure existence and to the enjoyment of the benefits of civilization is an
inborn right that in itself does not necessitate a renunciation of freedom or
spirituality. It would be leading people astray to assert that we are faced with
a crucial dilemma here, that in order to attain what are only the natural and
self-evident blessings of life we must sacrifice our spiritual and social
freedom.
The Rose of the World will also teach the obligations of individuals: to
consistently expand the area encompassed by their love and to foster, multiply,
and enlighten what is born of their work. Thus, creative work is both a right
and an obligation. Even now I am unable to comprehend how it was that that truly
divine gift to humans did not receive due notice in any of the older religions,
except for certain forms of polytheism, especially that of ancient Greece. If I
am not mistaken, it was only in ancient Greece that creativity itself (and not
productivity, as in other forms of polytheism) was deified. Great masters of the
arts were even pantheonized.
It is a sad and puzzling fact that after the decline of ancient Greece the
creative gift ceased to attract the notice of religions and was no longer
conceptualized in ontological, metaphysical, or mystical terms. Under the
influence of the shallowly interpreted Semitic idea that after six days of
creation the Divine Creative Spirit rested, theology has preferred to circumvent
the question of God's further creation. The words of God recorded in
Revelations, "Behold, I will make all things new," has remained the
lone flight of inspiration, the lone intuition in that regard. As for human
creativity, an altogether suspicious attitude was formed toward it, as if the
sin of pride to which a human creator could fall victim was more dangerous and
deadlier than creative sterility. Unfortunately, the view on human creativity
that formed in the religions of Indian origin was no less injurious.
The last few centuries of Western culture—so rich in works of genius in all
spheres of art, science, and philosophy—have taught us much. They have taught
us to hold human creativity in reverence and human labor in respect. But the
secular spirit of these centuries has fostered just what the older religions
feared: creators have become afflicted by pride in their creative gift, as if
that gift had been forged by them themselves. True, that conceit has nested not
so much in the hearts of real geniuses, let alone artistic visionaries, as in
the hearts of lesser scientific and artistic figures. A series of chapters in
this book will be specially devoted to a closer examination of that problem from
the point of view of the Rose of the World's teachings.
In any case, creative work, like love, is not an exclusive gift bestowed on only
a chosen few. A few now possess sanctity and moral vision, heroism and wisdom,
genius and talent. But all that is merely activation of the potential dormant
within every soul. A sea of love, an inexhaustible wellspring of creativity,
bubbles behind the consciousness of each one of us. The sum religion will seek
to remove that barrier and allow those healing waters to wash over our life. A
creative attitude toward everything will appear among the generations raised
under it, and even labor will cease to be a burden. Rather, it will become the
outward expression of an unquenchable desire to create new things, better
things, and to create of oneself. All the Rose of the World's followers will
enjoy creative work, teaching its joys to children and teenagers. They will be
creative in everything they do: writing, architecture, science, gardening, the
decoration and tempering of daily life, religious service and religious drama,
the love between man and woman, childbearing, physical exercise and dance, the
enlightenment of nature, and play. For all creative work, except the demonic,
that is done in its own name and for its own sake is divine in nature. Through
it, people elevate themselves and fill their own hearts and the hearts of those
around them with God.
When it comes to spiritual growth, the majority of people move along the slow
and wide path. The path runs through marriage and childbearing, work and
pastimes, through the fullness and variety of life's impressions, joys, and
pleasures. But there is also a Narrow Path. It is a path for those who harbor in
their soul a special gift that requires strict self-denial: the gift of
sainthood. Religious teachings are wrong to claim that the Narrow Path is the
one true path or the highest one. Equally wrong are those social or religious
systems that deny it outright and erect barriers against those who feel called
to that path and to it alone. It is doubtful that monasteries will be numerous
in the era of the Rose of the World, but there will be some, so that all who are
driven onto the Narrow Path by spiritual thirst will be able to work on
activating powers within their soul that require years of inner work in silence
and solitude to develop. If a person enters onto the Narrow Path out of fear of
retribution or dreams of a personal, egoistic, and closed relationship with God,
that person's victories will be meaningless. There is no such God Who rewards
loyal slaves with the blissful contemplation of His glory. Contemplation of the
highest spheres is the release of one's self from oneself to commune with the
One, Who contains all monads and the entire world within Himself. Therefore, a
follower of the Rose of the World will not feel compelled to embark on the
Narrow Path by spiritual egoism or by a desire for personal salvation mingled
with cool indifference toward the fate of others. Those who follow it will be
motivated by the realization that gifts will be unveiled on the Narrow Path with
which the living saint will be able to help the world more effectively from
solitude than hundreds can in the outside world and, further, that after death
these gifts will so grow in strength that even the powerful upper hierarchies of
demons will bow before them.
There is no need whatsoever for heavy vows to accompany tonsure. There are no
grounds whatsoever for condemning or vilifying someone who, after the lapse of
several years, leaves the path. Those entering the path will at first take only
a short-term vow: for three, five, or seven years. Only after successfully
completing those stages will they, if they wish, be permitted to take a vow for
a longer period of time. Yet even then the realization of the irrevocability of
their decision, the fear of having made an irreparable mistake will not torment
or haunt them, giving rise to despair and wild bursts of as yet unmastered
negative emotions. They will know that with the expiration of the vow they will
be free to return to the outside world, free to choose any lifestyle, any work,
free to have a family without having to fear censure or scorn from anyone.
I have endeavored to provide a glimpse of the Rose of the World's perspective on
the scientific and Scientific modes of inquiry, on individuals' rights and
obligations, on human creativity and labor, and on the two basic types of
spiritual paths: the Wide and the Narrow. In order to complete this overview of
its perspective on culture, it would be sensible to dwell on the Rose of the
World's views on art, in the broader sense of the word. But that subject is so
important and touches on so many different levels, and is so close to my heart
personally, that I have decided to devote a series of chapters to it in one of
the later parts of the book. Therefore, before moving on to the question of the
Rose of the World's perspective on other religions, I will jot down just a few
words about art in the approaching era.
What features might distinguish the art to be created by people who have
embraced the spirit of the Rose of the World in the near future, when the sun of
the golden age will have only Just begun to illumine the clouds on the horizon?
It would be naive to try to predict or summarize the variety of artistic trends,
genres, schools, and styles with which that sphere of culture will scintillate
toward the end of this century. But a certain dominant style will, I think,
emerge. Of course, it will not exhaust all the different artistic movements
(under the conditions of maximum freedom that would be impossible as well as
unnecessary for the same reason). This style is destined to become the
mainstream in art and literature in the last third of this century. The
perception of reality intrinsic to the Rose of the World— transparent
perception, which distinguishes variomaterial or spiritual planes through the
physical plane—will find expression in that style. Such a perception of
reality will be a far cry from a studied optimism that is afraid to shatter its
own peace of mind in heeding the dark and tragic sides of existence. Creators of
that style will not seek to ignore the distressing and frightening underside of
the world. They will consider it cowardly to desire to forget about the bloody
path of history; about the reality of the dreadful infraphysical planes of
Shadanakar; about their merciless laws, which bind untold hosts of unfortunates
in chains of inhuman torments; and about the ghastly fall that is being readied
for the human spirit by the forces of the Antigod and that will almost certainly
take place when the golden age has run its course. But a higher level of
awareness will not tarnish their love for the world, it will not lessen the joy
they receive from nature, culture, creative work, public service, love, and
friendship. In fact, quite the contrary! Could the awareness of hidden dangers
threatening the one you love ever extinguish the flame of that love? There will
be wondrous, life-affirming works of unprecedented purity and joyfulness. There
will appear in all the artistic genres—both those that already exist and those
that will arise later—works that will sparkle like splashes of water on sunlit
ponds, works by artists of the future about a love that is much more capacious
than ours, works about youth, about the joys of family life and public service,
about the broadening of human consciousness and the expansion of the frontiers
of our perception, about friendship between people and elementals, about the
daily proximity of the friends of our heart who are as yet unseen, as well as
much more that will concern the people of those times and that we are incapable
of imagining.
It seems to me that such a style—masculine in its fearlessness and feminine in
its lovingness, a profound combination of joy and affection for people and the
world, yet with a keen awareness of the world's darker depths—could be called
either transparent realism or metarealism. And need I mention that a work of art
will not necessarily have to be an example of transparent realism for people who
have embraced the Rose of the World's spirit to be able to enjoy and delight in
it? They will delight in everything that has the mark of talent and at least one
of the following features: a sense of beauty, broad scope, profundity of
thought, sharpness of insight, purity of heart, or a joyful spirit.
There will come a time when the moral and aesthetic level of society, and of
artists themselves, will be such that the need for restrictions of any kind will
disappear, and freedom of artistic, literary, philosophical, and scientific
forms of expression will be absolute. But it will not be until several decades
after the Rose of the World has assumed moral supervision over the states that
the era of that ideal moral level arrives. It is not through wisdom but youthful
naivete that one could arrive at the idea that society has already reached those
heights of maturity when absolute freedom will not give rise to critical,
irreparable abuses.
At first it will be necessary to assign to local branches of the Global Artistic
Council, besides more pleasant duties, that single checkpoint through which an
artistic work will have to pass before its public unveiling. That will be, if
you will, the censor's swan song. In the beginning, when national antagonisms
and racial-prejudice will have not yet been eliminated, and powerhungry
organizations will continue to play on those prejudices, a ban will have to be
laid on any form of hate propaganda against any segment of the populace.
Censorship will be maintained longer over books and texts that popularize
scientific and philosophical ideas that give inadequate, superficial, or
distorted treatment to objective facts and thus lead uninformed readers astray.
Censorship will persist over works of fiction, requiring from them, it seems to
me, a minimum of artistic merit in order to protect the literary market from a
flood of tasteless, aesthetically ignorant trash. Finally, an unconditional ban
on pornography will likely be in place longest of all. With the removal of each
of these restrictions another measure will take its place: the Global Artistic
Council or the Global Scientific Council will, after the release of a work of
poor quality, print an authoritative review of it. That will suffice.
Clearly, it will not be easy to devise a system to determine who will sit on
such councils, a system that will ensure that people with party or conceptual
biases, intolerant supporters of particular movements or philosophical schools,
or champions of the creative interests of some single group, nation, or
generation not interfere in any sphere of culture. I would think, however, that
in the psychological atmosphere of the Rose of the World a system like that
could be devised.
If, for the moment, we avoid entering into fine distinctions between the
concepts of culture and civilization, we may say that culture is nothing other
than the sum total of humanity's creative work. If creative work is the highest,
most precious, and sanctified of human gifts, an expression of the human soul's
divine prerogative, then there is not, nor can there be, anything more precious
or sanctified than culture. Further, the more spiritual a given cultural level,
a given cultural sphere, or a given creative work might be, the more valuable it
is as well.
The culture of a united humanity is only now emerging. Until now the only
cultures to reach individual maturity have been those of individual suprapeoples,
a suprapeople being a group of nations that are bound by a distinct, jointly
created culture. But none of these cultures is confined to that aspect that
exists and evolves within our three-dimensional space. Those who participated in
the building of that culture here continue their creative work in the afterlife
as well, though the work is, of course, altered in accordance with the
conditions of that world or those worlds through which the soul of the human
creator is passing at the time. An awareness is growing of million-strong
communities of such souls, of heavenly lands and cities above each of the
world's suprapeoples, and of Arimoya, the emerging heavenly land of the culture
of a united humanity. A perspective on culture based on such principles is new
and startling. We would be right in even noting that with further
crystallization and deepening it will grow to become a vast mythology, if in
using the word "myth" we disaccustom ourselves from thinking of
something that has no basis in reality. Here we are dealing with just the
opposite: a colossal reality that is reflected hazily and superficially, but
reflected all the same, in mythology.
The atmosphere established by the Rose of the World and its teachings will give
rise to conditions necessary for that cultural mythology to be grasped by every
mind. Even if only a limited number of minds are able to comprehend it in all
its esoteric complexity, the spirit of the worldview, and not its letter, will
gradually become accessible to almost everyone. And if we contemplate the
prospect of instilling that worldview in the general populace, then devising a
system of measures to safeguard all spheres of culture from interference by
people who have no inner right to manage those spheres will cease to appear a
hopeless task.
HOW OFTEN WE USE THE WORD truth and how seldom
we ponder its meaning. In pondering its meaning here, we will not, however, let
ourselves be troubled by the fact that we are essentially repeating the question
posed by Pilate. Rather, we will attempt, as best as we are able, to arrive at a
deeper understanding of the concept.
We call "true" a theory or teaching that, in our opinion, presents an
undistorted view on some object of knowledge. To be precise, truth is an
undistorted reflection in our mind of an object of knowledge. There can exist as
many truths as there are objects of knowledge.
But objects of knowledge are known through us, not through themselves. It thus
follows that a truth about any object of knowledge known through us should be
recognized as a relative truth. Absolute truth is the reflection of an object of
knowledge that is known by some subject in itself. In principle, that kind of
knowledge is possible only when the duality of object and subject is removed:
when the subject of knowledge is the object.
Absolute universal truth is the undistorted reflection in a consciousness of the
Greater Universe known in itself. Absolute component truths are undistorted
reflections of some part of the Universe, also known in itself.
Naturally, absolute truth of the Greater Universe can exist only in the
consciousness of a subject of knowledge commensurate with it, an omniscient
subject capable of being the object, capable of knowing things not only through
itself but also in itself. That subject of knowledge is called the Absolute,
God, the Universal Sun.
God, as an object of knowledge, is knowable in Himself only by Himself. The
Absolute Truth of God, as well as the Absolute Truth of the Universe, is
attainable only by God.
Clearly, any component truth, no matter how small the object o f knowledge, is
attainable by us only in its relative form. But this sort of agnosticism should
not be viewed as immutable. When any component subject of knowledge, any monad,
ultimately merges with the Absolute Subject, it avails itself of the possibility
of not only knowledge through itself, but also of knowledge in itself. It is
therefore correct to speak of a phased, as distinct from an immutable,
agnosticism.
There may be few or many versions of component truths— personal, individual
varieties of one component relative truth. Objects of knowledge of smaller scale
(in comparison with the subject) are, however, reflected in the consciousness of
a number of like subjects in an identical, or almost identical, manner. It is
that likeness between many subjects that dictates that their individual versions
of one or another truth will be alike as well. If it were not so, it would be
impossible for people to understand one another about anything. But the larger
the object of knowledge (in comparison with the subject), the greater the number
of versions that arise. The relative truth of the Universe and the relative
truth of God give birth to as many individual versions as there are subjects of
knowledge.
It should be clear that all our "truths" are, strictly speaking, only
approximations of the truth. The smaller the object of knowledge, the better it
can be grasped by our consciousness, and the narrower the gap between its
absolute truth and our relative truth concerning it. There is, however, a lower
limit in the ratio of scale between subject and object, below which the gap
between the absolute and relative truth again begins to widen. For example, the
gap between the absolute truth of an elementary particle and our relative truth
concerning it is enormous. The gap between the absolute truth of the Universe,
the absolute truth of God, and our relative truths concerning them is boundless.
One would think that, after Kant, these ideas should be universally known and
acknowledged. But if they were internalized by every religiously feeling and
thinking person, there would be no claims of individual or collective knowledge
of the absolute truth, no claims of the absolute truth of some one theory or
teaching.
As was shown above, only the Omniscient Subject is in possession of the absolute
truth. If a human subject—for instance, the collective consciousness of some
historical church—possessed that truth, it would be objectively revealed in
the unqualified omniscience of that collective consciousness. But the fact that
not one human collective or individual is invested with that omniscience proves
yet again how groundless are the claims to absolute truth by any teaching. If
the representatives of the Rose of the World ever think to assert the absolute
truth of its teachings, such claims would be just as groundless and absurd.
But the claim that all teachings or some one teaching are false is just as
groundless and absurd. There are not, nor can there be, any wholly false
teachings. If there appeared an opinion that lacked even a grain of truth, it
would never become a teaching, a system of ideas communicated to someone else.
It would remain the invention of the person who brought it into being, as
sometimes happens, for example, with the philosophical and pseudoscientific
imaginings of the mentally ill. Only individual component statements can be
false, in the strict sense of the word. Such statements maintain the illusion of
truth with light borrowed from true component statements that enter into the
same system. There is, however, a certain ratio of quantity and weight between
true component statements and false ones whereby the latter begin to nullify the
grains of truth contained in the given teachings. There are, furthermore,
teachings in which the false statements not only nullify the elements of truth
but consign the whole system to the category of spiritual negatives. It is
customary to call them "left-hand teachings." The future teaching of
the Antigod, by which it appears the penultimate period of world history will be
marked, will be formulated in such a manner that a minimal weight of component
truths will by their light lend the appearance of truth to a maximum number of
false statements. The end result will be that the teaching will entangle the
human consciousness in webs of lies stronger and stickier than any other.
Religions that are not left-hand teachings differ from each other not by virtue
of the truth of one and the falsity of all the rest, but rather in two
altogether different respects. First, they differ by virtue of the varying
stages of their ascent to absolute truth—that is, in accordance with the
decrease of subjective, temporal elements within them. That developmental
distinction can be provisionally labeled a vertical distinction. Second, they
can differ by virtue of the fact that they speak of different things—they
reflect different sets of objects of knowledge. This type of segmental
distinction can be provisionally labeled a horizontal distinction.
One should always bear in mind these two types of distinctions as we examine the
Rose of the World's perspective on other religions.
Scientific progress presents itself to us as a continuous process whereby
relative component truths are accumulated, elaborated, and fine-tuned. At each
successive stage it is the custom to repudiate not the set of facts accumulated
earlier but merely their outdated interpretation. Instances when a previous set
of facts was cast into doubt and repudiated—as happened, for example, with
alchemy—are comparatively rare. But in the history of religion, other
practices have unfortunately prevailed. Rather than seeing a continuous
succession of interpretations of spiritual facts not subject to doubt, what we
usually witness is that the repudiation of large numbers of relative component
truths that were grasped earlier as a new set of truths, with the inclusion of a
certain number of old ones, is presented as absolute. That is particularly true
in regard to the supplantation of the so-called pagan religions by monotheistic
systems.
It should be obvious to all that observance of such practices in the context of
the expanding horizons of the twentieth century would at best lead to the
creation of yet another religious sect. It would, of course, be ridiculous to
apply the scientific method to religion, just as it would be ridiculous to apply
the artistic method to the field of science. But it has long been time for us to
adopt the scientist's good habit and not repudiate, but rethink sets of relative
truths accumulated earlier.
From the above it follows that no teaching (except left-hand teachings, which
are recognizable, above all, by their spiritually corrupting influence) can be
rejected outright. They should be recognized as inadequate, as clouded with
subjective, human contaminants of a temporal, classist, racist, or individual
nature. Nevertheless, a grain of relative truth, a grain of knowledge
"through us" of one or another aspect of the transphysical world, is
present in each religion, and each of those truths is a precious jewel belonging
to all humanity. At the same time, it is natural that the weight of truth in
systems that take shape as the sum of the experience of a great many individuals
is, as a rule, greater than the weight of truth in systems found only among
small groups. An exception to the rule are new systems that might be in the
process of gaining wider acceptance but naturally must first pass through an
esoteric or infant stage.
In the worldview of the Rose of the World, such widely embraced systems are
called myths, a point that will be explained in detail a little later. One or
another transphysical reality always lies behind the myths, but it cannot help
being distorted and muddied through contamination of the myth by the "all
too human." It is hardly possible, at least at present, to formulate
strictly and precisely a method to liberate the transphysical kernel of a myth
from its human-made husk. The necessary set of criteria that would obtain in
every case has not yet been devised. In addition, it is doubtful that such an
intricate mystical task could be performed with the help of rational analysis
alone. It is true that we could, by drawing on the teleology of history, devise
a system of classification of religions that would allow us to group the highly
developed religions together and thus convince ourselves that there are beliefs
professed, though with different degrees of purity and stress, by the entire
group. Among such beliefs are the oneness of God, the plurality of different
spiritual hierarchies, the plurality of variomaterial worlds, the infinite
plurality of evolving monads, and the existence of some universal moral law,
which is characterized by the rewards or punishments people receive before or
after death for what they do during their lives. As regards everything else,
even the interpretation of
the shared beliefs just listed, the myths either contradict one another or speak
of different things.
If, however, in many cases the individuality of the subject contaminates the
image of the object with something extraneous, something exclusively human,
there are just as many instances when a spiritual truth can be intuited only by
a mind of a definite cast. Individuality then becomes a factor that does not
cloud intuition but, to the contrary, makes it possible. The teleological
process in the history of human religions has partly consisted in readying the
consciousness of individual persons, peoples, races, or eras by means of
historical and biographical factors to enable it to intuit a given truth, a
given transphysical reality. To other individuals, peoples, races, and eras, a
consciousness readied in that manner and its religious experience may seem
strange, distorted, or naive, and fraught with every sort of aberration.
From the hundreds of those possible, I will for the time being cite only one
particularly illustrative example: the idea of reincarnation. An intrinsic part
of Hinduism and Buddhism, and present in the Kabbala of esoteric Judaism, the
idea of reincarnation is rejected by orthodox Christianity and Islam. But must
one conclude on the basis of the idea's non-universality that it is no more than
a racial or temporal-cultural aberration of the Indian consciousness? The
problem is that in order to reconcile the beliefs of different religions one
must, first of all, learn to sift out the primary from the secondary, the common
from the particular. The common, primary aspect of any belief consists of the
seed of the idea, a seed which displays remarkable tenacity over the centuries.
Sowed in the soil of different cultural milieus, it sprouts in different ways,
all of which are varieties of the given belief. If there is any teleological
aspect to history at all, then, of course, that aspect should first and foremost
inform the life of just those tenacious spiritual seeds—in the widely embraced
core of an idea professed by millions of individuals.
The seed of the idea of reincarnation is the teaching about a certain self that
completes its cosmic growth, or a segment of it, through stages of successive
existences in our physical world. Everything else, such as the
spiritual-material nature and structure of the reincarnating self, the
dependence of reincarnation on the law of karma, the application of the
principle of reincarnation to the animal world—all these are merely variations
of the core idea. And it is easy to see that one will encounter genuine
aberrations more often in those variations and details than in the seed, on
whose intuition by the Indian people the teleological forces labored for many
centuries, expending fantastic amounts of energy to weaken the partition between
waking consciousness and deep memory—the repository of memories of the soul's
journeys up to the moment of its last reincarnation.
The error of religious doctrines lies, for the most part, not in their contents
but in their claim that the law stated by the doctrine is in universal force and
must be professed by everyone who desires salvation. The above leads us to
acknowledge the genuine nature of the spiritual experience that was molded into
the idea of reincarnation. Yes, such a formative path does exist; there is in
principle nothing in the essence of the idea unacceptable to Christianity and
Islam, save perhaps the fact that no utterances by their founders about the idea
have reached us. (Which, in any case, proves nothing in itself, since, as is
known, far from everything they said found its way into the Gospels and Quran.)
But it categorically does not follow that the path of reincarnation is the
single possible and real formative path for an individual spirit. The Indian
people's consciousness, readied in such a manner as to intuit that type of path,
expressed its discovery, as often happens in such circumstances, in absolute
terms and turned a deaf ear to intuitions of other types of formative paths. The
exact opposite happened with the Jewish and Arab peoples. Intuiting the truth of
other formative paths, on which incarnation on the physical plane occurs only
once, the consciousness of these peoples expressed this second type of path in
absolute terms that were just as unwarranted. The fact that one or the other
path can, generally speaking, predominate in different human metacultures also
led them to do so. As a result, an apparently irreconcilable dispute has arisen
between the two groups of world religions. In actual fact, both these seemingly
contradictory ideas are true at their core, having pinpointed two paths of those
possible, and beyond a renunciation by each side of claims to the universal
exclusivity of their ideas nothing is needed to resolve the
"conflict."
Thus, one of the historical bases for supposedly irreconcilable conflicts
between religions consists in the unwarranted expression of a belief in absolute
terms. Another basis is as follows.
One of the fundamental doctrines of Christianity is of course the teaching of
the Holy Trinity. The founder of Islam rejected that doctrine, because he
suspected it of being a relapse into polytheism and, more importantly, because
his own spiritual experience did not contain any positive indication of such a
truth. But in this twentieth century there can hardly still be a need to
reiterate the arguments of Christian theologians who in their time proved and
explained the fundamental distinction between the doctrine of the Trinity and
polytheism. It is a point so elementary that one can only suppose there are no
longer any Muslim thinkers who, having studied the Christian creed, would
persist in making that erroneous claim. As for the second argument—that
Muhammad's spiritual experience contained no confirmation of the Trinity—it is
logically unsound. No one person's experience can contain a confirmation of all
truths that were arrived at earlier in the course of humanity's collective
intuitions about God and the world. There is a limit to every individual's
knowledge. Only the wisdom of the Omniscient encompasses the entirety of truth
"within Himself." Therefore, the fact that Muhammad did not encounter
anything in his personal spiritual experience that supported the Trinity
doctrine should not in itself serve as sufficient grounds for rejecting the
idea, even in the eyes of orthodox Muslims. Instead of the statement, "The
Prophet, in intuiting the absolute oneness of God, recognized the falsity of the
Trinity doctrine," one should, in all fairness, rephrase the statement
thus: "The Prophet, in intuiting the absolute oneness of God, did not
receive any indication of the truth of the Holy Trinity."
It is entirely natural that the Christian creed not only has no objections to
the Muslim doctrine of the One God but wholly concurs with it. But Christianity
supplements that belief with an idea whose persistence for two thousand years
and whose acceptance by millions of