In times like these, in times of great crisis, when, as Yeats memorably put it, the ‘centre cannot hold’ and the ‘blood-dimmed tide is loosed’, then our first response must be to find another, deeper centre. This work, of finding an impassable place that provides both a personal refuge and a moral base from which to push back, is, I want to suggest, essentially spiritual work.
Of course the word ‘spiritual’ is a problem. It’s been colonized by the commodity fetish, annexed by the lifestyle industry, and turned into something like a stylish self-parody; black and white photographs of comfortable middle class scenes, yoga mats and incense sticks. It hits the ear a little flatly then, a devalued currency which fails to secure much that is genuinely renewing or transformative.
But still, despite this, and regardless of what religion you belong to, whether you belong to a religion, or whether you count yourself among the most ardent and enthusiastic of atheists, you will most certainly have a spiritual life and this spiritual life is important. Indeed, as even the ‘new atheist’ Christopher Hitchens seemed to recognise, it is the most important part of who you are: ‘there is something beyond the material, or not entirely consistent with it, what you could call the Numinous, the Transcendent . . . It’s in certain music, landscape, certain creative work, without this we really would merely be primates.’
Hitchens invokes the inherent depth of life, and it is this, not some branded analgesic for the shortcomings of consumer existence, which I mean by ‘spirituality.’ Precisely this capacity to look at the shapes and contours of life and find within them an energising depth of meaning, and a profound call to empathy, solidarity and compassion. Its opposite is, as Rowan Williams' points out, ‘whatever makes drab and oppressive the flow of joy and energy in the world.’
But then, in these blustering and mercurial times of crisis, when we feel emotionally oppressed by our newsfeeds and each new bulletin breaks with a sudden yet familiar weight of anxiety in our stomachs, hasn’t reality itself become oppressive to the flow of joy and energy in the world? Under these circumstances - our circumstances -, doesn’t spirituality seem a bit irrelevant? A bit toothless; naïve; even, perhaps, a bit narcissistic?
Perhaps, at first glance. But then we must soberly remind ourselves that the flow of joy and energy in the world is also ill-served by yet another sparring match on Facebook, by our impotent rage thrown savagely at the TV screen, or our wondering, in despair and bewilderment, how it is that people can be so self-destructive, or else so obstinately ill-informed. It’s easy to become trapped in a kind of fearful and dazed reactivity, always behind which lurks personal and political frustration elevated to the status of an existential threat.
This is especially true when one takes the sheer magnitude of the problem into consideration. How do we even begin to calculate our current predicament? How do we join the threads so we can see the entire global web of our dilemma and not just the individual strands? There are strands for racism, climate change, poverty, patriarchy, economic colonialism, plutocracy, nativism and populism, and the catastrophic collapse of biodiversity. These strands can be identified, strategies and tactics can be drawn up to tackle them, but the interconnected, intersectional web seems as elusive as ever. It runs deep and its effects are profound.
At the end of the day that is why, in our response, in our protests, activism and revolt, we must run deeper and work with something even more profound. The spiritual can provide this, or rather it is precisely this energising wellspring of depth and profundity that I want to call ‘spiritual.’ It can represent a counter-culture of values and principles brought intractably to bear against the hatred, greed and resentments that have been so cynically used to seize the reins of power. The spiritual provides us with the personal resources for our social revolution but it also grounds us, in its truest, most traditional and authentic forms, in our shared humanity, our common and shared life.
This last is essential, indeed it is our only hope. Put negatively: in times of global crisis we either move forward together or not all. Put more positively, and in the words of Robert Kennedy: ‘Each time a person stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he or she sends forth a tiny ripple of hope. And crossing each other from a million different centres of energy and daring, those ripples build a current that can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.’
If we are to survive, much less flourish, we must overcome the politically and economically cultivated individualism that has caused so much damage in our lives. We must recognise our shared humanity and make it the common ground of a truly global response to our current crisis. It is this spiritual, moral culture of shared humanity, equality and solidarity that we most urgently need to connect with and use as a guide for the re-shaping of our political and economic structures.
Contrary to a popular misconception then, the spiritual represents a radical and deep-seated form of activism. While the spiritual may be nurtured by retreats, spirituality is not itself a retreat. It is not escapism, it is not fantasy. Spirituality is a seizing of the moment; it tells us to embrace life fully, to take each moment as a gift in the fullest sense and make the most of it; to discover the opportunities and goodness that are folded into it. A more political word for the same virtue is ‘engagement’.
Spirituality is in essence then, the two word injunction of the book of Deuteronomy (30:19) ‘Choose life.’ And make no mistake, in their support for unbounded capitalist exploitation, rampant militarism, demonization of the other, and complete refusal to take climate change and environmental destruction seriously, those that count themselves our leaders, represent death in a very real and comprehensive way.
To put it candidly, we need spirituality in a time of political crisis because when they go low, we must go deep; when they promote fear we must find faith; when they try to divide we must unite; when they lie about facts we must appeal to deeper truths; when they say ‘enemy’ we must reply ‘brother, sister’; when they demand conformity we must dare to be a Daniel and stand up for what is right; when they lock others out we must welcome them in; when they rage in anger we must draw on our generosity; and when they try to take who we are, we must draw deeply on our inner resources and find the courage to resist.