Re:
The Everlasting Man by GK Chesterton
I'm reviewing with the purpose of presenting a fair summary and valuation to the reader without taking a strong defense or rebuttal of the book's topic. Context is given generously. Reviews without opinion are boring, of course, so I hope when I am giving my opinion it is done clearly.
Chesterton was a journalist, author, poet, critic, and theologian, and he wrote
The Everlasting Man in 1926, within the enthusiastic secular atmosphere of race-realism, theories on prehistoric man, and growing assumptions about the source of religion in the heart of man. It was only a few years following The Great War, but a full decade before the second one. Both church and secular worlds were frenzied with questions (and answers) about why the earth descended into such a war, and these inquiries led to paradigm-shattering declarations and theories about man's nature. Logical Positivism was in its short-but-stunning ascent as Wittgenstein published
Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus in 1922. CG Jung was building upon the works of Freud in appreciable ways, turning the theory into repeatable, observable clinical psychology that we know today. Hitler's second volume of
Mein Kampf was published the same year as
The Everlasting Man.
In this atmosphere of intellectual and spiritual advancements, Chesterton regularly debated the likes of Bertrand Russel, George Bernard Shaw, and HG Wells, so if you're a fan of any of those like I am, it's fascinating to read one of their critics. He was influenced by John Ruskin and writes in a similar style, and Chesterton went on to influence other authors such as CS Lewis and JRR Tolkien. Chesterton was a devout Catholic and writes from that perspective.
The Everlasting Man is a christian critique of the 1920s' secular notions of human history, of how mankind's nature "evolved" from baser elements, and alongside the critique Chesterton offers hints and predictions as to where these hypothesis and theories might lead, predictions that the modern reader can evaluate for themselves 100 years later. Chesterton writes in an eager, wordy, authoritative tone -- which seems appropriate for a professional journalist -- and often repeats the same point three different ways to make sure his meaning is understood. He draws the reader through meandering sentences, patiently using salt of the earth examples and connecting them to philosophical concepts.
HG Wells released
The Outline of History a few years before and is good supplementary reading if you are not personally familiar with the arguments at the time. Chesterton pits his arguments against several theories from that book. Other supplemental reading includes
A History of Western Philosophy by Bertrand Russell to get a summary of his ideas, a competent collection of George Bernard Shaw
Plays/Essays, and
Unto This Last And Other Writings by John Ruskin, who was a touchstone for all of the aforementioned thinkers including Chesterton. Further reading could include history of the Punic wars, the religious practices of Phoenicians, greeks, and romans, Homer's
Iliad, and one of the christian gospels -- I recommend
Luke -- if you are unfamiliar with the claims of christianity. These add further context and information for readers who don't already understand the source materials.
All that said, if you attended public Western education in the last 80 years, it's likely you've already learned the details and theories that Chesterton raises his fist against.
Throughout the book, Chesterton draws the reader back to the cave as a thematic center. The early pages are spent with some poetic, imaginative "what if" questions about the prehistoric cave paintings discovered recently (in GK's day). From the cave-man's cave, he shifts attention to Plato's cave and the early history of mankind, then outlining Egyptian and Babylonian accomplishments, then walking us through the hellenistic era and the significance of Rome and Carthage.
What if, instead of the cave man who clubs his women and drags her to the cave for sex, this person is an artist? What if this prehistoric individual is not a brute like we portray him, but an imaginative naturalist sketching some pictures for the fun of it? Does the "lack of religious symbols" imply a lack of religion, or perhaps -- by that same omission -- it represents a deep respect for spiritual forces in the refusal to picture them? What does that imply about the cave-man? What does that imply about ourselves, if human nature is very much the same today as it was 20,000 years ago?
This is how Chesterton leads the reader forward, asking if our assumptions about these ancient ancestors are fair and realistic. He is charitable towards all these cultures and asks the reader to be charitable too, to think of these peoples as humanly and humanely as possible. Chesterton insists this sympathetic, intimate, mundane approach to history is essential to understanding our shared history. He frequently derides -- with that gentle british sarcasm -- the tendency to categorize and summarize history by its treaties, official proclamations, and religious symbols. Appealing to the reader's logic, he asks for sympathy and curiosity toward our fragments of historical facts. Instead of seeing a phallus in every obelisk and church-spire, he asks the reader to use common sense, to think of these historical peoples as... people.
One of the books most famous passages emphasizes this impression:
I do not believe that the past is most truly pictured as a thing in which humanity merely fades away into nature, or civilization merely fades away into barbarism, or religion fades away into mythology, or our own religion fades away into the religions of the world. In short I do not believe that the best way to produce an outline of history is to rub out the lines.
This "humane" outlook on history is the book's hook, because once the reader assents to Chesterton's innocent suggestions, it is hard not to also agree to his bold conclusions. He paints human history as a drama between mankind and its fallen nature, as an upward struggle to return to a proper relationship with the gods. Mythology and ritualistic worship are explained as poetic fumblings for higher meaning instead of "primitive", and he wonders if critics of mythology are as critical towards children's rhymes and toward moralistic folk-tales.
Chesterton rejects the idea that our religion is merely "evolved", that religion is the "inevitable" melding of smaller things into bigger things, of smaller folk religions into bigger ones. And most of all, he rejects "comparative religion", the idea that all religions are essentially the same and should be judged on the same plane.
Syncretism (that is, the process of combining and melding different religions into bigger religious systems) in the ancient world was ever creeping forward, Chesterton argues, and was slowly crumbling inward. The habit of combining deities and spawning more offspring was having a deleterious effect on the "purity" of religion. When conquered, a populace was allowed to keep their household gods as long as they put the conquerer's god at the top of the pantheon. Jupiter became Jupiter-Ammon. Hermes and Thoth became Hermes Trismegistus. Zeus became Jupiter, and the children multiplied greatly to allow for more cults, more conquered nations, more deviant behaviors (like the cult of Ganymede). The "progressive, all-inclusive" approach to religion was destroying religion's unifying effect, and nation-states were inevitably sliding into totalitarianism in order to maintain social order.
Starkly contrasted against the whimsical folk-tale spirits of the shepherd-poets and tribesman, the "gods of the city" were cruel gods, gods of slave-organization and grain-quotas, of massive temple constructions and mass-sacrifices. These are the pagan gods of Sunday school, of self-mutilation and demonic worship. These gods of the city always demanded sacrifice (even child sacrifice) in order to reinforce The City's dominance as a social force. This was a different kind of religion compared to the "gods of the hearth", the simple and crude gods of the shepherd, the farmer, the family, the peoples of the mountain. These family gods expected sacrifice in the form of obedience and humility toward Nature. Chesterton points out how this ancient divide between "gods of the city" and "gods of the hearth" continue to this day, the conflict caused by asserting the divinity of the family versus the authority of The State.
Phoenicia was one of the driving forces of post-bronze-age syncretism in the Mediterranean, spreading ideas and religion to everyone. This was not a new fledgling empire but an ancient people who followed the ancient deity Baal. By the time of the Roman republic, however, the phoenicians weren't interested in the progressive pantheon of the ancient world. They wanted to dominate in all respects through trade, religion, and military occupation. It was a society of aristocrats, of ritual-sacrificers, of merchants, of people who had a destructive, exploitive view of humanity. This was juxtaposed against the roman, who believed in the sanctity of the family and of land ownership. The arrival of Hannibal (lit. "by the grace of Baal") across the alps was not just another battle or another migration of another people group (Chesterton lays the sarcasm thick in this section, echoing the earlier sentiments that history is just a clash of dates, treaties, and trade routes).
The approaching army was more than just an army. It represented the all-consuming Carthaginian religion and culture, too, sweeping everyone up into Baal's kindgom, and this is why the romans would repeat Carthago delenda est (Carthage must be destroyed). It was not a grudge or a point of nationalism. Romans saw the kingdom of Baal as an existential threat to Mediterranean life. This determination eventually led to the destruction of Carthage, breaking a millennia of Phoenician influence in the Mediterranean forever. It was a paradigm shift. It was the dawn of a new chapter of human history. Yet, very quickly, the romans fell under the weight of syncretism, eventually giving up their freedoms to crown the god-emperor to keep it all together, to salvage their grand empire. Ideologically, the world was willing to accept a god-man because man's own gods were dead. Syncretism had diluted them all into cartoon characters and therefore the gods had no practical meaning. Sacrifices to Baal had been averted only to pave the way to sacrifices to The State in the form of military bloodlust and coliseum games.
Christ arrives onto this stage of human history, cradled by one of the world's last monotheistic, anti-syncretic religions, judaism. This province was just south of Rome's old enemies, the Phoenicians of Tyre and Sidon. In this cradle, Christ offers a different religion, a difference of kind and not of degree, a fulfillment of old world practices and an establishment of a Personal God. In a world where all the gods were dead, except the emperor-god, this cult claimed that god arrived on earth, that god had died, but god had also risen from the dead. And this god did not arrive in pomp, but in the ancient cave, surrounded by animals. The god-infant was not announced by the "gods of the city" but by the shepherds and the "gods of nature", that is to say, by celestial signs and portents. This god-infant was not treated like royalty but like a vagabond, fleeing to Egypt at an early age, and as an adult this god-man preached the universal value of all men to their Father in heaven. The poor and the rich alike were welcome into the kingdom.
This claim sets history on a different course. It was not merely a doctrinal claim, but a historical claim. It was not a new method of practicing the old religion, but a new mode of spirituality that was not experienced before. The "curtain was torn" and humankind awoke to the concept of a Personal God and Personal Accountability. Like the contrast between Carthage's "god of the city" and the roman pantheon, Christ was an everyman's deity in contrast to the all-powerful State god and State-approved pantheon imposed by the roman empire. Christianity was not merely a novel religion with a curious history. It was a refutation of Rome's new emperor worship, a practice that would lead to its corruption and downfall, and this is why christianity was persecuted when all other religions were welcomed under the spirit of syncretism. From the cave arrived a new light.
Chesterton's contrast between christianity and the religious atmosphere of the roman empire lends a deeper understanding of how christianity transformed the ancient world so quickly, even if one does not agree to the claims of christianity itself. The course we have taken as a civilization is therefore unique to Christianity and owes itself to christianity, and in its conclusion Chesterton rejects the Marxist "gears of history", the notion that the specific course of human history was merely inevitable, and the specific religions and cultures along the way were incidental to the outcome we enjoy today.
A reader will likely get many things out of
The Everlasting Man. It is the best kind of book in that it presents many ideas and provokes many thoughts and questions. I didn't come away with a radically different outlook on history, but I did come away with a deeper sympathy and appreciation for the events of our past. Chesterton pleads with the reader in the early chapters to do exactly that, to think of history sympathetically instead of systematically, so I suppose the book won me over in that way. While reading through the book, I saw many parallels between these arguments from 100 years ago and the same arguments I see today.
en.wikipedia.org
