Julian Huxley (1887–1975)

A snapshot (perforce) of what the USSR was like in the early 1930s, from the point of view of one of the UK's most eminent scientists. There were quite a few of these in that era; among other people, David Low, H.G. Wells and George Bernard Shaw have also left their accounts. While the book is friendly, though not uncritical, certain knowledge we have, that Huxley didn't, gives his descriptions either a more sinister air, or a rather ironically tragic air. For example, at one point, Huxley show more has a long and involved conversation with both Nikolai Bukharin and Karl Radek -- both of whom would be jailed and executed within seven years of the publication of the book. There is also a lengthy discussion of agricultural research and cross-breeding (i.e., genetics), much of which would be washed away fifteen years later by Trofim Lysenko's theories. Indeed, Vavilov the geneticist is quoted a number of times, and he would end up dying in prison in 1943. Given Huxley's own profession, and the theme of the book, Vavilov's fate is particularly chilling. There is also a rather breezy attitude toward religion in the book, with Huxley following the line that religion is allowed; the off-hand reference to the gold being stripped from that Cathedral of Christ the Savior in Moscow is somehow quite chilling (the church was demolished in December of 1931, shortly before the book was published). Huxley does pose a question as to whether or not planning was the wave of the future -- the answer, based on experience since his time, would appear to be: "certainly not in the way the Soviets practiced it." Recommended -- if only because it shows you how even brilliant minds can be gulled. show less

Most of this volume is committed to elaborating a theory of religion that, while refreshingly sound in its definition of religion, was already rather dated in much of its details when biologist Julian Huxley composed it in the 1950s. In particular, he is greatly beholden to J.G. Frazer and that scholar's evolutionary systematization of magic-religion-science (e.g. 53-60, 96). He has a somewhat naïve view of historical religions as being each "the creation of a single personality" (82), and show more he does not impress with his facile dismissal of historical accounts of demonic possession as being uniformly attributable to "mental disorders" (94). His attempt to launder trinitarian doctrine into humanistic symbolism is not quite up to the standard for that project set over a century earlier in Feuerbach's Essence of Christianity.

Still, there is much to like in this book. Huxley apologizes for an autobiographical chapter that demonstrates appropriate scholarly "reflexivity" far ahead of its academic time. And his ultimate solution to the conflict between traditional religion and modern science is to call for the formulation of a new scientific religion, of the sort invoked by Aleister Crowley's illuminist agenda. The comparison might seem strange, given Huxley's derision for the world-view of ancient and historical magic, but that world-view is not shared by Crowley's non-supernaturalist Magick, which instead emphasizes exactly the sort of criteria that Huxley advances for "Evolutionary Humanism." The Nietzschean "transvaluation of values" (201) for which Huxley calls is to understand that "Man's most sacred duty, and at the same time his most glorious fulfillment ... includes the fullest realization of his own inherent possibilities" (194).

The mention of "sacred" in the previous quote points up the fact that Huxley is indeed calling for a new religion, a sacred humanism, not merely granting a franchise of quasi-religious prerogative to secular humanism. There must be ritual, symbol, and narrative to appeal to the perennial human appetite for sanctity, and an intellectual apparatus to connect these with the ordering of society and personal discipline. Being trained in the methods of natural research rather than those of sacerdotal art, Huxley admits to not being able to formulate all of this from the principles that he hopes will ground it.

The point on which Huxley and Crowley are at odds in their visions of scientific religion is evident in Huxley's title. Crowley insists on the revelation that Huxley says we should do without. Huxley sees the institutional certification of "revelation" as grounding "the unfortunate tendency of ... religion to become an unduly conservative force, [which] has often led to religious thought and practice being below the general level of its times" (179). Crowley, by contrast, calls for revelation to become both epidemic and idiosyncratic: each man and woman should strive for his or her own life-governing message. And even when Crowley asserts the universal jurisdiction of the Thelemic revelation communicated to him (in Liber AL vel Legis), he cautions that each adherent should be at full intellectual liberty in the interpretation of that oracle. While Huxley rejects "the so-called revelation of Scripture" (88), Crowley's own new scripture instructs that "All words are sacred and all prophets true; save only that they understand a little."

In connection with Huxley's categorical dismissal of divine revelation, he also claims that "The beliefs of theistic religions thus tend inevitably to be authoritarian, and also to be rigid and resistant to change" (185). There have been in fact many non-theistic authoritarians (e.g. Stalinists) as well as theistic antinomians (e.g. Ranters and Muggletonians). As I've remarked elsewhere, authoritarian religionists will naturally insist that antinomians be disqualified as irreligious, but there's no reason to let the authoritarians own the category. If Huxley was willing to contest their ownership of religion, I don't see why he shouldn't have joined me and Crowley in doing so for revelation as well. show less

An admirably idealistic account of the promise and achievements of the Tennessee Valley Authority project of the Great Depression, written in the midst of the Second World War by a British idealist, of sorts.

Mainly interesting as a historical curiosity, since much of the science has now been superseded, and the philosophy is not particularly original. The author, writing in 1931, describes a vision of eugenics that attempts to find a way to improve human evolution without violating human rights; he doesn't quite succeed. His visions of evolution also show a quaint affinity to the idea of the great ladder of progress, so popular for so long, with man as the pinnacle of evolution; a picture not show more recognized today, but quite up to date in its time. For anyone wanting to understand the procession of scientific thought, this is a very good step along the journey, rather than trying to read about it second hand in current histories. As for his philosophy, it reads a great deal like Paul Kurtz, so if you like Kurtz, you'll like this. Like many British authors, however, he demonstrates his utter naivete about the impact of religion outside of England, assuming that the rest of the world is basically following the lead of the mother country (a not uncommon failing with empires - for comparison, see current US thought). show less