VIII.1

EA

Esotericism and Morality

In these pages it has often been stated that esoteric teaching, like the tradition itself, has a nonhuman character, and that it is justified solely from the point of view of reality, not from that of beliefs, values, and human feelings. Despite this, in today’s currents and groups that make some claim to esotericism there are almost always confusions that obscure the very fact that this teaching is transcendent in character. One of the most flagrant is due to those who resort to moralism, trying to validate moralistic demands in the domain of pure spirituality. Hence the talk of various “colors” of magic (black, white, or gray) and of egotism and altruism on the initiatic path; notions of “progress” and “evolution” introduced into the esoteric field; and the purposeful creation of the “true initiate,” who must be a humanitarian, an apostle of universal brotherhood, hopefully a vegetarian, a feminist, a pacifist, perhaps a member of the “Society for the Protection of Animals” and the “League for the Protection of the Young,” and naturally also of the so-called hypothetical “White Lodge.”

But even without going so far, and when it is not a question of moralism but of ethics, we must point out some persistent confusions. In general, we have here a typical inversion: the claim to judge esotericism by morality, whereas if anything is to be judged, only the reverse is legitimate: it is esotericism, as a higher standpoint, that should judge morality, specify its importance, and set the limits of its validity.

The first thing to note is that in the ancient traditional world, which was always centered in esotericism, “morality” as conceived of today was nonexistent. Even today’s secular historiography knows that ancient law was not observed because it was “good” or “useful,” but for the sole reason that it was divine law. The foundation of the law, and what gave it its binding character, was not simply its good or ill, help or harm, in relation to social life, but its being given from above. And as traditional law came “from above,” it also looked “upward”; its purpose was a certain attachment of the individual to a transcendent and, by that very fact, a nonhuman order. It has been rightly said that “The precept of doing or not doing a certain thing, which some obey for moral reasons, can be equally observed by others for quite different reasons,” hence also with a different intention. This intention, in general, was to confer a ritual character on action and on life.¹ On a higher plane, precise technical reasons applied, of which we will say more.

All this has been lost in later times because of the humanization that characterizes the recent course of history. Thus “morals” were set up as their own domain, though devoid as such of any profound justification; and this involution was even confirmed in the positive religions, especially Christianity, to the point of inverting the relationship: the moral point of view predominated there, while religion was seen as a mere support for morality. Meanwhile the profane world inevitably ended up in relativism and sentimentalism, basing the individual’s conduct on the sheer practical convenience of his respecting the particular norms prevalent in a given society and a given historical climate: hence the endpoint of conformism and utilitarianism.

After this brief survey, we will see how things look from the esoteric point of view. The basis of esotericism is knowledge, which refers in the present case to the so-called law of actions and concordant reactions, i.e., on a complex of causal relations. The fact that they also concern a subtle domain, and do not always act tangibly and simply in space and time, does not prevent them from having the same impersonal character as the laws of physical phenomena. Given that, from our point of view man is treated as man: as a being capable of guiding himself with his own judgment and taking responsibility for what he does, without the need for scare tactics, precepts, and suggestions. Once the laws are stated according to which if one does this, that follows, and when one does something else, one must expect something else to follow, everyone can regulate himself as he believes best; he will reap only the fruit of his actions—understanding by that not only the material action but also every act of the spirit, every feeling, every identification.

Getting burned is not a “punishment” for the “wickedness” of putting one’s hand in a flame, but the foreseeable consequence of a natural law; a being is free to burn his hand or not, and burning himself certainly does not make him more “bad.” Likewise, he can choose whether or not to provoke certain reactions that, by acting in a given way, he can arouse either on the human level (individual and collective) or on the occult level. In either case, an esotericist will avoid using the words “good” or “bad,” and will regard beings equally, whether their action lifts them toward the higher regions, or whether it leads them to the lower ones of the manifested world. For him, the “moral” sphere is only a special case of the natural sphere (in the broadest sense), and he—we must repeat—will consider it with the same impersonality as the latter.

Only thus does one acquire a clear view, and only thus does one treat the individual as an adult, not as a child who, having neither knowledge nor discernment, needs outside guidance through various expedients, corresponding in the moral field to “good” and “bad,” to various precepts and “values” set up as things that demand absolute recognition in themselves. An esotericist, on the contrary, will always respect another’s sphere of freedom, no matter how this freedom is used, so long as the person takes responsibility for it. Nor does he follow a different criterion with regard to himself. He does not preach, and avoids uttering “Thou shalt . . .”

Those are the general principles. Naturally these considerations of rules of conduct also apply to those derived from and integrated in the traditional laws, whose character, as we said, is neither human nor in any way “social,” but comes from and looks to the above. But in that regard, one point must be emphasized: traditional law always had a differentiated character, in that it did not recognize one single rule, but diverse rules corresponding to the differences of beings. The rule of life that is right and allowable for one person might not be so for another, as appears with particular clarity where the caste system prevails, the system most in conformity with a traditional order from above. Thus the democratic and leveling character of modern morality, which claims to be “universally valid,” is already enough to deprive it of any legitimacy. In fact, the most immediate goal of traditional norms of behavior was to enable each one to be himself, to realize himself and his own nature. Such is the Hindu idea of svādharma;² the meaning of the Hellenic maxim “Become what you are”; in Taoism, following one’s own inner law, one’s own “path,” without intrusion from external precepts and stereotypical norms, reflecting the “Way of Heaven” itself which knows neither “good” nor “evil.”³ In contrast, morality as understood today aims to achieve the opposite: not realizing one’s own nature and path but subjecting them to something collective, social, and faceless. We must emphasize this point and keep it in mind when considering the law of actions and reactions: the reactions accord with the nature of the person who acts and are not the same in all cases. And when one betrays one’s own law one must expect consequences, most of them unfavorable to inner development.

On the esoteric and supra-individual level, traditional law in the above sense is justified as follows: by perfectly realizing one’s own nature, one also realizes a central position in relation to oneself, because the individual’s will then coincides with the general will corresponding to one’s incarnation, i.e., to the will of the transcendent I which intends to actualize certain possibilities on this plane of manifestation. If it is clearer to state it in terms of the theological myth, we could say that the individual, in realizing his own nature, realizes the divine will which wanted it thus, and has placed his own center in that divine will. Through realization of his own form, a path opens toward that which is beyond form, hence toward liberation.

Here, however, we need to reject the views of those who like to talk about conforming to a universal order, in terms that more or less allow them to reintroduce “moral” views. First of all, as we will show, we are dealing here with a specific perspective, though not the only one (there is also that of the “Left-Hand Path”). Secondly, there are multiple paths, leading both upward and downward. Only an unconsidered and empty rationalism would presume to reduce such complexity to a single thing, just to make it accessible to the human mind.

After sketching the meaning and possibilities of what, in Tradition, corresponds to modern morality, we can go on to consider the initiatic field itself. Obviously morality in the current sense cannot apply to the initiatic path: so much is obvious to anyone who reflects on the fact that this is a science. A science, as such, knows nothing of “good” or “evil”; it only knows laws, which are what they are: neither good nor bad, but simply real. It develops through a technique whose value and possibilities are measured solely by success, through constant and determinable relations of cause to effect. This applies all the more rigorously if we are dealing with magic in a specific and practical sense.

As for a sort of “moralization” that some claim to be indispensable as a preliminary condition for any transcendental development of the personality, it is pure nonsense, or another confusion of distinct things. Certainly in initiatic science, unlike physical science, the conditions that produce certain effects are not external determinations which anyone can verify, without having to perform an action on himself. This can happen only in supporting or contingent elements (e.g., in ceremonial magic, hatha-yoga, etc.), but the essential and really decisive conditions relate to states and transformations that must be brought about in the spirit and in the deep regions of the human entity, either directly or indirectly. Thus if by “morals” one simply means ascesis—discipline, exercise, action of spirit upon spirit—then one may well say that initiatic science implies “morals,” and not merely as a preparation but as an essential part of it. But we repeat that the term “morals” can only confuse matters, because two quite distinct points of view are evidently meeting here: the moral one, stating that certain things absolutely must be done and others not, due to a law of good and evil supposedly valid in itself; and the initiatic point of view that considers a group of rules whose only value is as technical conditions and tools for realization. Even when such rules partly align with those of current morality, it is for entirely different reasons—as we said at the outset—that he who follows the initiatic path may adopt them. This is not a matter of “moralization” but rather of divinification. Plotinus’s words are to the point: “Not to be a good man, but to become a god—this is the goal.”

As an example, from the moral point of view one may say: “You mustn’t lie, because lying is bad, and telling the truth is good.” From the initiatic point of view one is simply aware that lying causes a sort of lesion and contradiction in the unity of the being, which is a condition contrary to that of an initiatic qualification. As another example, one would not say that to make free use of young women is a “sin,” but only point out that, at most, it dissipates the vital energy, and gives it a polarity not very compatible with the methods of supra-individual development, which require the concentration and transformation of that energy. Thus if one has that knowledge, it is solely a matter of knowing what one truly wants. That is all.

If one were to formulate a general initiatic principle, it might be to master everything that is passion and irrationality in the soul. This refers not only to “evil” dispositions, but even to “good” ones if they are likewise rooted in feelings. Objectively, it is a case of “changing levels”: not controlling irrational and impulsive urges by others which, though opposite, are the same in kind, but letting the pure intellectual principle, the νοῦς, the “Zeus in us” prevail, which is beyond both of them, beyond the good and the bad. The ancient Hellenic world understood all this quite clearly: its views on the “good” were less “ethical” than ontological in character, akin to the point of view just put forth. We know, in fact, that the Greek concept of the good referred to the state of reality and perfection, and consequently evil to the unreal: to a confused, chaotic state, incapable of realizing itself in an action or a form; to that which is “altered,” passive, and infected by the “passional” element.⁴ A meaning of virtue (virtus) follows from this, totally opposed to the moralistic one: a meaning that persisted, incidentally, up to the Renaissance period: virtue as strength, as that completeness and virility of strength (virtus and vir, man in the specific sense, have the same root), which is the preeminent quality of “those who are,” of those Completed, the Siddha. If initiatic ascesis must include a “morality,” its only point of reference could be views of this kind.

We would add the following considerations. There are two distinct phases in initiatic development. The meaning of the first phase is movement from the periphery to the center, realizing that state of centrality in regard to oneself of which we have already spoken, and which through initiation allows one to relink oneself with the transcendent principle that manifests in the human personality. From that point onward, realization proceeds in a purely vertical direction, ascending, which implies effective changes of state, passages to other modes of being. In contrast, what can be achieved in the human state may be considered as a movement or change of place on a horizontal plane. The two directions, horizontal and vertical, remain discontinuous. It makes no difference vertically (the direction of initiation that gives authentic realization) where one finds oneself on the horizontal plane as such;⁵ and vice versa, since vertical motion does not cause horizontal displacement, but projects an unmoving point on it. Thus the qualities acquired in the purely initiatic realm may even determine or represent nothing in terms of common human values, and particularly “moral” ones. Initiation in itself—as we have recalled on other occasions—was always conceived of as a fact independent of any human merit, and having such a concrete character that it was sometimes spoken of as a physical and material fact, almost like human birth. Once such a fact has occurred, without needing any justifying or demonstrable reasons to accompany it, one has passed from one level to another, from one way of being to a different way of being, unrelated to the first.⁶

For the same reason, when actions take a downward direction on the vertical axis, they also transcend human values. Naturally, this is not to say that they necessarily subvert human laws. But they can certainly not be understood on the basis of those laws, unless “transposed” to another plane—and not always then. The action of initiates follows neither altruism nor egotism, neither good nor ill in the accepted sense of the terms. It proceeds from the “Way of Heaven” to which the Far East, especially, attributes the sort of nonhuman and elemental purity that belongs to the great forces of nature, and which may reveal itself where the superficial eye and the restricted mind see only disaster. One may also see its partial reflection in the great dominators of history, those beings who pass like the forces of fate, considering men and peoples merely as means beside their obscure sensation of having a higher mission, to which their own person, peace, and happiness are the first things to be sacrificed.

We will close this analysis of morality and esotericism with some observations pertinent to the practical and psychological field. We have spoken of the relations between causes and effects as necessary, but obviously necessity in this far broader field cannot have the same character as in the physical world. No one seeks a foundation for this necessity in the physical world: it is enough to establish empirically that when A occurs, B follows, because that is how it has happened in every case that could be observed. In the spiritual world, however, where the process of self-realization and magical action unfolds, to suffer a certain effect may mean the interference with one’s own will and one’s own path by a force whose law, without any intentionality, reasserts its power over me every time I try to transgress it. Such cases entail an encounter of intensity, when the chosen path goes against the “Rulers of Fate,” as some traditions call them, who were also considered in the teaching about the initiate’s journey through the hierarchy of the Seven or the Twelve. Here, too, all moralistic interpretations fall away, reaffirming the purely ontological point of view which always treats necessity as a fact, not as a right; likewise not “forbidden” things but only dangerous things, before which everyone must first be sure about what he can demand of himself. That suggests, in a general context, what patent absurdity Éliphas Lévi falls into when he chooses as the magus’s motto the dogma of the most flagrant rationalism: “A thing is not good because God wills it, but God wills it because it is good”—whereas Al-Ghazali, though not talking of magic, more sensibly recognizes that it is only due to the will of God that a certain cause is followed by a certain effect.

However, what we are discussing in the present case is a plane where there is no question of domination by God (in the singular), but of some other entity or collective entities that are always bound to the natural order.

We would say, then, that there is a certain path that differs from the one mentioned when we spoke of liberation through willingly following a traditional law; a path that, in Hindu terms, is not under the sign of Vishnu, the preserving aspect of divinity, but of Shiva, the aspect of its active and destructive transcendence.⁷ He who follows such a path, even only its preliminary disciplines, must understand the true meaning of the reactions that will often occur in the soul. Many reactions⁸ such as satisfaction, anxiety, or torment of conscience should be interpreted subtly, to discover who is acting in them, instead of following the habit of the average man who thinks they are nothing but his natural reactions, coming from his own soul.

In fact, if one acts from the pure I, no emotional reaction should be felt regarding what one does or does not do. But it is seldom thus: the moralistic interpretation intervenes, eager to recognize in such reactions the “voice of conscience” and the proof that a sense of good and evil exists naturally in the human soul, as the basis of the happiness of the virtuous, the torment of the wicked.

Esoterically, things appear very differently. We will take a concrete case. If I react to something that offends my own family or my own nation, it is really a reaction provoked in me by the “Manes” of my family, by the “entity” of my nation. And if on the contrary I am the offender—and the offense can go further, reaching deeper levels and bordering on what is ordinarily classed as a crime—the reaction usually comes equally, but in myself, against myself. Hence the psychological phenomena of the “bad conscience,” anxiety, a remorse that can even act as a curse and lead to disaster, to the “expiation of guilt.”

The ancients said of this: “It is the Erinnyes who persecute the criminal; it is the offended Manes and Gods having revenge.” The moderns, who accuse the ancients of mythmaking, are the ones doing that, and worse, giving a “moral” significance to those internal phenomena, which should be explained by the quasi-physical action of forces with which one has interfered, even if their power resides in deeper zones than the being who has stirred them up.

Thus in initiatic ascesis one needs to pay particular attention to a phenomenology of this kind, so as to shed light on one’s own inner life and calmly take note of how things really stand. Either through adjustment and release, or through direct action, the I must take on the task of freeing itself from the tangle of forces that have formed the samsaric personality, which is variously controlled by the entities of planets, heavens, races, beliefs, and institutions. Until this task of “stripping bare” is done, and one cannot yet do without the support provided by those forces, one needs to recognize a specific “law” and reflect carefully before setting oneself against it. Apart from any external consequences, in such a case one would only be acting against a part of oneself (a part from which one is not yet able to disidentify), and the inevitable consequence will be a state of disorganization and internal laceration, equivalent to a backsliding of the individual in the hierarchy of beings, which is marked by an ever-higher degree of unity and wholeness. All this should be considered by one who takes the “Left-Hand Path,” feeling that it suits his own nature; at the same time, he needs to be clear about the basis of the law of concordant actions and reactions, even in the field of initiatic ascesis.

With that, we think we have explained clearly enough everything that can be said about the relations between esotericism and morality. We will just add that their independence is greater today than in previous civilizations, for two reasons. First, because what still exists as “morals” has none of the characteristics of a sacred, traditional norm, but only a human and social range. Secondly, because modern man is becoming ever more “rootless,” his connections with the deeper forces of life have become minimal, yet not in the direction of freedom but of degeneracy, in passing from the reign of quality to that of quantity and number. On the one hand, this minimizes many of the abovementioned internal reactions that the individual’s unruly behavior could cause. The disadvantage is that he cannot make the slightest use of such a situation from the initiatic point of view, due to the fearful decline in spiritual level that, in modern man, nullifies this detachment. In any case, given the different situation, the rationale for some rules of conduct recommended in civilizations of another type, even in the initiatic domain, no longer holds. Thus today it is more ineffectual than ever to introduce moralistic and moralizing considerations into the initiatic field.