The Spiritual Problem of Modern Man
The spiritual problem of modern man is one of those questions which are so much a part of the age we live in that we cannot see them in the proper perspective. Modern
man is an entirely new phenomenon; a modern problem is one which has just arisen and whose answer still lies in the future. In speaking of the spiritual problem of modern
man we can at most frame a question, and we should perhaps frame it quite differently if we had but the faintest inkling of the answer the future will give.
The question, moreover, seems rather vague; but the truth is that it has to do with something so universal that it exceeds the grasp of any single individual. We have reason enough, therefore, to approach such a problem in all modesty and with the greatest caution.
This open avowal of our limitations seems to me essential, because it is these problems more than any others which tempt us to the use of high-sounding and empty words, and because I shall myseli be forced to say certain things which may sound immoderate and incautious, and could easily lead us astray.
Too many of us already have fallen victim to our own grandiloquence. To begin at once with an example of such apparent lack of caution, I must say that the man we call modern, the
man who is aware of the immediate present, is by no means the average man.
He is rather the man who stands upon a peak, or at the very edge of the world, the abyss of the future before him, above him the heavens, and below him the whole of mankind with a history that disappears in primeval mists.
The modern man—or, let us say again, the man of the immediate present—is rarely met with, for he must be conscious to a superlative degree. Since to be wholly of the present means to be fully conscious of one’s existence as a man, it requires the most intensive and extensive consciousness, with a minimum of unconsciousness.
It must be clearly understood that the mere fact of living in the present does not make a man modern, for in that everyone at present alive would be so. He alone is modern
who is fully conscious of the present.
The man who has attained consciousness of the present is solitary. The “modern” man has at all times been so, for every step towards fuller consciousness removes him further
from his original, purely animal participation mystique with the herd, from submersion in a common unconsc ness. Every step forward means tearing oneself loose from
the maternal womb of unconsciousness in which the mass of men dwells.
Even in a civilized community the people who form, psychologically speaking, the lowest stratum live in a state of unconsciousness little different from that of primitives. Those of the succeeding strata live on a level of consciousness which corresponds to the beginnin human culture, while those of the high« consciousness that reflects the life Ol the last |
Only the man who is modem in our meaning of the really lives in the present; he alone has a present-day consciousness, and he alone finds that the ways of life on those
earlier levels have begun to pall upon him. The values and strivings of those past worlds no longer interest him save from the historical standpoint. Thus he has become “unhistorical” in the deepest sense and has estranged himself from the mass of men who live entirely within the bounds of tradition.
Indeed, he is completely modern only when he has come to the very edge of the world, leaving behind him all that has been discarded and outgrown, and acknowledging
that he stands before the Nothing out of which All may grow.
This sounds so grand that it borders suspiciously on bathos, for nothing is easier than to affect a consciousness of the present. A great horde of worthless people do in
fact give themselves a deceptive air of modernity by skipping the various stages of development and the tasks of life they represent. Suddenly they appear by the side of the
truly modern man—uprooted wraiths, bloodsucking ghosts whose emptiness casts discredit upon him in his unenviable loneliness.
Thus it is that the few present-day men are seen by the undiscerning eyes of the masses only through the dismal veil of those spectres, the pseudo-moderns, and
are confused with them. It cannot be helped; the “modern” man is questionable and suspect, and has been so at all times, beginning with Socrates and Jesus.
An honest admission of modernity means voluntarily declaring oneself bankrupt, taking the vows of poverty and chastity in a new sense, and—what is still more painful —
renouncing the halo of sanctity which history bestows. To be “unhistorical” is the Promethean sin, and in this sense the modern man is sinful.
A higher level of consciousness is like a burden of guilt. But, as I have said, only the man who has outgrown the stages of consciousness belonging to the past, and has amply fulfilled the duties appointed
for him by his world, can achieve full consciousness of the present. To do this he must be sound and proficient in the best sense—a man who has achieved as much as other
people, and even a little more.
It is these qualities which enable him to gain the next highest level of consciousness. I know that the idea of proficiency is especiall) repugnant to the pseudo-moderns, for it reminds them unpleasant!) of their trickery. This, however, should not prevent us from taking it as our criterion of the modern man.
We are even forced to do so, for unless he is proficient, the man who claims to be modern is nothing but a trickster. He must be proficient in the highest degree, for unless he can atone by creative ability for his break with tradition, he is merely disloyal to the past. To deny the past for the sake of being conscious only of the present would be sheer futility.
Today has meaning only if it stands between yesterday and tomorrow. It is a process of transition that forms the link between past and future. Only the man who is conscious of
the present in this sense may call himself modern. Many people call themselves modern—especially the pseudo-moderns.
Therefore the really modern man is often to be found among those who call themselves old-fashioned They do this firstly in order to make amends for their guilty break with tradition by laying all the more emphasis on the past, and secondly in order to avoid the misfortune of being taken for pseudo-moderns.
Every good quality its bad side, and nothing good can come into the world without at once producing a corresponding evil. This painful fact renders illusory the feeling of elation that SO goes with consciousness of the present the feeling we are the culmination of the whole histor) Ol mankind, the fulfilment and end-product oi countless generatioi
best it should be a proud admission Ol our povert] are also the disappointment oi the hopes and of the ages.
Think ot nearly tWO thousand yeai Idealism followed, not b) the return ot the the heavenly millennium, but by the World I Christian nations with its barbed wire and poison gas. What a catastrophe in heaven and on earth!
In the face of such a picture we may well grow humble again. It is true that modern man is a culmination, but tomorrow he will be surpassed. He is indeed the product
of an age-old development, but he is at the same time the worst conceivable disappointment of the hopes of mankind. The modern man is conscious of this.
He has seen how beneficent are science, technology, and organization, but also how catastrophic they can be. He has likewise seen how all well-meaning governments have so thoroughly paved the way for peace on the principle “in time of peace prepare for war” that Europe has nearly gone to rack and ruin.
And as for ideals, neither the Christian Church, nor the brotherhood of man, nor international social democracy, nor the solidarity of economic interests has stood up to the
acid test of reality. Today, ten years after the war,3 we observe once more the same optimism, the same organizations, the same political aspirations, the same phrases and
catchwords at work.
How can we but fear that they will inevitably lead to further catastrophes? Agreements to outlaw war leave us sceptical, even while we wish them every possible success. At bottom, behind every such palliative measure there is a gnawing doubt.
I believe I am not exaggerating when I say that modern man has suffered an almost fatal shock, psychologically speaking, and as a result has fallen into profound uncertainty.
These statements make it clear enough that my views are coloured by a professional bias. A doctor always spies out diseases, and I cannot cease to be a doctor. But it is essential
to the physician’s art that he should not discover diseases where none exists. I will therefore not make the assertion that Western man, and the white man in particular,
is sick, or that the Western world is on the verge of collapse. I am in no way competent to pass such a judgment. ~Carl Jung, The Portable Jung, Page 456-460
