Biography, Page 5
(1, 2,
3, 4,
5)
Another
factor can help explain Guénon’s comparative obscurity in the West: his
methodology and his attitude to scholarship. We have already seen how, for
Guénon, metaphysical principles were self-evident and
self-authenticating. This poses a problem for the scholarly mind. However,
the problem runs deeper than this. If it were simply a matter of Guénon
working from the basis of certain clearly-stated premises there would be
no more reason to reject his work than that of many a philosopher or
theologian. No, the fact is that Guénon was, in Whitall Perry’s words,
‘somewhat slipshod in scholarship’:
[His] certitude about principles lent a false sense of security on
the factual level, where a little research would have sufficed to protect
him from the barbs of orientalists who, if incognizant of metaphysical and
spiritual truths, had a least done their homework.
Guénon
was never primarily a scholar. Father Sylvian Lévi, to whom Guénon
submitted a draft of Introduction Générale
as a possible doctoral thesis, recommended its rejection on the grounds
that
Il entend exclure tous les éléments qui ne correspondent pas à
sa conception… tout est dans le Vedanta… il fait bon marché de
l’histoire et de la critique historique… il est tout prêt à croire
á une transmission mystique d’une vérité première apparue au génie
humain dès les premiers âges du monde…
This
is not unjust. However, while Guénon can reasonably be reproached with a
failure to ‘do his homework’ on the empirical and historical level, we
must remember that he was a metaphysician concerned with first principles.
If his application of these principles to contingent phenomena sometimes
left room for a more scrupulous scholarship, then this is indeed
regrettable, but it leaves the principles themselves quite unaffected.
This is sometimes forgotten by those who wish to force Guénon into the
mould of the historian, the sociologist, the anthropologist, or the
comparative religionist.
Guénon
was quite out of sympathy with the prevailing ideals of academic
scholarship. Nothing could have been further removed from the spirit of
his work than the notion of scholarship for its own sake. ‘Passion for
research,’ he said, ‘taken as an end in itself is mental restlessness
without end and without issue’.
Guénon kept his distance from the academic intelligentsia; as Roger
Lipsey remarked, ‘he mistrusted the academic mind and received abundant
mistrust in return.’
All
of these factors conspire to limit Guénon’s appeal. However, while Guénon’s
influence remains minimal in the Western academic community at large, he
is the seminal influence in the development of traditionalism. Along with
Coomaraswamy and Schuon, he forms what one commentator has called ‘the
great triumvirate’ of the traditionalist school.
By way of concluding this introduction to Guénon we shall briefly
consider his own perception of his role, and the way he is seen by other
traditionalists.
For
those who accept Guénon’s premises his work is a voice crying in the
European wilderness. However, as both Schuon and Perry have stressed, Guénon’s
function cannot strictly be termed ‘prophetic’, the age of prophecy
being over. Schuon:
If on the doctrinal plane the Guénonian work has a stamp of
unicity, it may not be useless to point out that this is owing not to a
more or less ‘prophetic’ nature—a supposition that is excluded and
which Guénon had already rejected beforehand—but to an exceptional
cyclical conjuncture whose temporal aspect is this ‘end of the world’
in which we live, and whose spatial aspect is—by the same token—the
forced convergence of civilizations.
We
have already met with Michel Valsan’s contention to the same effect.
Guénon himself did not doubt that he had access to the sophia
perennis about which he wrote. In a conversation with Dr. Grangier in
1927, Guénon spoke of the wisdom to which he gave expression as ‘impersonelle,
d’origine divine, transmise par révélation, détachée et sans
passion.’
Although certain of his own realization of the truth, Guénon never
assumed the role of spiritual master; he consistently refused those who
requested initiation from him.
Like
other traditionalists, Guénon did not perceive his work as an exercise in
creativity or personal ‘originality’, repeatedly emphasizing that in
the metaphysical domain there is no room for ‘individualist
considerations’ of any kind. In a letter to a friend he wrote, ‘I have
no other merit than to have expressed to the best of my ability some
traditional ideas.’When
reminded of the people who had been profoundly influenced by his writings,
he calmly replied ‘...such disposition becomes a homage rendered to the
doctrine expressed by us in a way that is totally independent of any
individualistic consideration...’
Like Coomaraswamy, Guénon certainly did not see himself building a new
philosophy or creating a new school of thought. If it is sometimes
necessary to speak of the traditionalist ‘school’, this is, from a
traditionalist viewpoint, merely an expedient. For the traditionalists Guénon
is the ‘providential interpreter of this age.’
It was his role to remind a forgetful world, ‘in a way that can be
ignored but not refuted, of first principles, and to restore a lost sense
of the Absolute.’