Perennialism, Tradition, and the Problem of Universal Knowledge
Perennialism, unfortunately, became a term with negative connotations because, through its usage in the 20th century, it opened the door to certain misunderstandings and became the slogan of views that often had difficulties reconciling with traditional structures. On the other hand, although its antecedents can be found in antiquity, the universal outlook that emerged more clearly in the modern era—when the world began to “shrink”—and found particular expression during the Renaissance, giving rise to the ideal of the Renaissance man, recognized that many traditions, cultures, practices, and methods arrived at remarkably similar conclusions and developed strikingly similar approaches.
Here we encounter a serious epistemological problem, both in understanding this knowledge and in transmitting it, and perhaps even more importantly, in applying these traditions, cultures, practices, methods, and techniques. The challenge lies in reducing this diversity to supposedly universal or perennial principles. When we approach this plurality through a framework we regard as universal, perennial, or all-encompassing, we risk reducing it to its broad outlines and losing important nuances. As a result, we may miss key elements in both theory and practice. Conversely, we may become so absorbed in details that we lose sight of the bigger picture and fail to recognize the universal character of ideas that initially appear singular and particular.
In schools that might be described as esoteric, historical limitations in communication naturally meant that people first turned toward their own traditions and received their education there.
Learning from Tradition: Language, Development, and the Question of Starting Points
However, this cannot be explained solely by technical limitations. A useful analogy is human language. Although conducting such studies would be ethically problematic, we do have examples of so-called feral children, which provide insight into language acquisition and the existence of an upper age limit for acquiring language naturally.
It appears that even individuals who have never learned a language can, through life experience, develop certain linguistic abilities, but they can never do so as effectively as a child. Moreover, after the ages of twelve or thirteen, there is a significant decline in this capacity. Thus, language—the thing that opens us to the world and enables us to understand it—is our native language, the language we learn from our family and immediate environment.
A child who acquires this foundation generally has no great difficulty learning other languages later on, because they can use their native language as a basis, a fundamental framework. Similarly, in movements aimed at reaching truth or realizing one’s essential nature, individuals should avoid what might colloquially be called “chasing every shiny object.” Instead, they should first approach a view or practice that feels close to them—whether culturally, psychologically, or physically—and gain their initial experiences and impressions there, shaping themselves through that process. Once this foundation has been established, a person can more easily access the keys needed to open other doors on their journey toward self-discovery and the pursuit of truth.
Otherwise, the labyrinth—which is often used as a metaphor for self-discovery—can become, as we see in mythological stories, a place where one loses oneself, confronts a monster or the darkness within, and is ultimately destroyed by it.
Therefore, while universal truth and the essence that connects us all certainly exist, the path to follow is to begin with what feels personally close and particular, and from there move toward the many, toward the universal.
Paths to Truth in a Changing Age: Individual Responsibility and Evolving Practices
Of course, Perennialism is only a modern name given to this phenomenon. It could have been called something else. However, the term Perennial Philosophy was apparently considered more appropriate, and that is why we use it today.
The relationship between details and the whole resembles the relationship between tradition and modernity. Some views that we might classify as perennialist are not universalist in the strict sense, but rather traditionalist. This means the following:
Yes, there are universal truths, or a universal Truth. However, the traditions that claim to discover and reach this Truth are, in themselves, of great importance.
Although this resembles the idea we mentioned earlier—that a person should begin from the tradition they feel closest to—it actually points toward a more fundamentalist position. Traditionalists argue not only that a person should begin from a single tradition while understanding these universal principles, but also that they should remain committed to that tradition and continue their personal and spiritual development within it. According to this view, awareness of universal principles will regulate the relationships among individual traditions, and ultimately everyone will succeed in reaching Truth.
There are two points we should pay attention to here. First, although traditionalism appears open to universal perspectives, in some cases it may prevent people from breaking out of established patterns and crossing certain unseen boundaries. Second, and perhaps related to the first point, it may completely deny the importance of synthesis and integration—qualities that are necessities of the age we live in.
Here we encounter a paradox. Although traditionalists ground their views in tradition, major traditionalist thinkers—for example, René Guénon—were entirely children of the modern age and modern thought. They arrived at their conclusions by using modern intellectual currents, modern methods of thinking, and perhaps even what modern life itself imposed upon them. Thus, the paradox of a traditionalist approach to universal principles is that while it confines individuals within their own traditions, it also ignores the fact that those traditions may once have been highly progressive, revolutionary, and disruptive ideas themselves.
When Siddhartha Gautama expressed his views, he made claims in opposition to Brahmanism that were, at least in part, unheard of at the time. This must have been shocking for those who lived then. The structures, movements, and institutions that we now call traditions were not traditional in their own time.
From a universalist perspective, those ideas may exist eternally. Yet their expression and evaluation within human culture must always have a starting point within what we call time. Therefore, whether we call this perspective perennialist, universalist, or the ideal of the Renaissance man, regardless of the label we choose, one thing remains clear:
Both rigid adherence to tradition and the complete denial of tradition can lead to significant problems.
Let us come to the final point we wish to discuss. The situation we observe here is that there are many paths in the search for Truth. Nuances matter; individual traditions matter. Yet Truth itself may be one.
Some groups—and we would agree with them—argue that a person should perhaps begin with the tradition they feel closest to. Others say that although Truth is universal, the paths leading to it are very different, and each person should choose one path and follow it all the way without deviating.
Others maintain that the paths themselves are not especially important; one can examine them all and still ultimately perceive Truth.
There are also positions opposed to this. They argue: “No, our tradition only has superficial or cosmetic connections with other traditions.
Our Truth binds us. Similarities with the truths of others are not what matters. What truly matters are the points of difference.
Salvation lies in those differences. What makes us distinct, special, and therefore genuine are precisely those distinctions.”
A person can decide which of these perspectives is important through their own experiences and what they learn.
Whether the decision is right or wrong, it is ultimately one that concerns the individual alone. In this situation, even the worst decision may be better than indecision.
However, we should not overlook one thing.
As we said earlier, every tradition must have a starting point. And the age we live in seems to provide fertile ground for the emergence of new traditions, groundbreaking ideas, fresh perspectives, and new methods. We are witnessing one of the important moments, one of the important periods, in human history.
It is difficult to predict what will happen during this era, but many people are searching.
Traditional perspectives, New Age or postmodern viewpoints, movements, institutions, universalist and localist understandings—all of these can provide answers to people up to a point. They can show the way, but only to a certain extent.
Perhaps the first issue that is neglected in all these discussions—and unfortunately has become a feature of hierarchical structures—is the following:
Although a good teacher, mentor, guide, or illuminator may seem essential when embarking on a path, the person who must walk that path is the traveler themselves. Certain decisions ultimately belong to that individual.
If you encounter a good guide or teacher, it can be tremendously important. It can help a person take significant steps toward finding themselves without wasting time, making unnecessary mistakes, or losing their way.
On the other hand, an individual who becomes lost in endless intellectual debates, and who then enters a traditional hierarchical structure as well, may begin to lose themselves rather than find themselves.
What we see in this era is the individual rediscovering their own importance. We are not speaking about ego here—it is important to underline that point. Perhaps because knowledge has become so abundant, people now have broader ideas about the paths they may choose to follow.
The increase of knowledge and the ease of access to information may appear to confuse people. Yet a person who knows what they are looking for, knows how to search, and makes a sincere effort not only finds a suitable structure, tradition, or institution.
Thinking about these matters and engaging in practical work can also open the door to original ideas.
As we see today—although the trend began in the twentieth century—many people are able to continue on their path by incorporating methods that suit them personally into traditional practices.
Just as, for example, John C. Lilly used isolation or floating tanks in the twentieth century to induce changes in consciousness and recommended these practices to others, thereby giving a new dimension to the already familiar practices of solitude, retreat, and contemplation, we likewise see people today following certain paths through music, various tools and technologies, and new meditation methods.
What we wish to do on this page is contribute to new perspectives, ideas, practices, and methods without denying tradition, without ignoring the universality of certain ideas, and without overlooking the necessity—in some circumstances—of a teacher and a hierarchy shaped by respect.
Although some of our writings may appear to discuss traditional viewpoints or universal ideas in an objective, informative manner, we must acknowledge that our own perspective influences them as well.
As will become increasingly apparent in future writings, we intend to continue developing and sharing ideas and practices aimed at helping people reach Truth, discover themselves, bring order to their lives, understand what they truly want, and organize the steps they take along that path.
Stay well, dear friends.
