Critical comments by Dario Chioli to Bruno Bérard & Aldo La Fata, Che cos’è l’esoterismo tra verità e contraffazioni (Esotericism for Everyone. Interviews with Aldo La Fata, forecasted 2025), Solfanelli, Chieti, 2024.
This book is really interesting for those who retain the habit of reasoning and want to enter the esoteric labyrinth with some hope of understanding, as opposed to what we might call the “esoteric circus”.
Aldo La Fata, interviewed by Bruno Bérard, succeeds in being admirably simple, providing in a short space of time the fundamental elements for approaching the most diverse traditions in their esoteric aspects.
It is always advisable to be cautious in such matters, and no two esotericists or supposed esotericists use the same terms in the same way, so you need to read carefully without fantasizing too much about what is not written there and what you might like to find there…
The text unravels somewhat under the reflection, not slavishly, of the distinction imposed by René Guénon between “esotericism” and “exotericism”. This distinction is indeed convenient in many respects, even if it doesn’t always work, and even if it is much misused by many (including Guénon himself in relation to Christianity, for example).
1. In the Exergue and in the first chapter, Bérard and La Fata attempt to delimit the field, excluding from the domain of esotericism the variegated bric-a-brac of occultism first, then of the various new age expressions, thus distinguishing “true” esotericism from that sort of fantastic sensationalism which, for many who call themselves esotericists, is merely a kind of “playground for the mind” …[1]
Aldo La Fata oscillates, as I do for practical reasons, between a “narrow” definition of esotericism as an inner experience whose history cannot be traced because it ultimately depends on a heavenly grace and not on a succession of visible events, and a “broad” definition that includes the various mystico-ascetic practices and, to a certain extent, esotericism, i.e. the study of identifiable esoteric manifestations. He rightly points out that one is only a good esoterologist if one is also an esotericist, just as one is only a good theologian if one is also a believer (p. 12).
Finally, in response to a question from Bérard, La Fata clarifies that esotericism cannot be equated with philosophy, as it does not depend on the mind but on the “light of the intellect”, which has transcendent origins.
2. The second chapter deals with the relationship between esotericism and religion.
La Fata warns of the dangers of restricting the field too much to doctrines and theories: “Theories and doctrines may be a starting point, but they are not the Way. Not to mention that we’re not dealing with just one Way” (p. 17). As examples, he takes two very different ones: Umberto Eco, who, in Foucault’s Pendulum, ends up making every esoteric approach seem like buffoonery, and Antoine Faivre, who adapts certain schemes he favors to analyze esotericism, even where these schemes don’t fit. I’ve actually read something by Faivre, and I can only agree that his approach struck me as too classificatory. In this case, the scholar’s mind takes on a dominant role that does not belong to it, taking the place of intellectual intuition. It’s a risk that’s hard to avoid when you want to talk about everything.
La Fata at least partly agrees with Guénon when he differentiates esotericism from religion, particularly in the case of Judaism and Islam, where Kabbalah and Sufism seem a world away from the religion practised by believers. I understand his point of view, but would like to point out that there are nevertheless many intermediate realities, for example Hasidism, and that, on the other hand, just as many esotericists have appreciated the Imitatio Christi in Christianity, there is no reason not to see an analogue in the Ḥadīth-inspired imitation of Muḥammad. The insistence on a clear distinction between exotericism and esotericism is characteristic of the Guénonians, but it bears some resemblance to Procrustes’ bed
On the other hand, La Fata, while accepting Guénon’s distinction, is very clear that Grace is the analogue (or I would say, the same thing) of the spiritual influence spoken of in Sufism or Kabbalah. It seems that the distinction is rather a question of vocabulary, different from that used by the religious and that used by those who consider themselves esotericists. However, I’m not convinced that the solution lies, as La Fata hesitantly suggests, in a “technical dictionary” of esoteric terms; I fear – and my studies of Freemasonry in recent months confirm this – that the opposition has eminently “polemical” reasons, deriving from political and ideological confrontations that were and are neither religious nor esoteric. Besides, from my point of view, a non-esoteric religious person is only a conformist or a hypocrite, and a non-religious esotericist is only an illusionist or a mystifier.
3. The third chapter deals with Aldo’s “esoteric biography”, which I read with curiosity, even a little gossip if you like, since he’s usually very reserved[2] . He talks about his childhood discovery of Julius Evola, then of Guénon, then of his meeting with a Kremmertian who had ambivalent consequences for him, until his discovery and meeting with Silvano Panunzio (of whom Aldo La Fata is testamentary and spiritual heir) and his participation in his “Alliance Transcendante Michel Archange” (ATMA), a small group of people who were somewhat inspired by the spirit of the ancient Knights of the Middle Ages.
4. The fourth chapter is devoted to the history of esotericism. Aldo La Fata rightly begins with a sacrosanct “distinction”: “Esotericism as a historical entity does not exist and has never existed, but a history of its many expressions, formulations, actualizations and adaptations is certainly possible”. He adds: “As far as esotericism is concerned, we can certainly speak of currents, or rather karst rivers, from which springs flow from time to time to the right and to the left. It’s the ‘history’ of these springs that we can talk about, not the river that gave rise to them” (p. 38).
As for this “river”, in response to Bérard’s question, La Fata answers magnificently, quoting Revelation, that it flows “from the throne of God and the Lamb” (p. 38).
The distinction made between the “major fathers” and “minor fathers” of esotericism is rather a “useful means”. The great ones, whether historical or legendary, are Hermes, Pythagoras, Moses, Manu and Orpheus. Mystery religions” are linked to them and, in this sense, the term “esoteric” is used to mean “reserved teaching, not known to the uninitiated”. Then there’s the question of the “little fathers”, of whom La Fata claims that a long list could be drawn up, from Plato to Guénon. They would constitute a kind of “esoteric patristics” analogous to the patristics of the Church Fathers.
He then looks at the “geography” of esotericism, and what appear to have been its main centers of dissemination. Finally, he rightly distinguishes esotericism from gnosticism, which would be placed under the sign of “Polemos” in relation to the gnosis of the universal Christian tradition, and deals with relations with ancient philosophical schools such as that of Alexandria, which La Fata does not consider properly esoteric.
5. The fifth chapter[3] , entitled “Esotericism and Esotericists”, takes up in greater detail what has already been mentioned above. La Fata identifies esotericism with the “search for truth”, then gives remarkable explanations of the names of the three great Greek “fathers”, Orpheus, Pythagoras and Hermes, explanations which shed further light on the nature of esotericism. He then explains how women were also admitted to the “mysteries”, something that “orthodox” Freemasonry still excludes today. He accepts Berard’s assertion that false esotericism is distinguished, as “Promethean”, from the true, which does not steal the “fire of the gods”, but obtains it as a gift (p. 51).
La Fata then convincingly affirms the esoteric character of Dante’s work, as well as – and this is for me a sign of great inner clarity – of Socrates’ teaching. It’s not for nothing that Socrates was Plato’s teacher, that he was initiated into the mysteries, but above all that he spoke with his own daímon.
An esoteric aspect is also recognized in Aristotle, on which opinions diverge and on which, it seems to me, even Bérard partially disagrees (p. 59).
He then goes on to discuss the ancient schools, such as the Neo-Platonist schools, and their (at least partial) offshoots in early Christian, medieval and Renaissance Neo-Platonism: La Fata also mentions some philosophers about whom I might have some doubts, and then comes to the “traditionalist” school of Guénon, Coomaraswamy, etc., which is still in its infancy.
He argues that Guénon has two souls: the “scholastic” initiate and the “mute” initiate, and that few would have understood the latter, most sticking to the former and radicalizing, sometimes badly, his categories and distinctions (pp. 58-59).
6. In the sixth chapter, Bérard asks La Fata to describe his research journey no longer in terms of the people he met, but in terms of the “key books” he studied, also in relation to the volume Nella luce dei libri. Percorsi di lettura di un “cavaliere errante” (“In the light of books. Percorsi di lettura di un ‘cavaliere errante'”)[4] published by Aldo in 2022.
For me, this is a very curious chapter as I compare Aldo’s references with those I would quote. I’ve read the whole of Guénon several times and he influenced me a great deal for a certain period, I’ve appreciated some of Evola’s work and particularly the Introduction to Magic edited by him, which I read while I was in the army, Silvano Panunzio I discovered belatedly thanks to Aldo himself who introduced me to him. I only know Paolo Virio by name, but from what I’ve heard of him, I’m not very attracted to him, and I’m not very convinced of his “Christian Tantrism”, because Tantrism in India is not at all about sex.
As for Kremmerz, I’ve read the three volumes of Science des Mages that La Fata quotes (plus the fourth volume of commentaries written by Danilo Ugo Cisaria), and I liked it moderately more than anything else because Kremmerz was a good writer, but I was never too convinced. I read and re-read Meyrink, I don’t know how many times, because it appealed to me both as fantastic literature and for its esoteric undertones, and then it was the period when I was reading the stuff of his Italian publisher Evola.
Unlike Aldo, I have read and reread Castaneda from cover to cover (also in chronological order), and have taken from it many suggestions that I have found useful, although it didn’t take me long to realize that it was almost entirely an invention (I had hoped it wouldn’t be). But it was an invention of genius (only the last three books published had a taste for mystification). Dante, Goethe and Shakespeare, which I appreciate very much, I couldn’t possibly list among my main sources, whereas I share Aldo’s praise for Mircea Eliade’s novels, some of which are true masterpieces.
Missing from this list are a number of references that have been fundamental to me as a poet and orientalist: John of the Cross, whose entire poetic work I translated and published, Thérèse d’Ávila, Rāmakṛṣṇa, Tagore, Rūmī, Buber, Vasugupta (I devoted thirty years to his Śivasūtra), Gurdjieff, Whitman, García Lorca, Hesse, Dostoyevsky and Tolstoy, and many others… But everyone’s story is different….
7. The seventh chapter is devoted to “esotericism and mysticism”. Here, La Fata juggles with two terms that are difficult not to identify. If he doesn’t, it’s probably under the influence of Guénon.
From a phenomenological point of view, we tend to view esotericism in two ways: on the one hand, as an ineffable inner secret, and on the other, as a series of procedures or attitudes designed to make it accessible.
Here, I think the second mode is in fact a concession to human dramatic fantasies, the first mode being the only one with any real spiritual efficacy. Mystery is always a gift, never a voucher to be withdrawn at maturity. It can be “transmitted” by someone (the “master”)[5] , but never “earned” or “evoked”.
This simply means that all the rituals, ceremonies and techniques of the various esoteric groups have no real meaning, serving only to entertain or reassure the mind (which is sometimes useful, sometimes not). But of course, if we don’t want to admit it, we get bogged down in a flood of distinctions that risk being superfluous. So I’m sorry to have to disagree, even partially, on this point, with the analysis set out in the text: for my part, the more I investigate, the more I’m convinced that almost the entire “technical” part of Western esotericism arose in opposition to Christianity, as a deliberate attempt to substitute an anarchic or multi-hierarchical antiquity for the one, Catholic and Apostolic (but also Orthodox) Church, a post-Christian or anti-Christian pseudo-sacramental theory for Christian sacramental theory.
It’s true that the term “mystic” has often been used by many Catholics to denote sweet, worthless sentimentality; it should be rejected, as it always has been, if we read them right, in Catholic ascetic texts.
It’s also true that, especially in the West, society has been profaned, and the ecclesiastical structure has been no exception. But it’s not true that mysticism has disappeared; on the contrary, the veneration that constellated it in common sentiment has vanished; the sense of the supernatural has disappeared in the Church, whose all-too-human “organization” has succumbed too much to secular and academic positions that passed judgment on what they were not competent to judge. Condemnation of the Reformation, then of modernism, was not enough to stem the crisis.[6]
In some respects, all this corresponds to the degeneration Guénon spoke of, except that he was in fact far removed from Catholicism and incapable of perceiving mysticism, even that which was current in his day, to the point of being uninterested in mystics and reacting with contempt to Pouvourville’s (Matgioi) studies on Thérèse de Lisieux.
In the final analysis, it seems that Guénon himself has drawn an unbridgeable line between esotericism and mysticism. It’s enough to point this out for the problem to lose much of its substance.
8. The eighth chapter deals with Jewish esotericism, identified with the Kabbalah. It states that there is far too much material available, both true and false, i.e. there is a lot of occultist garbage, but it seems that an incredible number of Jewish manuscripts have not been published. La Fata traces the Kabbalah back to the mysticism of Merkavàh, linked to Ezekiel. It should be added that an equally ancient mysticism seems to be that of Bereshìth, linked to the beginning of Genesis. The reference texts are Séfer hazzohar and Séfer yetziràh.
The presentation given here seems to me, in its inevitable schematism, to be correct. Relying mainly on Scholem and Idel may perhaps pose a few problems, as the former has been much contested by traditional mequbbalìm, while the latter seems to be more of a historian of Kabbalah than a mequbbàl. In any case, they are great scholars, comparable to a Corbin, an Eliade or a Jung.
I point out that an analogy with the mystical experience of Merkavàh can be found in Ṛgveda X, 135, 3-4.
After focusing on Hebrew numerology, it is somewhat imprudent to say that “the Kabbalistic method of interpreting Scripture was taken up by the Fathers of the Christian Church”. In reality, only the concept of the “four meanings of Scripture” was retained. There is virtually no trace of numerology applied to the Bible in the Christian camp, except for the apocalyptic 666.
In any case, La Fata presents Kabbalah as a “science” and speaks of a “kabbalistic method”. While I can’t say this is untrue, I remain cautious, as such a formulation seems to give too much weight to human initiative, whereas man must essentially “receive”, hence the very term Kabbalah: “reception”.
But it is precisely the excess of data in academic study that leads to “systematization”, neglecting the spiritual data that is, after all, the only fundamental one. The mequbbàl will never be the one who knows and follows all the theories of the “Kabbalah manuals”, but the one who behaves according to what has been communicated to him by God.
Finally, I would add that perhaps more space should be given to esotericism in Hasidism, especially considering the great mystical and thaumaturgical importance of the founder, the Baʻal Šem-Ṭôv, about whom Buber has written excellent things along with many others and towards whose movement La Fata himself says he had “much sympathy”. Perhaps also to the esotericism in the life of a “good Pharisee”, since in the next chapter it will be said (p. 106) that the Pharisees were esotericists.
9. The ninth chapter is devoted to Islamic esotericism. Here too, the presentation seems correct, except that each of us would emphasize what seems closest to us. For example, I would not emphasize the “science of letters”, even though it is true that this discipline is directly linked to the Qur’ān. Ibn ʻArabī is certainly very important, but I feel closer to al-Ghazālī or Rūmī. Al-Ḥallāj is therefore the ‘Christic’ Sufi par excellence. I think here too La Fata is influenced by Guénon, for whom Ibn ʻArabī was the non plus ultra. Which he may be, but for a Westerner it’s difficult. On Shiism, the aforementioned Sohravardī, whom Corbin introduced us to, is indeed fascinating, and so are Corbin’s books on him and his themes.
As for the need for brotherhoods, La Fata rightly highlights the political or sectarian contamination that has characterized many of their vicissitudes, while just as rightly recalling their dhikr as a central worship practice.
10. The tenth chapter, longer than the others, is devoted to Christian esotericism.
First of all, we ask whether such Christian esotericism exists, and La Fata answers in the affirmative. Dismissing Gnosticism, syncretism (Pico della Mirandola) and Essenism (to which Christ himself would be reduced), he sees in Jesus himself the essence of esotericism, the Logos before the logoi.
Aldo says that the Church would have limited this in the past, but “opened it up” by the Second Vatican Council. I don’t think it’s wrong to say this, even if in many cases this “openness” has led to unwise, even unworthy formulations.
He then goes on to see in the acts by which Jesus conformed, directly or through his parents, to the customs of the time, initiatory manifestations, which seems to me sincerely superfluous. It’s true that he himself spoke in one way to “those who had no ears to hear” and in another way to those who did, like his direct disciples, but the thing, if you think about it, is quite natural. You talk to people about what they understand, unless you’re a poor man with a second-rate culture.
After quoting Jean Borella, who states that “in Christianity, esotericism and exotericism are inseparable”, it seems to me that the Panunzian consideration of Christian exotericism as “esotericism of esotericism” (p. 110) is very accurate. Reflections on Freemasonry and esotericism in the Protestant and Orthodox spheres are essentially concordant. Those on Christian neo-Platonism in modern times are perhaps more concerned with the philosophical realm.
Even and especially here, speaking of Christianity, I wonder again whether there is any sense in speaking of “Christian esotericism” or even “esotericism” in general, given the degeneracy to which the use of the term has reached; whether we couldn’t speak of “Spirit” and “Grace” without adding non-traditional terms in the Christian realm. But it’s true that to make ourselves understood by others, we have to mediate between the respective linguistic usages.
11. The eleventh chapter is devoted to Hindu esotericism. The data reported by La Fata are, of course, entirely correct from a historical point of view, except that one wonders why one should speak of esotericism, even here. It almost seems as if the term itself is the problem. Not even Guénon… Indeed, Aldo writes on page 121: “just as the Brahman was charged with ‘supervising’ the proper execution of the sacrificial rite, so Guénon has been in our time the overseer of the purity of the esoteric tradition and its doctrinal expression”. But who would have given Guénon this role, claimed by the Guénonians? No tradition can confer such an investiture. What’s more, it’s not the brāhmaṇa who “supervise” the performance of the rites, it’s the celebrants themselves, empowered to do so by their birth. This last point is certainly a degeneration, in the sense that caste should be the expression of inner qualities and not depend solely on birth, but the degeneration is an old one. Bruno Bérard’s later hypothesis that “the caste doctrine may have been an expedient to prevent a certain knowledge from reaching the people” can only be accepted if we understand that this knowledge was then necessarily already corrupted, for nothing can prevent the transmission of the divine “gift” to those deemed worthy of it. And the judge in this matter is God alone, not a priest or religious leader.
It seems that, because of the term “esotericism” and Guénon’s alleged role as “intermediary”, there is confusion between the “useful means” of the various schools and the spiritual secret towards which they should all be striving. Certainly, Hindus themselves have often succumbed to magical fetishes, either expressed in their tradition or syncretized in recent centuries with theosophical occultism; but this does not allow us to misunderstand the heart of Hindu tradition by limiting it to such things.
Certainly, there was a loss; when the British arrived in India, the situation of the Vedas was much the same as that of the Avesta in Iran: the traditional representatives no longer understood them. It was thanks to the Europeans, either because of the importance of their studies or in opposition to them, that the significance of the ancient traditions was rediscovered, often by proudly nationalistic figures such as Bal Gangadhar Tilak and Aurobindo. However, this rediscovery has not gone all the way, as much remains obscure.
Parallel to the decline in knowledge of the Vedas, the caste system, which had grown from four to hundreds or thousands, had established itself in an extremely pervasive way, which, unfortunately, still rigidifies Indian society in a flood of unnecessary constraints. Gandhi understood this and tried to do something about it, but he was killed by a “traditionalist”.
This makes the situation extremely confusing. Faced with the more traditionalist brāhmaṇa who perhaps still consider the mere fact of leaving India as a cause of impurity, there have been and are recognized spiritual masters who not only do not care about such things but, in some cases, exhort their disciples to expound the Sanātanadharma even in the West. This is the case, for example, of Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa, of Brahman caste and considered by his disciples to be the avatār of Rāma and Kṛṣṇa, who sent his principal disciple Vivekānanda – kṣatriya of ardent nature and a great saint in his turn, not displeasing Guénon. The same openness also characterizes Rāmaṇa Maharṣi, and it’s worth noting that his and Rāmakṛṣṇa’s “enlightenment” preceded all their “initiatory reconnection” (to put it Guénon’s way).
On the other hand, there are a number of “spiritual masters” of all castes linked to bhakti or yoga, who often travel the world and whose seriousness is sometimes more or less difficult to understand. When it comes to Tantra, then, interpretations have spread in the West that are neither in heaven nor on earth, as if it were simply about magic and sexual practices. Ideas are also confused about the relationship between Tantra, Yoga and Haṭhayoga.
For Guénon himself, “Tantra” was a kind of “fifth Veda”, but it’s quite true that under this name of Tantra are books of a very different nature. In any case, all are made for Hindus; it’s very difficult for a Westerner to penetrate their symbolic forest, their “twilight language” (sāndhyābhāṣā) and adapt to their ascetic pretensions (even in the rare cases where Hindu Tantras envisage actual sexual activity, with the wife most of the time, this is far from “free” but absolutely ritualized, in accordance with the indications of the ancient Bṛhadāraṇyakopaniṣad).
Yoga”, on the other hand, is apparently the simplest thing there is: it’s union with God, and to immerse oneself in it, all that’s needed, according to the oldest texts, is to adopt a posture (rather an inner one) that allows you to turn away from external distractions and enter into His consideration.
Haṭhayoga”, or “sun and moon yoga”, is an alchemical version of yoga that has often been mistaken for mere gymnastics and fascinates occultists because it promises those siddhi, or “powers”, that everyone is formally committed to rejecting, but which are easy to reject especially when you don’t possess them.
Of course, the great masters such as Rāmakṛṣṇa or Ramaṇa Maharṣi, even when they knew them on their path, never prescribed anyone to follow tantric practices or Haṭhayoga. What matters on the Vedic path, as on the Kabbalistic path of Merkavàh, is to facilitate the birth within oneself of a “vehicle” that will supernaturally take the soul to heaven at the moment of death.
La Fata rightly emphasizes the importance of “sacrifice”. Sacrifice is central to both the Vedas and Christianity, and it is just as difficult to grasp its meaning in the one as in the other. In other words, much has been said about it, but grasping its transmutative meaning seems anything but straightforward. It’s about something extremely archaic, which seems to be rooted in the timeless roots of history, a mystery of sharing that can probably only be illuminated for man by a divine concession.
When it comes to Upaniṣad, Vedānta, Yoga and Śaṅkara, Aldo follows Guénon’s version, which has its merits and faults. From my point of view, calling Vedānta more esoteric than Yoga makes no sense, but it depends on the different meanings given to the terms. What’s more, we always forget to remember that perhaps the most representative text of Hinduism today, the Bhagavadgītā, is not an expression of Śaṅkara’s Advaitavedānta, but of Rāmānuja’s Viśiṣtādvaitavedānta[7] .
12. The twelfth chapter deals with Buddhist esotericism. Here, the discourse is fairly general, with correct things being said about both the Buddha and the practices of the various schools. With regard to the relationship between Buddhism and Hinduism, mention is made of Guénon’s initially negative interpretation, later partially corrected under the influence of Coomaraswamy.
Mention is also made of Radhakrishnan’s opinion that he didn’t see much difference between the aim of Upaniṣad and that of Buddhism, which in fact differed not so much in terms of meditative practice as in the fact that Buddhists rejected the Vedas and sacrifices.
In fact, the use of the term “esotericism” is likely to be particularly superfluous here, since Buddhism is essentially a monkish tradition, of which only a watered-down version seems to be transmitted to the masses. This applies to all forms of Buddhism, from Theravāda to Mahāyāna to Vajrayāna.
As far as the latter are concerned, La Fata and Bérard perhaps give a little too much credence to certain rumours about their “dark” aspects, which are probably misunderstandings linked to the mixing of Tibetan Buddhism with shamanic Bön or black magic (see the case of Milarepa). These obscure aspects have been overestimated in the West, first by Blavatsky and David-Néel, then by Christian scholars who mistook the “guardian spirits” for demons, and finally by some occultist huckster wanting to appear particularly charming or some fantastic (and esoteric) writer like Meyrink. Add to this tantric practices involving sex (which, unlike certain Hindu analogues, do not involve the emission of semen) and the mysterious apocalyptic teaching of the Kālacakratantra, of which the Panchen Lama (spiritually superior to the Dalai Lama[8] ) is the main master, even if lately we’re only talking about the initiations given by the Dalai Lama (and here there would be some fine considerations to make)[9] ….
13. The thirteenth chapter deals with Taoist esotericism[10] . The explanations are correct and essential, with interesting cultural references for Western scholars. I would just like to point out that it may not be appropriate to make such a clear distinction between Taoism, Confucianism and Chinese folk religion. In fact, they all seem to be perfectly acceptable manifestations of the one ancient Chinese tradition that worshipped Heaven. There’s nothing more Taoist, for example, than the Yijing, which is nonetheless part of the Confucian canon and was commented on by Confucius and Taoist alchemists alike. Taoism and Confucianism subsequently incorporated and ritualized a number of folk traditions.
Taoism is considered to be particularly esoteric because of its traditions concerning the “Immortals”, the various family traditions handed down from father to son (Michael Saso spoke of the “magic of thunder”), and internal alchemy (related to the alchemical traditions of the Tamil Nadu siddhars, notably through the Bogar siddha). In short, because it is more “spectacular” than Confucianism, not only for having produced such marvels of synthesis as the Daodejing[11] . But if we delve deeper, we discover, in my opinion common to the entire Chinese world, an organic vision of the world founded on a sense of balance and an almost invincible spiritual strategy. It’s not for nothing that their civilization has lasted for at least three thousand years.
14. The fourteenth chapter talks about “modern esotericism”. It’s a bit like shooting the Red Cross… La Fata says many interesting things about New Age, occultism and anti-Catholic fanaticism. He even talks about ufomaniacs. With Bérard, he goes on to show that the myth of the “unknown superiors”, which has taken up so much space in countless pseudo-esoteric groups, is in fact an ape of the “communion of saints”.
“The question is,” says La Fata, “whether there are individuals who have reached the highest peaks of spiritual realization, endowed perhaps with longevity or even immortality, like the wandering Jew or the prophet Elijah, Saint John, ‘the disciple who would never die’, the Count of Saint-Germain or Fulcanelli. Guénon, in Le roi du monde, quoting Ibn ʻArabī, speaks of a “hierarchy of saints” and “guardians of the world”. After all, it’s not a very different idea from what we Christians call communio sanctorum (communion of saints).”
However, following in Guénon’s footsteps, even in the face of general degradation Aldo tends to rescue the role of Freemasonry, even though it is not accessible to Catholics because of the excommunication of 1738, by assuming that in a part of it the true “initiatory transmissions” are still hidden. On this basis, he lists a series of cultural references more or less close to Guénon, almost all of them excellent, but none of which, it seems to me, can be lightly regarded as a “saint” from whom spiritual profit can be expected “by word of mouth”.
15. The fifteenth chapter is devoted to “esotericism and metaphysics”. Aldo says (p. 167): “Simplifying, I’d say that metaphysics is the fullness of Truth, and therefore the end, while esotericism is a path by which it can be reached”. Then Bruno Bérard asks: “If the pure intellect is the organ of metaphysics, what is the organ of the intellect?” and he replies that, in agreement with Corbin, it is the creative imagination, but “we must not confuse the imaginary with the imaginal”.
It’s a beautiful answer, which clearly defines a precise area of the psyche or mind in which something must be constructed imaginatively according to certain traditional rules, in accordance with the needs of the pure intellect.
Esoteric cosmology is then described as a reality that encompasses both the visible and the invisible. The means to this end is the “Symbol as Appearance and Epiphany of Spiritual Truth”. Of course, this must be achieved, and it might be important at this point to emphasize the need for a compliant ethical disposition. Then, the union of metaphysics and esotericism should enable one to “die before dying”, to “die to oneself” (kill the nafs, as the Sufis would say), to perform a “catabasis” (descent into hell) as a prelude to “anabasis” (ascent into heaven). Then there would be the case of those who, having descended, cannot ascend again, and this is what would identify the “counter-initiated”, in Guénon’s terminology, or more simply – I would add – the “damned”, if we understand that they are so precisely because they have “descended” with an ethical disposition that is not in conformity. La Fata and Bérard are convinced that a metaphysical perspective saves them from this bad fate, which we can also accept, given that a metaphysical understanding without a conforming ethical disposition is itself impossible.
As for the definition of metaphysics as something that lies beyond all religion as religio perennis, I agree to a certain extent, in the sense that this religio perennis seems to me not so much a vision in itself as a mode of vision that informs all religion if it is grasped with the eye of metaphysics, that is, of true gnosis. I mean, there’s no such thing as a super-religion, but rather a vision freed from forms, capable of recognizing the truth in each of them. But I believe that this is ultimately, expressed in other terms, the very idea of the two authors of this book.
16. The sixteenth chapter, entitled “Esotericism and ‘cognitive humility'”, makes a series of very useful recommendations. First, he reminds us that “truth only begins to appear when man learns to see things from above, or, as Spinoza suggested, sub specie aeternitatis“. He then points out the risk of pride, to which all false esotericists succumb, but also Catholics who are too firm in their own positions, accusing even “true esotericists” of hybris. Awareness of this makes it inevitable to acquire a certain cognitive humility and prudence. Arrogance cannot coexist with esotericism. La Fata inserts here what seems to me to be an overestimation of Guénon as “guardian of orthodoxy”, with which, as I have already expressed, I strongly disagree, even though I recognize that he has helped to clarify many issues, while himself creating problems, particularly with regard to Christianity.
Aldo goes on to talk about the character of certain authors close to Guénon: Reghini, intemperate towards Christianity, Titus Burckhardt and Coomaraswamy, excellent and also more balanced in character. In any case, all three were excellent scholars. He could go on to quote a host of arrogant, pretentious Guénonians (there are far too many) but, charitably, he doesn’t…
17. The final chapter is entitled “What is Esotericism?” Conclusions are drawn, summarized. It is emphasized that such a question is best answered by silence.
In any case, to speak of esotericism would have the advantage or purpose of “persuading us of the existence of a hidden reality, removed from our sight and senses, or even ignored because hidden or deliberately concealed” (p. 188). As for “esotericism”, “the best esotericists are those who take esotericism very seriously and are animated, so to speak, by a spirit of quasi-religious fervor” (p. 189). In this respect, he cites Jung and, somewhat in relation to him, Kerényi, Camp-bell, Hillman and Eliade. Then he cites Evola and Elémire Zolla, and of course, above all, Guénon.
Bérard then asks him about current esotericists, and La Fata mentions the Frenchmen Jean-Pierre Brach and Jean-Pierre Laurant, as well as the Austrian Thomas Hakl. Asked about the Italians, he does me the honor – and I thank him from the bottom of my heart – of mentioning my name alongside those of the more famous and excellent Alessandro Grossato, Nuccio D’Anna and Claudio Lanzi. He goes on to talk about talented scholars he has met but who have never written anything.
Still pondering the most attractive definition of esotericism for ordinary mortals, La Fata refers to it as “that Way which will familiarize him with the invisible, or rather with the Soul”. Perfection on this path, however, is reserved for the very few.
Bérard recalls the thesis that Guénon’s esotericism is a “priestly” esotericism[12] while Evola’s, for example, is a “warrior” esotericism. La Fata acknowledges that esotericism is “a plural reality” (p.193), even if it currently suffers greatly from the dominance of materialistic or spiritually unrealistic worldviews.
In this regard, Bérard states that “The doctrine of the resurrection of the flesh, as we know it in Christianity, resolves by integration the artificial separation of spirit and matter” (p. 194), a point on which La Fata agrees, noting however – rightly – that it is sometimes Christians themselves who forget this doctrine.
We conclude with the possibility of esotericism mediating between science and religion. As things stand, Aldo La Fata hardly believes this, and I’m not convinced either.
The book also contains a “sefirotic tree”, with a short description by Leo Schaya and an afterword by Jean-Pierre Brach explaining the reasons for this work and commenting on certain aspects.
He deals in his own way with the historical possibility of Christian esotericism, without however “concealing the almost total absence of documentary evidence to establish the actual historical continuity of such traditions, or the exact nature of the techniques or means used in this context” (p. 200).
He then refers to the importance of the doctrine of the “transcendent intellect”, “of certain theologians of the Russian Orthodox diaspora, particularly the French” (ibid.). He then refers to the need for spiritual transformation, common to the various traditions, developing the emergence in the Pietist sphere in the XVIIe century of certain doctrines of inner alchemy, while pointing out that the occultism of the XIXe century was in some ways very “socially creative”, developing new themes and opposing institutionalized traditions.
He concludes by stating that “esotericism seems above all to mobilize a multiplicity of highly personal and refined apprehensions, corresponding to as many orientations proper to the spiritual life” (p. 202), with which, at least in the best cases, I can only agree.
On the whole, despite the “distinctions” I have made here and there, I can only regard this book as extremely interesting, both for the moderation and competence with which the various subjects have been treated, and for the attention paid to established traditions, in respect of which imprudent statements have been avoided. Which isn’t strange after all, considering the extreme balance that characterizes the work and personality of Aldo La Fata, whom I know well, but also, I think, of Bruno Bérard, whom I know less.
My own disagreements were expressed with the intention of “integrating” and “proposing”, certainly not “opposing”. Let’s just say that, compared to Aldo, I’m less enamored of the term “esotericism” and more critical of Guénon, whose merits I recognize but whom I don’t consider a guarantor of orthodoxy. For the rest, Aldo’s free and heuristic approach to these matters is perfectly acceptable to me.
20/7/2024
[1] Here (p. 9), Aldo has been kind enough to quote me in glowing terms, for which I thank him. Indeed, I dealt with the issue in similar terms in my article “A strange impression”, http://www.superzeko.net/doc_dariochioli_saggistica/DarioChioliQuestaStranaImpressione.pdf.
[2] See my review of his book on Silvano Panunzio: http://www.superzeko.net/doc_dariochioli_saggistica/DarioChioliRecensioneAlNuovoLibroDiAldoLaFataSuSilvanoPanunzio.pdf
[3] Aldo La Fata points out a typo, for the benefit of those who will also be reading this report: in the first line of page 59, “John the Evangelist” should be replaced by “John the Baptist”.
[4] See my review of this book: http://www.superzeko.net/doc_dariochioli_saggistica/DarioChioliRecensioneAlNuovoLibroDiAldoLaFataSuSilvanoPanunzio.pdf.
[5] In this respect, there may be extremely particular modes of transmission, such as those that generate an immediate ecstatic experience through contact; I’m thinking of what Abhinavagupta wrote on this subject in the Tantrāloka or what is said of Saint Seraphim of Sarov in the Colloquium with Motovilov. But casuistry in this respect is much broader.
[6] On the other hand, I see the development of Catholic Mariology over the last few centuries as a path to salvation, i.e., as a genuine exorcism of the diabolical inspirations underlying common decadence. Mariology dialogues in a non-mental way with an inner “maternal”aspect of the human being that is beyond the reach of deception.
[7] Non-dualism in distinction” maintains the relationship between the human soul and God.
[8] The Panchen Lama is an emanation (tulku) of Amitābha Buddha, while the Dalai Lama is “only” an emanation of the Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara. They also have the task of recognizing each other’s tulku.
[9] As far as Kālacakra is concerned, Jurij Nikolaevič Roerich published The Blue Annals in 1949, a fine volume that could – perhaps – be of practical use to a particularly erudite and experienced Tibetan monk cartographer and linguist, but hardly to anyone else, and is the main source on Śambhala traditions, from which those on whom Guénon based his King of the World probably derived the idea for the various Asgartha (Jacolliot), Agarttha (Saint-Yves d’Alveydre), Agartthâ (Sédir) and Agharti (Ossendowski). Jacolliot probably recycled the Śambhala legends by linking them to the Nordic Ásgarðr, Saint-Yves took from him, Sédir and Ossendowski from Saint-Yves. And Guénon took the bait without checking….
[10] I would like to point out, for a future reprint, that the first sentence on page 146 is unfortunately incomplete. Aldo La Fata informs me that it should be completed as follows: “something that makes things be and is at the same time a way of being things”.
[11] Not only spiritual, he also produced Sunzi’s masterpiece of military strategy on the art of war.
[12] As far as Guénon is concerned, my opinion is partly different. Le Roi du Monde seems to me at least to be a work of absolutely kṣatriya character, to be compared perhaps with the Grail romances. The same applies to his early activism in various occult groups.