“Don’t immanentise the eschaton!”

Such was the caution issued by the political philosopher Eric Voegelin (né Erich Hermann Wilhelm Vögelin) with his Germanic heavy-handedness.

Adding the lighter touch demanded by his second language, English, this simply means: “Don’t try to create heaven on earth.” The Kingdom of God is an eschatological ideal, not a how-to guide to running world affairs.

That was a grave error committed by, inter alia, Tolstoy who insisted that political life be organised according to the Sermon on the Mount (hence his pet idea of non-resistance). Tolstoy tried to turn the commandments of one kingdom, that of God, into the constitution of another, that of the Caesar, an attempt doomed to failure even theoretically, never mind in practice.

A keen observer if a poor thinker, Tolstoy saw that his plea was being ignored so consistently that it was obviously going to be ignored in perpetuity. That observation led him to out-and-out nihilism, with him flailing away at, well, everything: the state in general, every state in particular, the West, capitalism, art, property, sex, marriage – and even the author of his favourite sermon. (For details, I selfishly recommend my book God and Man According to Tolstoy.)

However, the other road, that of a political society devoid of any shared ideals, preferably noble ones, leads to the same destination, nihilism. This understanding goes back to Aristotle, with his concept of homonoia, which can be loosely translated as ‘like-mindedness’.

This brings to mind the only words in the Declaration of Independence I really like: “We hold these truths to be self-evident…”. A nation does become a nation when a general understanding exists of what truths are indeed self-evident. That’s what turns a population into a people.

Homonoia is a sort of catalytic converter, turning an aggregate of atomised individuals into a political society or, to use today’s buzz word, a community. Like-mindedness here cuts deeper than simply so many people agreeing on so many policies.

Homonoia is a widely shared understanding of what it means to be a human being and, consequently, what kind of political arrangement should result from this understanding. It was clear to Aristotle, and Plato before him, that an erosion of homonoia would lead to a collapse of the state or, broader, civilisation.

Such like-mindedness can’t be legislated by government and enforced by coercion. It has to come from a collective understanding of common interests ultimately based on a shared metaphysical core.

Aristotle’s idea laid a foundation for all subsequent political theory, especially the kind that deals with civilisations rather than just the rough-and-tumble of electoral jousts. Thus, for example, Tocqueville:

“It is easy to see that no society will prosper without such belief… For without ideas in common, no common action would be possible, and without common action, men might exist, but there could be no body social.”

That was written before the nuclear age, hence Tocqueville’s optimism. When homonoia disintegrates these days, the result may be the demise not only of body social, but also of body physical.

While no state can be run on the Sermon on the Mount, Western civilisation was held together for many centuries by the spiritual premise of Christianity. That didn’t rid people of sin, including their propensity to kill one another, but it did create a cogent society sharing the same inner core.

Our civilisation didn’t become perfect but at least it became viable. Apocalyptic disasters, such as the two world wars, only happened when the West’s homonoia developed cracks.

It’s as clear as it is lamentable that Christianity no longer acts as homonoia in our civilisation. But what does? Anything?

If the answer to these questions is ‘nothing’, which seems plausible, then we are in deep trouble. Following Voegelin’s advice and rejecting Tolstoy’s pleas, we have refused to “immanentise the eschaton”. So what homonoia do we immanentise? (Yes, I agree: Voegelin’s word is unwieldy, but I did tell you he was German.)

What is the common spiritual core that holds our civilisation together, preventing the atoms of individual countries, parties or even people from spinning out of the collective molecule?

Since I’m writing a short article rather than a long book, I have to skip the intermediate steps and put my conclusion up front. As is becoming more blindingly obvious every day, Western man has been able to oust Christianity as his homonoia, but not to replace it.

Belief in the eschatological nature of liberal democracy, enunciated with particular obtuseness by Francis Fukuyama, doesn’t hold water. Western people pay lip service to it by rote, but deep down they see that these days democracy run riot is less likely to bring people together than to tear them asunder.

Trump’s shenanigans leave little doubt on that score – he is illustrating with every word and deed the divisive nature of today’s democracy. In the distant past, most people sensed that, even if their views were different, their interests weren’t. Underneath it all they shared a Mowgli-like understanding: “We be of one blood, thou and I”. Today, people holding different views look at one another through the red mist of hatred.

The West lost its homonoia long ago, but in the absence of a deadly crisis it has been able to paper some of the cracks. Now that a deadly crisis is looming, the cracks are becoming too wide to cover with pretence.

I am genuinely worried that we may not survive. This isn’t alarmist panic-mongering but simply an observation that a deadly danger exists. We may find a way around it or we may not, but denying it exists makes the second possibility more likely than the first.

Believing that unlike other great civilisations in history ours is immune to destruction is foolish arrogance at its most soaring. Ask those old Babylonians, Egyptians, Athenians and Romans for confirmation – they’ll tell you what’s what, shouting from their graves.