Eisenstadt would have dealt with all these post-axial complications by invoking secondary, or even tertiary, breakthroughs, and Assmann shows that he is aware of this when he complains that breakthroughs in different civilizations and under different conditions have led to “an unnecessary mystification of the historical evidence.” It is undoubtedly true that the importation of transcendent visions into the management of worldly (“mundane”) affairs, as represented, for example, by Constantine the Great after his conversion to Christianity, caused major changes in world history, but trying to distill this process into an axial theory can produce something far worse than mystification.
The essay by Ingolf Dalferth is a case in point. It was not written for the Erfurt conference and would certainly have been incomprehensible if it had been presented there. In print it is a ludicrous parody of philosophical prose. Here is a sample:
By distinguishing itself from itself the Transcendent becomes the Unconditioned that, without ceasing to be the Transcendent, constitutes the difference between Immanence and Absolute Transcendence not merely by distinguishing itself from Immanence (Immanence/Absolute Transcendence) but rather by breaking into the Immanent in such a way that its reentry makes it impossible not to distinguish between immanence and transcendence within Immanence (immanent immanence/ transcending immanence).
The ineradicable flaw in Jaspers’s theory of an Axial Age is the same as the flaw in the nineteenth-century European view of Christ’s advent as the greatest turning point in world history. Although taking full account of China, India, and Judaea, it envisions global history exclusively from the perspective of Western experience and perceptions. This is the way the history of the world looked or looks even now to many Europeans, or, for that matter, non-Europeans like Eisenstadt himself, educated in the European tradition. The only difference is that Jaspers has removed Christ from center stage and put Confucius, Buddha, Isaiah, and Plato there instead. Christ’s centrality was largely owing to Christian historians and philosophers in the West.
It was a generous instinct on the part of a European such as Jaspers to replace him with spiritual leaders in China, India, and Greece, to say nothing of the biblical prophets, but only as they were understood in Western Europe in the twentieth century. Reverence for all of these figures among their own followers in their own societies has been no less sectarian, regional, and parochial than the reverence of Christians for Christ. Although what Jaspers proposed was, if not altogether new, very different, in the end it was as Eurocentric as the doctrine he wanted to subvert. In addition, it elevated synchronicity, which Jaspers explicitly defended in his analysis, into a historical tool of questionable legitimacy.
Historians simply cannot resist chronological units. These units, which rarely have any intrinsic coherence of their own, undoubtedly help us in thinking about the chaotic and unceasing flow of historical events, personalities, ideas, and movements. We speak confidently about decades (the Thirties or the Sixties) or of centuries (the eighteenth century, or even the long eighteenth century) as if such entirely artificial constructs conferred some kind of meaning on what happened in those time frames. Sometimes simultaneity or contemporaneity are actually meaningful, but often they are no more than coincidence. Jaspers’s insight into the spiritual developments of the mid-first millennium BC across a considerable geographical space should not blind us to the fact that, so far as we know, nothing comparable was going on in that allegedly transformative period in Russia, Scandinavia, Africa, North and South America, or, in fact, Europe itself to the west of Greece.
Yet archaeology has revealed important cultural and social changes that might reasonably expand the debate about the Axial Age. Jaspers, like von Lasaulx, wrote as a philosopher, but in promoting his “pivotal” age he was trying to rewrite history itself and not merely think about it. Eisenstadt, Bellah, and others have responded to his challenge by deploying the conceptual methods of sociology, but they have not enriched their analysis with the abundant evidence that archaeology has provided, particularly in the decades after Jaspers wrote. They concentrate largely on the written record, which is, as Assmann stresses, inevitably later than the time it evokes. The construction of history from archaeological evidence has proceeded vigorously since Jaspers’s day, and conspicuously in areas he ignored, such as Mesopotamia, Mesoamerica, Russia, and Western Europe.
If the Axial Age is not to be simply a replay of history with special reference to its greatest men (Jaspers’s heroes were all men), we need to look not only at other regions than the four with which Bellah concluded his book on religion in human evolution—China, India, Greece, and ancient Israel, or even a fifth (Iran) on the old dating for Zoroaster. We need also to look at the material evidence both inside and outside those regions.
Peter S. Wells offers a useful worm’s-eye perspective in his new book, How Ancient Europeans Saw the World, in which he concentrates on cultural change as revealed in humble objects, such as pots, swords, and coins, found in graves.1 K.C. Chang and his school have fostered Chinese archaeology in the West, but it has also been energetically cultivated in China itself. Mesopotamian archaeology has major implications for the axial millennium, and the Mesoamerican civilizations of Teotihuacán and the Maya raise serious questions about the axial hypothesis. It is hard to find traces of these ancient civilizations in most of the writing that has been devoted to Jaspers. Although Jaspers himself was totally innocent of archaeology, his book’s crude diagram of the global world of mankind does find a marginal place for Peru, Mexico, and black Africa, which are all embarrassingly relegated to the category of Naturvölker (nature peoples).
The great age of ancient Mesopotamia falls largely, though not completely, before the axial frame, but its achievements in political organization, literacy, statecraft, and literature were considerable and included the epic of Gilgamesh, which would be a worthy companion to the works that Jaspers cites. Our knowledge of its civilization has been vastly enlarged by the discovery of the library of the Assyrian king Ashurbanipal (reigned 668–627 BC), which itself dates from the Axial Age but preserves precious texts from a far earlier time. When it comes to pre-axial Egypt, Assmann is clearly aware of the archaeological and monumental testimony for this period, but he too is more interested in concepts and texts than in the history that can be built up from the ground.
Unlike Mesopotamia and Egypt, the ancient civilizations of Mesoamerica reached their peak many centuries after the Axial Age, and it would be hard to claim from the archaeological evidence that they constitute any kind of “breakthrough” or institutionalization of a transcendental vision. Yet their monuments and their religions flourished well into the period that we now call Late Antiquity, and both the Maya and Teotihuacán came to an end in circumstances that are still unclear, although the latter succumbed to a devastating fire. The sociologists who follow Jaspers have tended not to talk about this, partly because of his neglect of archaeology. But there was a revealing intervention from Shmuel Eisenstadt at a colloquium in Santa Fe in 1982. This meeting was devoted to a wide-ranging discussion of the collapse of ancient states and civilizations, and it included several of the most authoritative archaeologists working in Mesopotamia and Mesoamerica.
Eisenstadt posed the question of irreversible collapse as opposed to collapse with a possibility of regeneration or renewal. He claimed, with good reason, that both the Roman Empire and the Han Empire carried within themselves the seeds of regeneration when they came to an end, and therefore that they did not suffer total extinction. Inasmuch as these were both civilizations that came after the Axial Age, this meant for Eisenstadt that they had somehow acquired the ability to reflect on themselves by reference to lofty shared visions, and thereby to reshape themselves and establish a continuity with their former existence. By contrast, according to Eisenstadt, pre-axial civilizations were unable to do this:
In the great civilizations of the Axial Age (especially the Greek, Roman, Jewish, Christian, Chinese, Hindu, and Buddhist ones), however, collapse contains within it the seeds of likely reconstructions.2
But unfortunately, Eisenstadt explicitly linked Mesopotamia, the Maya, and Teotihuacán as older, ancient civilizations and therefore pre-axial. This serious mistake undermined not only his analysis but the whole interpretation of collapse in Jaspers’s terms. Mesopotamia was undoubtedly, for the most part, pre-axial, but the Maya and Teotihuacán cultures were clearly not and cannot be described, in Eisenstadt’s words, as “older” ancient civilizations. If archaeology had been brought into the discussion of the Axial Age, as it was into the Santa Fe discussions of collapse, the treatment of the Axial Age in the Bellah-Joas volume of essays from Erfurt might have looked very different.
The Axial Age ultimately represents a desperate attempt by a German philosopher after World War II to break the tyranny of the nineteenth-century European partition of human history into pre- and post-Christian epochs. Jaspers wanted commendably to look outside the European world he knew into a much larger world that encompassed China, India, and the Middle East. Yet he had no interest in looking anywhere else on the globe, even though he believed he was adopting a global perspective. While rejecting the old Eurocentric view, he clung resolutely to the idea of great civilizations. He rejected what he saw as a nineteenth-century positivism that gave equal importance to any people in any place and mockingly summarized this view when he wrote:
History is where people live. World history spans the globe in time and space. It is organized geographically in space. It took place everywhere on earth. The struggles of blacks in the Sudan are on the same historical level as Marathon and Salamis.
Jaspers’s mockery of such a perspective is ironic in view of the development of cultural anthropology in the second half of the twentieth century. The perspective that he found uncongenial soon acquired currency among anthropologists who, on the basis of their field work, examined patterns of human behavior in the most obscure and neglected cultures. Clifford Geertz’s analysis of the Balinese cockfight is perhaps the most famous example of this kind of thing. The title of his book After the Fact points to his interest in moving beyond historical descriptions based on texts and facts, which was so fundamental to Jaspers and his philosophy. Since cultural relativism was not to Jaspers’s taste, it took courage for a sociologist like Bellah, who is heavily indebted to the axial hypothesis, to examine less famous or resplendent cultures in his quest for an evolutionary explanation of religion. Half of his recent book on religion in human evolution is devoted to the palaeolithic period.
In searching for an alternative to the division of world history into pre-Christian and Christian time, Jaspers created a much broader worldview, but stimulating as it is, it is not in itself a breakthrough. His influential book emerged in the twilight zone between philosophy and history, and it remains there still. It has attracted lively and enduring interest from sociologists, but at the same time little attention, with some notable exceptions, from philosophers and historians. This mixed reception may be seen both as proof of its fecundity and as skepticism about its argument.
1 Peter S. Wells, How Ancient Europeans Saw the World: Vision, Patterns, and the Shaping of the Mind in Prehistoric Times (Princeton University Press, 2012). ↩
2 The Collapse of Ancient States and Civilizations, edited by Norman Yoffee and George L. Cowgill (University of Arizona Press, 1988), pp. 242–243. ↩
Peter S. Wells, How Ancient Europeans Saw the World: Vision, Patterns, and the Shaping of the Mind in Prehistoric Times (Princeton University Press, 2012). ↩
The Collapse of Ancient States and Civilizations, edited by Norman Yoffee and George L. Cowgill (University of Arizona Press, 1988), pp. 242–243. ↩