The conclusion traces a history of religious gesture from the mid-seventeenth century to the present day. This period saw major changes in gesture and bodily habitus which we could characterise in three ways. First, there is the decline of uniformity, that is, the gradual abandonment of attempts to enforce bodily uniformity as a means of social discipline, whether in religious worship or in other forms of collective social activity. Secondly, there is the process that sociologists have labelled the decline of deference, whereby individuals in the modern West are, for the most part, no longer required to kneel or bow to social superiors, or to use gestures of reverence in sacred spaces. Lastly, there is the decline of formality, a growing discomfort with formal ritual which could also be described in terms of interiority or individualism, as a belief that the mind rather than the body is the true locus of selfhood. In all these respects it would be rather easy to see the world of early modern religion described in this book as a world we have lost. But I want to argue that this model is unsatisfactory, or at least incomplete.

Haitian poetry experienced a shift, beginning as early as the 1870s, away from nationally inspired themes toward a greater insistence on poetic form and a penchant for contemplative verse. Poets often pondered abstract notions like the passage of time or the mysteries of nature. Other times they chose to write from the anguish of personal experience, mourning the loss of love to death or betrayal. Their melancholic reflections were not necessarily devoid of politics. Poets Virginie Sampeur, Massillon Coicou, and Etzer Vilaire composed their own eclectic poetry years before contributing to the famous journal La Ronde. Theirs is a poetics of ‘disenchantment’, a term that permeates the pages of the journal and characterizes their reactions to Haiti’s distressing domestic and international political situation. I offer an assessment of these three key poets and of the journal, affirming and going beyond the idea of the ‘understated political aspect’ of the movement. I demonstrate that the politics occasioning and emanating from this poetry embody distinctly Haitian calls for literary perseverance, a prescient battle for national preservation to which La Ronde is dedicated.

This chapter delves into the profound interplay between Haitian revolutionary history, literature, and the broader context of global romanticism. Drawing on the pivotal work Le Romantisme en Haïti: La vie intellectuelle, 1804-1915 by Dolcé, Dorval, and Casthely, it critiques the dominance of Western thought and the triumph of Eurocentrism in global romanticism. Through a meticulous exploration of Haiti’s post-independence history and its relationship to French colonialism, it asserts the emergence of a distinctly national form of romanticism deeply entrenched in the country’s intellectual and literary evolution. Tracing the trajectory of Haitian romanticism from its roots in the Haitian Acte de l’Indépendance to the commencement of the US Occupation, it argues that Haitian poets’ blending of politics, history, and literary creation resonated with, at the same time as it transcended, romantic ideals popular in the British and French traditions. Fusing historical scholarship and literary critique, the chapter aims to reshape perceptions of Haitian intellectual history, unearthing the obscured ties between revolutionary actions, poetic expression, and the global romantic movement.

This introduction broaches the question of how naturalism rose to dominance in the modern West. Naturalism in this context is understood as a rejection of belief in the supernatural. This distinctive feature of Western modernity is at odds, not only with its own religious past, but also with what has been true for virtually all other cultures. Whereas it was once impossible not to assume the existence of the supernatural, this has now become one option among others, and one that is typically thought to be lacking in rational support. The book seeks to account for this unique historical development in two related ways. First, it explores the histories of the two key terms in this understanding—‘belief’ and ‘supernatural’—showing how they came to take on their present meanings in the modern period. Second, it shows how advocates of naturalism necessarily subscribe to a progressive view of history that can vindicate the adoption of these two categories in their modern sense.

The progressive thinkers of the Enlightenment rejected Christian Europe’s standard Stories which justified rule by monarchs, aristocrats, and clergy. They promoted instead reason rather than tradition and science rather than theology. Their faith in human agency, as expressed by thinkers such as Voltaire, Diderot, Jefferson, Madison, and Hamilton, amounted to a project based on Humanism. Later, Max Weber pointed out that this part of the Enlightenment amounted to an onset of disenchantment.

Taken as a whole the story told in this book is one of disembodiment, a loss of body. As such it corresponds to other stories of alienation told by sociologists. Yet restoring what has been lost is fraught with dangers. We cannot readily go back, and attempts to do so have had disastrous consequences. It is not enough to simply add physical exercises to our daily routine. Instead, we need once again to take movements seriously as intentional acts.

The landscape of contemporary religious ecology is presented in this article as a variety of responses to disenchantment and what Lynn White identified as the theological roots of environmental ruin (Biblical divine transcendence and human exceptionality). The various positions are mapped in terms of those who deny divine transcendence and make nature, either as actually or only potentially infinite, the highest (pantheists); those who deny divine unicity and return to a pre-Christian, “enchanted” nature (neo-pagans); and those who defend in various ways the ecology of the Biblical account of creation (Jewish, Muslim, and Christian monotheists).

Can we make sense of the idea that nature imposes certain limits on our activities? Seemingly not if we accept the disenchanted conception of nature that goes hand in hand with scientific naturalism, for it is typical of such a picture that the only source of value is to be found in our desires or utilities, and that it makes no sense to suppose that our activities could be normatively constrained from without – as would be the case if there were an external source of value. My aim in what follows is to explore the possibility of defending this realist picture without inviting the charge that we have succumbed to a speculative metaphysics. To put in the terms presupposed by the typical naturalistic philosopher, the question is whether we can make sense of the idea that nature imposes certain limits on our activities without endorsing supernaturalism. The terms ‘naturalism’ and ‘supernaturalism’ tend to be treated as antonyms, but they have various significations and one of my tasks will be to disambiguate them, to agree with the naturalist that supernaturalism can be suspect, but deny that it follows from this that there is no external source of value, nor that we must be atheists, nor even that the term ‘supernaturalism’ should be dispensed with.

Chapter 6 shows The Tempest dispersing instances of the aesthetic-utopian and instrumental political power throughout until a remarkable ending imposes a tragicomic aesthetic over all other materials in the play. In describing the disenchanted early modern world with fantasies of enchantment, in representing instrumental reason as magical manipulation of natural spirits, and in manifesting the power of aesthetic representations to heal, restore, and regenerate a fallen humanity, the play is one of Shakespeare’s consummate examples of the aesthetic-utopian. At the center of the play is the master–slave pair Prospero and Caliban. Each is a deposed sovereign in a narrative of betrayal, forming the center of two (fragmentary) dramas that are each an essential part of the larger play. And in the play’s implied after-time, both are restored to their former polities as sovereigns. And both see something of the foolishness of the political struggles in which they had lived so long. As such, they are important parts of the aesthetic-utopian in the play’s conclusion, which does not so much defeat the political as declare it irrelevant to the play’s ultimate aesthetic-utopian vision.

This chapter considers one of the major alternatives to reductionist, mechanistic philosophy in the seventeenth century, focusing upon three key English figures: Herbert of Cherbury, Robert Greville, and Anne Conway. While these thinkers have typically been relegated to the margins of the history of philosophy and science, they nonetheless represent a significant, if largely eclipsed tradition, and one that shows how, during this period, ‘disenchanted’ understandings of nature were not the sole option, and how they could co-exist with scientific conceptions of nature. Accordingly, these figures exemplify ways of being modern and scientific without abandoning an ‘enchanted’ view of the natural world.

Weber’s thesis of the disenchantment of the world is interpreted as “we-prison” in Dialogical Self Theory (DST). As a counter-example, the phenomenon of awe is presented as an experience that opens the self to the wider universe. In that context, Martin Buber’s work on spirituality and Rollo May’s work on creativity are compared. The shadow sides of mystical experiences are outlined and compared with psychotic states of the mind. The work of Aldous Huxley who described the workings of mescaline as a facilitator of mystical insight is presented. Mystical experiences change the so-called “minimal self” on a more basic sensorial level, and they differ from the narrating and the positioning self. Furthermore, Donald Crosby’s “perspectivism” is incorporated in DST under the heading of “positionalism.” As a practical implication, specific guidelines are presented in order to open the self to the experience of awe as a first step to the “depositioning” of the self.

A term like “environment” communicates that a place is something that “surrounds” people. As such, environments are “outside” and separate from what a human being is. In this chapter, Wirzba argues that this way of speaking distorts our humanity because it does not adequately appreciate how deeply entangled people are in their places, with creatures and creaturely processes constantly circulating within and through our bodies. He develops the idea of life and world as a “meshwork” reality as framed by the anthropologist Tim Ingold. Meshwork transforms how people think about places by shifting our attention from a spatial location to complex, interlacing paths of codevelopment. Places are as much events and processes as they are locations on a map. This insight revolutionizes what we think a human being is by showing it to be intimately entangled in life’s embodied movements. The idea of transporting people to other planets or a disembodied heaven is a dangerous fantasy because it assumes that a human being could live a disentangled life apart from the bio-social meshworks that are its indispensable condition.

This chapter focuses on the precipitous decline of wild animals. It identifies the inception of ‘defaunation’ with the emergence of human empires as well as animals’ philosophical displacement in comparison to the distinguished human, both reaching back to classical antiquity. The chapter then discusses defaunation today – its recent causes and ecological consequences. It argues that this disappearance of animals impoverishes the world by stripping away manifestations of diverse animal minds. Divested of animals' presence and their numinous expressions, landscapes and seascapes also become disenchanted. This reinforces a notion that animist cosmologies are ‘fantastical’ and that the dominant zeitgeist of the universe as mechanical and purposeless is sensible. The chapter ends by decrying the humanisation of the Earth and calls for humanity to scale down and pull back, to allow for a resurgence of wild animal life.

This chapter explores how the reformer William Tyndale prompts a rethinking of arguments about Protestant biblicism’s capacity for disenchantment. It analyzes Tyndale’s exceptionally elevated portrayals of the Bible’s divine origin, which elide the shaping roles of materiality, history, and human action on the scriptural texts, and which he mobilizes in order to advance his argument about the primacy of Scripture over the institutional authority of the Roman Catholic Church. The chapter challenges the picture of Tyndale put forward by scholars in which he is seen to replace a communal mediation of the sacred with a nascent individualism. It does this by focusing on Tyndale’s representations of Bible reading as the means by which the Christian is caught up in a personal and affective relationship with God, a relationship which in turn transforms the human community. This chapter argues that Tyndale’s apparently disenchanting separation of Scripture’s origin from history is paradoxically the means by which he advances a vision of the human community’s participation in God. Tyndale’s account of Scripture thus disrupts the binary and unidirectional logic of disenchantment.

The Enlightenment was the defining cultural and intellectual movement of the eighteenth century. Also known as the Age of Reason, it is generally viewed by historians as the emergence of the modern West. Enlightenment thinkers championed rationality and upheld Newtonian science, with its emphasis on natural laws, as the preeminent description of the natural world. The rise of religious tolerance across Europe, challenges to the cultural authority of organized religion, and the emergence of rational forms of religion such as deism all combined to produce a more secular mindset among the educated classes. Those same individuals also dismissed magic as a delusion of the ignorant and superstitious, but more recent scholarship has challenged the narrative of “disenchantment” in which magical beliefs and practices supposedly disappeared as rationality increased. In fact, occult philosophies and traditions from hermeticism to alchemy had already put their indelible stamp on the development of “scientific” disciplines long before the Enlightenment began. By 1750, the complex relationships between science, religion, and magic had assumed a configuration familiar to many people today.

Max Weber’s influence on currents of thought over the past century has been profound and far-reaching. This chapter surveys four main areas of impact: the philosophy of the social sciences; class, economy, and rationalization; religion, culture, and social change; and power, politics, and the nation-state. A concluding section addresses the contemporary status of Weber’s thinking regarding the “rise of the West” and its place in world history.

Austin Harrington is Associate Professor of Sociology at the University of Leeds. His recent publications include German Cosmopolitan Social Thought and the Idea of the West: Voices from Weimar (Cambridge University Press, 2016) and Georg Simmel: Essays on Art and Aesthetics (University of Chicago Press, 2020).