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Max Charlesworth

We have been blessed in this country with an oversupply of spiritual writers – analysts of and speculators about the spiritual dimensions of our life and culture. We have had a certain amount of history and pop sociology about the Australian temperament and character and much cultural cringing and self-laceration, but not much about the Australian ‘soul’. This is an odd situation since much of our recent literature – Patrick White, Rodney Hall, A.D. Hope, Judith Wright, Les Murray, Vincent Buckley, Kevin Hart, the later Helen Garner – is deeply concerned with affairs of the spirit and not just with manners and affairs of the heart. Again, there is a large interest in spiritual issues in Australia, no doubt some of it rather dotty or flaky in a Californian mystical kind of way, but a good deal of it real and serious, though disenchanted with what the ‘institutional’ churches have on offer.

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It’s a lovely idea – to go among the scientists in a pith helmet, learn their lingo, suss out what’s really going on behind the myths of cool objectivity. Like any other major human undertaking, science is a matter of interests, conscious or covert, set by policy and ideology alike. Such factors are all too easily accepted as inevitable and innocent; think of the male-dominated, reductive cast of traditional laboratory practice.

During the last decade, a kind of anthropology of urban subcultures has arisen, abandoning the highly romanticised jungles of the Third World to colonise the offices and labs of our own. Exchanges between participants are explicitly treated not as an ethnographic resource to be taken at face value, but as a topic for sceptical investigation.

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