New Age for Whom? An Intersectional Analysis of James Redfield’s The Celestine Prophecy

Introduction

In 1994, James Redfield’s novel The Celestine Prophecy became a worldwide bestseller that popularized New Age notions of spiritual growth and metaphysical ascension to a broad audience. Derided by critics for its simplistic plot and weak character development, the book nonetheless attracted a substantial international following and has become something of a cult classic in the New Age self-help genre (Hanegraaff, “Secularization”; Dubecki). Although it was first published thirty years ago, interest in The Celestine Prophecy remains strong and it continues to attract five-star reviews on Amazon’s shopping website. Moreover, the New Age ideologies it promotes remain popular within contemporary spirituality discourses today (Melton; Crockford). Hanegraaff claims that the unprecedented success of The Celestine Prophecy demonstrates that New Age spirituality is no longer the preserve of a “marginal subculture” but has evolved into a “broad folk religion” with widespread appeal (“Secularization” 289). This idea has been echoed by other scholars who claim that New Age is no longer a clearly defined movement but more a way of being in the world that has significantly influenced the general culture (Albanese 260–1; Hammer 74–5; Lucas 567–8; Sutcliffe and Bowman 11). Although some scholars argue that the term “New Age” has lost its relevance since millennialistic claims feature less prominently in contemporary spirituality discourses (Sutcliffe and Gilhus 4–5), The Celestine Prophecy anticipates the dawning of a new era through radical spiritual awakening on a global scale. Therefore, the ongoing popularity of The Celestine Prophecy demonstrates that New Age spirituality is very much alive today and continues to recruit new followers into its utopian vision.

New Age spirituality emerged in the wake of the 1960s counterculture: it was fueled by youth rebellion and the search for alternatives to hegemonic Western values, especially Christian morality and scientific rationalism (Hanegraaff, “Esotericism”; Van Otterloo et al.). As it developed in parallel to second-wave feminism across the twentieth century, New Age spirituality became increasingly associated with women’s self-empowerment and activities that encourage “sisterhood” while pushing back against the Western patriarchy (Crowley 8). More recently, New Age has been characterized as less of a countercultural movement and rather part of a mainstream subjective turn toward holistic values and the pursuit of personal self-development (Heelas and Woodhead). In addition, Hanegraaff attributes the success of The Celestine Prophecy to a feeling of being understood, especially with respect to readers’ criticisms of modern Western culture (“Secularization” 290–1). He describes these criticisms as a rejection of dualism such as the Cartesian mind-body divide, the Christian human-God distinction, human-nature separation, and the reductionist approach of mechanistic science. However, Hanegraaff stops short of analyzing how The Celestine Prophecy fails to satisfy the demands of the feminist and environmental movements which share similar concerns and his inquiry does not encompass considerations of race (“Secularization” 292). This paper is written to take up those challenges through a structural analysis of Redfield’s text which sold more than twenty-three million copies by 2008 (Dubecki). At this stage, my analysis does not extend to the film version of The Celestine Prophecy released by Warner Brothers (2006) or Redfield’s three sequels The Tenth Insight: Holding the Vision (1996), The Secret of Shambhala: In Search of the Eleventh Insight (1999), and The Twelfth Insight: The Hour of Decision (2011).

This article analyzes The Celestine Prophecy to examine how Redfield mobilizes gendered and racialized tropes to reaffirm rather than challenge hegemonic American culture. Although the book claims to offer solutions to personal, familial, and societal dysfunctions, there are several tensions evident in the text which undermine its utopian promise. For example, while The Celestine Prophecy preaches a spiritualized ideal of gender equality, it nonetheless promotes conservative family values while sexualizing and fetishizing female characters. This is intriguing since New Age spirituality routinely attracts substantially more women than men (Sutcliffe and Gilhus; Rose, “New Age”; Hoo, “Australia”). Although the book is styled as an adventure mystery and a certain degree of racial stereotyping is an undesirable side effect of the “Indiana Jones-style” plot (Diamond), the text goes further in valorizing heroic colonialism and primitivizing Indigenous peoples. As it culminates in an attempt to reconcile spiritual ascension with earthly existence, The Celestine Prophecy defaults to an anthropocentric future vision of automated globalized agriculture tempered with depopulation.

On the following pages I aim to discover what kind of utopian future society The Celestine Prophecy proposes and whom it might serve. In my critiques, I draw on Lauren Berlant’s writings on American nationalism and Lucy Nicholas’s examination of “settler colonial hetero whiteness” to analyze Redfield’s racial assumptions (244). I also employ Laura Mulvey’s classic feminist criticism of the hetero “male gaze” (364) and Trish Glazebrook’s discussion of ecofeminist theory to examine Redfield’s vision of a utopian new world. Finally, I analyze readers’ reviews on the Amazon shopping website to gain insight into why The Celestine Prophecy appeals to its sizable fanbase.

Gender, race, and salvation in Redfield’s New Age

The Celestine Prophecy is ostensibly a work of fiction with conspicuous autobiographical elements. However, it is primarily written as a vehicle to deliver Redfield’s personal rendering of New Age ideologies. Therefore, the author’s biography and intentions are relevant to a structural analysis of the text. Redfield’s protagonist is cast in his own image: a white heteronormative American man who studied sociology at a university and worked as a counselor with troubled youths (Diamond). This central character represents what Berlant describes as the “hegemonic national icon” who has never been denied full citizenship since the birth of American democracy (14, 19). He narrates the book in the first-person perspective and is never identified by a name. This is a significant literary choice that contributes to a sense of him being “unmarked,” thereby enabling his perspective to be more easily universalized as the author speaks through his voice (Berlant 2). As a white male landowner who inherited property from his grandfather, the narrator romanticizes nineteenth-century America while ignoring the effects of colonization on Indigenous peoples. For example, he describes his grandfather as an “explorer, a prodigy growing up in a world that was still wild with cougar and boar and Creek Indians that lived in primitive cabins up the north ridge” (Redfield 13). Here, Redfield’s “primitive” Natives are part of the “wild” landscape and inseparable from an idealized “nature” in a manner that renders them less-than-human (Nicholas 248). The narrator boasts that he “had always tried to preserve the land, even when civilization encroached,” without recognizing the fact that he represents the very civilization that has already appropriated territory inhabited by First Nations peoples (Redfield 13).

As the story unfolds, Redfield’s depiction of colonial activity develops into a glorification of Western imperialism and he rewrites history to weave ancient civilizations into the New Age narrative. Chapter Two delivers a simplistic historical sketch of Western culture, detailing a widespread existential crisis in the seventeenth century ensuing from the Protestant Reformation and the rise of modern science. He goes on to describe the dissemination of explorers across the world “armed with the scientific method” and charged with the historic mission of discovering “the true purpose of mankind’s existence on the planet” (Redfield 20). The world, newly liberated from Church authority, is described as a “vast undefined universe” waiting to be discovered by heroic colonists pursuing “consensus-building” knowledge of “this new world of ours” (20). Here, Redfield’s Western-centrism is extreme as he assumes that the entire planet belongs to the imperialist project and represents a vast “terra nullius” where Indigenous occupants are invisible “no-bodies” unworthy of consideration (Nicholas 248, 252). Moreover, Redfield’s elevation of rational knowledge and the scientific method has gendered implications since feminist scholars have long identified Western rationality with a universalized masculinity that stands in opposition to women, nature, and Indigenous others (Nicholas 247–8). In an apparent contradiction, Redfield claims that the ancient Central American Mayans became so spiritually evolved that they transcended earthly existence altogether and the entire civilization “vanished” around 600 BCE (152, 154). However, as Crockford observes, this New Age tendency to weave ancient civilizations into mythological narratives of spiritual supremacy only contributes to the erasure of Indigenous cultures as it overwrites their history with white settler fantasies (52).

Although Redfield criticizes neoliberalism, overconsumption, and environmental destruction, his vision of a utopian future society reaffirms rather than challenges hegemonic American values. In Redfield’s simplistic version of cultural history, industrialized capitalism constitutes a logical step toward making life comfortable while society is waiting for its explorers to determine the true purpose of human existence (143). Nonetheless, he criticizes neoliberalism for promoting greed, overconsumption, and the depletion of natural reserves. Redfield makes a passing reference to communism as a failed ideology before proposing voluntary depopulation and globalized land management as solutions to the environmental crisis (143–4). Here, his philosophy echoes the work of French feminist Françoise d’Eaubonne who argues that the patriarchy poses a double threat to humanity through its exploitation of women’s reproductive power and the overuse of natural resources. However, Redfield fails to offer sustainable alternatives and instead proposes a vision of globalized automated agriculture designed to relieve the burden of physical labor (144). As ecofeminist scholars assert, commercialized large-scale agriculture devalues the unpaid cooperative domestic labor of traditional farming methods primarily undertaken by women (Glazebrook 17). Redfield’s globalized approach to food production elevates the “patriarchal institutions of reason, technoscience, and capital” over situated, sustainable, and reciprocal relationships with nature (Glazebrook 17). Reciprocity does feature somewhat in Redfield’s metaphysics: he advocates manually energizing plants to boost their growth (32), as pioneered by the New Age Findhorn community in Scotland (Sutcliffe 164–5). He also views old-growth forests as sources of primal power and incorporates reforestation zones into his future vision. Nevertheless, these strategies remain anthropocentric as they reorganize natural ecosystems to satisfy human desires.

Redfield’s central argument posits a crisis in modern relationships that he claims to resolve through his progressive spirituality. However, his ideology reinforces conservative heteronormativity and his literary strategy resorts to sexual cliches. The Celestine Prophecy delivers a simplistic adventure mystery wherein the male protagonist journeys to Peru in search of an ancient manuscript that promises spiritual liberation. Throughout the book he forges meaningful bonds with other men while female characters are sexualized for the male gaze (Mulvey). For example, Charlene is introduced early in the book as a “platonic” friend but described as having “small delicate features, [and a] wide mouth” (Redfield 5, 11). In her feminist critique of cinematic storytelling, Mulvey explains how women function as erotic objects for both the male protagonist and the audience who identify with his desire (364). Accordingly, Redfield creates sexual tension between these two characters as a literary hook he revisits in the conclusion where their unresolved relationship entices readers toward a sequel. Although the entire book is thereby framed in male sexual desire, Redfield preaches restraint as a spiritual approach to overcoming codependence in relationships (124). He claims that intimate partnerships suffer from power struggles in the wake of feminism and conflict over who should lead. In response, he proposes a spiritualized binary gender theory that draws on Jungian psychology, claiming that individuals should integrate their inner masculine and feminine aspects to become whole (123–4). However, despite this individualistic ideal, the romantic sexual fantasy of hetero coupling is left dangling as the ultimate reward.

The power dynamics in close relationships occupy a central place in Redfield’s philosophy and arguably fuel his strongest contribution to New Age thought. He claims that there is a widespread crisis of familial dysfunction resulting from competitive power struggles as parents “steal” energy from their children and perpetuate inherited cycles of trauma (48). The depiction of a teenage Peruvian girl as “stooped” and shaking with nervousness in the presence of dominating parents may be relevant to Redfield’s experience as a youth worker (47). He describes the adult abuse of power along with the childhood cultivation of distorted manipulations to secure love and attention as pivotal to the social dysfunctions of modern culture (82–3). As a solution, he proposes that parents should avoid having more children than they can give their full attention to (119). Redfield’s argument that each adult should reserve all their focus for one child is extreme but echoes Protestant ideas about “responsible parenting” that emerged in the mid-twentieth century (Mehta, “Family Planning”). As overpopulation gained traction as a threat in the popular imagination, Protestant voices promoted birth control as a Christian obligation to ensure that parents did not have more children than they could afford or the Earth’s food supply could support (Mehta, “Family Planning”). However, the narrator’s assertion that “in too many cultures, children are running in gangs” has racist undertones (Redfield 119) that reflect white Protestant fears of “racial suicide” through becoming progressively outnumbered by colored immigrants (Mehta, “Protestants”). Nonetheless, Redfield does make some valuable suggestions about respectful parenting when he suggests using suitable language to speak directly and truthfully to children without resorting to condescension (119).

Certainly, healing from trauma is a significant motivation for engagement with New Age spiritualities, especially for women (Ivakhiv 282; Sointu and Woodhead 272). It is therefore unfortunate that the solutions offered in The Celestine Prophecy are somewhat dogmatic and potentially damaging. For example, Redfield weaves family trauma into his ideology of spiritual evolution, claiming that individuals must transcend their parental wounds and “form a union” to produce children who represent a “higher synthesis” of spiritual development (95). The idea that humans are evolving spiritually across multiple lifetimes or generations is a central New Age tenet inherited from nineteenth-century esoteric currents including Theosophy and post-theosophical writers such as Edgar Cayce and Rudolf Steiner (Hammer 257–9; Lucas 568; Partridge 80; Melton 94–5). However, despite its rationalistic overtones, the New Age framing of trauma as a necessary stage of spiritual growth edges dangerously close to justifying abusive behavior (Hanegraaff, New Age; Crowley 144–5). Moreover, Redfield idealizes conservative family values when he endorses heteronormative reproduction as not only a civic but a spiritual obligation. Despite Redfield’s university studies in sociology and his experience as a youth worker, his writing demonstrates scant awareness of racial, gendered, sexual, or economic inequalities. Instead, he reenacts what Berlant describes as the violent severance of whole populations of peoples such as immigrants as well as the poor, colored, and queer from the fullness of American citizenship (18–9). For Redfield, there is a crisis in contemporary culture that he interprets as a universal experience while he claims that his spiritualized solutions offer unfettered access to the American Dream.

Although New Age spirituality attracts predominantly white middle-class women, African American television host Oprah Winfrey is one of New Age’s most powerful allies (Sutcliffe and Gilhus 5; Crowley 133–5). In her analysis of Winfrey’s show, Crowley observes that Winfrey legitimizes white New Age ideas by filtering them through her own Black experiences and intimately connects with her female audience through a racialized “sister sensibility” (134–6). Like Redfield, Winfrey also places stories of suffering and redemption at the center of her ministry and advocates personal healing rather than structural social change. In a potent example, one of Winfrey’s guests recounts how she confronted her rapist in court and demanded her power back, reaching out her hand to “grab … the air in front of him, in a symbolic gesture” (Crowley 140). Here, this woman illustrates Redfield’s notion that power is a kind of energy that can be stolen through abuse as she declares, “I felt like the rape was a power struggle between two souls” (Crowley 140–1). However, by focusing on women’s personal experiences of redemption, Winfrey avoids confronting important social issues such as failures in the justice system, structural misogyny, or political reform (Crowley 144). In her response to The Celestine Prophecy, Winfrey does not highlight its racial blindness, sexual stereotyping, conservative family values, or environmental and political ignorance. Instead, she fixates on its account of how apparent “coincidences” are meaningful events that provide spiritual signposts for intuitive guidance (Janis; Redfield 112). This is where Winfrey and Redfield align: in their promotion of an accessible spirituality that is independent of Church authority (Crowley 133–4; Dubecki).

An analysis of readers’ reviews of The Celestine Prophecy on the Amazon shopping website tells a similar story. For the most recent paperback edition released in 2018, over six hundred readers have rated the book one or two “stars” and their 330 reviews barely mention social issues such as race, gender, or politics (Amazon). Instead, the vast majority criticizes Redfield’s poor literary skills, describing the book as “boring,” “repetitive,” “predictable,” “bland,” and “badly written” (Amazon). In contrast, over 7,900 readers give it a five-star rating and the first twenty pages of these reviews describe The Celestine Prophecy as “inspiring,” “thought provoking,” “life changing,” and “insightful” (Amazon). These fans applaud Redfield’s rendering of the Church and government as “controlling” institutions that suppress spiritual truth and personal liberty (Amazon). Many of these reviewers also praise the book’s explanation of relationship “control dramas” along with the use and abuse of “energy” and “power.” Fans report discovering hope for a better future as one reader implores, “let’s start practicing what this book offers so we can … stop robbing energy from each other” (Amazon). These responses indicate that The Celestine Prophecy resonates with those who feel dominated and disempowered on political or personal levels. Its readers feel victimized either by the powerful cultural institutions of church and state or, as demonstrated on Winfrey’s show, by actual abusers in their domestic sphere. In The Celestine Prophecy, Redfield promises a way for readers to reclaim their power from dominant authorities and dysfunctional relationships: not via political or legal action but through a personalized spirituality that portrays life as a meaningful journey toward self-actualization.

There are some similarities between Redfield’s work and contemporary American populism since they both tap into deep-seated anxieties to advance their agendas. Cover explains how political populism sets up a “silent majority” of victimized citizens to build resentment toward minority groups by imagining “neglect” and stirring “anxieties over the loss of a past mythical framework” (756). Similarly, Redfield proposes a crisis in the majority culture when he describes contemporary society as rudderless and unsatisfying. However, unlike political populism, Redfield’s criticisms are more strongly directed toward the institutions of church and state rather than immigrants or racialized others who are barely visible in his ideology of progress. Furthermore, Redfield successfully taps into a generalized sense of dissatisfaction by claiming that people are “restless” without a clear sense of purpose (7–8). He depicts a society of individuals seeking greater spiritual meaning and connection to the mysteries of existence, much like the countercultural seekers of the 1960s and 70s (Roof; Schmidt). Redfield claims that the demise of traditional social roles in the wake of feminism has engendered relational instability (7–9), and echoes the work of sociologists who characterize individual precarity as a symptom of late-modern risk societies (Beck; Beck and Beck-Gernsheim). As the traditional moral values of Christianity come under scrutiny, the task of constructing personal meaning can be increasingly experienced as a burden tied to “precarious freedoms” (Beck and Beck-Gernsheim 16). Some scholars suggest that more women are attracted to New Age spirituality than men because they experience greater challenges with respect to personal meaning and identity in late modernity (Heelas and Woodhead).

The Celestine Prophecy’s sustained popularity across recent decades may be largely a result of it functioning as an accessible beginners’ guide to New Age praxis. Throughout the book, readers are coached in the development of intuitive abilities along with techniques to perceive and manipulate subtle energies. Fans describe The Celestine Prophecy as “a great way to open up intuition and clairsentience” and comprehend “the subtle world that exists around us” (Amazon). One reader enthusiastically reports learning how to “deliberately extract the energy from my meal” while, for another, “understanding … how the transfer of energy flows through every living thing [is] priceless” (Amazon). Beneath New Age spirituality’s patchwork of self-help rhetoric lies a foundation of metaphysical practices anchored in Theosophical understandings of energetic ontology (Hammer; Hoo, “Hierophagy”). Moreover, in their reviews of The Celestine Prophecy, readers are enthralled with how the book explains “coincidences” as meaningful events and illustrates how to find one’s spiritual purpose by following these “synchronicities” (Amazon). The idea that coincidences represent meaningful signs with deeper spiritual significance has roots in nineteenth-century esotericism in which the belief in synchronicities is described as a central feature (Goodrick-Clarke; Faivre). However, while New Age sources often attribute spiritual guidance to a divinized conception of the “universe” (Hanegraaff, New Age 184–5), Redfield edges closer to a personalized Christianity when he claims that “God has a distinctive role in each individual’s everyday life” (Struckel). For those seeking spiritual guidance and a sense of connection to something greater, The Celestine Prophecy espouses practical skills couched in the security of a benevolent power.

Although the New Age cultivation of personal spiritual practices can be understood as a strategy to mitigate the precariousness of contemporary life, The Celestine Prophecy goes further in promoting a millennialistic vision of global awakening. Throughout the book, the protagonist discovers a series of chapters from an ancient manuscript with each one containing an insight into spiritual knowledge. The prophecy after which the book is named is revealed in the final chapter where the Ninth Insight enables the central characters to raise their energetic vibrations and literally transform into bodies of light, rendering them invisible to the uninitiated. In a future vision that rivals the biblical rapture, sufficiently awakened individuals reportedly follow the example of Christ and collectively “walk into heaven” (154). While subject to various interpretations, this millennialistic vision of mass awakening has remained central to New Age spirituality since it was first proposed by Alice Bailey in the 1930s (Hanegraaff, New Age; Melton). It is this prophecy of metaphysical ascension that defines New Age as a religious faith that offers hope for humanity in the form of otherworldly salvation. For contemporary readers, this type of more-than-human or magical otherworldly potential is reflected in popular culture where it plays a central role in Hollywood films such as Avatar, X-Men, and The Matrix. However, it is essential to recognize that fans do not view The Celestine Prophecy as fiction but as a parable bearing timely spiritual teachings; one reader asserts, “this book sends such an important message that the whole world needs to hear” (Amazon). Since Redfield places collective ascension sometime in the third millennium, there is ample time for the rest of the world to catch on (154).

In The Queen of America Goes to Washington City, Berlant examines quotidian publications to discover “what kinds of utopian desires are being tapped and translated into conservative worldviews” (13). In the pages of The Celestine Prophecy, Redfield addresses the heteronormative desire for romantic partnership; the religious desire to feel guided by unseen forces; a childlike longing for safe, loving parenting; and the late-modern imperative to imagine a sustainable, peaceful future on a global scale. When compared to the social activism that characterized the counterculture of the 1960s, The Celestine Prophecy is a perplexing offspring with questionable political relevance. Indeed, scholars have criticized New Age spirituality for diluting feminism with weak empowerment narratives that fail to address gender inequality and promote neoliberalism by offering individual rather than structural solutions to social problems (Crockford; Crowley). However, the metaphysical practices that The Celestine Prophecy promotes have broader implications beyond personal empowerment and have fueled collective efforts toward political change. For example, in 2016 the New Age group Unify coordinated a mass meditation activity that was designed to “raise the vibration” of the United States presidential election (Hoo, “Neopagan” 37). This event attracted more than 25,000 participants in over one thousand international locations and represents a large-scale performance of New Age ritual in the public realm (37). As late-modern risk societies increasingly engender moral and emotional instability, magical approaches to everyday problems are more frequently visible in public spheres (Beck; Eleta 53). Therefore, although The Celestine Prophecy appears naively conservative in its social strategies, its enduring role in the transmission of occult practices and utopian faith in religious salvation is nonetheless significant.

Conclusion

This article presents an intersectional analysis of The Celestine Prophecy and examines why readers are drawn to Redfield’s work and the New Age ideologies it presents. A close reading reveals that the text is a curious mix of alternative spirituality and conservative Christian values. In several places, Redfield’s social strategies betray his Protestant background even as he espouses metaphysical practices based on occult principles. There are further contradictions evident in the text, such as the way Redfield advocates for gender equality but employs sexual cliches and universalizes his white American maleness. To a certain extent, this is likely tolerated by female readers who are accustomed to the sexualization of women in Hollywood films and TV series that are designed with the male audience in mind. However, the question of why so many popular New Age books are published by male authors, despite spirituality’s attractiveness to women, remains unanswered (Rose, Transforming 83). Further research would also be required to discover how The Celestine Prophecy is received by people of color. For example, as discussed earlier, Oprah Winfrey’s response demonstrates that Redfield’s racial insensitivities may be overlooked by readers who resonate with its personal empowerment strategies. Although New Age spirituality has been characterized as chiefly appealing to white middle-class women, digital research indicates that some New Age ideologies such as the concept of Indigo Children hold purchase in Black hip-hop communities (Singler 179). The extent to which New Age ideas are translated across racial, ethnic, and gender boundaries requires further investigation if the impact of New Age attitudes on contemporary culture is to be fully appreciated.

While New Age spirituality has been described as a discourse community where ideas are socially transmitted, best-selling books represent an important and often overlooked influence (Melton; Houtman and Aupers). Research indicates that The Celestine Prophecy remains popular thirty years after its release and that fans enthusiastically describe rereading the book in later stages of life (Amazon). Redfield has built on this success with three sequels, a feature film, and several courses with associated workbooks which are a testament to the ongoing relevance of his work. More broadly, New Age spirituality continues to flourish in new and innovative forms despite scholarly predictions that it would fade into obscurity (Hanegraaff, “Secularization”; Lewis x). Evidently, late-modern individuals in increasingly secular societies are seeking an accessible spirituality that is independent of Church authority. Books like The Celestine Prophecy and popular television shows such as Oprah Winfrey’s illustrate how successfully this kind of popular spirituality promotes metaphysical solutions to personal problems. Much like the spiritual seekers of the 1960s and 70s, readers drawn to The Celestine Prophecy are looking for ways to develop intuitive or magical abilities and cultivate a sense of personal and collective destiny. Redfield’s future vision of global awakening belies scholarly assertions that New Age spirituality has lost its millennialistic focus, and this prophecy of a new dawn for humanity is reconfigured by other contemporary New Age authors such as Eckhart Tolle who recasts it as A New Earth (Walker). Therefore, texts like The Celestine Prophecy remain an important “thermometer” for understanding the direction of contemporary Western spirituality in the twenty-first century (Hanegraaff, “Secularization” 289).

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).