In earlier reflections, I avoided placing the majority of blame for the deeply flawed technocracy established by Bacon three centuries ago on his shoulders. I used to believe he deserved some level of absolution due to his insistence that the groundbreaking technologies derived from his scientific method were intended for benevolent purposes rather than for the profit of a select few at the expense of the many—a situation that seems to have unfolded differently in practice.

Now, as I delve deeper into Bacon's extensive and aggressive campaign against the philosophies of Plato and Aristotle—not merely as intellectual figures but as human beings—I find myself less inclined to excuse him. His attempts to undermine and effectively silence Platonic and Aristotelian moral philosophy, which particularly in Plato’s work focused on the concept of the intelligible Good-in-itself, played a significant role in redirecting Europe’s intellectual resources towards purely practical goals and the enhancement of human power. This resulted in a clear path of domination over nature, while simultaneously obstructing a well-established route to moral and spiritual enlightenment.

I suspect that had Bacon—and subsequent thinkers influenced by him, such as Hobbes, Descartes, Locke, Bentham, and Mill—devoted as much energy to preserving and promoting the moral and spiritual authority of ancient philosophers as they did to discrediting them, Western civilization might not have become so detached from its moral and spiritual foundations. Many share my concern that the philosophical and ethical frameworks of Plato and Aristotle, had they been preserved at the core of Western culture rather than being overshadowed by the material sciences championed by Bacon and his contemporaries, could have provided a necessary counterbalance against the rampant materialism, crude sensuality, and pervasive banality that have characterized the last few centuries.

Why did Bacon feel compelled to entirely dethrone Plato and Aristotle—not just the parts he found obstructive to his vision for natural science—in his quest for a revolutionary shift in thought and action? This question is substantial and any response will inevitably be multifaceted and complex. If Bacon had not been such a masterful dissimulator, we might better understand his private beliefs about the worthlessness of Platonic and Aristotelian philosophies, which he publicly denounced. It is conceivable that, despite his undeniable intellectual prowess, Bacon was fundamentally incapable of perceiving things in a ‘transcendental’ manner akin to Socrates and Plato. I remain ambivalent about Aristotle’s ability to genuinely grasp Platonic ideas beyond a mere conceptual level, and thus will withhold judgment on him in this context.

Similar inquiries could be made regarding thinkers like Hobbes, Locke, Spencer, Darwin, and even Nietzsche, who was fundamentally a kind of physiologist in his psychological musings. One might argue that even Freud, who had deep insights into human psychology, lacked the intuitive capacity to engage with Ideas or archetypes, which must be distinguished from reified instincts and abstract concepts.

If it turns out that Bacon indeed suffered from a sort of inherent psychological blindness—one that was counterbalanced by an exaggerated emphasis on ‘extraverted sensation thinking’—we may have a partial explanation for his remarkable abilities as an empirical thinker focused outwardly, while simultaneously revealing his weaknesses in the realm of transcendent and speculative understanding. What one cannot see or experience personally, if they are honest, they are likely to dismiss as mere illusion. In such a case, it would be unfair to question the sincerity of the thinker; rather, he suffers from a condition akin to color blindness in the psychological sense, unable to perceive certain mental phenomena that are clear to those without the same limitations. Viewed from this perspective, materialism is less about a complex framework of abstract ideas than about a consciousness primarily guided by sensation, one of the four psychological functions, along with thinking, feeling, and its opposite—intuition. This last function is critical for the symbolic and transcendent cognition exemplified by Plato.

For the materialist, sensory experience is inherently valued and considered the primary gauge for the reality and ultimate nature of existence. The thoughts that a rigorous materialist forms regarding sensory data appear to be shaped by sensory evidence itself. I suspect that Bacon possessed such a psychological framework. The trajectory of his profoundly influential thought aligns with the terms and natural conditions of this sense-determined, outward-focused approach to reality. Its effectiveness is undeniable. Bacon, as a pioneer venturing into the uncharted territory of nature, alongside his devoted followers, has dramatically transformed the world we inhabit today. If Bacon's grounded and non-transcendental psychological makeup had been an anomaly, the scientific revolution would never have gained momentum—let alone become the sweeping intellectual movement that proliferated throughout the 18th, 19th, and 20th centuries, and continues to thrive.

In this context, he serves as an exemplary figure—a groundbreaking pioneer who opened up territory that was rapidly colonized by numerous capable followers. Exceptional scientific minds—such as Copernicus, Kepler, Galileo, Descartes, Newton, Lavoisier, Boyle, Darwin, Marie Curie, Einstein, and Heisenberg—brought immense respectability to the scientific enterprise. Beyond the brilliant theoretical contributions of these figures, the countless comforts, conveniences, and medical advancements enabled by applied science have enriched humanity. However, this is not a story without complications; the environmental costs and impacts on our spiritual well-being may soon lead to a sobering reckoning.

I recognize that in characterizing Bacon as psychologically ‘blind’ to the transcendent or spiritual dimensions of human existence, I am implicitly associating modernity with a kind of mental imbalance that afflicted one of its key architects. After years of studying Bacon and his legacy, and attempting to situate him within the broader narrative of Western cultural evolution, I strongly suspect that, like Nietzsche, his comprehension of the greater whole was flawed and incomplete. Nietzsche's imbalances stemmed from a different source than Bacon's: his intrinsic piety and religiosity were brutally challenged by his own critical intellect, leading to various complications, while Bacon seems to lack any genuine piety.

I also theorize that Bacon, acutely aware of his intellectual prowess and his privileged connections within the Elizabethan and Jacobean courts, possessed an exceptionally ambitious spirit. He was not only a brilliant analytical and inventive thinker but also a cunning and skilled individual who felt destined to shape the future of humanity—a legacy that few sane individuals could even contemplate. Bacon must have recognized that his unique genius was perfectly suited for his ambitious goal: to become a genuine, rather than merely mythical, Prometheus or Dædalus. In this role, he aimed to unveil the hidden secrets of nature—knowledge that would transform the earth into a bountiful repository, controlled for the first time by its most remarkable and godlike creature: humanity. This aspiration—if anything—was Bacon's form of religion: the elevation of humanity's material condition, with himself as the benevolent author of the Novum Organon, a work that made the previously impossible attainable.

I believe it was this prioritization of the material over the 'corrupt' and chaotic spiritual world that Bacon and Nietzsche found intolerable in Plato. Both were thinkers firmly rooted in this-worldly concerns who, while recognizing the grandeur of the Bible (particularly the Old Testament), perceived little beyond error and convenient fictions within the actual content of religion—at least in terms of its cultural relevance. Bacon, like the secular thinker Montaigne, witnessed the senseless slaughter between Catholics and Protestants during the tumultuous era of religious wars. Such chaos would severely hinder the communal research and peaceful collaboration necessary for Bacon’s scientific revolution to flourish. The storms of religious fanaticism had to be quelled, and sectarian zealots disarmed, to create the ideal environment for Baconian science to thrive.

In the mythical 'Bensalem'—Bacon's idyllic, science-driven (and secretly governed) utopia depicted in his posthumous work, The New Atlantis—he offers a materially appealing alternative to Plato’s more austere Republic, ruled by ascetic philosopher-kings who prioritize spiritual and moral excellence over technological advancements and sensual pleasures. Was it this hedonistic allure that endeared Bacon to his bourgeois followers? Is it mere coincidence that technological progress led to increased trade, prosperity, and a burgeoning middle class eager for political freedoms previously reserved for the elite? The generation and distribution of wealth, stemming from new industries and exploited colonies worldwide, set Europe (and later America) on the intricate economic, social, and political path that continues to this day.

Bacon played a crucial role in charting this materialistic trajectory, yet it is essential to remember that the Renaissance in Italy had already initiated a significant cultural shift a century prior—marking a turn in the historical pendulum away from the spiritual towards the material and the outer world of sensory experience. When viewed against the backdrop of this profound collective shift in psychic energy and focus, Bacon’s project can be understood as both facilitating and articulating a new direction that life and consciousness were already heading towards. The ‘Great Man’ theory of history, as proposed by Carlyle, falls short here; even if extraordinary geniuses like Bacon, Descartes, and Newton were pivotal in establishing actual pathways and mapping territories, they were also responding to the spirit of the era.

As I recall, Jung—perhaps reflecting on previous thinkers—suggested that the first half of the Christian era was governed by spirit and inner realities, while the second half, starting around the 12th century, has been characterized by an outward pull towards matter, the physical body, and the senses—elements that were largely repressed during the ascetic first millennium. Understood in this context, Christ (as a living symbol of spiritual, transcendent reality) presided over the first half of this age, while the Antichrist (a complementary symbol of material, immanent, sensual reality) has dominated the latter half (our present ‘end times,’ as Jung suggests). Whether or not one subscribes to such mythological or theological interpretations of historical and cultural trends, the documented evidence aligns with this dualistic dynamic of spirit versus matter, inner versus outer, that has played out on the grand stage of human history over the past two millennia.

The powerful, often unconscious forces described in this narrative extend beyond mere human rationality and control. Within the framework of such a cosmic perspective, cultural and collective psychological advancements appear primarily as effects rather than as primary causes. For those like myself who find philosophical value in such narratives, it seems more appropriate to regard transformative figures like Socrates, Plato, Jesus, Bacon, Descartes, Nietzsche, Freud, and Jung as oracular voices and avatars of these transpersonal energies and worldviews rather than as autonomous creators of their respective legacies. The contributions of figures like Plato, Jesus, Bacon, or Nietzsche are not produced ex nihilo but are responses to archetypal energies and ‘daimonic’ inner realities that few can confront without feeling overwhelmed or crushed. This leads to the conclusion that skeptical and strong-willed individuals (like Bacon and Nietzsche) may be more susceptible to dangerous inflation or madness than those who are more flexible and open to transcendent ideas (like Jesus, Plato, and Jung).