There is a mystery woven through the history of the world — a mystery that rarely appears in public, yet quietly shapes the fate of civilisations.
It is the mystery of how so few realised Human beings have ever walked the earth, and yet how astonishingly far their influence extends.
The number has always been small. Sometimes one in an age. Sometimes hidden entirely. Yet without them, the world would collapse.
The Sufis call such a being al-Qutb — the Pole, the axis around which the invisible order of the world turns. The Qutb is not recognised by earthly authority. He sits in no palace and rules no institution. But everything stable, everything merciful, everything quietly preserved is preserved because he stands.
In the Qur’an he appears as Khidr — the Green One, the guide Moses could not understand because Khidr moved by a law higher than law.
In the Christian imagination he appears as St George, not primarily as a dragon-slayer but as the defender of the innocent, the protector of what must be preserved.
In English folklore he surfaces again as Robin Hood, the outlaw who serves a deeper justice than the crown, aligned with the unseen moral order rather than earthly power.
Far to the East, in the mountains of Tibet, another whisper appears: that certain High Lamas, fully realised beings, sustain the balance of the world simply through their presence. Their monasteries were not just schools — they were tuning forks for the world’s spiritual field.
Most hidden of all is the lineage of the Sarmoung Masters of Wisdom, the Brotherhood said to have preserved the “bees’ knowledge,” refining and transmitting the nectar of divine wisdom across centuries so it would not be lost when civilisations collapsed.
The Sarmoung were custodians of humanity’s inner architecture — not to rule the world, but to keep it from dissolving from within.
At this point, we must remember what John G. Bennett said in his final public talk, distilling everything he learned from Gurdjieff, the Sarmoung, and decades of direct work with hidden traditions.

Bennett understood what few dare to see: that the Human race is an unfinished experiment, extraordinarily difficult, and that the transition from Mankind to Humankind is not guaranteed. It requires help — not institutional help, but help from those few realised beings who have crossed the threshold and now bear the weight of the many.
Different continents. Different myths. Different languages. Yet all these traditions describe the same pattern: a small number of realised Human beings hold the world together from within.
They are not rulers. They are not prophets. They are not public figures. They are poles of stability, silent axes upon which the visible world unwittingly turns.
This is the Unseen Government — not a conspiracy, not a shadow elite, but a spiritual architecture that predates nations, institutions, and religions.
Those who belong to it walk with humility, often in obscurity, sometimes in disguise. Their presence radiates order into chaos, mercy into cruelty, balance into a world tipping toward collapse.
Every tradition carries a whisper of this group because the human soul remembers them, even when the mind does not.
Here is the great paradox: those who cross from Mankind into Humankind touch — even briefly — the edge of this current. The movement into alignment “with” the Real is the same movement that sustains the saints, the sages, the Green Man, the Sarmoung Masters, and the Lamas who hold the world upright.
The Twelve Steps tap into the same architecture: not through doctrine, but through alignment; not through belief, but through withness. Surrender brings a human being into contact with the same ancient field of support and governance.
When a person awakens into Humankind, even for a moment, they begin to bear what once crushed them. They join the current that has supported humanity since humanity first became capable of self-reflection. This is the ancient distinction between “the quick and the dead” — not in the crude sense of bodies and graves, but in the deeper sense recognised by the earliest Christians and later by the mystics: the difference between those who merely live, and those who have become alive.
This awakened aliveness — what some traditions name Christ consciousness — is not reserved for saints or prophets. It is the same shift made quietly, anonymously, in the Twelve-Step rooms for the last ninety years. Millions have brushed this threshold without ever naming it. The Steps, like the old Ways, do not create the Real; they align a person with it. They turn the deadened life of Mankind into the quickened life of Humankind.
This chapter opens that veil just enough to show that the crossing from Mankind to Humankind is not merely personal psychology. It is an initiation into a lineage. It is an entry into an ancient order. It is a step onto a Way guarded by Khidr, preserved by the Sarmoung, sustained by the Lamas, and anchored by the Qutb.
Whether we recognise it or not, every sincere seeker, every recovering person, every human who begins to walk “with” the Real is led by the same invisible hand.
And the Way continues, stone by unseen stone, because the hidden ones have always stood where the world would otherwise fall.



