Although I do not adhere to any particular religious sect, I have always felt a deep respect for the right of others to hold and express their spiritual beliefs, provided they are not imposed on others. Respect for belief, in all its forms, seems to me one of the basic foundations of human empathy and shared humanity.
Recently, we visited the Spiritualist Association of Great Britain, the country’s principal Spiritualist centre. It was not our first encounter with Spiritualism, and in our case there is also a more personal thread running through it—particularly through Sandra, who first introduced me to this world of ideas and practices.

Sandra grew up around Belgrave Square in London, where she lived at the Italian Institute at 39 Belgrave Square. Just across the road were the former headquarters of the Spiritualist Association. Spiritualism was therefore quite literally part of the landscape of her early life, and she encountered it before I did, giving her an early familiarity with its atmosphere and ideas.

It is important to distinguish Spiritualism (with a capital S) from the broader idea of being “spiritual.” Spiritualism is a specific movement based on the belief that personality survives physical death and that communication with the so-called spirit world is possible, most often through mediumship. Alongside this, it includes practices described as spiritual healing and education.
The SAGB is not a conventional church, although it may use religious language that can feel familiar to Christian traditions. Some individuals interpret their experiences in explicitly Christian terms, but institutionally it is a non-denominational Spiritualist organisation.
Historically, Spiritualism developed in nineteenth-century Britain during a period of intense interest in life after death, psychical research, and communication with the dead. The Association became established in London and eventually occupied a prominent building in Belgrave Square, which gave it a strong sense of visibility and prestige. That building has since been sold, and the organisation later moved to Battersea, where it continues its work today.
There is, in our experience, a curious sense of continuity in this story. After the move from Belgrave Square, the Spiritualist Association in Battersea again became indirectly connected to Sandra’s life—not through where she had lived, but through where she later studied. Her secondary school years placed her once more near the organisation’s new home, as though these places reappear across different stages of life with an almost symbolic continuity.
Over the years, our engagement with Spiritualist centres has extended beyond the main Association to a number of local churches and meeting places, including Charlton, Abbey Wood, Eltham, and more recently Ealing. Each has its own character—often more informal and community-based than the central London headquarters—but all share the same framework of mediumship, healing, and spiritual teaching.
One of the most striking aspects of Spiritualism is its wider cultural and historical resonance. Figures such as the writer Arthur Conan Doyle became prominent supporters of Spiritualism later in life, particularly after personal bereavement during the First World War. Another figure associated with Spiritualist interest was Air Chief Marshal Hugh Dowding, architect of victory in the last war’s Battle of Britain.

These associations place Spiritualism within a broader landscape of enduring human questions about mortality, meaning, and continuity.
To understand why Spiritualism gained such traction in Victorian Britain, it is important to consider the wider context. Although medical science advanced rapidly during the nineteenth century, death remained far more present and often far less predictable than today. Many conditions now treatable were then frequently fatal, and infant and maternal mortality rates were significantly higher.
Victorian society consequently developed a strong cultural preoccupation with death. This is visible in the monumental cemeteries around London, such as Highgate Cemetery, as well as in elaborate mourning customs, jewellery, and highly structured public expressions of grief. Death was more visible, more communal, and in many ways more theatrically embedded in daily life.
In this context, Spiritualism offered something compelling: the possibility of continued contact with the dead at a time when loss was both frequent and deeply felt. It also developed alongside emerging interest in psychical research and the boundaries between science and religion.
Today, improved medicine and public health have made many once-fatal conditions treatable, and death has become more medicalised and less publicly visible. In some respects, this has reduced the everyday sense of mystery surrounding dying, though it has not diminished the deeper questions it raises.
At the current headquarters of the Spiritualist Association in Battersea, although the setting is less grand than the former Belgrave Square premises, many elements of continuity remain. Among them are references to its earlier history, including the well-known chair associated with Arthur Conan Doyle, which symbolically links the present centre with its past and with its historical supporters.
Looking beyond Britain, it is also striking how widespread forms of spiritual mediumship are across cultures. In Mongolia, I personally witnessed shamanic practice, where the shaman acts as a medium between the human and spirit worlds within a deeply embedded ceremonial tradition. In this sense, Spiritualism in Britain echoes practices found in many other cultural contexts.
Similarly, in the ancient Roman world there were established systems of divination and oracle consultation, including priestesses and ritual specialists believed to interpret divine messages or the will of the gods. In addition ancestor worship continues strong in many parts of the world especially among the New Guinea headhunters and Mexico’s cult of the Dead.

These examples suggest that mediation between the human and unseen world is a recurring feature of human societies.
A particularly powerful parallel came earlier that same day, during a visit to the Ramses exhibition. Ancient Egypt offers perhaps one of the most striking examples of continuity between life and the afterlife. Pharaohs were understood to become divine after death, entering a transformed state in which communication with the divine was structured through ritual, prayer, and priestly mediation. In this sense, practices resembling communication with the unseen world appear not as anomalies, but as part of a long and continuous human pattern: the desire to bridge life, death, and what may lie beyond.
One question that arises from this broader perspective is how far Spiritualism continues to exist and evolve in countries such as Italy. Given the enduring influence of the Catholic Church, it is not part of mainstream religious practice in the same way as in Britain, yet forms of folk belief, mediumship, and alternative spirituality continue to exist in various cultural forms.

Over the years, our engagement with Spiritualist practice has been wide-ranging, from formal organisations to smaller local churches. In some cases, people—including ourselves—have experienced what is described as spiritual healing, and while interpretations differ, the sense of calm, attention, and reassurance is often central.
In reflecting on all of this, it is difficult not to see how deeply rooted the idea of survival after death is in human culture: from ancient Egyptian beliefs, to classical traditions, to Christian ideas of resurrection and eternal life. Across many indigenous traditions as well, communication with spirits forms part of a broader worldview.
Seen in this wider context, Spiritualism becomes one expression of a much older and more universal human impulse: the desire to find continuity beyond death and to give meaning to loss.
Ultimately, the question remains open. Spiritualism offers one framework, science offers another, and many people remain somewhere between the two—open to mystery while grounded in lived experience.
For us, these visits are less about reaching conclusions than about observing a living tradition that continues to offer comfort, structure, and meaning. And for Sandra in particular, it is also a thread running quietly through different stages of life, linking places, memories, and encounters in a way that feels unexpectedly continuous.