Beauty of Coherence

We live in a world of fragments. Digital feeds, sprawling cities, political divides, even our own attention - all seem to pull apart rather than hold together. Yet beneath the noise, there is a human longing for coherence: for the sense that things fit, that life is not random but woven.

Coherence is often mistaken for conformity. But true coherence is not sameness; it is harmony. It is the way a river bends through a valley, the way the stones of a cathedral fit together, the way a piece of music allows different notes to resolve into a whole. Coherence dignifies difference by giving it a place in a larger pattern.

The philosopher Roger Scruton described beauty as “a call to homecoming.” Beauty, for him, was not ornament but alignment - the moment when things stand in proportion and feel at ease. When we encounter coherence, we often call it beautiful because it resonates with an ancient intuition: that the world has an order, and that we belong within it.

Modern life has largely abandoned coherence. Our cities are shaped by expedience rather than proportion. Our institutions are managed by spreadsheets rather than meaning. Our public spaces, digital and physical alike, are littered with signals that do not add up to a story. In such an environment, alienation becomes the norm. As Alasdair MacIntyre observed, without shared narratives or virtues, societies collapse into “a heap of broken images.”

To recover coherence is therefore a civic task, not merely an aesthetic one. Wendell Berry, writing of farms and communities, noted that “a good solution solves more than one problem, and it does not create new ones.” This is coherence in practice: a pattern of life in which parts strengthen each other rather than compete. A coherent farm enriches soil, nourishes families and sustains culture. A coherent town cares for its past while welcoming its future.

Coherence in this sense is not a style but a way of living. It is the patient work of fitting things together so that they strengthen one another - people with place, memory with possibility, beauty with belonging. It is the opposite of fragmentation. It restores dignity by allowing us to know where we are, who we are among, and what we are part of.

The beauty of coherence is that it does not demand perfection. It asks only for proportion, rhythm, and care. In an age of disconnection, to work for coherence is not nostalgia, but a radical act of repair. It is to insist that life can once again be woven, and that beauty and meaning belong not at the margins, but at the very centre of our common world.