Polytheism in the Modern Age
Why the Gods should return in the age of AI
Greetings Dear Reader,
I believe that, if there’s one thing that the (already present) age of AI will do, among many others, is facilitate a confrontation with our current paradigm of reality, our way of understanding our relationship with the world. Namely, that the individual/mind is a separate, autonomous machine that exists in a separate, autonomous bigger machine that is the universe/world. This world is believed to be an uncaring, lifeless, and completely random computer that we strive to manipulate and control for our own endless needs and benefits.
This idea, while we take it for granted, is neither natural nor perennial. It has been given to us by a combination of historical thought and events. For a really detailed and fascinating look at this, I’d like to point you to the work done by Prof.John Vervaeke in his ‘Awakening from the Meaning Crisis’ — I think everyone born in this day and age should listen to this, and I admit that much of my own thought is being actively shaped by his work.
Now, what the AI does is take that model of reality that is so precious to the modern mind and, essentially, surpass it. If the modern mind places its own value on computational power (as well as on ‘productivity’ under capitalism), then it has finally created something that renders it obsolete. This, while exacerbating the means of its own despair, may actually be just what we need to finally shift the paradigm into something new. Something different.
Disclaimer
This, by no means, will be an exhaustive article. What I will attempt here is an introduction to a philosophical argument I’ve been working on for the past few years and that is steadily evolving parallel to my own life and understanding of it.
I do not condone or recommend the practical use of these ideas to those with a history of mental health illness and/or psychosis.
Furthermore, the act of PLAY should be seen as a critical component when approaching this work.
The present article has not been written by a scientist or anyone involved with clinical research. These ideas are brought to you by an artist, an alchemist, and, in many ways, a pagan. I have a deep love for myth in all its various forms and I also have a deep love for psychology. Jungian psychoanalysis is a heavy influence on my thoughts, in combination with my understanding and interpretations of world mythology. I have a vested interest in the Norse and Greek pantheon of Gods, while simultaneously appreciating the study of monotheistic Gods, such as Allah and Yahweh. Without spending time on differences, similarities, and the endless cultural/philosophical/historical/spiritual interpretations, I will mostly make references to ancient, pagan traditions.
I mean no disrespect to believers or followers of these or any creeds/religions.
The Monotheism of the Ego
Let’s start with a timeline. As far as our (likely incomplete and simplistic) understanding of history is concerned, Polytheism came first, until it was supplanted by Monotheism. I want to argue that the fall of monotheism in the West was substituted by a sort of artificial monotheism devoid of all its previous meaning. The world was turned over from being ‘God’ or ‘of God’ to ‘being Nature/Universe’, but this so-called ‘Nature’ has not taken the role of Divinity (as represented in a hierarchy of influence); no, that role has been taken by the Intellect. The human mind. The ego.
The ego, in its endless vanity, has assumed the role of creator and destructor. It, alone, is the sole arbiter of all life, including that of the planet/world/Nature. This has led to a few interesting consequences:
- All happiness and all fear have been relegated to a by-product of its influence. The Ego lives in constant fear of itself, simultaneously hoping that its own devices and tools may bring about its fulfillment.
- Death is the ultimate adversary and the inescapable fate of the Ego; therefore all its actions and endeavour is, in endless ways, a response to Death. In this context, Death means Void, the end of all experience, or ‘nothingness’.
- Survival of the Ego becomes the primary motivator of all life. The experience of life is the experience of the perceived linear timeline that starts with birth and ends with death (both of which are states entirely outside of the Ego’s understanding and therefore considered as ‘random’).
You, dear Reader, might take all this for granted. You might say it’s ‘obvious’. It’s not. The Latin etymology for ‘obvious’ means ‘something frequently encountered’. This is also a complete fallacy in the great span of human history. Our modern view of life is the by-product of the past couple of centuries. And now, finally, it’s starting to choke us out.
So what can we do about it? We can change it, like we’ve always done.
What are the Gods?
Gods are Words.
I talk a lot about Gods. I write about mythology and psychology often, and in between, I like to spice it up with a personal spiritual view, which includes references to ‘Gods’. What do I mean by ‘Gods’? What the hell am I talking about?
Okay, to answer this question I think it’s necessary to include a little explanation of what, I believe, polytheistic tradition actually is.
Divine Projections
The belief in a pantheon of Divine, superhuman characters is likely a so-called ‘anthropomorphic projection’ of the human mind onto natural phenomena.
This would be a rational explanation and would also be in line with the popular philosophical dictum that the external world is a mirror that reflects back to us. And so, to our modern scientific mind, ancient civilizations were simply ‘unaware’ that their own minds were playing tricks on them, to the point where these tricks turned into stories, which in turn became traditions until traditions became religions. And, in many cases, religions became chains.
All pre-monotheistic traditions were polytheistic. Another way to phrase this is that before One God, there were many Gods. These ‘Gods’ often had extremely human traits (the Norse Aesir and the Greek Olympians are said to often indulge in excessive drinking, internal squabbles and display very human emotions such as anger, envy, pride, frustration, desire, etc.) — the Gods were, essentially, our characteristics superimposed on the natural, external world.
While the modern mind finds this absurd and silly, let’s examine what this actually means. One consequence of a polytheistic view is a change in the participatory knowingness of the world. What do I mean by this?
If the Gods are everywhere in the natural world and if the Gods are very similar to how I feel on a weekly basis, the world is now suddenly an extension of my self, rather than an isolated, separate space that is entirely indifferent to me. This, of course, has both positive and negative consequences based on transitory feeling states (e.g. I’m feeling frustrated therefore the Gods must be angry with me, or I have succeeded in X endeavour, which means the Gods are pleased).
Pleasing/angering the Gods retains the illusory dualistic view of the mind, yes, but also offers it a different connection and a more direct participatory role in the world.
Why the Gods Failed
Human history has revealed the inadequacy of this system of belief alongside its pitfalls.
For example, if I believe my Gods favour me above you, then I may be justified in killing you. Monotheism has, unfortunately, failed in exactly the same way. Considering the history of the sacred texts they originate from, both Yahweh and Allah are (among many other things) warrior-Gods. They are the Gods who won and asserted dominion over the rest. This has helped with the formation of entire civilizations and empires but it has not, actually, diminished the endless conflicts between us.
Monotheistic religions are defined by the existence of One God, and they’re prone to act as a blank canvas for our darkest shadow projections. In this way, their Gods can take on the shapes and characteristics of the ugliest parts of the Ego.
Polytheism, on the other hand, represents division. It’s not a unified whole, but it allows for the awareness of different aspects of life that are fundamental to our relationship to it. These aspects are incarnated into the domains of the various Gods.
In the Shadow of Ares
Let’s take Ares as an example.
If Anger turns into Ares, then your mind now has a container for it. The psyche can work with containers, divisions and categories. These are elements intrinsic to its structure.
Ares is the God of War and Courage, and while he can and does point to the warring ancient Greek city-states, he also points to the warring aspects inside our own selves. We all feel angry and bloodthirsty sometimes — hacking the enemy to bloody pieces may just be the catharsis that we feel we need some days. Of course, this behaviour is always unacceptable, so it tends to get relegated to the shadow. We become unaware of it and in time we become convinced that we would never, ever, be capable of murder. And yet… we are.
If there is one thing that violent movies (see the Action genre) and video games (see GTA/God of War) do, is showing us precisely that part of us. The angry God of vengeance. And they allow us to indulge and exhaust those powerful invisible forces that act through us, in a safe and controlled way that doesn’t pose a risk to another individual. Most of us wouldn’t admit we’d love to watch the world burn, yet ‘the Joker’ is somehow one of the most popular characters in modern media.
The world has changed, yes, but human nature hasn’t. We still experience (in a wide spectrum) anger, hatred, and a desire for conquest and destruction as intensely as our ancestors.
In a world without Ares, these invisible forces are understood as ‘irrational aspects of the psyche’ and are catalogued in relation to trauma and/or physiological and psychological defects. They are, essentially, wrong. If we are told something is ‘wrong’ and we end up experiencing and feeling it, the psyche starts to panic. Most of us experience a disconnect between what we’re feeling and what we ‘should’ be feeling. The Christian ‘Sin’ has survived in the form of ‘Guilt’ and ‘Anxiety’.
Respecting the Gods
If the Ego believes itself to be the only God/Power of its own world, then the emergence of these irrational forces are seen as threatening because they appear to be alien, unpredictable and chaotic.
If these forces of chaos were to be named, however — that process would allow the mind to exert a relationship with them. This, to me, is what having a relationship with the Gods means. Words define life and our understanding of it.
In this example, what if Anger was not some irrational, ethereal force, but the God Ares that visits you with a particular message? How would you relate and react to it?
First of all, you’d give it the respect it deserves.
You’re not the first human to experience an appetite for chaos and you won’t be the last. You’re not a victim of it, either. It’s a visitor, and it likely has something to say. Instead of ignoring it until it takes over (because it will if you do), sit with it and allow it to speak out.
This process is the reason why I find it useful to anthropomorphise my relationship to the invisible. The mind understands communication with other minds but it often has trouble communicating with inhuman forces, such as subconscious instincts.
If Anger turns into Ares, then your mind now has a container for it. This container has the advantage of having a pre-existing narrative attached to it (Ares is a male God, associated with weapons, and battles, usually depicted with the colour Red, etc.) The psyche can work with containers, divisions, and categories. These are elements intrinsic to its structure.
Similar examples can follow with possessive carnal desire (Aphrodite), or the quest for the spark of imagination (Zeus). A different relationship with death and grief could be explored by interacting with Hel/Hades/Thanatos. When I pray to the Gods, I allow my Ego to connect with invisible forces in a safe way, using the narratives behind these characters as stepping stones. The Ego is also humbled because it recognises the inherent power of these forces and treats them with respect.
This is why I stated that Gods are Words.
Conclusion
This is not a conclusion.
This is the first draft of a greater work that I will endeavour to update and expand upon in the years to come. There are many problems and pitfalls with my proposed model of thought. One among them is that life has taught me that different minds require different ways of interacting with the world. The same Gods that speak to me may not speak to others.
Gods never die. They evolve and change shapes across time and what I’m trying to present here, is an optional shape. A possible perspective to view them through, that could improve our relationship to the invisible, as well as bring more of the sacred in daily life.
Belief is a tricky thing to discuss and analyse, but it may just be part of the future work we need to do for ourselves when faced with the problem of obsolescence. Even if AI takes care of computational challenges, we are always left facing the giant, infinite dark ocean of the irrational Unconscious itself. But describing it like this sounds a little scary, doesn’t it?
Calling it Asgard, on the other hand, is a little more inviting.
Blessings,
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