We Are Myth
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- 20 min read
The creed of the global human superculture
Preface: As you read, you may experience uneasiness that morphs into denial, then anger. It might change how you see things. For some, it might spark an epiphany. For others, it might threaten long-held worldviews, which is painful. Through any feelings of indignation, look for the hope. It's there, dim, but in plain sight. Proceed with care. Find inspiration.
Thinkers, authors, and curious humans have tried to connect different aspects of humanity's current condition and understand how they interact. Some have had great success in piecing the puzzle together. But it's the nature of the beast to keep evolving and shapeshifting. At least our understanding does, and maybe that's the whole point. Some things will always be unknowable, and as Mark Twain put it, "what gets us into trouble is not what we don't know. It's what we know for sure that just ain't so."
Things these days are weird and getting weirder. Some think things have always been weird, but things are getting better overall. Others are frantically evangelizing because "all the signs" are pointing to the Rapture's imminent arrival. Still others are taking their own lives because they don't feel there's a point to it all.
We objectively have the best lives in history. We have more food, more goods and services, more options, more comfort, bigger houses, cheaper energy, better healthcare, better transportation, faster delivery, faster WiFi, shinier cars, and more realistic video games.
But many of us are experiencing a combination of anxiety, anger, nihilism, and desperation at the state of the world and our lives. We feel trapped in a job we don't like that pays well but builds the agent-of-doom overlords we fear, only to come home weary, stare at a screen that flaunts the best and worst of humanity, feel bad about ourselves, and realize consuming our way to happiness is actually a fiction fueling the economic machine that's turning democracy into a techno-oligarchy. It's all the things, and more. And the knowledge that we do, indeed, objectively have the best lives in history only seems to add to our anguish.
Why is this? How did we get here? Who are we? Where are we going?
What follows is a very brief series of connected ideas—a philosophy—intended to provide a useful perspective on humankind. The key is useful, not true, as Derek Sivers says. It's not meant as criticism of any one story, rather an examination of how stories shape behavior and lead to global outcomes that aren't necessarily desirable.
Mythology shapes culture. Every culture throughout human history has told stories about where its people came from and their place in the universe. These stories can take the form of religions, parables, allegories, and fables, but they're all flavors of myths. A myth is a narrative of events that shapes people's worldview. Cultural practices and beliefs can often be traced back to the myths of that culture. Among the many myths a culture can have, the origin story, the story of how those people came to be, is among the most influential. Origin stories tell people who they are, where they came from, how to live, and their place in the broader community of life.
There have been as many origin stories as there have been cultures, which is to say many thousands or tens of thousands over Homo Sapiens' 250,000-year history. In a classical Chinese story, the Earth and its features were created from the body of a giant named Pan Gu, who emerged from an egg-shaped cloud after 18,000 years of sleep. Humans were created from mud by a goddess named Nü Wa, whose body later transformed into earthly adornments after her death.
In another story, the Creator created an agent named Sotuknang who made solid worlds with water and air. He also made Spider Woman, who created life on Earth. Sotuknang gave the first people language with instructions to respect their Creator and to live in harmony with him. People spread across the Earth, but they stopped living in harmony with the animals and other people. Sotuknang took the few remaining people who remembered the Creator and sent them to live underground with the ants, while he and the Creator destroyed the world with fire.
When Sotuknang finished the second world, he told the people to remember the Creator. As they spread across the Earth, they built villages and roads and traded. They acquired things they didn't need, and their avarice led to trade wars as they forgot their Creator. Again, Sotuknang took the few who still remembered the Creator and sent them to live with the ants as he destroyed the world with ice.
Then Sotuknang brought the people into a third world he made, and again admonished them to remember their Creator. The people spread rapidly, building huge cities and separate nations. War ensued, and they built flying shields to ride and attack other cities. Sotuknang saw he needed to end this war, so he enlisted Spider Woman to put the remaining few who remembered their Creator into the hollow stem of a reed. He proceeded to destroy the world with a flood.
The people floated along in the reed for a long time. They navigated past several islands until they reached an immense land where they found Sotuknang waiting for them. He told the people that this fourth world wasn't as beautiful as the others and that life would be hard because of the difficult terrain and extreme temperatures. He sent clans to migrate across the land to seek their homelands. Some clans grew weak and settled in rich lands with favorable climates. But the Hopi, after a long journey of exploration, finally settled in the arid lands between the Colorado River and the Rio Grande River. They chose that rugged place so that the hardship of their life would always remind them of their dependence on, and link to, their Creator.
In another story, Yahweh created the heavens and Earth before making a man from dust. In a place called Eden, he created a garden full of fruit trees. He put the man, named Adam, there and told him to cultivate the garden and to eat any fruit he wanted, except for the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil. Then Yahweh made animals, but finding them insufficient to be Adam's helper, he pulled out one of Adam's ribs and fashioned it into a woman named Eve. Then, after being convinced by a snake, Eve ate the forbidden fruit and shared it with Adam. They became ashamed of their nudity and hid from Yahweh, who knew they had eaten from the tree of knowledge of good and evil, otherwise they wouldn't have known to be ashamed.
Yahweh, displeased, cursed the snake more than any other animal and condemned it to crawl on its belly and be beaten by Eve's offspring. He told Eve, "You will be cursed with great pain in giving birth to children, yet you will have the desire to reproduce, and your husband will rule you." And Yahweh said to Adam, "Because of what you have done, the ground is cursed, and you will never eat of this fruit again. You will grow plants and fields and eat bread until you die, until you become the dust from which you were made." Fearing Adam would then try to eat the fruit from the tree of life and live forever, Yahweh made the couple clothing and banished them from the Garden of Eden.
Of course, these are very short, abbreviated versions of a few origin stories. What do they say about human nature and how humans relate to each other and the natural world?
We don't have to believe stories as actual reality or truth. Even many devout religious people know this at some level. Rather, these stories serve as guides for how to live, supposing they are true. Embedded in many of our most enduring stories is a code of ethics. These doctrines influence how we live, how we work, how we treat our land, how we treat different animals, how we treat other cultures, how we dress, and what we work towards as a society.
While there are still many tribal cultures throughout the world, their influence is negligible in most of our lives. Today, there are about 200 sovereign countries in the world, each with its own stories and cultures, but many of their differences are trivial. In the 21st century, most of the world's 8 billion people are connected and share similar stories. Global communication and trade enable ideas to spread between Romania and New Zealand, Brazil and the United States, Denmark and the Galapagos—all within seconds. We've built a global human superorganism, and it has its own culture.
What is this world culture? What are its values? What are its beliefs? How does it relate to the natural world? Where is it going? To begin considering these questions, it would be helpful to first ask: what is its origin story?
Human civilization has made tremendous progress in understanding Earth, life, and the cosmos. We've been systematically uncovering the workings of the laws of nature and the laws of the universe for a couple of thousand years. Our scientific understanding of causal relationships between matter, energy, and information birthed a new origin story: the origin story of the human superorganism.
As this story goes, in the beginning, there was nothing. Then, 13.8 billion years ago, there was a Big Bang, where all of the matter and energy in the universe burst forth from a single point. Gravity pulled large amounts of matter together, forming stars, which eventually burned up and exploded, releasing heat that fused atoms into heavier elements. 5 billion years ago, the Sun formed from the remnants of a huge supernova. The remaining matter coalesced to form planets that orbited the Sun. One of the planets, Earth, was just the right size and distance from the Sun for a solid crust to form over its molten interior and for liquid water to form. Chemicals combined in the oceans until, one day, they formed single-cell organisms that could reproduce. Then, cells combined to form complex multicellular life forms that eventually crawled out of the oceans onto land. Each time they reproduced, small changes occurred. 2.8 million years ago, the first humans evolved. 250,000 years ago, humans evolved into Homo Sapiens, meaning us.
We had big brains and could communicate with language to teach each other and our offspring useful skills. About 12,000 years ago, we began planting crops and domesticating animals to produce our own food instead of hunting and gathering. Agriculture gave us access to more food and energy, allowing us to grow our population, build cities, and work at other things besides growing food. We invented new ways of making things, specialized in work, traveled, traded, developed technologies, and built vast empires. Civilizations grew more complex at an accelerating rate. About 300 years ago, we began using vast underground energy reserves that had formed over hundreds of millions of years, and we figured out how to burn them and convert their energy into mechanical work using a steam engine. Later, we developed more efficient engines, and we found even more fossil hydrocarbons to fuel our growth. We invented more powerful technologies, increased agricultural production, and grew our population and economies to create a world of progress and abundance.
Sound familiar?
This story maintains a central belief that has influenced everything humans have done for the last few thousand years. It's a belief we still hold, and it encourages us to continue pursuing progress through capitalist markets and further technological advancement. The belief is: the world was made for man, and man was made to conquer and rule it.
In the story of Genesis, Elohim (God) said, "Let us make humans after our own likeness, and let them rule over the fish of the sea, over the birds of the air, over the cattle and creeping things of the land, and over all the earth." God said to these humans, "Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it, ruling over the fish and the birds and the animals of the land."
For more than a millennium, Christianity was the largest religion in the world. It still holds that title, with about 30% of the world's population, but it has declined somewhat since the early twentieth century. Part of this decline may be attributed to the rise of scientific understanding and the aforementioned new origin story, since the new story is hard to reconcile with trees of forbidden fruit, talking snakes, and the other tales of the Bible. The past century has seen a rise in the "nones," or the 24% of the population that is not religiously affiliated. But while the nones may have thrown out creationism, they have fully embraced the shared belief that the world was made for man.
Friedrich Nietzsche's famous declaration, "God is dead," was an acknowledgment that Christian beliefs and morals were being replaced by Western civilization, rationalism, and secularism. This represented an upending of a cultural metaphysics that Nietzsche feared could lead to nihilism. He introduced the concept Übermensch (overman/superman) to recognize that individuals needed to create their own values and architect their own lives. The concept holds the promise of crafting one's own destiny, but it also contains dangerous traps.
While secularism may have killed God, it kept the belief that the world belongs to man. Man is the most intelligent, supreme animal to walk the Earth. He is the apotheosis of creation. This belief is deeply ingrained in modern culture, and more than half of the world's population accepts it: Christians, atheists, and others alike.
Hypothetically, how might a society conduct itself if it believes that the world was made for man?
Well, it would take as many of nature's provisions as it pleases. It would claim huge swaths of land for itself. It would clear-cut forests and rip up grasslands for agriculture to grow more food to increase its population. It would subordinate wild animals and raise them for meat. It would seize land for villages, towns, and cities to concentrate its population where ideas could flourish. It would develop technologies to do new things and do old things more effectively. It would dam rivers to store water for cities and food production in times of drought. It would create economies and systems of coordinating human action for growth.
It would create markets for everything and debt instruments to finance faster growth. It would seek to make life easier and more comfortable for people. It would acquire more and more energy to fuel expansion. It would develop materials that don't break down and decompose as natural materials do. It would create transportation systems to move humans, food, and products around the globe. It would dynamite mountains to extract ore. It would replace human labor with machines and more and more energy. It would dump its trash into rivers and oceans or, more responsibly, build giant mountains of garbage on land.
When pests threatened monocultures of crops, it would synthesize poisons to kill them. When soil degraded and threatened yields, it would create and spread synthetic fertilizers. When drought threatened the water supply, it would drill deeper wells into aquifers. When diminishing fossil fuels threatened to increase the cost of everything, it would invent nuclear reactors, photovoltaic panels, and wind turbines to secure an uninterrupted flow of energy. When economic growth started to level off, it would bombard consumers with advertising messages letting them know that their inferiority and unhappiness can be solved if they just buy more.
When people got depressed and obese, it would concoct drugs to fix them. When wolves and mountain lions threatened livestock, it would eradicate the predators with bullets and strychnine. When indigenous peoples occupied land that it wanted to expand its territory or gain access to rare earth metals, it would annihilate them or confine them to reservations somewhere else. When citizens voiced concerns about environmental degradation, biodiversity, and limits to growth, it would silence them and emphasize human ingenuity and technology as the savior.
It would attempt to abolish the unknown. It would seek progress and productivity through more powerful technology and more energy. It would conquer every living thing on Earth, multiplying everything it could use as food and destroying everything it couldn't. It would subjugate wild animals and confine them to small enclosures in zoos so city goers can be entertained on a Saturday. It would treat the natural world as a stockpile of resources to be exploited, rather than a symbiotic community that supports life. It would keep a few small areas as nature reserves and national parks so that tourists could travel across the world to recreate and glimpse a vestige of what once was.
When the problems it created became so formidable that human cleverness alone couldn't overcome them, it would invent superhuman intelligence as its silicon messiah.
What's rushed in to fill the "God-shaped hole in our hearts" is progress, science, capitalism, consumerism, and hedonism. When our story tells us that the world was made for us and our place is to conquer and rule it, conquering and ruling becomes Holy work.
Stories and technology can propagate themselves. Communication and transportation make it possible to disseminate information globally. We now have vectors to preach the gospel of progress to the entire world.
Technology is the engine, but our stories and culture are at the helm.
The laws of the universe determine what's possible. Technology determines what we can do within those laws. Culture determines what we actually do, and more importantly, what we don't do. Technology determines where we can go. Culture determines where we go. Culture is made by our stories.
Our modern stories have led to man's dominance of nature, expansion, technologies, medicines, economics, and improvements in quality of life in many cases. They've also led to complexity. Institutions and ideas such as money, capitalism, and democracy arose. Growth is the main goal, and if the economy doesn't grow, it dies—as unpayable debt comes due. Our growth now threatens the biosphere and the foundation of nature it rests upon: the foundation we rest upon.
Technology is designed to solve problems and create novelty. Economic growth occurs when companies make new things and sell more of them. Grow comes with greater material and energy throughput, which requires increasing amounts of extraction, pollution, and environmental destruction.
While technology is not necessarily deterministic, it has a direction to its progression. A hunter-gatherer could not have created a smartphone. He first would have had to invent agriculture, blast furnaces, a steam engine, and millions of other innovations.
As technologies evolve within our story of progress, complexity increases because technologies can only be built upon other technologies. They can only arise from the adjacent possible. Since technologies of the past couple of centuries were spawned in an era where humans were milking a gargantuan, yet finite, supply of cheap fossil energy, they became energy-intensive. This makes them fragile. As technologies and civilizations grow more complex, they require more and more energy to maintain that complexity. Failure to meet maintenance energy requirements is the beginning of collapse.
Just as a hunter-gatherer could not have made a smartphone, neither could you. Nor could Steve Jobs. Nor could anyone else. Technological complexity has grown to the mythic levels our story has prophesied. The division of labor and hyper-specialization required to produce our technologies has left each of us infantilized if we were tasked with making any number of things we rely on every day. Making a smartphone requires not just a company of thousands of people, not just global transportation networks, and not just centuries or millennia of accumulated knowledge. It requires all that, plus all of modernity. Much of our technology is like this.
Much of our food system is like this, too. As Wendell Berry puts it, "Most of us not only do not know how to produce the best food in the best way, we don't know how to produce any kind in any way. Our model citizen is a sophisticate who, before puberty, understands how to produce a baby, but who at the age of thirty will not know how to produce a potato. And for this condition, we have elaborate rationalizations instructing us that dependence for everything on somebody else is efficient and economical and a scientific miracle."
Capitalism optimizes for labor efficiency. We take materials and energy from nature and transform them into economic goods that can be bought and sold for a profit. Seeking to reduce production costs, the capitalist replaces human labor and skill with mechanization and higher energy inputs. In doing so, she can decrease her production costs while simultaneously producing a larger quantity of goods.
Cheap energy is the catalyst that fuels this growth. Without energy that's significantly cheaper than human labor at transforming materials and doing mechanical work, growth would occur very slowly, if at all. Cheap energy comes from sources with a high EROI (energy returned on energy invested) and exploitation. Unencumbered exploitation is critical to growth.
Through a series of steps (the details of which I'll omit for the sake of brevity), this leads to wealth inequality, increased consumption, extraction, pollution, and exploitation of human and other life forms. It creates horrors of industrial agriculture and human slavery.
Growth is the temporary remedy that prevents the global civilization we've built from collapsing. But growth cannot continue forever, and eventually, global human civilization will collapse. All past civilizations have collapsed: from the Mayans to the Easter Islanders, the Mycaneans to the Minoans, the Greenland Norse to the Cahokians, the Hittite empire to the Roman empire. The difference now is that the human superorganism is one global empire, connected by communication, trade, and technology. While it appears to have redundancy, civilization is growing fragile; an anvil dangling by the most gossamer of threads.
We've put a big block V8 in a soap box derby car. We've broken natural cycles and linearized them. Many voices of concern have shouted about looming disaster in the past, but each has been supposedly proven wrong—so far. Technological progress has masked the underlying issue and kicked the can down the road. It has deluded us into thinking that all is well as we devour our seed corn. And that has only exalted the myth of progress.
For the wealthy and poor alike, the story of progress is leading us to a health crisis, an environmental crisis, and a meaning crisis. Diseases of abundance and despair abound. We buy drugs like Prozac and Ozempic to solve the problems created by constant comfort and prosperity—only to have side effects, for which we need a new pill. We objectively have the best lives in history, but we're fat, unfulfilled, and depressed. We're on a hedonic treadmill. When we think we get where we wanted to go, we find ourselves in the same place or worse off. But progress. It's coming. It'll make things better.
Many of us know our jobs are bullshit. We're not accomplishing anything worth accomplishing. We're unfulfilled. We know we're feeding the machine we detest, but it pays well. And we don't know what else to do.
We've been liberated from the toil of agriculture. In the United States, only about 1% of the population works in food production. And those who do are equipped with combines, diesel, and an arsenal of pesticides and fertilizer. To be called a peasant, a food producer, is a term of disparagement. Meanwhile, the valuable jobs of society, the ones bringing in the billions, are the petrochemical producers, the private equity pirates, the social media companies, and the financial engineering firms that create and sell absurd derivatives of derivatives. It's a product of our story.
In the Hopi story, the creator destroyed the world he had made each time the people built what our culture strives for. Their origin story shows them where they fit in the world. Living in harmony with their creator, with all of nature, is paramount to their existence. Not because they are such charitable people, but because they'll be destroyed if they don't. The Hopi could never rule and conquer the world within their story. It wasn't made for them to rule. That's a very different story from ours.
As for the human superorganism, everyone is trapped on the Titanic together as it strains for progress. We can no longer choose not to participate in modernity or to go back to old ways of doing things in our current story and landscape. Indigenous wisdom is being lost. Our environment is degraded and polluted.
We can't opt out of modernity and technology entirely, unless you want to give up everything you know. If everyone you know stops talking in person and only communicates via a new technological network, if you decide not to use it, you lose connection with those people. So you use it, even if you don't want to. Everyone is in this same position. We're controlled by smartphones, constant internet, and social platforms. In the same way, suburban sprawl makes car ownership a necessity.
What if you wanted to opt out of the economy and money-making entirely? If you wanted to sell everything you own to buy some land in the wilderness, build an off-grid cabin with your hands, and grow all of your own food? When property taxes come due, Uncle Sam will come to re-home you in a government institution—one not of your choosing—after auctioning off your land to someone who participates in the economy and can pay taxes. Today, you need the dollars.
Humankind's story did not spontaneously appear. It wasn't like one day people said, "Hey, the world was made for us, and we should conquer, rule, expand, and bend nature to our will." Rather, it was a gradual, insidious story that began to take shape after humans started planting crops around 12,000 years ago. With farming as a means of subsistence, man could exercise control over his environment and his fate. He no longer had to live by the provisions of nature or be nomadic in search of food. He no longer needed to abide by the caloric limits of what his ecosystem could provide, nor limit his population. He no longer needed to live in the hands of the gods. No, now, he was free to control his destiny. He could control his food supply, which meant he could grow his numbers, build cities, divide labor, eradicate wild animals, and expand as he saw fit. From this newfound power, new stories were told.
We built our modern civilization on the narrative of human progress. And the central belief is that the world was made for man, and man was made to conquer and rule it. It's a story adapted for growth and control. Sharing ties to both secularism and Judeo-Christian stories, it took advantage of the available conditions and capitalized on them. If a 24-hour clock represents the time humans have walked the Earth, agriculture and man's story of dominance appear only in the last few minutes. But this evolutionary experiment might be coming to an end, like a bacterial colony that ate up all its food in a petri dish. This story of progress is optimized for growth, not longevity.
Despite the blaring alarms, many people still deny that man is doing any harm, although it's often motivated reasoning by those whose profits come from exploitation. They're doubling down on their story; they're trying to conquer and rule.
Other well-intentioned humans in the 21st century are trying to solve the environmental problems humans have caused and are continuing to exacerbate. They're pushing for programs focused on renewable energy, decarbonization, and sustainable materials so we can continue our current consumption habits. Technology, nano-materials, cheaper photovoltaics, and efficiency are the answer, they believe. We'll use advanced robotics on autonomous farm equipment guided by LiDAR and GPS. We'll combine that with genetically engineered crop varieties to further improve yields and abolish food insecurity. We'll fly on airliners powered by biofuels. If the climate gets too warm, we'll pump aerosols into the stratosphere to reflect sunlight. We'll capture carbon dioxide from the air and inject it into underground rocks. Artificial intelligence will be a tool to accelerate innovation and solve the world's problems. But that's trying to force new technology into the same old story of progress and control.
What if man finally achieved total dominion over nature and the cosmos? If his rule became absolute? What if he developed the skills and technology to control everything: all the energy, matter, and information in the universe? What if he reached the Omega Point? What would he do? How would the world look? After he finally succeeds at abolishing the unknown, uncovering all the secrets of the inner workings of nature and the cosmos, and can pull those strings himself, will he be satisfied? Or would he lose his ability to live in wonder and awe of nature and the universe? Would he miss his capacity for reverence, and finally grasp the hollow melancholy of playing God for an audience of no one?
What if we considered the abominable notion that our story is not the one right story? That our story is not objective reality? That our story leaves little room for reverence and awe of nature? That the world is more than a sphere of resources awaiting exploitation? That the world is more the sum of its parts? That the gods are in everything, but they are not omnipotent? That our story is leading us to Icarian heights, and it's getting hot for our wax wings? That the world was, in fact, not made for man?
Wendell Berry reminds us of a truth we once knew: "There are no unsacred places; there are only sacred places and desecrated places."
Our modern story of progress and conquest strips the sacred. It devastates nature and turns her shattered limbs into dollars and dopamine.
Technology is just the engine. Culture, shaped by our stories, is at the helm. We are myths.
"If the world is saved, it will not be saved by people with the old vision and new programs. If the world is saved, it will be saved by people with a new vision and no programs." - Daniel Quinn.
We can continue to worship at the altar of progress. We can grow, and grow, and grow ourselves to death; like a cancer.
Or, we can change our vision.
We can change our mythology.
We can tell new stories.
If we choose.
Disclaimer: No portion of this work may be used for training artificial intelligence systems without written permission from the author.
This work was written by a human without the aid of AI.
Readers and Writers: Take a stand against The Machine.
References and Influence
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