part-time jobs and is never able to study because she is literally putting food
on the table for her brothers and sisters. She fails the same exam that you
passed with flying colors. Is that fair? No, it’s not. You would probably feel
that she deserves some sort of special exception due to her situation—maybe
a chance to retake the test or to take it at a later date, when she has time to
study for it. She deserves this because she is a “good” person for her
sacrifices and disadvantages. This is slave morality.
In Newtonian terms, master morality is the intrinsic desire to create a
moral separation between ourselves and the world around us. It is the desire
to create moral gaps with us on top. Slave morality is, then, an intrinsic desire
to equalize, to close the moral gap and alleviate suffering. Both are
fundamental components of our Feeling Brain’s operating system. Both
generate and perpetuate strong emotions. And both give us hope.
Nietzsche argued that the cultures of the ancient world (Greek, Roman,
Egyptian, Indian, and so on) were master morality cultures. They were
structured to celebrate strength and excellence even at the expense of millions
of slaves and subjects. They were warrior civilizations; they celebrated guts,
glory, and bloodshed. Nietzsche also argued that the Judeo-Christian ethic of
charity, pity, and compassion ushered slave morality to prominence, and
continued to dominate Western civilization up through his own time. For
Nietzsche, these two value hierarchies were in constant tension and
opposition. They were, he believed, at the root of all political and social
conflict throughout history.
And, he warned, that conflict was about to get much worse.
Each religion is a faith-based attempt to explain reality in such a way that it
gives people a steady stream of hope. In a kind of Darwinian competition,
those religions that mobilize, coordinate, and inspire their believers the most
are those that win out and spread throughout the world.
8
In the ancient world, pagan religions built on master morality justified the
existence of emperors and warrior-kings who swept across the planet,
expanding and consolidating territory and people. Then, about two thousand
years ago, slave morality religions emerged and slowly began to take their
place. These new religions were (usually) monotheistic and were not limited
to one nation, race, or ethnic group. They preached their message to everyone
because their message was one of equality: all people were either born good
and later corrupted or were born sinners and had to be saved. Either way, the
result was the same. Everyone, regardless of nation, race, or creed, had to be
converted in the name of the One True God.
9
Then, in the seventeenth century, a new religion began to emerge in
Europe, a religion that would unleash forces more powerful than anything
seen in human history.
Every religion runs into the sticky problem of evidence. You can tell
people all this great stuff about God and spirits and angels and whatnot, but if
the entire town burns down and your kid loses an arm in a fishing accident,
well, then . . . oops. Where was God?
Throughout history, authorities have expended a lot of effort to hide the
lack of evidence supporting their religion and/or to punish anyone who dared
question the validity of their faith-based values. It’s for this reason that, like
most atheists, Nietzsche loathed spiritual religions.
Natural philosophers, as scientists were called in Isaac Newton’s time,
decided that the most reliable faith-based beliefs were those that had the most
evidence supporting them. Evidence became the God Value, and any belief
that was no longer supported by evidence had to be altered to account for the
new observed reality. This produced a new religion: science.
Science is arguably the most effective religion because it is the first
religion that is able to evolve and improve upon itself. It is open to anybody
and everybody. It is not moored to a single book or creed. It is not beholden to
some ancient land or people. It is not tethered to a supernatural spirit whose
existence cannot be proven or disproven. It is an ongoing, ever-changing body
of evidence-based beliefs, one that is free to mutate, grow, and shift as the
evidence dictates.
The scientific revolution changed the world more than anything before or
since.
10
It has reshaped the planet, lifted billions out of disease and poverty,
and improved every aspect of life.
11
It is not an exaggeration to suggest that
science may be the only demonstrably good thing humanity has ever done for
itself. (Thank you, Francis Bacon, thank you, Isaac Newton, you fucking
titans.) Science is singularly responsible for all the greatest inventions and
advances in human history, from medicine and agriculture to education and
commerce.
But science did something else even more spectacular: it introduced to the
world the concept of growth. For most of human history, “growth” wasn’t a
thing. Change occurred so slowly that everyone died in pretty much the same
economic condition they were born in. The average human from two
thousand years ago experienced about as much economic growth in his
lifetime as we experience in six months today.
12
People would live their entire
lives, and nothing changed—no new developments, inventions, or
technologies. People would live and die on the same land, among the same
people, using the same tools, and nothing ever got better. In fact, things like
plagues and famine and war and dickhead rulers with large armies often made
everything worse. It was a slow, grueling, miserable existence.
And with no prospect for change or a better life in this lifetime, people
drew their hope from spiritual promises of a better life in the next lifetime.
Spiritual religions flourished, and dominated daily life. Everything revolved
around the Church (or synagogue or temple or mosque or whatever). Priests
and holy men were the arbiters of social life because they were the arbiters of
hope. They were the only ones who could tell you what God wanted, and God
was the only one who could promise any salvation or a better future.
Therefore, these holy men dictated everything that was of value in society.
Then science happened, and shit got cray-cray. Microscopes and printing
presses and internal combustion engines and cotton gins and thermometers
and, finally, some goddamn medicine that actually worked. Suddenly, life got
better. More important, you could see life getting better. People used better
tools, had access to more food, were healthier, and made more money. Finally,
you could look back ten years and say, “Whoa! Can you believe we used to
live like that?”
And that ability to look back and see progress, see growth happen,
changed how people viewed the future. It changed how they viewed
themselves. Forever.
Now, you didn’t have to wait until death to improve your lot. You could
improve it here and now. And this implied all sorts of wonderful things.
Freedom, for one: How were you going to choose to grow today? But also
responsibility: because you could now control your own destiny, you had to
take responsibility for that destiny. And of course, equality: because if a big
patriarchal God isn’t dictating who deserves what, that must mean that either
no one deserves anything or everyone deserves everything.
These were concepts that had never been voiced before. With the prospect
of so much growth and change in this life, people no longer relied on spiritual
beliefs about the next life to give them hope. Instead, they began to invent and
rely upon the ideological religions of their time.
This changed everything. Church doctrines softened. People stayed home
on Sundays. Monarchs conceded power to their subjects. Philosophers began
to openly question God—and somehow weren’t burned alive for doing so. It
was a golden age for human thought and progress. And incredibly, the
progress begun in that age has only accelerated and continues to accelerate to
this day.
The scientific revolution eroded the dominance of spiritual religions and
made way for the dominance of ideological religions. And this is what
concerned Nietzsche. Because for all of the progress and wealth and tangible
benefits that ideological religions produce, they lack something that spiritual
religions do not: infallibility.
Once believed in, a supernatural deity is impervious to worldly affairs.
Your town could burn down. Your mother could make a million dollars and
then lose it all again. You could watch wars and diseases come and go. None
of these experiences directly contradicts a belief in a deity, because
supernatural entities are evidence-proof. And while atheists see this as a bug,
it can also be a feature. The robustness of spiritual religions means that the
shit could hit the proverbial fan, and your psychological stability would
remain intact. Hope can be preserved because God is always preserved.
13
Not so with ideologies. If you spend a decade of your life lobbying for
certain governmental reform, and then that reform leads to the deaths of tens
of thousands of people, that’s on you. That piece of hope that sustained you
for years is shattered. Your identity, destroyed. Hello darkness, my old friend.
Ideologies, because they’re constantly challenged, changed, proven, and
then disproven, offer scant psychological stability upon which to build one’s
hope. And when the ideological foundation of our belief systems and value
hierarchies is shaken, it throws us into the maw of the Uncomfortable Truth.
Nietzsche was on top of this before anybody else. He warned of the
coming existential malaise that technological growth would bring upon the
world. In fact, this was the whole point of his “God is dead” proclamation.
“God is dead” was not some obnoxious atheistic gloating, as it is usually
interpreted today. No. It was a lament, a warning, a cry for help. Who are we
to determine the meaning and significance of our own existence? Who are we
to decide what is good and right in the world? How can we bear this burden?
Nietzsche, understanding that existence is inherently chaotic and
unknowable, believed that we were not psychologically equipped to handle
the task of explaining our cosmic significance. He saw the spate of
ideological religions that spewed forth in the Enlightenment’s wake
(democracy, nationalism, communism, socialism, colonialism, etc.) as merely
postponing the inevitable existential crisis of mankind. And he hated them all.
He found democracy to be naïve, nationalism stupid, communism appalling,
colonialism offensive.
14
Because, in a kind of backward Buddhist way, Nietzsche believed that any
worldly attachment—to gender, race, ethnicity, nationality, or history—was a
mirage, a make-believe faith-based construct designed to suspend us high
over the chasm of the Uncomfortable Truth by a thin rope of meaning. And
ultimately, he believed that all these constructs were destined to conflict with
one another and cause far more violence than they solved.
15
Nietzsche predicted coming conflicts between the ideologies built on
master and slave moralities.
16
He believed that these conflicts would wreak
greater destruction upon the world than anything else seen in human history.
He predicted that this destruction would not be limited to national borders or
different ethnic groups. It would transcend all borders; it would transcend
country and people. Because these conflicts, these wars, would not be for
God. They would be between gods.
And the gods would be us.
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