The Gods Only Have Power Because We Believe In Them
[with apologies toTerry Pratchett and TVTropes]
“Is it true,” asked the student, “that the gods only have power because we believe in them?”
“Yes,” said the sage.
“Then why not appear openly? How many more people would believe in the Thunderer if, upon first gaining enough worshipers to cast lightning at all, he struck all of the worst criminals and tyrants?”
“Because,” said the sage, “the gods only gain power through belief, not knowledge. You know there are trees and clouds; are they thereby gods? Just as lightning requires close proximity of positive and negative charge, so divinity requires close proximity of belief and doubt. The closer your probability estimate of a god’s existence is to 50%, the more power they gain from you. Complete atheism and complete piety alike are useless to them.”
“Is it true,” asked the student, “that the gods only have power because we believe in them?”
“No,” said the sage. “The gods gain power not through belief, but through worship…”
“But then my next question is still the same. Why not appear openly? How many more people would worship the Thunderer if he struck down all of the worst criminals and tyrants?”
“Let me finish,” said the sage. “The gods gain power through the worship of unbelievers. The worship of someone who believes in them is useless. It must be an unbeliever who performs the rites. As the ancients say, solve for the equilibrium.”
“Um,” said the student. “Maybe - the gods appear to the king, and tell him to force the populace to perform rites?”
“So it was in Akhenaten’s time,” said the sage. “But soon the people thought: it must be a powerful god indeed who can convince our king to make us worship him.”
“Then - appear to one generation. Get a tradition going. Make sure everybody feels socially compelled to join in. Then abandon the world. Do nothing at all for centuries. Nobody will want to embarrass themselves by failing to pay homage, but everyone will doubt in secret. When too many people genuinely leave the church, appear again.”
“So it was in Jeremiah’s time,” said the sage. “But soon the people thought ‘We must have been wicked indeed for our god to leave us; we will believe with renewed fervour in the hopes that He returns.”
“Then - convince everyone you don’t exist, but that it’s beneficial to pretend you do. Go easy on the threats of damnation, but threaten them with a hellishly empty social life if they let the institution of church lapse. Make them believe that ‘cultural evolution’ produces uniquely valuable structures, and so if your ancestors went on pilgrimages, you need to go on pilgrimages too even though there’s no such thing as a real holy place and you don’t know why.”
“You have said it.”
“Is it true,” asked the student, “that the gods only have power because we believe in them?”
“No,” said the sage. “Just the opposite. The gods only have power when people doubt them.”
“Then why have they revealed themselves to us?”
“So that it would be the Thunderer who the atheists scoff at, rather than Ra-Horakhty or Baal-Ammon. It is that scoffing that gives him strength. If the atheists scoffed at Ra-Horakhty instead, it would be he who is strongest. Each god tries to apply enough power to keep their own name foremost on the minds of mortals, but not so much that the mortals truly believe. Any true believers are accidents, side effects of the level of power it takes to get the masses scoffing at themselves in particular.”
“Is it true,” asked the student, “that the gods only have power because we believe in them?”
“No,” said the sage. “Just the opposite. The gods only have power when people doubt them.”
“Then why have they revealed themselves to us?”
“They have not. Those gods you know are the losers of wars in heaven. Their victorious enemies spread their cults as widely as possible on earth, to ensure they never rise again.”
“Is it true,” asked the student, “that the gods only have power because we believe in them?”
“No,” said the sage. “Just the opposite. The gods only have power when people doubt them.”
“Then why have they revealed themselves to us?”
“Those gods you know of are the weakest of gods, those who let their lust for praise and adoration overcome their good sense. Of the gods you know, the ones the myths speak of least are most powerful, and there are unknown gods stronger than any.”
“The ones the myths speak of least are the most powerful? Wouldn’t that make the myths nonsensical?”
“Do the bards not tell of three old women with thread and scissors, who have magic that binds the mighty Thunderer himself? Yet where are their temples? Who tells their story?”
“Does that mean we could blackmail a god by threatening to believe in them harder?”
“You have said - ” The sage paused, confused. Had said what? Who had said it? Who was he talking to? He was growing barmy in his old age, that was for sure. Soon he would die and then all his knowledge would die with him. If only he had taken a student.
“Is it true,” asked the student, “that the gods only have power because we believe in them?”
“Yes,” said the sage. “It is true.”
“If I everyone stopped believing in a god, would the god die?”
“You have said it.”
So the student traveled the land, dominant assurance contract in hand. Everywhere he went, he told the people, “Sign this contract, which says that if everyone in the land signs the contract, you all agree to stop believing in the plague god.”
The people said they would sign if they could, but how could they stop believing in the plague god when his evidence was all around them?
The student thought for many years. Then he shaved his beard and grew his hair and returned to them, unrecognizable, and speaking different words. Now he said “There is no plague god. Plagues are caused by animaliculi, too small to see. No ceremony or amulet can avert them, only washing your hands and wearing face masks.
The people were astonished at his doctrine. But here and there it caught on, and in those villages the great plagues began to wane, until only mild colds and agues were left. Inspired by this success, more and more people believed the student’s words and doubted the plague god. And everywhere people were healthy and happy.
When the student was very old and had taken students of his own, he called them together. “Soon I will die,” he said. “But my heart is heavy. For one day, people will invent new tools, tools that let them see smaller than a hair’s breadth. And they will find there are no animaliculi, and learn that I deceived them, and then the plague god will return, angrier than ever. You must promise that when that time comes, you will bury these fears, re-convince them of the truth of my words, and protect my legacy.” All his students so swore, and he died.
And that is why, even today, when someone goes on a podcast and disagrees with an epidemiologist, lots of people get really angry and demand that Spotify take it down.
“Is it true,” asked the student, “that the gods only have power because we believe in them?”
“Yes,” said the sage. “It is true.”
“If everyone believed I was a god, would I become a god?”
“You have said it.”
So the student traveled the land, dominant assurance contract in hand. Everywhere he went, he told the people, “Sign this contract, that if everyone in the land signs the contract, you agree to worship me as a god.”
The people were skeptical. “Why should we worship you.? But the student won them over. To the Northmen, he promised that upon attaining divine powers, he would stop their long civil war. To the Westmen, he promised to humiliate their enemies the Eastmen. To the Eastmen, he promised to protect them from their enemies the Westmen. And the Southmen, he promised to make them as rich as they currently were poor.
Finally, when the last village had signed, he sent out riders, who called out “Rejoice, for the dominant assurance contract is complete, and now you shall worship me as a god!”
All the people of the land came and paid homage to him, and promised to obey his divine commands. To the Northmen, he commanded that they cease their fighting. To the Eastmen, he commanded that they give half their wealth over to the Southmen. To the Westmen, he commanded that they cease attacking the Eastmen.
For a generation, the land flourished under the god-king, until one day the old sage showed up at his palace. “My son,” he said, “I am old and weak. Now that you are a god, grant me my youth back, so I can teach others as I have taught you.”
“Alas, I cannot,” said his former student.
“It is as I suspected,” said the sage. “You are a fraud, and no god at all.”
“Wrong,” said the student, “I am not a god of healing. The storm god cannot create a single sunbeam, nor the god of death make a single flower bloom. I am the god of power, and by my fruits you shall know me. Go in peace, old man.”
Then the sage knelt, and paid homage to him, and returned home.
“Is it true,” asked the student, “that the gods only have power because we believe in them?”
“Yes,” said the sage. “It is true.”
“Then could I believe in a God Of Being Perfect In Every Way Who Loves Humans Infinitely Much And Tries To Make Them Better Off, and cause that god to come into existence?”
“You have said it,” said the sage. “But since only one person believed in him, he would have only minimal power.”
“What if I believed in the God Of Being Perfect In Every Way And So On, Who Also Had A Magical Hack He Could Use To Bootstrap From Existing At All To Being Completely Omnipotent? Then would he have limitless power?”
“You have said it,” said the sage.
And so the student believed in this god he had designed as hard as he could. And he lived happily ever after, along with his wife Sarah and his son Isaac.