Mythemes II

APPENDIX 2: The Pitfalls Of Mytheme-Milking

The prevalence of mythemes across cultures around the world (i.e. across epochs and geographies) is usually taken to mean that there is a universal proclivity to think of things in certain ways.  This is true.  But it can also indicate the presence of machination–as this universal proclivity can be exploited to serve a purpose.  Sometimes, then, the incidence of a mytheme is due to UTILITY.

Case in point: The great Filipino epic, “Corrido and the Life of the Three Princes; children of King Fernando and Queen Valeriana of Berbania” (a.k.a. “Ibong Adarna”) was composed by José de la Cruz (a.k.a. “Huseng Sisiw”) c. 1800.  The author claimed that the tale was not his own, but originated in Europe…and was transmitted to the Philippines by the Spanish in the 16th century.  He did this in order to give the story a sense of mystique “from long, long ago”…and thus a manufactured legacy.  He pulled this off by giving it a European (read: ROMAN CATHOLIC) pedigree.  The stunt worked.

Memes: do not colonize our minds by force.  Rather, they finagle their way in.  In this respect, every catchy meme is a Trojan horse.

The cooptation of extant mythemes is almost never done wittingly.  There is rarely any deliberate appropriation going on (“motif-poaching”).  For, whenever people engage in memetic repurposing, they like to think of their own version as authentic, not derivative.  That is: Everyone is apt to consider THEIR instantiation of the mytheme to be SUI GENERIS.

Narrative embellishment typically exhibits a ratcheting effect–in that memetic accretion is sometimes irreversible.  For once a nifty tidbit is incorporated into the memeplex, everything that happens thereafter is–at least in part–built upon it.  That is to say: The integrity of the structure comes to depend on its BEING THERE. 

And so it goes: Once a memeplex begins to calcify, it is rendered sacrosanct–if for no other reason than its architecture is like a house of cards.  Even iconography dies hard.  This is why Muslims still use the symbol that the pre-Islamic Arabians used for their moon-god, Hubal (the crescent).

The repetition of a signature idiosyncrasy / flub is an incontrovertible signs that mythemes have been appropriated.  (For the same reasons, it is a sure sign that someone has cheated on an exam by copying a neighbor’s work.)  The authors of the Koran make several glaring mistakes concerning Christian folklore.  For example, in 19:28 they refer to the mother of JoN as the “sister of Aaron”, thereby confusing Mary of the New Testament with Miriam (sister of Moses) of the Old Testament.  (Both 3:35-36 and 66:12 reinforce this mistake by identifying Mary, mother of JoN, as the daughter of Imran–who was, in fact, the sister of Aaron and Moses, Imran’s other children.)

In 20:90-100, we’re told that a Samaritan helped build the golden calf…when Samaritans did not exist as a people until over 1,000 later.  Oops.  66:12 refers to Jesus as the nephew of Moses. Oops.  7:124 stipulates that the Pharaohs of ancient Egypt used crucifixion when that method of execution was not used until the Assyrians / Babylonians / Phoenicians introduced the sadistic practice many centuries later.  Oops.  (The practice was later adopted by the Persian and then Roman Empires).  This last mistake is made even more comic, as the crucifixions were allegedly done AFTER the Pharaoh had the people’s hands and feet cut off.  (So they were evidently MAGICAL crucifixions.) 

The Koran also claims that the Jews think Ezra (“Uzayr”) is the son of god (9:30) and that the Christian trinity is comprised of the godhead, the son (Jesus qua Christ), and Jesus’ mother, Mary (4:169-171 and 5:116).  And on and on.  Such glaring mistakes are embarrassing because they concern such elementary things.  This raft of erroneous statements reveals the many misconceptions Arabian Bedouins had about Abrahamic lore during the Dark Ages.  But this is unsurprising, as Arabia–nestled as it was betwixt the Byzantine / Roman (Christian) Empire and the Persian (Zoroastrian) Empire–wound up with a farrago of partially-digested, obliquely-understood tidbits of Judeo-Christian theology.  In aspiring to its own brand of monotheism, the Arabian version couldn’t help but be comprised of an adulterated hodgepodge of memes, cobbled together so as to yield a uniquely Arab religion.

The piecemeal appropriation of Abrahamic lore is further testament to the Koran’s fallibility.  Indeed, the book repeats the Torah’s myths of:

• The Fall (7:16-28 and 20:115-123)
• The Flood (11:36-49, 21:76-77, 23:23-29, 25:37, 26:105-121, 37:76-82, 54:11-15, and 71:1/11/25-26)
• Jonah’s aquatic escapade (37:139-147)
• Exodus (2:49-55, 7:103-153, 10:90, 17:101-104, 20:56-80, 26:10-68, etc.)

…presenting all tales as actual history.  29:14 even notifies us that, at the time of the (non-existent) global alluvion, Noah was 950 years old. (!)

Of course, the authors of the Hebrew Bible themselves appropriated many of the tales that were featured in their scripture–most notably: the Flood story.  Meanwhile, the Exodus story was likely based on the Hyksos of Avaris (who ruled the area during the 16th century B.C.), where the heroic figure was Osarseph (rather than Moses) and the Pharoah was Bakenranef of Zau, who ruled in the 720’s B.C. *  Zau [Coptic: “Sai”] was the temenos of the Creator goddess, Neit[h].  Avaris was later re-cast as Goshen in Abrahamic lore.  The Semitic peoples there at that time were Qedarites (that is: Arabs, not Hebrews); and were eventually exiled to Canaan.  (Ring any bells?)  Even more telling, the names “Moses” and “Aaron” seem to have Egyptian etymologies. **  Plutarch held that even “Juda” was a name from Egyptian lore. (!)

There is also a recycling of Hebrew references to “Gog and Magog” (18:94 and 21:96).  (I discuss the slew of antecedent lore recycled in the Koran in my essay: “Syriac Source-Material For Islamic Lore”.)

The regurgitation of Abrahamic folklore by the Ishmaelites is not surprising.  Indeed, the appropriation of extant folklore by new-fangled cults has always been commonplace.  The fact is that those who compiled the Koran (as well as Mohammed himself, for that matter) were passing old Hebrew legends off as literal history.  Why?  Because they didn’t know any better.

As far as the Koran’s authors’ credibility goes, the confusion of myth with historical fact is somewhat incriminating.  These are stories that we now know are not historically accurate.  In fact, we now know them to be entirely fabricated.  (Homo Sapiens did not originate from one particular male in a lush garden in Mesopotamia; the planet was never flooded; the events in Exodus never happened; etc.)  YET…the authors of the Koran opted to include those primitive stories in god’s infallible account of the past.  (The Koran does not present such re-tellings as mere parable.)

There are only two possible explanations for this–neither of which bodes well for the credence of the Koran.  The authors were either (knowingly) making things up…or they were, shall we say, innocently naive.

The former explanation entails duplicity: If the authors were making THAT stuff up, then we must ask, “What ELSE were they making up?”

The latter explanation prompts the question: “If the authors were (accidentally) mistaken about THOSE things, then which other things might they have been mistaken about?”

As it turns out, not only were the authors peddling fiction as fact, they were hawking a deranged re-vamping of Abrahamic theology–as we see, for example, with pre-destination (most notably in Islam and Calvinism).

A defense of this fraudulent historiography is that the early followers didn’t really take any of it literally, so WE shouldn’t either.  The problem with such special pleading is that Koranic verse was clearly not meant to be taken “just figuratively”.  The Koran is emphatic that it is a CLEAR EXPLANATION (as discussed elsewhere).

The fact is that the authors–and most likely MoM himself, insofar as he existed–were purveyors of myth who didn’t admit that they were purveying MYTH.  In their defense, they may not have even KNOWN that what they were relaying was just a set of recycled fables.  But whether they were doing so wittingly or unwittingly, the verdict is the same.  They were WRONG.

As we’ve seen, the Flood tale has been milked over and over again.  And the tale of an auspicious figure receiving a revelation in isolation has been milked ad nauseam (as I discuss at length in my essay on “The History Of Exalted Figures”).

Oftentimes, the mytheme is put in the service of an agenda (i.e. as a way of promoting an ideology), as with the Horatio Alger myth (a version of the “rags to riches” tale that gives working-class people false hope when trying to succeed in a capitalist system).  Ideologues are invariably addled by an abiding need to cling to antiquated myths–a case-study of which I explore in “The Forgotten Diaspora”.

For more on this, see “The Enigma of Reason” by sociologists Dan Sperber and Hugo Mercier.  Also note “Denying To The Grave” by Jack and Sara Gorman; as well as “The Knowledge Illusion” by Steven Sloman and Philip Fernbach.

{*  Reference Carol Meyers’ “Exodus” (2005); as well as Erich S. Gruen’s “The Use and Abuse of the Exodus Story: The Construct of Identity in Hellenistic Judaism” in Essays on Early Jewish Literature and History; p. 197–228 (2016).  Also reference Manetho’s “Aegyptiaca”.}

{**  Carol A. Redmount’s “Bitter Lives: Israel In And Out of Egypt” in The Oxford History of the Biblical World; p. 58-89 (2001).}

APPENDIX 3: The Logistics Of A Super-Being

So what’s the deal with godheads anyway?  In the monotheistic paradigm, the idea is to portray the proposed entity as a concatenation of superlatives.  Doing so entails taking every admirable trait that one can think of and simply declaring that the entity is the epitome of each one (Arabic: “Al-Muta’ali”).  This typically involves five key areas.  For each, I’ll give examples of how “Allah” is characterized in the Koran (with Arabic monikers):

• For capability, we simply say that he is omnipotent: “Al-Malik” / “Al-Jalil” / “Al-Qawiyy” / “Al-[mu-]Qadir” / “Al-Kabir”.
• For wisdom, we simply say that he is omniscient: “Al-Alim” / “Al-Wasi” / “Al-Hakim” / “An-Nur”.
• For sensory awareness, we simply say that he is omni-present: “As-Sami” / “Al-Basir” / “Al-Khabir”.
• For morality, we simply say that he is omni-benevolent: “Al-Adl” / “Al-Wadud” / “Al-Barr” / “Al-Muqsit” / “Al-Nafi” / “Ar-Rashid” / “Al-Karim”.
• For longevity, we simply say that he is eternal: “Al-Hayy” / “Al-Baqi”.

The godhead is thus all-powerful, all-knowing, all-seeing, all-good, and everlasting.  (Other coveted traits include beauty, bravery, and purity—each of which is touted in the Koran: the MOST beautiful, the MOST brave, and the MOST pure (or, alternately, the ultimate source OF such qualities).  ANYTHING good is thereby attributed to the godhead.)  More than the source of all that is good, this entity is neither transient or contingent; it is timeless and absolute; so we say that he is the ultimate source and the ultimate end of all things (the alpha and omega; “Al-Awwal” and “Al-Akhir”).

For everything we admire, the posited overlord is—by definition—the quintessence.  Consequently, all that is good in the world can be attributed to him.  But don’t mess up, because he HEARS everything, and SEES everything; and—more to the point—he can DO anything he wishes.  Hence we are subjected to both a cosmic pan-opticon and a police force.

And so it goes: We take every virtue we can think of, and extrapolate to infinity.  We then combine all of them, and ascribe the resulting aggregation to a singular entity. *  The catch is that, in order to do this, we are forced to engage in anthropomorphization.  In other words: We must personify the object-in-question, as the exalted traits are those that a HUMAN would emulate.

Naturally, then, such a super-being would be worthy of the utmost reverence—as it ends up being the most wonderful authority-figure imaginable.  He is king-like, but in the best possible way.  (Jewish, Christian, and Islamic scripture all go so far as to say that the godhead is seated upon a LITERAL THRONE.)  He issues edicts.  He insists on being obeyed.  He demands tribute.  He represents might and triumph and all the other things that we mere mortals covet in our worldly existence.  (The Church Of Latter-Day Saints actually goes so far as to posit a corporeal godhead.)

In Islam, the man who pioneered the literalist treatment of the Abrahamic deity was the “mu-jadid” [revivalist], Abu al-Hasan Al-Ashari of Basra, who—in the early 10th century—proclaimed that “god is firmly seated on his throne”; and “has two hands [as well as] two eyes.”  This hyper-dogmatic mindset was put into overdrive in the late 11th century with the Sunni fundamentalist, Al-Ghazali of Tus—who’s literalist interpretation on scripture is unsurprising considering he had nothing but seething contempt for analogical thinking…or, for that matter, for anything that resembled philosophy or natural science (i.e. an “ilm” that wasn’t Islamic “ilm”).  Even something as simple as CAUSALITY was eschewed by Al-Ghazali as blasphemous.  (Things only occur because god has willed it; full stop.)

Insofar as we assume that such a fantastical entity exists, gushing respect—even unstinting obeisance—would seem to be warranted.  We wind up with the notion of a monumental character taken to its logical extreme—that is: the ideal PERSON taken to supernatural proportions.  Consequently, our will should reflect his will, as any divergence from it would be—by definition—misguided: a departure from an infallible will.  (Heresy is, after all, the theological equivalent of treason.  Blasphemy laws are the analogues of sedition laws—one in the religious context, the other in the political context.)  Considering all this, doing things according to god’s will ends up (apparently) being the best possible justification for, well, ANYTHING.

In positing a godhead, one is effectively taking every virtue to which mortal humans aspire and imputing all of them—in extremis—to a singular super-being.  Supplicants need only point to that construct and conclude: “Behold!  This is clearly something worthy of worship” …all the while disregarding the fact that it is merely a figment of their own (collective) imagination.

Theism, then, is merely a matter of concocting a beguiling pseudo-concept, then asserting that it refers to something that—BY DEFINITION—exists (see Saint Anselm’s ontological argument).  We thereby find ourselves playing a rather inane semiotic game—one that, upon critical scrutiny, does not pass epistemic muster. **

Is there a different way to handle superlatives—that is: to conceptualize the epitome of each virtue?  For some, a cosmological division of labor makes more sense.  Polytheism allots each quality to a different deity.  In this theological scheme, any given deity represents something important—be it a character trait (e.g. wisdom) or a natural phenomenon (e.g. rain).  One item per deity.  Such theistic specialization enables specificity of worship.  Seeking wisdom?  Pray to the god[dess] of wisdom.  Want rain?  Pray to the rain god[dess].  The upshot is that one has a cast of characters, each of which—like humans—must have relationships and interactions.  And THAT means that a drama must play itself out.  A pantheon of deities provides the opportunity to spin fantastical yarns about the goings-on in the celestial realm; and how those goings-on affect worldly events.

In keeping with the Abrahamic tradition, Islam prizes the monotheistic approach.  It thus involves a veritable orgy of superlatives.  The most touted is that of mercy / compassion—alternately articulated as “Ar-Rahim” / “Ar-Rahman” / “Al-Ghaffar” / “Al-Halim” / “Al-Afuw” / “Al-Ra’uf”.  Such ascription is comically ironic; as the overlord found in the Koran is ANYTHING BUT merciful / compassionate.  Rather than forbearance, he epitomizes vengeance.  Rather than seeking restorative justice, he is solely concerned with retributive justice.  He comes from a place of authority, not of love.  He’s conceited.  He’s spiteful.  He’s capricious.  He’s petty.  And, above all, he’s pathologically vindictive.

The exalted character traits enumerated in the various Arabic monikers do not AT ALL comport with the book’s protagonist.  In fact, the esteemed qualities touted in his various monikers are flagrantly discordant with the way in which he is actually portrayed: self-absorbed, impetuous, temperamental, and—above all—vengeful. ***

Yet we are treated to a smorgasbord of delectable character traits whenever the Koran’s protagonist mentioned.  Upon being presented with all those virtues, the query arises: “But how do we KNOW that he is that way?”  The only forthcoming answer is “Because scripture says so!”  Hence the assertions—occurring, as they do, in a holy book—are seen as their own verification.  This is done in spite of the fact that the entity is depicted in ways that are diametrically opposed to most of the esteemed features.  The superlatives justify themselves by dint of BEING superlatives.

How do religious apologists (a.k.a. “theologians”) get away with such casuistry?  To answer this question, we might start by recognizing that theology is the opposite of philosophy.  The sine qua non of the former is to be dogmatic—that is: to defend pre-established conclusions (which, being religious, are dogmas).  The sine qua non of the latter is to COUNTER dogmatism.  The ecclesiastic hoodwink is effected by passing off the former as “philosophical”.  Doing so entails playing silly games while making it appear as though one is playing four-dimensional chess.

This brings us to the logistics of a super-being.  Personification of the divine is paradoxical; as one is forced to ascribe the logic of consciousness (something that is perpetually in flux) to an absolute (something that is unchanging).  This pseudo-concept is incoherent for at least ten logistical reasons; as each entails some sort of paradox.

ONE:  To be conscious is—among other things—to react to new developments as they arise; to respond to pleas (prayers) when they are made; and thus to make DECISIONS at certain junctures.  Hence something cannot be both conscious and timeless.

TWO:  In ascribing sentiment to the godhead, one is forced to pretend that a perfect being can transition through various emotional states (being pleased, being perturbed, etc.); which means being influenced by contingencies.

THREE:  Omni-presence precludes the kind of sensory experience (a perspective from within the physical world) that underlies consciousness; as it makes “Dasein” untenable.

FOUR:  A conscious being invariably has motivations, interests, and desires; and thus experiences (dis)satisfaction.  This is something that is impossible from the perspective of eternity and perfection.  To speak of the divine as having a WILL (that is: an agenda), of expressing (dis)approval, of giving permission, of making choices, and thus wanting certain things, is thus nonsensical.  When a being is omnipotent, it never experiences WANT.

FIVE:  A being that demands obeisance—and that insists on being APPEASED—is a being that partakes in an eminently human relationship.  Appeasement—like satisfaction—requires a pending psychical condition that is eventually realized, yet is not foreordained.

SIX:  A being that demands to be glorified / worshipped is, by definition, an imperfect being; as such a demand indicates a yearning—thus a LACK—which can only be ameliorated by certain actions / thoughts on the part of others.

SEVEN:  The essence of consciousness is the capacity to wonder—which involves both reminiscence (of a past) and anticipation (of a future).  This requires temporality.  It also involves some sort of deficiency that might be addressed over the course of time.  A being that is omniscient (already knows everything) and perfectly complete (has no deficiencies in need of addressing) is therefore incapable of wondering.  So the godhead—as advertised—lacks all the things that make conscious beings conscious.

EIGHT:  Self-consciousness is an emergent property of underlying neurological interactions.  The godhead is incorporeal.  Ergo one is forced to posit an emergent property without the existence of the on-going physical activity from which it emerges.

NINE:  Euthyphro’s dilemma entails an interminable catch-22.  The basis of morality stems from the conundrum: Is it good / moral because god decreed it (divine positivism); or did god decree it because it was good / moral (moral realism)?  EITHER WAY, the moral ballast for theism implodes.  For either morality PER SE is rendered superfluous (as one need only obey commands, which are issued according to the whim of an ultimate authority) or the godhead is rendered superfluous (as there is a moral standard that exists independently of him).  The latter is, in reality, the case.  The former leads to divine command theory, which entails treating a (frequently defective) social construct as an absolute.  Funny enough, apologists typically argue for the credence of their scriptures by assessing them according to moral standards that they are forced to admit exist independently of the scriptures being touted.

TEN:  The problem of evil is insoluble.  The raft of grave injustices that routinely occur all over the world (spec. those that do not stem from the exercise of free will) entails the following: If god exists, he cannot be omni-benevolent and omnipotent; yet if he is omni-benevolent and omnipotent, he must not exist.  No theodicy has ever managed to resolve this; as no good reason can be given for the massive amount of pointless suffering and death of innocents—and the spoils routinely enjoyed by some of the most despicable people in the world—in the midst of an overlord that has the power and the will to disallow such things.

For these reasons, a sentient divinity (esp. that is worthy of worship) is an oxymoron.  Note that ANY ONE of the above poses a fatal theological problems.  That ALL TEN are serve as dispositive makes apologetics an intractable task.

In sum: Theologians bamboozle the credulous by getting the utterly inane to sound beguilingly profound.  Pulling off this stunt involves selling sanctified dogmas as indubitable “truths”; and then—whenever proselytizing—pretending that indoctrination is a kind of edification.  After all, evangelism is a manipulative form of pedagogy.

{*  Islam took this consolidation strategy a step further, and applied it to the last Abrahamic prophet: Mohammed of Mecca.  In Judaic lore, different prophets serve as archetypes of different virtues.  Abraham represented Faith as subservience, Job as resilience (dauntless-ness), Moses as leadership, Solomon as wisdom, Joseph as aspiration (conquest), Jonah as repentance, Daniel as courage, etc.  In Mohammedan lore, the “Seal of the Prophets” represents ALL of these things.  He was considered a trusted arbitrator, a leader, a fount of wisdom, a valiant warrior, etc.  Most importantly, the Abrahamic deity handed the law down to him (as with Moses); and he was at the same time a conquerer (as with Joseph).  Behold, then, the FINAL prophet (Semitic “K-T-M”, often translated as “seal”) emerges as the acme in a long succession of hallowed figures.  A similar motif was employed by the Persian sage, Mani of Ctesiphon.  In Manichaeism, Mani was seen as the culmination of a sequence of four prophets—beginning with Zoroaster, followed by Siddhartha Gautama, Jesus of Nazareth, and himself.  His approach was syncretic; as he attempted to consolidate Mazda-ism, Buddhism, and Christianity under a unified theological message, with him as the pinnacle.  The idea is to have a pre-eminent prophet who epitomized everything that each of the previous prophets had epitomized individually.}

{**  In the Abrahamic tradition, religious apologists (a.k.a. “theologians”) try diligently to elide the callowness of their anthropomorphization; as they are obliged to masquerade as quasi-serious thinkers in order to maintain an illusion of credibility.  They typically do this by imputing ineffability to their specious conceptualizations (i.e. of the godhead).  After all, their strain of anthropomorphization isn’t quite as explicit as the anthropomorphization in the polytheistic traditions of the Norse, Africans, Greeks, or Hindus—what with the humanoid effigies and all-too-human melodramas.  This gimmick involves characterizing eminently human traits as a mark of transcendence.  Their strategy, then, is to dress up their puerile beliefs in the ornate raiment of nebulous phrasing; and then to call such legerdemain “sophisticated”.  (Hence one conceptualizes something that one then insists is unfathomable.)  The trick here is to make shallow thinking seem incredibly deep.  Such pedantry doesn’t pass muster for those with astute (analytical) minds.}

{***  Evidence that the the Mohammedan godhead is pathologically vindictive is plentiful.  We need only consult the Koran itself.  In 2:251, 3:137, 7:4/92/137, 8:54, 10:13, 11:67-68/94, 14:13, 17:17, 18:59, 19:74/98, 20:128, 21:6/9/11-12/95, 22:45, 23:48, 25:36/40, 26:139/172, 27:51, 28:43/58/78, 29:31/40, 32:26, 36:31, 37:135-136, 38:3, 43:8, 44:37, 46:27, 47:10/13, 50:36, 51:46, 53:50/53, 54:34/51, 69:5-7, 77:16, 89:6-13, and 91:14, the Koran’s protagonist essentially says, “Look at all the horrible stuff I did to THOSE people.  I destroyed them.  So you better watch out!”  In 17:58, he threatens to do so again…to any and every city…in the event that he is ever displeased.  The message is: “Appease me, or incur my wrath!”  This is not exactly the mark of a merciful / compassionate being.  In fact, the vainglorious self-regard exhibited by the Koran’s protagonist is something one would only find in those who are insufferably narcissistic.  And as for the obsession with vengeance (“May anyone who fails to comply with my demands burn in hell for all eternity!”): This is the kind of attitude one finds with only the most belligerent psychopaths.}