It all began in the land of the two rivers, also known as Mesopotamia—somewhere between the Tigris and Euphrates. It was here, where the first civilization rose from fertile soil, that something strange happened to the human race. We split apart.
We split into those who lead day-to-day lives, subject to the seemingly random forces of existence, and those who dictate the course of history. For the common people, a volcanic eruption is as unavoidable as a war, and just as one flees from lava, they naturally defend their country from invaders—because that is what good people do.
Most believe this also applies to leaders. After all, what ruler would want to lose a war and become subject to their enemies? History is littered with stories proving this does not end well. But this view has a flaw. For every Saddam Hussein, there are hundreds of Petro Poroshenkos. In other words, the leader at the top does not fear his enemy the most. In fact, he shares a common reality with his so-called enemies—they are united in their position of power. What they truly fear is their own people.
A king fears his people much like a sane person fears a natural disaster—it goes beyond his control. The masses, unpredictable and uncontrollable, are the real threat. Five thousand years ago, when a king faced defeat, what was the easiest survival strategy? To cling to his gods or to betray his own people and make a deal with the victor?
Religion: The Oldest Psyop
Many may not like what I’m about to say, but religion has always been built upon one unchanging foundation: control. It is the oldest psychological operation in human history.
It is a tool for those in power to shape cultural understanding, influencing the masses to degrees that are almost laughable. The first “bots” were not created on the internet but within the minds of men. Amusingly, this fact was openly discussed by many Greek historians. They analyzed how religious stories shape societies, exploring which narratives best manipulate people. It was a discourse meant for the elite, a guide on how to deceive and control.
At that time, written language functioned as an uncrackable code to the common person, allowing the elite to communicate their schemes without fear. The Greek philosophers who exposed such truths likely did not survive. And here we are, learning history that is not ours—it is theirs. The history of rulers, not the ruled.
People believe we have made progress since the pyramids, but in reality, we have regressed. The elite have advanced while the rest of us have stagnated. For 5,000 years, the masses have struggled to survive, while the rulers have spent the same amount of time perfecting their control.
People still believe the world is divided into factions when, in reality, it was consolidated long ago.
The Domestication of Man
One of the oldest stories known to humanity is the Epic of Gilgamesh. Everyone has heard the name, yet few have truly paid attention to its meaning. This story reveals more about our past than Wikipedia ever could. It is a religious tale, revered in its time just as the Bible is today. But even in ancient times, Gilgamesh was already old.
At its core, the story explores the domestication of man, cleverly spun into a positive light. It draws a stark contrast between wild beings and civilized humans, following the journey of Gilgamesh—a demigod—who transitions from one to the other. The tale is deeply philosophical, acknowledging the untamed nature within us while enforcing its place within controlled environments.
You can indulge in primal instincts—love your wife with passion—but do not engage in the other “wild” behaviors. Especially not the dangerous act of questioning authority. That, they say, would unravel civilization itself.
This ancient story, largely forgotten, is the foundation of modern human behavior. Its essence lingers within every society, within each of us.
Because those who lacked this essence—who could not bow to authority—died long ago.
Take 100 foxes and allow only the most docile ones to breed. Within a few generations, domestication begins. The same has been done to humanity since the dawn of civilization. The strongest, the most capable, the most loyal, and the most honest have been systematically removed. These are the individuals who suffer the most, who are sacrificed first.
Who survives a war—the hero or the coward? And how many wars have there been?
It is no accident that a particular faction has consistently profited—not merely in wealth, but in influence. Even when individual rulers perish, the structure that empowers them persists. The war itself ensures the survival of their ideological descendants—the next ruling class.
The charismatic, the selfless, the ones capable of true leadership—these are the ones who die defending their countries in foolish wars.
The Greatest Illusion
It is ironic that the so-called most intelligent species on Earth has been played for millennia by a small, powerful faction. We are not the most intelligent. We are simply the best at pretending to be something we are not.
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