211. What are the two subdivisions of the limitation to which our active tendencies are subject?
212. Why does the third class of these evils not exist in small communities?
213. What are the two objections to the theory which regards the division of society into masters and slaves as entirely satisfactory? Which of these objections is the stronger one?
§ [24]. Religion
Aid against the evils resulting from the limits of knowledge is sought by the human mind in religion. When fire threatens our property, we think of water; when the enemy presses upon us in battle, we think of our comrade. By analogy, when we are under the pressure of uncertainty, in the terror of a great danger, we think of some person or some power that might aid us. We have seen previously that primitive man regards everything as animated and every event as caused by motives like his own. He regards himself as a double being made up of a heavy body and an exceedingly light, shadow-like thing, a soul. In his dreams he recognizes clearly the independence of the two: the soul leaves the body, flies to known and unknown regions, and experiences there the strangest things. Likewise in death. To-day a certain person talks, moves about, does good or harm; to-morrow the same person lies stiff. It is true that one cannot see the cause of this change, but the simplest explanation is obviously that something, the bearer of his powers, has escaped from the body and now rests invisibly elsewhere. Furthermore, are there not those who feel that they are possessed of a demon who compels them to roll about on the ground in convulsions or to attack other people?
Accordingly, man populates everything between heaven and earth, animals and plants, rocks and logs, lakes and streams, the phenomena of the weather, and the constellations, with demons, ghosts, departed souls, specters. These beings are thought of as possessing human-like powers, many of them, however, far mightier than man, handling all those things of which nature consists in a manner similar to man’s handling of his own property. Some have asserted that man animates the world because of an irrepressible desire for theoretical explanation. But this is scarcely true. Primitive man has no such longing for theories. He does it simply for the sake of his practical interests: in order to make use of the things of nature, he must first comprehend them; and what manner of comprehending them would be preferable to humanizing them? If the things are like men of his acquaintance, he knows how to obtain their favor, their aid. His belief in these demons is a practical belief like the belief of a mother in the future of her son. These demons must exist, for he would have to give up the struggle for life, perplexed, helpless, if they did not exist—if the world were a mass of incomprehensible objects.
Naturally he distinguishes two kinds of demons, as he distinguishes two kinds of men, good and bad. Those who are malicious and hostile bring all the distress of diseases and terrible events, from which he cannot defend himself by his own power. The best one can hope to obtain from these demons is that they stop exerting their evil influence. Man lives in constant fear of them. The demons of the other kind are friendly and helpful. They assist man in his defense against the fiends and in his fight with other men; and they permit him to participate in their knowledge of the future. They are reliable. One is grateful to them and loves them. In the most primitive stage of mankind fear prevails, and therefore also the belief in harmful ghosts and demons. On a higher level of culture, advancing insight into the causal relations of natural events brings about more self-reliance, more hope, and consequently also a growing belief in benevolent demons. Both fear and love, however, remain characteristic of the attitude of man toward his gods.
In order to obtain the good will of the gods, man naturally treats them as he would treat his neighbors. He must earnestly pray to them, flatter them, perhaps also threaten them, promise gifts in exchange for their aid, vow continued faith and obedience, especially make them presents in advance. Prayer, vows, and sacrifice are the means of approaching them. Soon another thought becomes prevalent. In cases where the influence of demons seems particularly conspicuous, in mental diseases, certain persons show themselves much more skilful than the majority in establishing relations with them and thus curing these diseases. One naturally employs these persons in one’s relations to the gods. The medicine man becomes a priest. And he soon establishes himself firmly in this position by inventing mysterious ceremonies with which he alone is familiar, and by acquiring the ability to read and interpret sacred books. His authority, however, rests on his doing what the people expect from their gods: he must possess prophecy and witchcraft. Even the apostles prove their legitimacy by prophesying and performing miraculous cures.
Fear and misery are the parents of religion; and, although it is propagated in the main through authority, it would long ago have become extinct, if it were not born anew out of them all the time. In times of need and oppression religion grows strong. The churches are full, pilgrimages are common, in wars or epidemics. In battle, in disease, aboard a sinking ship, many a one learns to pray. Some fear or some need is always present. Even the highest wisdom and power can only repress, never exterminate these. Therefore they have always brought forth religion and will always do so, provided one does not clumsily attempt to change human nature.