Civilization: A Drama Series on Its 6,000th Season
“The new technology gave city-dwellers more complete control over their environment, and they were becoming increasingly more distinct … It was a time of excitement, liberation, and pride. But major change on this scale also inspires great fear. It has been said that history is a process of annihilation since each new development requires the destruction of what has gone before… Civilization was experienced as magnificent but fragile; a city shot up and flourished dramatically, but then all too quickly went into decline. When one city-state rose to pre-eminence, it preyed upon its rivals. There were wars, massacres, revolutions, and deportations. The destruction meant that the culture that had been so painfully achieved needed to be rebuilt and established again and again. There was a constant fear that life would revert to the old barbarism. With mingled apprehension and hope, the new urban myths meditated on the endless struggle between order and chaos.”
You’d think I’m talking about today’s political circus, right? The drama, the chaos, the “I’m clearly the chosen one” statements. Nope. Author Karen Armstrong, in her discussion of early civilizations, is actually talking about Mesopotamia — the land of ancient city-states — circa 4000 BCE. Let that sink in.
Look around today and it’s like we’re stuck in a history rerun. The same fears of instability? Check. The same power struggles? Yup. And myths — whether religious or political — are still used to control the masses.
History likes to paint itself as this neat, linear story where societies “evolve” and “progress” toward enlightenment. But, let’s be real — humanity is on a loop: rise, thrive, crash, repeat. Civilization grows, gets fancy, then collapses under its own complexity. Groundbreaking stuff, huh?
Now we’ve got AI, biotech, and tech doing their best, giving us more control and knowledge than ever. But guess what? It’s sparking the same we’re all going down panic that we’ve been doing for millennia, because let’s face it, we know how to mess things up. Take the dismantling of federal programs and CDC research. If it feels like you’re watching critical public health initiatives get gutted, you’re not imagining things. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, once the superhero of disease research, has seen its budget slashed, programs defunded, and its ability to respond to crises weakened. All of a sudden, people do not trust it, because they do not like what it is telling them. So it must be bad. This isn’t new.
Ancient Mesopotamians had the same fears. Their myths were obsessed with the battle between order and chaos. Take Marduk and Tiamat. In Babylonian mythology, Marduk, the god of civilization, defeats Tiamat, the goddess of chaos, and builds the world from her remains. But here’s the kicker: that struggle never ends. Chaos is always lurking, ready to wreck everything. Sound familiar?
They also believed cities could fall out of divine favor, leading to their destruction. The Curse of Agade wiped out the mighty city of Akkad because its rulers upset the gods. This is also not new. In fact, recently, a columnist said that Los Angeles was hit by fires because the celebrities there are living in sin. The Lamentations for Ur tells a similar story: the gods turned their backs, and the city fell apart. The people were left asking, Why have the gods abandoned us? A question that could just as easily be asked today as leaders strip away advancements by wielding religion like a weapon.
Back in Mesopotamia, kings claimed divine favor to justify their rule, basically saying, “The gods made me your ruler — deal with it.” Today? Same story. The monarch of England isn’t just appointed; they’re anointed in a church, no less. In the U.S., people in government have called elected leaders, “the chosen one.” My cousin in Oklahoma even came home with a video of the state superintendent praying over Trump. No biggie, just a little divine endorsement happening in real-time. These ideas aren’t exclusive to any political side; they’re part of the cultural narrative we all share.
For thousands of years, rulers have draped themselves in divine rhetoric — from Mesopotamian kings to medieval monarchs to Roman emperors. And now? Cult-like movements, political leaders claiming to be the second coming, and myths popping up like daisies. It’s the same playbook — chaos, uncertainty, and the illusion of control all wrapped up as some higher purpose.
It’s important to remember that faith itself isn’t the problem. We all know that religion and personal belief are central to many people’s lives and have been for millennia. Former President Joe Biden talks about how his Catholic faith influences his decision-making and his views on morality and public service. During his 2020 campaign and presidency, he frequently mentioned how his faith guides him.
But here’s the problem: when that faith is used as a tool to justify control over others, especially when it’s thrown into the public sphere and starts to trample on personal freedoms, there is a problem.
I’m Catholic. Even I’ve been told Catholics are satanic — thanks to some delightful propaganda pushed by Protestants when they colonized America. And let’s not pretend the Catholic Church has been the picture of innocence here either. They condemned Freemasonry in 1738, and called Masons the Synagogue of Satan in the 19th century. The Anti-Masonic Party was formed in 1828 because people thought the group was too powerful and secretive. The conspiracy theories around Freemasons are still going strong today.
Then there’s The Protocols of the Elders of Zion, one of the most widespread antisemitic conspiracy theories of all time, falsely claiming Jews are plotting to take over the world, and published secret recordings to prove it. Published in 1903, it’s been debunked a million times, but guess what? It still circulates online and in print.
In The Biggest Secret (1999), David Icke claimed world leaders are reptilian overlords from the Anunnaki race (descents from Mesopotamia), controlling humanity. And, believe it or not, 12 million Americans think lizard people are real. Pizzagate, the false conspiracy that a child sex-trafficking ring was operating out of a D.C. pizzeria, is deeply connected to the broader QAnon movement. And if you trace these conspiracy theories back, they mirror Icke’s work.
If conspiracy theories based on 6,000-year-old myths don’t prove that nothing has changed, I don’t know what will. That’s why we should call them conspiracy myths.
Oh, but it’s just fringe lunatics, right? Wrong.
In 2021, Marjorie Taylor Greene said Jewish space lasers were attacking the North Pole to destroy Santa Claus. And she keeps getting re-elected.
And these elected officials are passing laws based on their beliefs.
In the past, religious convictions informed public policies like the Comstock Laws of 1873, which classified contraceptives as obscene materials. These laws were pushed by lawmakers who saw birth control as immoral based on their personal religious beliefs. In 1965 married women could finally get birth control and in the 80s single women could. Fast forward to today, and we see attempts to roll back that legislation from religious doctrine. In Idaho, for instance, Rep. Brent Crane has proposed banning emergency contraceptives and IUDs based on his religious beliefs. Whether it’s limiting marriage rights or regulating alcohol sales on Sundays, these laws are rooted in a very specific set of beliefs. But here’s the issue: What happens when personal religious beliefs become the foundation of lawmaking? It’s a classic example of how religion in government impacts everyone, regardless of their faith.
This is where the line needs to be drawn. It’s not about the existence of faith but about ensuring that our government respects the separation of church and state. The Constitution was designed to protect us from the imposition of one belief system on the entire population, preserving personal freedoms and the diversity of thought that makes us stronger as a society.
The patterns never really change. Humans still fear progress. We still look for someone to blame or save us. And we still create myths — whether tech-related, religious, or political — to justify power and control. Mesopotamians feared their cities would fall into chaos. Guess what? We do, too. They thought their leaders were chosen by the gods. We still hear that today. They feared progress would destroy them, and now we’re freaking out about AI, climate change, and everything else.
We all want a better world. People have their beliefs, and they should be free to hold them. But imposing those beliefs through policy isn’t just a personal issue; it’s a public one. The concern arises when faith is weaponized to control others, especially when it comes to their health, well-being, and freedoms. With the rise of lawmakers embracing these policies, it’s a troubling step backward for all of us.
So, here’s the million-dollar question: Have we really evolved? Or are we just hitting replay on the same tired story, with a few new faces and hashtags?
The more we see this happen, the more we recognize the pattern. Much like the power grabs of ancient times, where leaders used religion to justify their control, today’s political landscape is eerily similar. We’re seeing the same mix of fear, uncertainty, and the use of narratives to justify laws that often restrict freedoms instead of expanding them. Just like those Mesopotamian myths, these modern-day stories are being used to reinforce the status quo.
So, how do we fight back? By not letting the same old narrative repeat itself. It’s time we get real about what’s happening — whether it’s the weakening of healthcare protections, the erosion of rights, or the dismantling of scientific research — and demand that these cycles of fear and control end once and for all. If we don’t stand up and speak out now, history will just keep playing the same record. And spoiler: it’s not the good stuff.
History isn’t just about the past — it’s a mirror. If we can spot the cycles and break them, maybe we’ll stop spiraling into the same mess. But hey, no pressure.