Chapter 6: The Falsifiable God
Chen Jian's excitement was not without reason.
The continuation of a civilization is a matter of both inevitability and chance.
What if he had been thrown onto a small island? Or a land without large domesticable animals like cattle and horses? What if there were no cultivable crops near his tribe, or no malachite and iron ore for thousands of miles? What if he walked out one day only to find a barbed-wire fence with a sign that read: *Civilized Living Fossil Protection Area*?
Even if he were omniscient, he could only watch helplessly as such a civilization declined.
Chen Jian had never eaten a dodo, nor did he know if they laid three or four eggs per clutch. What he did remember was that dodos had lived on a small island. The thought sent a sprout of deep fear through his heart.
However, just as he was trying to recall whether he had seen animals like cows or horses, a remark from the old grandmother rekindled his hope.
"Jian, that black-and-white bear you mentioned… I saw one when I was a child."
*Boom.*
That simple sentence was like a clap of thunder in his mind. Chen Jian's head shot up in excitement.
The old grandmother gathered everyone around the fire and told a story from her youth.
Back then, the tribe had a much larger population. Large game became scarce, and the tribe's territory was limited, so they had been forced to split up and migrate. During that time, she had seen one of those chubby, black-and-white bears in the jungle.
Everyone was now even more convinced of Chen Jian's story. Since none of them had ever seen such a bear, they were certain that ancestors were guiding the tribe's future through dreams.
After asking a few more questions to confirm the details, Chen Jian trembled with excitement.
The dragon was an illusion, but this chubby creature was real.
Its existence sustained his innermost hope. It was the link connecting his past life with this one, a tie to his bloodline, his skin color, and his homeland.
The old grandmother said slowly, "That may truly be the soul of our ancestors. Jian, tell us what you dreamed."
People gathered around curiously. Sharing dreams was one of their few recreational activities.
Beyond material survival, human beings also needed a spiritual life. For now, carving a talisman or talking about dreams was the extent of their entertainment.
Lewd jokes might have been another form of recreation, but they were strictly forbidden within the tribe.
For the tribe, the earliest moral taboos centered on sex, giving rise to the uniquely human emotion of shyness. This was a mechanism to prevent incestuous relationships within the clan. Of course, these rules did not apply when interacting with other tribes; then, one could be bold. Even in the eras of the great sages of later millennia, certain sexual customs persisted that were not the case here. Sexual modesty evolved from these taboos against intercourse within the clan. It was not directed at outsiders but eventually became a deeply ingrained habit.
Seeing the clansmen gathered around, Chen Jian calmed himself, knowing that what he said next would have a profound impact.
From a short-term perspective, even measuring in centuries, his best choice would be to become a shaman, claim to be a prophet, or even declare himself the son of a god. That would grant him the greatest personal benefit.
But would that kind of civilization still be the one from his past life, with its beauty of rules and etiquette? Would it still be that inclusive civilization that allowed a hundred schools of thought to contend? Would it still be the civilization that dared to challenge heaven and earth—the kind where if you prayed at a temple for rain and none came, you smashed the temple's shrine?
Of course, deifying himself would quickly establish his status in the tribe, but in the long run, the cost was too high.
Once the tribe developed into a civilization and a nation, that kind of thinking would lead to one of two outcomes. Either it would require a bloody, vigorous reformation in the future, where countless kinsmen would die to overturn the words he spoke today, or the people would cling to scriptures and ancient inscriptions, stagnating at the fringes of civilization.
He didn't want a future where, thousands of years from now, people would dissect his words to determine how to eat, how to defecate, or even which hand to use to wipe themselves, seeking rigid doctrine in every utterance. Such a civilization could never undergo a reformation; it would be incapable of rising above dogmatic tragedies.
So, after a moment of contemplation, Chen Jian looked up and, in a deep tone, told a story no one in his clan had ever heard.
"A long, long time ago, there was a being named Pangu. He slept in a darkness that had no sun, no moon, and no stars."
These tribespeople, whose imaginations had never been so stretched, showed looks of terror. They pictured a world without the sun, moon, and stars, and they trembled with fear.
Yu Qian'er clutched her brother's hand, her teeth chattering. A very simple story had a completely different effect in this era.
"When he awoke, he tore the darkness apart with all his might, and the earth formed beneath our feet. But the ground was desolate, and there was nothing on it."
"Later, he fell asleep again. His left eye became the sun, his right eye became the moon, his breath became the wind, his hair became the forests, the lice on his body became the animals, and the sound of his snoring became thunder… His soul shattered and turned into our ancestors."
"Our ancestors learned to use fire under the guidance of his soul. They knew that we are souls, and that the wind, rain, thunder, and lightning are merely Pangu's flesh."
In this primitive, wild era, the idea of the soul being superior to the body was a primal belief.
Chen Jian's story sounded strange to them, but they did not find it difficult to accept. Deep in their hearts, as they began to conquer nature, they already believed that man was the spirit of all things. No one had ever articulated it for them, and they rarely had the time to ponder and conclude it themselves.
This story also answered their questions: Where did thunder and lightning come from? Where did the sun and moon come from? Where did *we* come from?
As everyone watched with expectant eyes, Chen Jian continued, "Our ancestors are all fragments of Pangu's soul. After our ancestors die, their souls, which are white, and their bodies, which are black, merge together. Sometimes they appear in our dreams as black-and-white bears to guide us and help our people live better."
"But the darkness that Pangu tore apart wants to swallow everything again. So it pretends to be our ancestors, appearing in our dreams to trick us into returning to the endless dark."
"Yes! Then what should we do?" a clansman asked in horror. They all considered the terrifying possibility. What if a malevolent spirit pretended to be an ancestor in a dream? How would they know if it was real?
Chen Jian stood up, raising his bow and arrow high. "This is the guidance our ancestors gave us! With the bow and arrow, we can easily catch prey. Those who guide us to live better are our true ancestors. Those whose guidance cannot make our people strong, even if someone dreams of them, are liars!"
The clansmen looked up at the bow and arrow with admiration, their eyes involuntarily flicking to the day's catch, a look of ecstasy dawning on their faces.
*Yes, the ones who help us live must be our real ancestors. And even if someone dreams of an ancestor, if it doesn't make our lives better, it must be fake!*
It was simple logic. What mother would let her children die? Only an enemy would kill the children of another clan.
The old grandmother murmured a blessing to the ancestors. The clansmen bowed their heads reverently, and Chen Jian did the same.
Religion was something humanity had to experience. It was impossible to eliminate entirely and was a powerful force that shaped history.
All religions were nothing more than the fantastic reflection in men's minds of those external forces which control their daily life.
It was used to fill a spiritual void. If he didn't fill it with something, something else would.
Since it was inevitable, then… it was better to create a god, a god called Ancestor.
Anyone who did something to make the group stronger must be protected by the ancestors; otherwise, they were an enemy.
Anyone could be guided by the ancestors, because all clansmen were their descendants.
Guidance from a god that improves the people's lives is true.
Guidance from a god that diminishes the people's lives is false.
If this tribe could one day expand into cities and a civilization, then this primitive worship would give rise to a new religion.
A religion that worshiped ancestors but could not be blindly followed.
A religion where anyone could receive guidance, where everyone was a descendant of the god.
A religion that could easily distinguish true gods from false gods.
A falsifiable religion.
And this god, perhaps, in the terms of a later era, would be called *Productivity*—the deification of a concept this tribe could not yet understand.
And this god, perhaps, would be called *Science*—a faith born with the possibility of being proven false, but also the easiest one in which to identify false prophets.
There would be no esoteric theological debates, no arguments over a trinity or god's place in the heart, and certainly no squabbling over the meaning of a single sentence in a holy book.
It only needed to be proven by facts.
*You say you have been guided by your ancestors? Prove it to me!*
*You make the bow and arrow shoot farther, so you are guided by the true ancestors. You increase the grain yield, so you are guided by the true ancestors. You create better tools, you predict the weather, you heal the sick… all guided by the true ancestors.*
*You say that those who believe in you will live forever in a paradise of milk and honey? Well, since we can't see it, how about you first trouble yourself to invent a plow, a waterwheel, or a steam engine?*
*You say you are the only son of God? Heh. The Son of Heaven in ancient China was never God's only son, but His eldest. He was a ruler, not a shepherd for lost lambs.*
When future generations needed the divine right of kings, they could find a justification here. And in an industrial age, when they needed the concept of equality, they would only need to overthrow the 'eldest son' part of the myth. It was just a matter of interpretation, leaving plenty of room for manipulation.
It was always good to plan ahead. At least this race's civilization would not need an omniscient, inviolable, and immutable god.
Though it was naive, imperfect, and full of loopholes, the seed had been planted. One day, it would take root and sprout.
The tribespeople had never heard such an imaginative story. They were amazed by the power of this Pangu and looked forward to the day the souls of their ancestors might appear in their own dreams.
After the story was finished, the old grandmother took a piece of charcoal from the fire.
On the stone wall of the cave, she drew a simple figure of a panda holding a bow and arrow, handing it to a person. In the rest of the drawing, other clansmen paid homage to the black-and-white bear.
Simple lines outlined a raw, primitive beauty.
Beside the fire, a new form of worship was born, and the bloodied bow was its best testament: the souls of the ancestors were guiding the tribe.
For Chen Jian, this act of god-making was just the beginning.