Starving the Monkeys: Fight Back Smarter

by Tom Baugh

  Women especially, lacking physical strength which reduced them to mere property in such tribes, often found that they too could hope to curry favor by similar accusations should they be slighted or threatened. The kings, whether the accused was innocent or not, were slaves to their own power. These kings had no choice but to brutally murder each accused usurper to maintain order, and to preserve their own lives. Of course, this system of ruthlessness often meant death for the barbarian kings themselves as factions arose among their barbaric nobility which could depose a ruler by force or subterfuge.

  All belonged to the king, and he passed along any excess to the tribesmen as he saw fit. In so doing the king bribed and sustained the tribe to not rise against him in their hunger, or to join in punishing those who defied him. Most of these men ruled with such despotic completeness that even the wild hares and harts were his, only to be hunted with his approval and brought to him when felled.

  The barbarian tribes thus lacked any incentive for individuals to excel. Should any try, the fruits of their labor would be easily seized from them by the others, and any resistance would be reported to the king as disloyalty. Even such innocent diversions as studying God's creation, as did Tith, led these kings to fear acts of wizardry which might threaten their hold on the tribe. Therefore, acts of self-sufficiency and strength and knowledge, or even idle entertainment, were often seen as threats of non-compliance bubbling beneath the surface. Not surprisingly, few tried to improve themselves and their means or the knowledge of mankind. Those who did rarely lived long enough to pass along their fleeting and meager wealth and ideas to their children.

  And so, the forces of evolution ensured that the barbarian tribes were peopled with the violent, the unprincipled, and the ignorant. And the fearful. Equally unsurprisingly, the barbarian tribes soon devoured the resources upon which they stood. As they consumed these resources like locusts, they sought more elsewhere, finding relative plenty among the neighboring tribes such as those in K'ette's village. Only in these places, where men had, as had Og and Pok, discovered the miracle of trade were there more than subsistence resources. Only where men lived peacefully together were they able to exchange the largess of their work with others, increasing their quality of life to mutual selfish benefit.

  A few barbarian kings, seeing the wealth of such places, sought to emulate their productivity after first murdering them and consuming their wealth. A barbarian conqueror, seeing the bounty of Beri's bramble patch for example, might assign a tribesman to manage the patch. In such cases the king might have assigned an expert like Beri herself, had she, or her equivalent, not already been raped and murdered as an example to others.

  Whether this task was assigned to a skilled worker such as Beri or an ignorant tribesman, it made no difference. Each fruit plucked from this field must first be sent to the king, with he, and he alone, deciding how much would be returned to the worker as his subsistence. Either tender, lacking incentive to improve or produce, their ration the same regardless, soon fell back to producing only slightly more than that required to avoid the lash or the pyre. Any additional effort purchased only exhaustion.

  And the kings, no matter how clever they might be, could not possibly manage or oversee all the details which all the tribesmen individually might easily handle for themselves. Any overseer an enlightened barbarian king might appoint, seeking his own power and prestige and profit, not only lacked the knowledge of prosperity, but disdained it as rude and common.

  That prosperous berry patch required much expert and detailed activity, not just the trampling of the bunny pellets. The tying of the younger brambles to form next years trellis, like the tending and care of the bunnies and the training of the cheval, were all required for prosperity. All of these things also required constant attention and self-interest to perform well. Yet none of these things are of interest to the overseer, who considers only the obedience of his and the king's subjects. Applied at the tip of the lash, these things waned in importance when compared to pleasing the overseer. Further, the overseer deemed the most capable to be the most suitable for harder servitude. So, men in conquered tribes soon learned to hide their ability lest they be taxed the most.

  Many tribes overwhelmed by the barbarians had also discovered that miracle our tribe called Tithing. As you recall, with this practice the best of a man's work was carefully preserved so that the following years' flocks and harvests would be more bountiful. Although called by many names by many tribes, the barbarian kings universally saw this practice as the equivalent of secular heresy. Increasing one's holdings, to the king's mind, represented a holdout from his authority, as he demanded only the finest for his kingly tables. And in his ignorance demanded the heads of those who practiced this early genetic engineering.

  So over time, under the rule of even the most enlightened barbarian kings, carefully tended brambles, plump fowl, prolific bunnies, husbanded woodlots and resources of every kind devolved back into the wild. And so the barbarians, even the enlightened, were once again compelled to march onward to plunder remote villages and tribes which had not yet fallen.

  Some saw the rise of the barbarians as men being swayed by their basest nature. In reality, the barbarian kings could not have ruled had their subjects not seen them as a source of goods easier than their own hand. Lacking confidence in their own ability or ideas, men too easily come under the sway of those who promise to take from others by force. Especially if that promise includes a provision to then hand that largess out to their minions who grasp for it with their own greedy, and often bloody, hands. Even if that largess is paltry in comparison to what these same men might earn for themselves.

  And yet, the barbarian kings lived in constant fear that they might themselves be killed by those enslaved by birth and circumstance to serve them. After all, some of those born into slavery might decide that their circumstances might be better in the wild with the king pursuing. Or better, as a benevolent king themselves, having disposed of the former. These ideas usually stemmed from the central idea that man was created in God's image, and thus worthy of being a master of himself and a slave to none. To the king, or the collective which demands the king's largess, these ideas were too dangerous to allow unchecked.

  And so, the most successful barbarian kings soon realized that it was essential to cut the bond between a man and God. This division would leave the man with no authority to which to turn but to the king himself. Enter the spiritualist, or shaman, or prophet, or reverend, or saint, or pontiff or any number of names which served the purpose of isolating men from God.

  The purpose of a spiritualist was, by inserting himself as a prophet or interpreter of God's vision, to divert man's loyalty and attention away from God. Thus each man's own individual self interest would be diverted toward the spiritualist and, by proxy, the king. This goal of redirected loyalty was achieved by ensuring that the spiritualists' loyalties to the king was paid in wealth and power to the extent that they achieved the cementing of that king's power. The barbarian king thus secured his power by the idea planted in men's minds that he was due his power as if stemming from God Himself. A judo master would have been proud of this spiritual and intellectual redirection of man's attention.

  But this was a process best taken slow. At first, the spiritualist might present himself as a wise man who had studied the nature of God more fully than each man might have time to do on his own. Much as a purported mind-reader only needs a few tidbits of information about his mark to make educated guesses which might seem phenomenally insightful (I myself enjoy this game when encountering purported mind-readers or door-to-door evangelists). This technique, known as "cold reading", is fun when done at a party or out on a date. But, if twisted to manipulate the minds of the unwary to redirect power and loyalty, this trick can be a dangerous weapon.

  Now, not everyone will fall for this ruse. But the spiritualist only needs a few committed marks to begin to accumulate real power. Witness for example the phenomenal influence w
ielded by that arch-collectivist, Jim Jones. Merely by resonating with key issues important to the individual, a shaman can easily appear to speak for God. And these issues can be easily detected by forming a model of that individual's quality of life matrix factors.

  "God told me in a dream last night that you are suffering," the shaman might say. Most people are, at least in some way. And those more likely to fall under the spiritualist's influence are probably suffering the most.

  If the shaman encounters narrowed-eyes at this point, he knows to excuse himself and beat a hasty retreat to the next mark, having only wasted about twenty seconds. Even so, he has gained valuable information about who to deal with later.

  But if he sees the faintest glimmer of hope in the eyes, he digs deeper. "In this dream, a loved one, maybe a wife, ... or a child, ... or a parent, ..." he pauses imperceptibly, waiting for recognition. Upon seeing a glimmer of response, or better, outright agreement, he knows which way to turn. If not, "... there was an animal, and it was starving, ..." and so on until he hits paydirt. If not, he can blame himself, such as, "Sometimes God sends me to a neighbor of the afflicted to keep me humble. Which one of your neighbors is suffering? I know God wants you to help them, even if you don't have the means yourself." This last one is pure gold, and can lead to a wealth of information about gender, age, affliction, and so on, which makes a far greater impact when he approaches the neighbor later.

  Sometimes, to break the ice, the shaman needs a miracle. This could be any number of science-based tricks, well-known to alchemists and pre-teen boys before the advent of public school. But simpler tricks work as well. During a drought or a famine, our shaman might run around for a while asking the tribesmen to pray for rain or plenty, and eventually rain or plenty will happen. Hardly ever would the shaman ask for the tribesmen to help dig an irrigation channel or work on better means of managing livestock or crops, as this would be counterproductive for their purpose.

  But until it does rain or the crops bear fruit, he can start planting the seed that someone is to blame. His best choice for blame is someone who booted him out the door during an earlier visit, "God is telling me that some in His flock are not believing enough."

  The shaman waits for recognition, and then continues, "I visited Ungh the other day, and he didn't seem to believe. He thinks that man can solve his own problems. I don't think he really believes in God's power. What do you think?" There is a great chance that the shaman is not the only boot recipient whom Ungh had lost patience with, self-reliant individualist that he is, so this is a great row to plow. If the mark offers another name, that works too. The more the merrier.

  With a list of names, now it's time to get a crowd together. So much the better if he has the barbarian king's ear to keep the heat away. Ungh, and the others like him, probably aren't helping the king sleep very well anyway, so this is an easy sell.

  And out of this crowd of faithful, our shaman probably has a few who really believe. I mean REALLY believe.

  Believe in their souls that they are specially chosen by God for something important. Because they not only WANT to. They NEED to.

  Because their miserable, pitiful lives up unto that point have just been a total waste of genetic material. The only thing that has kept some of these righteous from putting an axe to their own head is that it would require some insight and hard work. And it would probably hurt.

  But insight and hard work have eluded them, of course, by their own choices. But the lack of these led them to circumstances in their own lives to put them squarely in the shaman's grasp.

  The shaman needs at least three willing assistants. At worst, some of the king's own men will be happy to fill this role. The king may send at least one of his own as a failsafe regardless. In any nefarious deed, one might get cold feet, two might discuss it and get cold feet. But, in a sea of at least three collectivists, no one wants to be the one to speak first. We will call these three The Chosen Ones.

  So the shaman starts the soft sell. "So many good people are suffering, and God doesn't want us to suffer."

  "God just wants us to worship Him, and understand His Glory."

  "God told me to teach Ungh and the others. But I have failed Him."

  "I prayed heavily about this, and asked for God's forgiveness. He told me, in His Wisdom that He had already sent me angels in the form of men."

  "The time is near. The angels were already among us, and I have already met them, but I knew them not."

  "The angels have come to deliver God's wrath."

  Rattle off enough of this nonsense, and even the dimmest of ruffian bulbs, aspiring for angel-hood, will eventually get the message. If not, he can even volunteer some of these morons one-to-one. "God told me that you are one of His angels, and that, as a test of both our faiths, you would at first be unwilling."

  All the shaman has to do now is pick a time. Some astronomical event, like a full moon, or better, a comet or an eclipse, works great. And so, as the appointed time approaches, he begins to rile the faithful.

  "The time nears. God has chosen us to display our faith that He will deliver us on (the next full moon, whatever). We must gather together to pray for Ungh at his hut. If our faith is strong enough, he will fall to his knees with us," he requests, reasonably enough. "I have also been instructed that we must build a fire with wood from the seven oaks to represent the seven prophets," he adds, or some similar simple compliance nonsense.

  Note, by the way, if it happens to rain or the harvest is bountiful or the herd returns, or whatever, before the appointed hour, the shaman still has a way out. "God wanted to make sure we would all be willing. Once He saw the strength of our faith, He delivered us, but warns us to not be asleep when He knocks again."

  And in so doing gets to bank that fervor for the next calamity while taking credit for the deliverance. Eventually, though, the deliverance does not come. And so the plan springs into action. A crowd, glistening with uplifted faces, forms in front of Ungh's hut. At the shaman's urging, they begin to build a bonfire with the seven oaks, or the three calves, or that shrub or this oil, so that God will see their obedience. Ungh comes out to see what the hell is going on.

  "Ungh, will you repent and follow God's will?" If Ungh caves, again, the shaman has a victory, since the faithful now have had a demonstration of their imagined power. If so, the lot moves down the list a week or so later to the next victim, all entries cleared in advance by the king. Eventually either the rain returns, or someone on the list fails to repent. Unfortunately for Ungh, it's him.

  "Ungh, so many are suffering, and all God wants is for us, all of us, to bow to His will." Ungh is in a no-win situation here, and notices that the king's men, quick to grab him for the slightest disobedience, are strangely absent from this mob. He also lacks a pintle-mounted .50-cal.

  The shaman then turns to the crowd, and with a dramatic flourish instructs them, "Fall to your knees and pray that he will repent."

  The crowd complies, no one wanting to be seen as siding with Ungh, and in their act of the simplest shared compliance, the die is cast. And established the shaman to all who see this act as their leader.

  "Ungh, will you repent and follow God's will?" he repeats. No answer from the stunned and incredulous Ungh. It couldn't have been scripted any better.

  "Children, God has told me that from this multitude will rise avenging angels to strike down the disbeliever. Angels, rise and advance!" he shouts, lifting his arms and staff to the heavens.

  Now, at least The Chosen Ones, and perhaps the few plants of the king, rise and approach Ungh, prepared stones in hand. Collective action being what it is, and having already demonstrated their willingness to obey by the simple act of falling to pray, one or more of the others will rise, too. Seeing their neighbor rise beside them, and caught up in wanting to be angels, or at the very least of not wanting to be Ungh, others rise and advance. The contagion spreads like wildfire.

  The Chosen Ones, closing on the startled Ungh, or better, c
hasing him as he runs, throw their stones. The rest, not asking why those chosen already had stones in their hands, look around for something to throw. In this act of following the tide they take themselves further down the path of collective obedience. Stones, branches, axes, it doesn't matter. Eventually, they surround the pummeled body, the shaman at the center.

  "Children, you have witnessed a miracle." At this point, none dare to speak out to question this nonsense.

  "Fall to your knees and join me in prayer." Even if repulsed by what they have just done, everyone complies.

  "God, forgive us for not trusting You. Forgive us for taking so long to understand Your will. Forgive us for doubting our king who You sent us to lead us, and who tends to our needs as Your servant." Bingo.

  "And forgive Ungh, and let his blood wash away our sins."

  "And teach us to trust Your will. And to be swift as Your angels. Amen."

  "Children, please rise." They obey.

  "And cast the disbeliever upon the fire, that his spirit may rise to God for judgement," he orders, laying the groundwork for associating ritualistic burning and blood sacrifice as necessary conditions for life. The next time, they won't have to bother killing their victim first, they can just tie him, or her, to the fire and light it up. Kind of like upping the spiritual ante.

  A mob boss might require a blood crime for membership. Similarly, each man and woman and child present, even if they didn't cast a single stone, share the guilt and shame for what they have done. Or, what they failed to stop.

  And now they MUST believe in the righteousness of what they have done. To maintain this internal lie they must convince everyone they meet to believe as well. They must pass this belief onto their children, so strongly that they pass it onto theirs, and so on. Because if they don't, they would come hand-to-face with the blood on their own hands. And being sheep in a collective flock, it was that avoidance of responsibility that led to their rapt attention to the shaman who walked up to them in front of their huts. And it was their longing to belong to the collective that led to their enlistment in the mob that murdered Ungh.