Now the whole world had one language and a common speech. As people moved eastward, they found a plain in Shinar and settled there. They said to each other, “Come, let’s make bricks and bake them thoroughly.” They used brick instead of stone, and tar for mortar. Then they said, “Come, let us build ourselves a city, with a tower that reaches to the heavens, so that we may make a name for ourselves; otherwise we will be scattered over the face of the whole earth.” But the Lord came down to see the city and the tower the people were building. The Lord said, “If as one people speaking the same language they have begun to do this, then nothing they plan to do will be impossible for them. Come, let us go down and confuse their language so they will not understand each other.” So the Lord scattered them from there over all the earth, and they stopped building the city. That is why it was called Babel —because there the Lord confused the language of the whole world. From there the Lord scattered them over the face of the whole earth. '
Genesis 11:1-9
The mindset of the people living at that time was shaped by a recent event—the "worldwide flood," which had cleansed the earth of impurity and freed the first descendants of Noah’s sons—Shem, Ham, and Japheth—from fierce competition. The flood was the greatest psychological trauma for them, the grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren of Noah, not because the healthy foundation on our planet had lost something, but because their mothers, during the flood, had lost their depraved fathers, mothers, sisters, and brothers, and perhaps lovers, to whom they were painfully attached. Also perishing in the floodwaters were the "spiritual" teachers who taught contrary to the truth and brought about their own destruction. Women unconverted to God, seeking to shield themselves from fear, decided to act in the spirit of their civilization, which had perished in the floodwaters.
Having had the opportunity to witness God’s righteousness, they nonetheless did not believe—though only verbally!!—God’s promise that there would never again be a worldwide flood ("I establish My covenant with you, that never again shall all flesh be destroyed by the waters of a flood, and never again shall there be a flood to destroy the earth... this is the sign of the covenant... <...> ...there will be a rainbow in the cloud" [Genesis 9:11–16]). Instead, they tried to address spiritual matters in their own way—deciding to build a tower higher than the potential floodwaters could reach.
As for the more intellectually advanced portion of the population, the leaders of the post-flood world only verbally disbelieved God’s promise. Historical leaders, of course, were not thinkers, but it’s hard to believe they were so utterly foolish as to not realize that building a tower was futile in the sense that there could be no place to hide from God. However, the leaders’ words about the need to build the tower for safety were a deliberate lie, catering to the fantasies and expectations of the crowd. This conscious deception masked the true reason for the tower’s construction—to justify the necessity of leaders and hierarchy as a whole.
Indeed, while the structure had little practical or everyday purpose, it was immense. Just organizing the delivery of building materials to the top required the strictest discipline—a rigid hierarchy. It was impossible for some to hoist loads upward by rope while others simultaneously tried to lower empty containers. This demanded a supervisor for each section, someone to decide who had priority. And over the small supervisors, a bigger supervisor was needed. And so on, up to the supreme leader—Napoleon, Stalin, Hitler, the chief.
Hierarchy is always underpinned by ideology. The construction leader had the ability to convince others that building the tower was necessary. And all the workers believed him. The success in shaping the first post-flood form of a state (universal) religion was determined by shared traumas—of both the first leader and his subordinates.
The construction was planned to span centuries (after all, the builders’ great-great-grandfather Noah had built the ark for 120 years—so prepare yourselves, brethren, for great sacrifices in the name of the state). The main goal of the leader during the construction of the Tower of Babel was not the tower itself, but the process of its construction, the result of which would be a new psychological state for the workers. Over centuries of obeying the orders of superiors, the entire population was meant to develop, through this construction, a mindset not merely soldierly, but brutishly soldierly—or, better yet, ultra-super-duper-brutishly soldierly.
God’s purpose. The universal source of goodness needed to save people from themselves, from their involuntary devotion to the leader. But how could this be done?
Destroying the tower would not only fail to benefit them but, on the contrary, would fulfill the subconscious desire of their leader: it would extend the construction timeline, which was desirable for further drilling the already "happy" builders’ minds.
Kill the leader? The people would simply choose another just like him.
Destroy the hierarchy?
Eliminating the principle itself was impossible until the time of Jesus Christ’s coming.
Destroy this specific hierarchy? But how?
God destroyed it—brilliantly. He performed a miracle: instead of one language, He created many. The single language vanished, and the leader’s subordinates could no longer remain so: they ceased to understand commands.
And the workers dispersed in sorrow, and God allowed it. "And the Lord scattered them from there over the face of all the earth; and they stopped building the city."
The confusion of languages was only partly a curse; to a far greater extent, it was a blessing.
Genesis 11:1-9
The mindset of the people living at that time was shaped by a recent event—the "worldwide flood," which had cleansed the earth of impurity and freed the first descendants of Noah’s sons—Shem, Ham, and Japheth—from fierce competition. The flood was the greatest psychological trauma for them, the grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren of Noah, not because the healthy foundation on our planet had lost something, but because their mothers, during the flood, had lost their depraved fathers, mothers, sisters, and brothers, and perhaps lovers, to whom they were painfully attached. Also perishing in the floodwaters were the "spiritual" teachers who taught contrary to the truth and brought about their own destruction. Women unconverted to God, seeking to shield themselves from fear, decided to act in the spirit of their civilization, which had perished in the floodwaters.
Having had the opportunity to witness God’s righteousness, they nonetheless did not believe—though only verbally!!—God’s promise that there would never again be a worldwide flood ("I establish My covenant with you, that never again shall all flesh be destroyed by the waters of a flood, and never again shall there be a flood to destroy the earth... this is the sign of the covenant... <...> ...there will be a rainbow in the cloud" [Genesis 9:11–16]). Instead, they tried to address spiritual matters in their own way—deciding to build a tower higher than the potential floodwaters could reach.
As for the more intellectually advanced portion of the population, the leaders of the post-flood world only verbally disbelieved God’s promise. Historical leaders, of course, were not thinkers, but it’s hard to believe they were so utterly foolish as to not realize that building a tower was futile in the sense that there could be no place to hide from God. However, the leaders’ words about the need to build the tower for safety were a deliberate lie, catering to the fantasies and expectations of the crowd. This conscious deception masked the true reason for the tower’s construction—to justify the necessity of leaders and hierarchy as a whole.
Indeed, while the structure had little practical or everyday purpose, it was immense. Just organizing the delivery of building materials to the top required the strictest discipline—a rigid hierarchy. It was impossible for some to hoist loads upward by rope while others simultaneously tried to lower empty containers. This demanded a supervisor for each section, someone to decide who had priority. And over the small supervisors, a bigger supervisor was needed. And so on, up to the supreme leader—Napoleon, Stalin, Hitler, the chief.
Hierarchy is always underpinned by ideology. The construction leader had the ability to convince others that building the tower was necessary. And all the workers believed him. The success in shaping the first post-flood form of a state (universal) religion was determined by shared traumas—of both the first leader and his subordinates.
The construction was planned to span centuries (after all, the builders’ great-great-grandfather Noah had built the ark for 120 years—so prepare yourselves, brethren, for great sacrifices in the name of the state). The main goal of the leader during the construction of the Tower of Babel was not the tower itself, but the process of its construction, the result of which would be a new psychological state for the workers. Over centuries of obeying the orders of superiors, the entire population was meant to develop, through this construction, a mindset not merely soldierly, but brutishly soldierly—or, better yet, ultra-super-duper-brutishly soldierly.
God’s purpose. The universal source of goodness needed to save people from themselves, from their involuntary devotion to the leader. But how could this be done?
Destroying the tower would not only fail to benefit them but, on the contrary, would fulfill the subconscious desire of their leader: it would extend the construction timeline, which was desirable for further drilling the already "happy" builders’ minds.
Kill the leader? The people would simply choose another just like him.
Destroy the hierarchy?
Eliminating the principle itself was impossible until the time of Jesus Christ’s coming.
Destroy this specific hierarchy? But how?
God destroyed it—brilliantly. He performed a miracle: instead of one language, He created many. The single language vanished, and the leader’s subordinates could no longer remain so: they ceased to understand commands.
And the workers dispersed in sorrow, and God allowed it. "And the Lord scattered them from there over the face of all the earth; and they stopped building the city."
The confusion of languages was only partly a curse; to a far greater extent, it was a blessing.