Chapter 9. Slavery
- Andrew Mytaf
- Feb 17
- 42 min read
Updated: Mar 19
The Catalyst of Slavery
One of the most morally troubling aspects of the Bible—and indeed many ancient texts—is their inclusion of prescriptions concerning slavery. Slavery is an institution for which no justification can ever be acceptable or desirable. Even if we step outside the theistic framework and imagine the creation of an "acceptable god for sceptics," we are left to grapple with the historical silence on this issue. All major religious traditions and foundational texts acknowledge slavery to some degree, yet none explicitly condemn or prohibit it. This compels us to examine the historical and social forces that might have influenced these omissions and to seek a rational understanding of their underlying motives.
To understand the roots of slavery, we must first dispel a common misconception: slavery's origins were not inherently tied to racial prejudice. In its earliest forms, slavery emerged within family and tribal structures. Those who violated community norms or posed a threat to their group were often enslaved as a form of punishment or neutralisation. Initially, this practice was confined to members of one's own tribe or community.
As societies expanded and internal conflicts gave way to wars with external enemies, slavery evolved into a widespread institution. Captives were no longer seen merely as threats to be neutralised or as incidental outcomes of conflict. Instead, they became deliberate targets, valued as resources to be systematically exploited. This shift marked the beginning of large-scale raids and the organised enslavement of people for economic gain.
Despite its material benefits to enslavers, slavery faced a fundamental challenge: the natural human inclination toward empathy. In the absence of immediate danger, enslavers often began to identify with their slaves, leading to sympathy and feelings of shared humanity. This empathy created moral dissonance, undermining the stability of the newly established institution.
To suppress these inconvenient emotions, societies developed ideological constructs to dehumanise the enslaved. Caste systems, depersonalisation, and even demonisation were employed to create an artificial sense of separation. Slaves were portrayed as inherently inferior, subhuman, or morally corrupt, justifying their subjugation. This dehumanisation served as a compromise between the pursuit of economic gain and the need for psychological peace among enslavers.
It is important to recognise that humans rarely engage in harmful practices purely for the sake of harm itself. For example, consider laws on capital punishment or life imprisonment, complete with detailed procedures and conditions. An outsider unfamiliar with the broader societal context might mistakenly conclude that these punishments are celebrated as virtues. Such a misunderstanding arises only by ignoring the intent behind these practices: to serve justice, deter harm, or protect society.
Similarly, contemporary generations often misjudge the actions of previous ones, particularly regarding practices like slavery. Those who participated in slavery often considered themselves noble and morally upright, acting within the ethical frameworks of their time. Likewise, future generations may view our current practices—such as the widespread exploitation of animal species—as barbaric. What we deem reasonable today may one day be seen as morally indefensible as our understanding of ethics evolves.
The emergence of slavery is deeply tied to humanity's early struggle for survival. In the primitive world, the priority was not global human welfare but survival in the face of scarcity. Neighbouring tribes were seen not only as competitors for resources but as existential threats. In this context, slavery can be viewed as a more humane alternative to annihilation. Rather than destroying a defeated tribe, societies used captives as a resource. In many cases, the vanquished considered enslavement preferable to extinction, finding relief in survival.
Exceptions to this preference emerged with the rise of specific ideologies. In larger, more established tribes where annihilation by enemies was less imminent, cultural narratives began to glorify honour, principle, patriotism, and self-sacrifice, partly to avoid the economic or military reinforcement of competitors through captives. These ideologies encouraged a willingness to choose death over the humiliation of slavery. However, even within such ideological frameworks, survival instincts often prevailed, leading individuals to choose slavery over death when faced with the option.
In the early period of tribal social structures, slavery existed in a form distinct from the images it conjures today. Captives who became slaves were tasked with performing labour that had previously been the responsibility of tribe members themselves. These slaves often worked alongside the lower strata of the tribe, living under similar conditions. Broadly speaking, this arrangement was not entirely unlike the modern integration of refugees into a society, where, for example, a farmer who once picked their own strawberries might now employ a seasonal migrant worker. These workers, while technically free, often face limited opportunities and earn far less annually than the farmer who hires them.
In many languages, the word "work" shares etymological roots with terms for "slavery." The distinction today lies in the mechanisms of compulsion. Modern individuals are not enslaved by force of arms but by systemic factors such as limited access to free land, scarce resources or simply by advertisement. As Marcus Tullius Cicero aptly observed: "Anyone who gives their labour for money sells themselves and reduces themselves to the position of a slave."
While modern refugees leave their homes voluntarily, their decisions are often dictated by external pressures: economic hardship, political conflict, or natural disasters. These factors render continued existence in their native environments untenable. A similar dynamic applied to defeated peoples in the primitive era. Their communities were destroyed, and their property and resources were seized. In modern terms, this could be likened to collecting reparations or compensation for damages and the costs of military actions—justified by the perceived or real threat posed by the defeated peoples. In many cases, this threat was not merely imagined but reflected genuine conflicts of interest over resources and survival.
Then, as now, wars were driven not only by the pursuit of national prosperity but also by the desire to eliminate dangerous neighbours who posed existential or economic threats. This underscores that the practice of waging war under any pretext represents an even more primitive stage of social development than slavery itself and should be considered an inherently immoral phenomenon. The only distinction between the two lies in their outcomes: in one case, people are enslaved for economic stability; in the other, they are killed.
The reasoning behind this assertion is complex and would require a comprehensive exploration to outline the necessity of a gradual shift toward pacifism.
As Heraclitus of Ephesus famously remarked: "War is the father of all. It has made some gods, others humans, some slaves, and others free".
Even a war against slavery, despite its noble goals, invites critical and philosophical scrutiny. Consider this paradoxical example: in countries where slavery persisted far longer than in the United States—due to unique historical circumstances and isolation from anti-slavery narratives—the population often does not grapple with the lingering post-slavery turbulence. Such societies may, paradoxically, exhibit less collective suffering, having transitioned through a seemingly less noble path.
Furthermore, if we were to construct a hypothetical scale to quantify both mental and physical suffering—much like we calculate material damage—we might find that the cumulative suffering during the American Civil War, with its bloody battles and profound societal divisions, outweighed that of societies where slavery dissolved gradually without revolution. Similarly, within the United States itself, one might argue that if slavery had ended through gradual economic shifts rather than violent conflict, the overall level of suffering might have been less severe.
However, we must set aside this hypothesis, as modern society, paradoxically, evaluates events predominantly through social principles rather than by comparing the aggregate levels of suffering.
Interestingly, the origins of the Civil War in the United States can be traced to economic transformations that acted as a catalyst for moral renewal within several Protestant denominations. Methodists, Congregationalists, Presbyterians, and Baptists all experienced a heightened drive to address and eradicate social vices. This movement was deeply intertwined with eschatological expectations, as believers sought to purify society in preparation for Christ's anticipated second coming. They interpreted the increase in societal idleness, luxury, and indulgent living—which aligned with certain biblical prophecies—as signs of this approaching event.
Special attention was given to slavery as one of the most egregious forms of social injustice. Certain passages in the New Testament, such as Jesus's declaration, "I did not come to bring peace, but a sword" (Matthew 10:34.), were interpreted literally by some as a call to armed struggle in pursuit of justice through the Christian mission. However, the changing attitudes toward slavery in various societies were largely an inevitable consequence of economic and social progress, accelerating as prosperity increased.
Economic progress proved to be a decisive factor in mitigating many barbaric practices rooted in the struggle for survival and resources. The stronger the economic position of a state or an individual owner, the better the conditions became for slaves. This phenomenon can be understood through the lens of economic theory and the historical development of productive forces.
In the context of limited resources and primitive technologies in the ancient world, slavery emerged as an efficient means of maximising production. With few alternatives available, enslaving others provided a solution to labour shortages and enabled the exploitation of resources on a larger scale. However, as agricultural methods improved, crafts advanced, and trade networks expanded, the economic viability of slavery began to decline. Free labour proved to be more productive, especially in industries that required skill, creativity, and initiative qualities.
Even within the confines of a slave-owning system, economic growth often led to better conditions for slaves. As owners accumulated wealth, they could afford to treat slaves as valuable assets rather than expendable tools. Improved treatment, in turn, increased productivity, creating a feedback loop in which economic prosperity reduced the harshness of slavery. This dynamic reveals a striking paradox: a system built on exploitation carried within it the seeds of its own eventual abolition. The very economic progress that slavery helped stimulate created conditions in which it became increasingly inefficient and ultimately untenable.
The condemnation of slavery, however, is rooted in our capacity for empathy—the ability to relate to others by viewing ourselves and them through the prism of basic human needs: the desire to avoid suffering and the wish to experience pleasure. Upon this foundation, we construct our notion of values.
Yet this sentiment is strongest when we ourselves are in comfortable conditions. When we find ourselves among those who lack the means to meet basic needs, or when alleviating others' suffering threatens to cause suffering for us, moral judgment becomes influenced by the instinct to escape a situation of shared constraints.
Let us examine both contemporary and ancient societies through an abstract example by imagining two hypothetical groups of people:
In the first group, resources are so scarce that their equal distribution results in the lowest possible level of suffering for all its members. However, unequal distribution allows some individuals to experience pleasure and comfort, albeit at the cost of increasing the suffering of others. This situation is more likely to provoke a struggle for dominance as individuals compete for access to resources and seek to accumulate them. The aim of such accumulation might be to redistribute resources among the needy, ensuring they are satisfied and do not threaten the dominant members' position—ideally freeing up the latter's time and mental energy to create better living conditions.
In the second group, resources are abundant enough that their distribution not only minimises suffering but also maximises the pleasure of all its members. Naturally, this group is less inclined to engage in resource conflicts, as such disputes could risk isolation and are unnecessary when everyone's basic needs—and more—are already met. From an external perspective, this group may appear more humane and civilised; however, this perception is not rooted in their values but rather in the abundance of their resources.
In his work Politics, Aristotle asserted that society requires a class of individuals engaged in physical labour to enable others to pursue politics, philosophy, and the sciences.
However, Aristotle also recognised the inherent equality of humans as beings and argued that the conditions of workers should improve as circumstances allow:
"If every tool, when summoned, or even of its own accord, could do the work that befits it... then there would be no need either of apprentices for the master workers or of slaves for the lords."
An analysis of historical processes reveals that the so-called "abolition of slavery" was, in fact, a transformation of slavery shaped by the evolution of economic systems. This pattern can be observed across various societies.
Tribes that were geographically isolated or did not engage in large-scale military conflicts were among the first to improve labour conditions. The lack of an influx of prisoners of war, coupled with economic growth, facilitated this development.
In societies where economic growth was accompanied by territorial expansion, labour conditions initially improved for members of their own community. However, the recognition of universal equality and the right to equal opportunities developed much more slowly, emerging only as the sense of external threat diminished. (This progress is so slow that I still cannot obtain refugee status because of the nationality listed in my passport.)
Over time, the economic advantages of improving workers’ lives became increasingly evident. Letting them spend on their own homes, worry about their sustenance, and even choose their employer proved to be more profitable in the long term.
Yet, this process remains far from complete. A true measure of progress would involve equal investment by the USA in both its own economy and the economies of Middle Eastern countries or the equitable distribution of resources across all nations, even when such actions conflict with short-term national interests. (This point is particularly relevant considering the economic advancement of former colonial powers, which relied heavily on resources from Asia, the human labour of Africa, and intellectual contributions borrowed from around the world.)
Ultimately, the complete eradication of slavery depends on the development of global empathy—where the well-being of others takes precedence over personal or national gain on a planetary scale.
In reality, the principle of slavery remains intact. We still see lackeys, housemaids, and service personnel whose lives are often reduced to earning just enough to cover basic necessities such as food, clothing, and shelter. Meanwhile, there is the charming phenomenon of exclusive establishments and recreational spots, where luxury goods are reserved for the elite, while more modest offerings are left for the masses. (To be fair, these disparities become less pronounced in more prosperous economies.)
Fast forward to a future where humanity has fully robotised all services: the new generation will undoubtedly recoil in horror at the realisation that we once employed fellow humans—our equals, no less—for menial work. We robbed them of significant portions of their lives, compromised their health, subjected them to stress, and, most appallingly, profited from their labour. Future critics will likely argue that, even if economic growth was the goal, humane conditions should have required the equitable distribution of 100% of income among all team members. Operational maintenance and expansion funds, they might insist, should have been allocated only with the unanimous consent of all employees, couriers included.
The housemaid scenario is no exception: a just approach would require integrating such a worker into the family's income distribution system on equal terms with other family members. Those unwilling to adopt this model should either reconcile themselves to having less personal free time or "roll up their sleeves" and take on the work themselves if they wish to evade moral accountability.
From an evolutionary perspective, we might excuse our ancestors and resist the urge to purge Stone Age exhibits from museums on the grounds of their so-called "misogyny." However, the issue becomes infinitely more complex when we consider a worldview that includes a creator who purportedly fashioned humanity in a state of perfection. If that were true, how did we fall from such an exalted intellectual state into barbarism, only to climb back again? And why did God not provide us with a golden standard of behaviour and an ideal society? Such a standard, even if it could not have prevented human degradation during times of scarcity, could at least have been revered by future civilisations as a paragon of moral perfection.
A Helpless God
Declaring an outright ban on any form of slavery would not have guaranteed its eradication. This is exemplified by the prophet Nehemiah's reproaches in chapter 5, where he condemns Israelite slave owners for disregarding the abolition of slavery—even during the composition of the Old Testament. Historical records further corroborate this, as Max J Kohler highlights in his article Antislavery Movement and the Jews in the Jewish Encyclopaedia (1901).
Moreover, the persistence of such practices among neighbouring tribes would have had a predictable impact. Imagine a tribe strictly adhering to divine covenants, surrounded by neighbours living under traditional laws. The consequences of such adherence would likely have been both severe and foreseeable. The tribe might face demographic decline due to the lack of new members and the departure of its more ambitious individuals. Economic and military setbacks caused by these restrictions would render the tribe politically vulnerable. Even if it managed to avoid absorption by its neighbours, it would still face a critical dilemma: to abandon the God whose commandments seemed to hinder prosperity or to distort the original teachings for the sake of survival.
The question arises: why would God not intervene supernaturally to provide resources rather than tolerating slavery as an economic stabiliser? After all, He is described as a deity capable of performing miracles, such as commanding fields to lie fallow every seven years while promising abundant harvests in prior years. Surely, such a God should intervene where necessary.
To address this fundamental criticism, we must return to the "thesis framework" of cause-and-effect relationships:
In the ideal model of God, we are considering—one characterised by absolute logic and absolute compassion—He cannot desire the destruction of any personality. At the same time, He cannot forcibly compel people to live according to the laws of happiness. A person must consciously, or at least intuitively, choose to pursue this path. After all, measures that provoke the recognition of facts, no matter how irrefutable, do not guarantee a genuine desire or agreement with them.
Additionally, we must account for the dynamics of autonomous reality, where the balance of forces in the brain has started to favour the limbic system two to one. This means that emotional impulses often override rational arguments, making reason secondary for most individuals. Given this, it is more compassionate not to force people into conformity but to allow them to live according to their own understanding of good. Consequently, those whose personal beliefs align most closely with the real idea of the common good are less likely to suffer in an ideal world. Perfect love, by its nature, cannot allow unnecessary suffering.
Under these initial conditions, we find ourselves in a reality where a personality desiring antinomy can exist, granted maximum autonomy within the physical world. However, since separation from the all-encompassing God equates to non-existence—which contradicts the goal of preserving personalities—God continues to encompass everything within Himself. Yet, He allows for the negation of His presence (as some parts of creation may desire) by refraining from direct interference in the processes that distort the original norms.
The exception to this is grace, which does not directly interfere with entropic processes but instead regenerates life through the circulation of energy on the physical level. This mechanism avoids foreseeable interference and preserves autonomy.
Additionally, God could have implemented an autopilot program throughout creation to combat death and non-existence at all costs, thereby preventing the rapid extinction of the environment necessary for the rebellious personality's existence.
Despite all this, to save the maximum number of personalities, it is essential to convey information that enables them to choose initial patterns. The challenge lies in delivering this information in a way that does not compromise their sense of autonomy—ensuring they remain the gods of their own universe, even if this universe exists within God.
However, when a personality begins to seek these patterns on its own initiative, driven solely by intuition, the possibility arises for more direct contact. This contact, however, must remain limited to a degree that still allows for the choice of an alternative way of life, even in the presence of information about these patterns.
The right to an alternative is the defining quality that makes a personality truly a personality. It is a condition that must be upheld even in eternity. Furthermore, this freedom is the only thing that gives the concept of Deity a personal quality, preventing God from becoming a lifeless, programmatic mechanism akin to the autopilot of creation's survival.
A similar idea can be found in the Bible itself, where God demonstrates that He can intervene in human life and even act through a person without their consent. This is exemplified in the episode where Saul, while pursuing David through the mountains and villages with a detachment, suddenly finds himself among a group of prophets in the city of Ramah. There, he begins to prophesy alongside them. Having played the role of a puppet, Saul eventually returns to his detachment and resumes the pursuit.
However, the Bible presents a seemingly contradictory statement regarding Saul's interactions with Samuel. Chronologically, after the events in chapter 15, it is written:
"And Samuel did not see Saul again until the day of his death…"
Yet, in chapter 19, Saul is described as prophesying in Samuel's presence:
"...and he too prophesied before Samuel..." (1 Samuel 19:24.).
These accounts suggest that while Saul's physical body—his "biological shell"—was present and prophesying under the influence of the Spirit of God, his conscious mind and personality were absent. This illustrates that when God overrides a person's will and desires, they lose self-awareness and cease to be themselves.
The idea that God refrains from altering human desires to preserve personality is also poetically depicted in the Song of Songs. In this image, God, represented as a bridegroom, places His hand through the keyhole of a door. He demonstrates that He could open the door from within but chooses not to, stepping back to allow the individual to open the door themselves. This act signifies not just opening the door but actively seeking God and desiring these patterns of behaviour.
Accordingly, God can intervene in physical processes, but only in the most localised manner and exclusively in a proportion that preserves the balance of information between the alternative and the patterns of objective good. If someone attempts to destroy the tools used to spread information capable of saving the maximum number of people, a compromise is made. The moment when God is forced to become part of sin—personally pulling the lever to switch the tracks of the "trolley," as described in the Bible—is portrayed as a deeply painful process that bloodied and scarred God's hands.
As for miracles (supernatural interventions), both conditions must be met for them to occur: agreement with God's will—more specifically, the individual's consent to the miracle, akin to allowing themselves to be used as gloves in a uranium laboratory—and the exceptional necessity of preserving the balance of positive (saving) information.
In other chapters, we have thoroughly examined why a life dominated by the prevalence and clarity of positive information—suppressing the ability to choose an alternative while still technically allowing its possibility—would inevitably turn life into mental torment for the majority. Imagine a casino bathed in light from a radiant, sorrowful face shining through its roof—or the realisation that the burnt coffee, without which someone cannot imagine life, slowly harms a body that, as it turns out, has an engineer—an unexpected revelation in itself.
Your "self," your happiness, and your world would be crushed by the realisation that there is a God who disgusts you, that your values have been declared harmful, and that you are predestined to lose and face doom while someone else lives forever. In such a reality, the sense of personal freedom and ownership over oneself would become unattainable. Various methods of dulling consciousness and escaping reality would pale in comparison to suicide, which might appear as the ultimate expression of complete autonomy and liberation from the oppressive weight of existence.
However, God desires even those who have rejected Him to experience moments of happiness—happiness rooted in feelings of righteousness, agreement, and support from others; a sense of being needed, useful, or significant; and even a distorted sense of superiority, which reflects a flawed facet of the aspiration toward perfection. The issue lies in the fact that striving to destroy the original patterns ultimately leads to fragmentation into non-existence. God has ensured that, even in pursuing death, a personality can experience the maximum possible taste of life within this contradictory process.
The conditions of agreement with God's will and the necessity of preserving information can explain the peculiar depiction of God in the Bible. In its narrative, God performs miracles yet paradoxically commands adherence to hygiene practices instead of eradicating all bacteria. He provides a gradation of minimally harmful meats—from herbivores to grasshoppers—alongside a list of dangerous ones, rather than purifying even rotten meat through the prayers of the faithful or deploying Christians as the planet's sanitarians.
Alternatively, God could have created a state of paradisiacal abundance, eliminating the need for meat altogether, even before the agricultural revolution of the mid-19th century. However, the fact that God led a tribe of informants to Canaan instead of turning the desert into a garden of plenty suggests that He operates within the constraints of resource competition. He breaks these constraints only when absolutely necessary to preserve information.
As this information spreads and the two options—alignment with God's patterns or choosing an alternative—stabilise, intervention becomes necessary only in exceptional cases. These cases arise when the contrast created by the entropic processes of society overshadows common sense. In such moments, intervention primarily occurs through the activity of individuals who allow themselves to be inspired to act or through what might appear as mere coincidence.
Within this "thesis framework," the answer to why God intervenes only minimally, such as once every seven years, lies in the nature of those interventions. They align with simple patterns like the agricultural cycle, soil mineralisation, or, as the Bible describes it, the practice of "lying fallow," which helps maintain soil fertility with minimal disruption.
This can also explain the promise of an abundant harvest, expressed in primitive language and framed with motivations that resonated with the people of that time, much like the promise of longevity for those who honour their father and mother, a longevity that arises naturally from setting an example for their own children and fostering positive relationships rooted in mutual care. This principle aligns with the traditions of ancestor worship in Japan, where care for the elderly has been elevated to a national priority, particularly after the revival of once-suppressed traditions in the post-1945 era, when the average life expectancy rose dramatically from 50 to 85 years.
Transitioning from the concept of a "helpless God" back to the issue of "slavery," we can assume that God could neither prevent the distortion of a direct prohibition nor avoid the likelihood of an uprising among the people, as evidenced by the rebellion of Korah (Numbers 16:30.). However, God has always punished the distortion of information with extreme severity, which raises the question of why He did not apply the same approach to the information regarding the inadmissibility of slavery—why not eliminate dissenters, as He did before the Israelites entered Canaan, and begin anew with reasonable and unambitious individuals. A seemingly plausible solution that, nonetheless, would inevitably lead to the same outcome.
Eventually, new followers from other cultures, lacking the fervour and zeal of the Jews (whose numbers would likely dwindle due to the repeated purges by such a God), would have greater incentives to reinterpret the prohibition differently, particularly in the context of the ubiquitous practice of slavery and limited economic conditions, and even under the most optimistic circumstances, they might circumvent the prohibition by instituting symbolic payments to slaves, allowing them to purchase food, clothing, and pay rent.
Ultimately, one could simply create an abridged version of the Bible, as English slave owners did for their slaves, deliberately excluding numerous verses that could lead to conclusions undermining the institution of slavery.
Imagine yourself in the role of a deity faced with a profound dilemma: on one hand, the risk of losing your last collaborators; on the other, the unavoidable reality of slavery's existence within society. In such circumstances, it would seem more reasonable to establish laws regulating this practice to minimise cruelty.
Now, consider addressing humanity in the 21st century as a deity. Would you boldly declare: "Any work driven by necessity or lack of prosperity is evil and must be abolished. Henceforth, labour should be performed solely out of altruistic motives. To eliminate labour motivated by basic human needs, all resources should be evenly distributed among everyone, ensuring universal well-being and fostering conditions for voluntary labour and social progress"? This vision, entirely feasible and contingent only on human will, might inspire future generations to admire its elevated moral standard.
However, the present generation would likely respond differently. At best, they would dismiss it as an unattainable ideal, citing the insurmountable challenges of restructuring the global economy and bridging ideological divides. At worst, you would be branded an enemy of humanity.
Alternatively, if you, as God, prescribed practical regulations—such as guidelines for dismissal, fines, and employer obligations—this would not imply indifference to labour inspired by altruism or enthusiasm. Nor would it suggest that you condone labour performed "under the lash."
For example, God was against divorce and declared: "What therefore God has joined together, let not man separate." This principle is further affirmed in Malachi 2:16: "For the Lord God of Israel says that He hates divorce." However, the clever but morally compromised individuals of the barbaric period chose not to violate the law outright but instead led their wives into the desert, where "unforeseen" natural causes would ensure their demise, conveniently allowing for remarriage. To prevent such abuses, God introduced regulations for divorce, just as He did for polygamy. These measures aimed to mitigate worse outcomes, such as the dire fate of a wife in harsh conditions following the probable death of her husband in battle or from disease.
God desires none of these practices and considers them inherently evil, yet He is compelled to choose the lesser evil, metaphorically pressing the trolley lever repeatedly.
The ideal concept of society, as envisioned in the New Testament, is one where everyone enjoys equal rights and opportunities. In this model, resources were shared within a framework of common values and unified purpose. A slave had access to as many resources as his master, and Christ's teachings emphasised esteeming others higher than oneself. This radical reimagining of societal norms emerged through Christ's parables and statements, which subverted deeply ingrained stereotypes. His teachings resonate with a sentiment famously expressed during the French Revolution: "Leadership is the act of turning oneself into voluntary slavery for the sake of those you lead"—a concept reflected in Luke 17:7-10. Similar ideas have been echoed by figures like Nelson Mandela, Albert Einstein, Franklin Roosevelt, and numerous other reformers of modern civilisation.
In the context of ancient Jewish society, where labour acquisition and military conflicts were common, the idea of equal distribution of property and rights between the indigenous population and captured or purchased foreigners posed significant challenges. This was particularly problematic when dealing with individuals who were hostile to the tribe or did not share its values, as such a policy could lead to disastrous consequences.
A modern parallel might be the adoption of a law that abolishes the persecution of spies or individuals seeking to undermine the constitutional order. Taking it a step further, if such individuals were granted shares in the distribution of income from large corporations as an incentive to transform them into loyal citizens, the stability of the state could be seriously compromised.
Interestingly, there is a biblical precedent suggesting that a slave could integrate into the tribe if they ceased their hostility or began to adopt its worldview. This idea is reflected in the verse:
Deuteronomy 21:14: "And it shall be, if thou have no delight in her, then thou shalt let her go whither she will; but thou shalt not sell her at all for money, thou shalt not make merchandise of her, because thou hast humbled her."
The Hebrew word "עִנִּיתָהּ" (inita) used in this verse comes from the root עָנָה (anah), which often conveys meanings such as "to be occupied, to be busied with, to humble, to be bowed down, or to be subdued." In biblical contexts, עָנָה most commonly refers to bringing someone to humility or a state of obedience and, admittedly, at times, through subjugation.
Anticipating a sense of revulsion, I note that below we will discuss laws regarding legal marriage, which often involved a single woman whom the groom's parents were expected to treat as their own daughter. The divorce provisions were on equal terms with fellow tribespeople. To prevent misunderstandings among the "less civilised," God stipulated that a woman who, due to "inevitable circumstances," found herself in slavery but was honoured with marriage could not be reduced to slave status again. This was because she had already demonstrated humility and loyalty to the tribe by entering into marriage. Additionally, any abuse or intimacy outside marriage was punishable by death, according to the law.
It can be assumed that the criterion for freedom was loyalty, which made a person safe for society. This interpretation fits into the context and is suitable for our rational concept of God.
The result of such regulatory norms was that people who were previously enslaved by Israeli tribes eventually integrated into society and became full-fledged members of the tribal community.
As for the modern perception of what is written, the calculation was probably made on analytical capabilities in the context of a wide range of information, knowledge of psychology and experience (forecasting the consequences of alternative scenarios).
To a modern analyst, it is evident that, in addition to explicit regulatory norms, the Bible contains numerous implicit ideas advocating not only for equality but also for the eventual abolition of slavery. These concepts can be interpreted as "dormant" directives, waiting for the right economic and social conditions to emerge for their full implementation. Similarly, other biblical principles—such as vegetarianism, veganism, pacifism, altruism, and even the abolition of monetary systems—could be seen as awaiting their realisation in a more advanced and civilised society.
For now, however, let us focus on specific passages of Scripture that lead to clear conclusions: slavery is wrong, oppression is wrong, and any form of suffering is also wrong.
"Whoever sheds human blood, by humans let his blood be shed, Because God made humans in his image reflecting God's very nature." (Genesis 9:6-7.) and (Genesis 1:27.)
"With it we bless our God and Father, and with it we curse men, who have been made in the similitude of God." (James 3:9.)
"For there is no partiality with God." (Romans 2:11.)
"The man of wealth and the poor man come face to face: the Lord is the maker of them all." (Proverbs 22:2.)
"Also thou shalt not oppress a stranger: for ye know the heart of a stranger, seeing ye were strangers in the land of Egypt." (Exodus 23:9.) Let me remind you that in Egypt they were slaves.
"...who shows no partiality nor takes a bribe. He administers justice for the fatherless and the widow, and loves the stranger, giving him food and clothing." (Deuteronomy 10:17-19.).
"Therefore, whatever you want men to do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets." (Matthew 7:12.)
"For we were all baptised by one Spirit so as to form one body whether Jews or Gentiles, slave or free and we were all given the one Spirit to drink." (1 Corinthians 12:13.)
"… fulfil my joy by being like-minded, having the same love, being of one accord, of one mind. 3 Let nothing be done through selfish ambition or conceit, but in lowliness of mind let each esteem others better than himself..." (Philippians 2:1-5.)
"For the grace of God has appeared that offers salvation to all people." (Titus 2:11-12.)
"I charge you, in the sight of God and Christ Jesus and the elect angels, to keep these instructions without partiality, and to do nothing out of favouritism." (1 Timothy 5:21.)
"There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus" (Galatians 3:28.).
"Masters, give unto your servants that which is just and equal; knowing that ye also have a Master in heaven." (Colossians 4:1.)
"And ye masters, do the same things unto them, forbearing threatening: knowing that your Master also is in heaven; neither is there respect of persons with him." (Ephesians 6:9.)
"For you were called to freedom, brothers and sisters; only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for self-indulgence, but through love become slaves to one another." (Galatians 5:13.)
"Were you a slave when you were called? Don't let it trouble you although if you can gain your freedom, do so." (1 Corinthians 7:21.)
This theme is also addressed in many other passages.
In conclusion, the apostle Paul's epistle to Philemon provides valuable insight into the biblical perspective on slavery. In this letter, Paul, aware of Roman laws restricting the release of slaves—such as the prohibition of manumitting slaves before a certain "length of service" and limiting the number of freed slaves to no more than one-tenth per owner (to prevent rebellion or destabilisation of the system)—returns the runaway slave Onesimus to his master, Philemon. However, Paul makes an extraordinary request: he urges Philemon to accept Onesimus not as a slave but as a beloved brother in Christ, equal to a son. Moreover, Paul asks Philemon to treat Onesimus with the same respect and honour he would show to Paul himself.
This approach builds upon the earlier abolition of debt slavery in the Old Testament, where such servitude was initially limited to six years. This trajectory reflects a broader human evolutionary trend: as economies grew and stabilised, the duration of debt slavery prescribed by law tended to decrease. For instance, the Code of Hammurabi reduced the term of debt slavery to three years, and further economic expansion eventually led to its abolition altogether.
According to the accounts of Josephus Flavius, many Israelite slaves preferred to remain in servitude, choosing the alternative option of financial rewards in addition to the stability of steady work and an established household over freedom. This is also reflected in the New Testament’s exhortation: “Come out of slavery when such an opportunity arises, for you are called to freedom,” highlighting the popularity of this option. Religious norms mandating kind and respectful treatment of slaves madeservitude under such conditions an appealing choice.
We also observe humbling calls directed at those who were denied the choice of freedom due to the strict Roman laws regulating the liberation of slaves. Even against the backdrop of Christ's clear teachings, his followers still owned slaves, constrained by these rigid legal frameworks. However, within the Christian community, the harshness of Roman law was tempered by a compassionate attitude toward those in servitude, balanced by warnings against rebellion, which inevitably led to violence and was fundamentally incompatible with Christ's teachings.
This delicate equilibrium—adhering to the law while nurturing a spirit of compassion and equality—highlights the profound moral dilemmas faced by God. The image of a seemingly helpless God may arise from His boundless love for all creation, a love so encompassing that it necessitates moral compromises to preserve as many personalities as possible. This is vividly depicted as a God with bound hands, bloodied and distorted by the touch of sin, absorbing the entropy it generates. God not only endures this suffering within Himself but uses it as the only tool to protect the personalities who have chosen separation from Him.
The crucifixion serves as the ultimate symbol of this divine dilemma. The excruciating pain of necessary compromises is powerfully represented by the thorns piercing God's consciousness, embodying the agony of reconciling justice, love, and the preservation of free will along the path of transformation.
The Practice of Physical Punishment
The widespread historical use of physical punishment for slaves and criminals largely arose from the absence of more effective alternatives. Imprisonment was considered costly and was primarily reserved for the elite, as it deprived them of their customary comforts and opportunities. For the poor or vagrants who stole property, imprisonment often differed little from their regular lives and, therefore, failed to serve as an effective deterrent. Exceptions to this were cases where the conditions of imprisonment were particularly harsh.
Historically, the poorer a society or tribe, the harsher the conditions of imprisonment needed to be to create a significant contrast with ordinary life. This pattern is consistently reflected in historical practices.
When discussing punishment, modern perspectives are often shaped by contemporary economic realities. This can lead to surprise when learning about cases in which individuals from poorer countries deliberately commit crimes to be imprisoned in more developed ones. In such instances, the offender may benefit from better living conditions in prison than in their home country. Additionally, for more serious crimes, offenders are less likely to be deported and instead serve long sentences at the expense of the state.
In the context of modern realities, if law violators were given a choice between 20 lashes or a financial penalty that significantly restricted their nutrition or opportunities for self-realisation, it would not be surprising to see many opting for the former. They might view physical punishment as more humane than the prolonged deprivation of basic needs and opportunities.
This preference can be attributed to human nature: individuals often exhibit greed or short-sightedness, underestimating the long-term consequences of physical injuries while overestimating immediate financial losses. Additionally, there is the precedent of violence, which must be unequivocally condemned. However, it is also important to recognise that fines can inflict significant harm on an individual's physical and mental well-being. For instance, in antiquity, slaves punished by withholding food for several weeks experienced detrimental effects on their health and work capacity—outcomes that ultimately benefited no one.
Throughout history, efficiency has often been prioritised over morality, leading people to commit terrible acts. A truly civilised society should reject any form of punishment that perpetuates harm and instead strive for more constructive and meaningful solutions. These might include:
1. Providing financial support as a primary means of addressing underlying issues.
2. Disseminating educational materials to encourage reflection and behaviour change.
3. Offering access to free psychological support to address mental health concerns.
4. Providing consultations with experts in the relevant area of law to guide individuals toward compliance.
Such measures, however, may only become viable with future economic advancements and technological breakthroughs, such as cloning consciousness, which could potentially nullify the consequences of even the most serious crimes.
Nevertheless, even today, we can critically evaluate the concept of punishment as a phenomenon, recognising its inherently negative nature and its challenge to conventional ethics. Yet it is essential to maintain an objective perspective on both historical contexts and contemporary realities, understanding the reasons such measures were employed in the past and why they continue to persist today, albeit polished with the gloss of modern frameworks like the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.
Viewed through this lens, the absence of a direct prohibition against punishment in religious texts hints at the notion that psychology and logic are not exclusively human attributes.
The Law on Beating a Slave to Near Death
The prescription in Exodus 21:20-21, which eliminates the death penalty for owners if the slave survives several days after corporal punishment, more closely resembles a prescribed limitation on the severity of such punishments.
In the context of prohibitions against the cruel treatment of slaves—under the threat of capital punishment for owners, as interpreted in major ancient Hebrew sources such as the Targum and the works of Maimonides, and supported by most Christian commentators—the lack of clear conditions could hypothetically create a potentially dangerous situation. Without specific restrictions, a slave might conceivably exploit this law to provoke circumstances leading to the systematic elimination of their owners.
It is likely that this provision aimed to prevent slaves from feigning physical abuse by their masters in a manner that might lead to their own deaths, as such an act would hardly be an appealing or effective measure of retaliation against a hostile tribe. The presence of this provision should not, in any way, be interpreted as encouragement to beat slaves to the brink of death. On the contrary, it likely served to impose limits on such actions, forcing owners to reflect on the consequences for themselves with each blow they inflicted.
Even at that time, there was a basic understanding of medical risks: arterial bleeding could cause death within hours, cardiac arrest might result from pain-induced shock, a slave could lose consciousness and fall fatally, or a blow could damage vital organs, leading to death. Additionally, a severely punished slave might provoke their own death over the following days due to physical or emotional factors, all of which would fall under the definition of "as a result of punishment."
It is important to consider that the Jews held a deep fear of violating laws they believed to be divinely ordained. If the law prescribed death for the killing of a slave, then even a single fresh whip mark could suffice to convict the owner. Priests were more likely to err on the side of caution, choosing to uphold God's law as they understood it rather than risk neglecting a divine prescription—even if this meant delivering a potentially mistaken verdict on less explicitly detailed matters, in contrast to more detailed prescriptions, such as those governing the treatment of slaves.
This law clearly accounted for unintended consequences, such as the possibility of a slave dying from an infection caused by even a minor scratch weeks after punishment. While such outcomes were tragic, the owner might not have intended to kill the slave or cause excessive suffering. In these cases, applying the death penalty to the master would have been seen as disproportionate and unjust.
By the standards of the time, when slaves were often killed on a whim, such laws were remarkably humane. They addressed not only the psychology of the enslaved but also the mindset of the owners, encouraging masters to prioritise their slaves' health and satisfaction. This fair treatment also acted as a safeguard, deterring dissatisfied slaves from orchestrating the death of one of their own and framing it as the result of punishment. Members of the Jewish tribe were well aware that religious judges would not consider the owner's verbal arguments in such cases.
This legal framework created a comprehensive approach to the treatment of slaves. It compelled owners to carefully weigh the necessity of punishment and incentivised them to prioritise the well-being and loyalty of their slaves. In such an environment, even the threat of beating a slave would likely have been met with collective raised eyebrows from onlookers, while any threat of death would have provoked outright hysterical laughter, even from the slaves themselves.
A key feature of this legislative framework lies in its foundational principle: that a slave must be granted freedom if serious physical harm is inflicted upon them, such as eye damage or the loss of a tooth:
"Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for burn, wound for wound, bruise for bruise. An owner who hits a male or female slave in the eye and destroys it must let the slave go free to compensate for the eye…he shall let him go free for his tooth’s sake." (Exodus 21:24-27.)
This provision effectively rendered cruel methods of punishment impractical, as they carried significant consequences for the owner. It created a situation where any physical harm, even minor, became highly disadvantageous for the master. One can imagine how many slaves might have been freed simply by simulating such injuries.
In practice, however, not all slaves sought freedom, especially in cases where they were treated humanely and provided for. Freedom often came with hardships comparable to modern unemployment. According to Deuteronomy 23:15-16, there was also a prohibition against returning runaway slaves. This law recognised that such an escape could be an indication of the owner's cruelty, granting the runaway the right to live freely among the Israelites or with anyone they chose, effectively maintaining their lifestyle but with the elevated status of a free person.
These laws fostered a culture of treating slaves as family members. Slave owners were even required to pay taxes for both Jewish and non-Jewish slaves, as they were considered part of the household. Slaves were included in the covenant, symbolising their belonging to the tribe, with circumcision serving as a form of citizenship. A slave could be adopted, taken as a spouse, or even risen to the position of tribal leader through inheritance. This inclusive approach is reflected in the genealogy of Christ, which mentions several foreigners, likely former slaves, among His ancestors.
The story of the Queen of Sheba being amazed at the well-being of King Solomon's slaves may not have been as exaggerated as it seems. Cultures with laws like those in ancient Israel played a significant role in shaping the foundations of modern civilisation, laying the groundwork for more equitable social relations and the development of human rights.
Of course, the very notion of owning slaves, with the right to buy them and pass them down as property, is inevitably reprehensible. However, given the small size of the Israelite tribe, the purchase of slaves served not only as an economic necessity but also as a means of demographic growth. For humanity at that time, such practices were often unavoidable. Yet, for those who found themselves on the slave market, being purchased by a society that regulated humane treatment and upheld a clear narrative of equality and inherent human value in the eyes of God was arguably the best possible outcome.
This contrast can be likened to the experience of a writer stranded in a foreign country, unable to pursue his craft, who ends up working at a charity. To his surprise, he discovers that such work provides substantial support in the form of provisions while still leaving him enough time to rest. This unexpected discovery mirrors the sense of relief and contrast that people might have felt when encountering the comparatively humane laws of ancient Jewish society.
Enslavement of Neighbouring Cities
One of the most controversial passages in the Old Testament is the instruction regarding the siege and plundering of a city that refuses to submit to the Israelite tribe (Deuteronomy 20:10-14.). To better understand this text, let us place it within the framework of a potential existential threat—one that demanded decisive action, including the elimination of certain adversaries.
From the perspective of modern civilisation, such actions are clearly indefensible. Yet, imagine a thought experiment: a group of modern individuals is transported back to that era with the unenviable task of preventing humanity's collapse during the tribal stage—a scenario reminiscent of the mysterious disappearance of the Mayan civilisation. Their mission is to replace a vanished tribe, a custodian of critically important knowledge capable of averting humanity's premature self-destruction and ultimately shaping future civilisations.
The group quickly discovers that transmitting this knowledge is impossible due to the hostility of neighbouring tribes, notorious for their brutal rituals and bloody practices. It becomes clear that the mission cannot succeed without access to adequate resources or the cooperation of local allies.
To complicate matters, the group finds themselves surrounded not only by aggressive neighbours but also by tribes carrying deadly diseases—perhaps previously unknown pathogens to modernity, or a mix of historical epidemics that devastated populations during the Bronze Age, such as smallpox, bubonic plague, Ebola fever, typhus, tuberculosis, leprosy, and various venereal diseases. Bereft of medicines, they might find themselves nostalgic for modern inconveniences.
Worse still, the surrounding tribes are known for frequent expansionist raids, leaving the group with no viable way to protect their knowledge or ensure their survival. Under such circumstances, eliminating the threat for the sake of the mission might become the only option—assuming no other path exists to save civilisation.
In this scenario, the group might attempt to persuade more moderate tribes to cooperate. While they might optimistically frame this as "recruiting collaborators," the tribes would likely interpret it as an invitation to slavery—eliciting mixed feelings of amusement at their naivety and rage at their insolence.
No matter how idealistic or committed to human rights the group members may be, they would inevitably face the classic "trolley dilemma," hurtling toward them at full speed—only this time, the trolley is on fire, and everyone onboard is demanding a refund. Meanwhile, the operators from the future—emotionally charged and metaphorically "tied hand and foot"—would shower the group with frustrated epithets, urging them to pull the lever in what they perceive to be the right direction.
Now, let us consider this scenario from the perspective of God. Direct interference in distorted patterns of behaviour risks erasing the autonomy of individual personalities, making the restrictions on divine action even stricter than those faced by the hypothetical group from the future. God, unable to interact with personalities who reject Him, is forced to work through a small group of "barbarians" with a limited understanding of larger, global tasks. Maintaining their consent requires a careful balance of motivation, employing both "carrot and stick" methods. Over time, as the threat of losing critically important knowledge diminishes, the severity of this approach gradually softens.
Unlike the group from the future, God possesses absolute certainty that the so-called "Fertile Crescent" is the most advantageous location for the effective dissemination of information and serves as an essential economic resource for its preservation. There is no doubt about the correctness of this choice, as any alternative scenario would entail even greater sacrifices.
In this context, it is worth revisiting the profound depths of God’s suffering, which surpasses that of any moralist. First, as an artist, He grieves over the destruction of His creation and the misinterpretations of His intent. Second, He feels the full spectrum of suffering endured by all sentient beings with nervous systems. Third, He experiences the mental anguish of humanity, including confusion, resentment, despair, and fear. Finally, He endures the profound personal torment of compromising with what He deems unacceptable—bearing it to preserve as many lives as possible.
Sexual Slavery
The regulation governing how female captives were treated, as described in Deuteronomy 21:10-14, reflects yet another reprehensible practice. Our goal is not to justify it but to understand the motives that led ancient peoples to such behaviour. Ultimately, when one's perspective shifts, the perception of what is observable cannot remain unchanged. From our modern standpoint, these practices will always appear abhorrent, no matter how much we seek to understand their historical context.
To illustrate this point, consider a simpler analogy: our feelings toward the culture of so-called "primitive peoples" resemble how we might view our own first chess game. Evaluating that initial attempt from the vantage of our current experience, we would likely find it deeply flawed and unacceptable. Even if we could travel back in time to adjust our past selves, our perspective on those early tactics would remain unchanged, and our attitude toward them would never return to its original state.
This raises a question: how much could we realistically alter in our past selves, given our capabilities at that stage of development? Would we aim to eliminate all actions unacceptable by our current standards, or would we focus on minimising the most glaring violations? Upon analysing our former state, it is likely that we would retain those errors we had already begun to address but whose resolution required time and specific conditions.
What stands out in the Biblical verses about captives is their permissive, rather than prescriptive, nature. This indicates that such practices were already entrenched among the tribes. While this may seem a banal observation, it is precisely the banality of this historical reality that explains the allowance of these practices. However, what if a revolutionary ban had been imposed on all now-condemned treatment of women, or at least on the most egregious acts, such as sexual slavery?
First and foremost, the Old Testament strictly prohibited sexual abuse of any kind, whether involving a person or an animal, mandating severe punishment—death for the perpetrator. In cases of mutual consent to intimate relations outside lawful marriage, both parties faced the death penalty. This not only helped curb infectious diseases within the tribe but also mitigated the risk of demographic decline or even tribal extinction caused by a collapse of moral and social structures.
Even if we set aside the most negative connotations of sexual slavery and focus instead on a specific form of it—such as compelling someone into marriage through unavoidable circumstances—this practice remains deeply horrifying. In the case referenced, the destruction of a hostile tribe during combat and the potential loss of those who could provide for the women created such unavoidable circumstances. Even in this context, it represents a violation in its purest form.
Our task, however, is to imagine the circumstances under which any moral individual might feel compelled to issue such instructions. These could include an awareness of an imminent attack by a hostile tribe, an ideological incompatibility that precluded unification for mutual survival, a desperate need for resources to support tribal growth and development, or the necessity of increasing population numbers to prevent attacks from other tribes seeking to seize resources.
It is essential to recognise that these objectionable measures were permitted only temporarily until the necessary number of individuals was reached to preserve and transmit critical knowledge—information deemed vital for the survival of an incomparably larger number of people.
In such a context, replenishing the human resources through those who threatened their extinction was 'meant to be'.
The reasons why young women who had not known a man were typically taken captive likely included several pragmatic factors: a reduced risk of retaliation for slain husbands, a lower likelihood of spreading infections, and their younger age, which often came with minimal ideological baggage and greater adaptability to new worldviews. These traits made them potentially safer candidates for integration and informants, with a higher likelihood of transitioning from a mindset of unconscious self-destruction to one fostering human progress.
Such allowances, however, might provoke several questions:
"What?"
"Why engage in speculative hypotheses about historical events we know so little about? These were typical Eastern tribes embroiled in wars, epidemics, and human sacrifice. Conjecture without data is like theorising about Atlantis!"
In response, it's worth pointing out that the era in question was defined by an intense struggle for resources. Within the framework of a rational concept of God, His actions must operate within the constraints of preserving the possibility of choice. Moreover, this hypothesis does not stray far from well-documented historical facts. Diseases such as Ebola, plague, and smallpox—though better recorded in later eras—could have posed significant threats at the time, particularly to foreign groups. This might explain why the Bible describes quarantine protocols for the chosen group after battle, reflecting an awareness of the risks posed by epidemics.
Even if we dismiss the notion that God foresaw an epidemic but refrained from interfering with natural laws, it remains plausible that He anticipated other threats. For example, He could have foreseen the capture of the informant tribe after the unification of neighbouring tribes or a sudden, overwhelming attack at an inopportune moment. Alternatively, He might have foreseen the gradual assimilation and transformation of values, leading to radical ideologies such as antinatalism—or even its extreme form, expressed through a cult of burning people alive.
It's important to note that this hypothesis aligns with contemporary moral reasoning and does not exceed the bounds of rational speculation. To deny this while simultaneously demanding an explanation for God's motives creates a contradiction. After all, if you request a rationale for God's actions, it seems inconsistent to dismiss a logically plausible and morally grounded answer by retorting: "But where's the guarantee that what this hypothetical God foresaw would have actually happened?"
A more constructive objection might argue that the probability of God-transmitted information serving as humanity's salvation from greater suffering or self-destruction seems implausible, particularly given the factual history of civilisations' development. After all, civilisations have existed without direct contact with this teaching—take, for example, the Sentinelese tribe, which, notably, has not self-destructed to this day.
However, consider an alternative scenario: the information might have saved the ancestors of such isolated tribes, who, over time, degraded in isolation. Self-destruction does not necessarily mean the complete disappearance of all people. Instead, it could refer to the collapse of the majority, leaving survivors to endure increased suffering. This suffering might arise from heightened cruelty, discomfort from a lack of technological and social development, primitively low morality resulting in constant conflicts, and an absence of intellectual depth, which would deprive them of the joy of understanding reality.
All of this, collectively, would result in a growing disconnection from the image of the Creator and a diminishing ability to experience life's pleasures. Historically, societies that moved beyond barbarism consistently engaged in trade, migration, and the exchange of stories, teachings, and ideological principles, incorporating these elements into their cultural frameworks. For example, the story of Noah spread to tribes in China, India, Australia, and other remote regions, demonstrating the interconnectedness of early societies.
While innate conscience may serve as a foundation for morality, without a guiding ideology to illustrate the success of groups adhering to specific principles, societal development could easily take a different trajectory—such as that of the Mayan civilisation, where conscience was suppressed and no example of a thriving civilisation rooted in shared values existed to inspire progress.
As a result, communities closer to this "saving information" achieved a higher level of civilisation. When these groups deviated from the original morality, new groups often emerged that were closer to the essence of the teaching. These groups pushed progress further than those whose interpretations had led to stagnation or decline. This cycle provided a renewed stimulus for the advancement of parallel cultures, ensuring that the example of successful values continued to drive the survival and evolution of civilisations as a whole.
Ultimately, God may have foreseen that without this information, the balance between innate morality and the shaping of instincts into ideology would have been profoundly disrupted, leaving many without a fair or equal choice.
Even if we consider that in countries with different religions or atheistic worldviews, the choice of intuitive values and attraction to universal good was indirectly supported by information passed down to Abraham, and before him to Noah—creating a necessary foundation of values resonating with conscience—we are still faced with an entire stratum of tribes from the "Wildlings" era. These tribes were entrenched in rites and traditions that found no harmonious resonance with conscience. Where was their opportunity for a balanced choice between perceived good and intuitively absolute good without the stabilising echoes of transmitted information? Where did this have the same effect during the times of Noah and Cain?
Perhaps oral traditions existed in those early eras, from which the modernised stories of figures like Enoch and Job eventually reached the tribes of Abraham's time. Certainly, there were tribes that degraded and self-destructed, but even from these, God drew individuals to join the ranks of those who would change the world. Yet, due to their extreme depravity and hostility, only young maidens and likely children were granted the honour of becoming part of this transformation.
Let us not forget that the extermination of certain tribes occurred in only a few instances, guided by God's foresight into their doomed condition—whether due to unavoidable infections, devastating epidemics, or their imminent aggression. These dire circumstances required the destruction of their property and livestock, rendering such actions acts of tragic necessity rather than pursuits of gain.
Of course, there were countless other situations and individual fates during that period, all lying on the tracks of the trolley. Yet we see only a fragment of the railway, and our rightful indignation stems from this limited perspective. In the same way, God Himself cries out in horror at the moment of switching tracks, burdened by the weight of these agonising decisions.
The ritual of integrating a captive woman warrants special attention. Her hair was shaved, her nails cut, her clothes changed, and she was given 40 days to mourn for her family and tribespeople. It is difficult to fathom what such a woman must have felt in this situation. Having come from a tribe that practised cruelty and violence, she likely expected the same treatment from her captors. Yet, over time, she might have begun to realise that her feelings were being acknowledged and respected. She was not touched, forced to work, or forbidden from remembering and mourning her tribe.
The hair-shaving ritual was likely symbolic, representing renewal and the start of a new life. After a period of deep mourning, during which outward appearance often becomes secondary, came the opportunity to gradually regain one's sense of self and identity. There may also have been practical and symbolic reasons for this custom. Shaving her head might have temporarily reduced her sexual attractiveness, discouraging the groom from acting on desire during the mourning period. It could also serve as a distinctive marker, signalling a probationary period to assess her hostility toward the tribe. Additionally, it may have functioned as a preventive hygienic measure to protect the community from parasites.
After approximately a month and a half, the captive woman became a wife with full legal protections, including a prohibition against being sold into slavery. If a slave woman was betrothed to the master's son, the law required that she be treated as a full-fledged family member, with rights and protections equal to those of the master's own daughter. If the husband took another wife, the enslaved woman retained the right to an equal share of food, clothing, and conjugal rights. If these provisions were not upheld, she was granted her freedom.
The treatment and integration of foreign women into ancient Hebrew society are vividly illustrated by the story of Ruth the Moabite. Despite the challenges she faced, Ruth exemplified loyalty and devotion to her new worldview, embracing her place within the community. The attachment that developed as a result of the kind treatment she received is exemplified by her own words in response to the suggestion that she return to the Moabite tribe:
"Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God."
In conclusion to this chapter, circumstances compelled God to regulate what He Himself deemed unacceptable, but only within the context of existential threats and disproportionate harm. God was forced to prioritise the preservation of the maximum number of personalities, rescuing them from disintegration into non-existence, while simultaneously minimising suffering throughout this process.
Under all other circumstances, however, He left clear models of perfection, revealing a vision in which no one should perish or even shed a tear. This idea is rooted in the ultimate promise of conquering death and wiping away all sorrow.
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