How to know everything (or at least make people think you do)
The Chaldean Magi and the kings of the world
The Chaldean Magi had the ears of kings and emperors going back as far as Sumer (even further, if you believe the alternative historians).
How’d they do it? They understood the workings of the universe because they could read the stars and apply the math.
Astrology allowed them to predict the future, cast spells, and commune directly with the gods, so it was said.
Such knowledge put them in some truly fortuitous places.
Following the stars led three of them to be present at Jesus’ birth, to whom they bestowed three symbolically priceless gifts.
The ultimate kingmakers in the greatest story ever told.
How did math and science grant them the powers of omniscience?
It’s hard to tell while gods and kings are aligned, but when the priests are challenged, the real “magic” reveals itself:
[
There’s a scene in the Polish classic, Pharaoh, wherein an angry mob turns up outside the temple of the priests day after day.
Goaded on by an indignant young ruler, the benighted poor demand justice for the sins of opulence and corruption committed by the religious class.
The head priest, brilliant prognosticator that he is, remains untroubled.
“Wait,” he tells his uninitiates. “All will resolve by Thursday nightfall.”
That day, a strange thing happened.
The skies darken in the middle of the afternoon, and the sun turns a rage-filled red.
An acolyte of the head priest appears on the temple's roof to address the would-be rioters.
“Your disobedience has angered the sun god, Ra.” Says the bald holy man in the dazzling white robes, “Repent, or he shall withdraw his life-giving rays!”
The faithful crowd gazes skyward in terror as the sun covers itself with a curtain. As the final crescent sliver of light vanishes, all are on their knees, weeping for shame, begging like children watching their parents leave forever.
Then the ringing voice of condemnation returns:
“The head priest has interceded on your behalf: Ra has heard your prayers and knows your sincerity. Behold: his return!”
The solar curtain opens as if pulled back by their sun god, and the full force of the orb’s life-giving rays returns. A few more stern words, a roundup of the ring leaders, and the crowd disperses.
So much for the state-sponsored religious coup, defeated by the fact that none among the mob knew what an eclipse was.
So, how much magic do you actually need to know to rule the world?
Answer: Just enough to fool the world into thinking you know a lot more. _Magic_, to paraphrase Arthur C. Clarke, _is the appearance any technology sufficiently has for the uninitiated_.
From Sumer to Silicon Valley, from Ice Age to New Age, people have used what they know to exploit the fear of the unknown in those who do not.
What they know doesn’t even have to be true or make sense.
Xenophon convinced 10,000 mercenaries during a crisis to march with him across the Persian empire back to Greece because he claimed Zeus told him to in a dream.
A study was done in which young, able-bodied students were sent onto crowded buses to convince the handicapped to give up their seats. Many did, so long as the observer gave a reason. It barely mattered if the reason given was complete nonsense, so long as it sounded like it made sense.
Now, back to the Magi of Chaldea
Tracking the movement of stars might allow you to predict the seasons. Knowing cloud patterns and the colors of dawn or dusk enables you to predict the weather. Seeing the fullness of the moon may even help you predict menstrual cycles and tidal formations. But it‘s a far cry from the “perfect working theory of everything that allows for direct communion with the higher intelligence that underlies all” that the high priests had everyone convinced was the case.
Instead, astrology—like sacrificial animal entrails, voter polling, data, and now AI— works more like a crystal ball. Your attempt to read it lets the magician cold-read you. Add the right words and gestures at the correct times, and you’ll not only be convinced that your dead grandma really is talking to you, but that Nana wants you to prep for the end times.
Smoke and mirrors
The true secret to magic, aka “technology sufficiently advanced to be beyond your comprehension,” is this:
The black box of stars, Pythagorean shapes, predictive algorithms, or large language machine learning itself has little power. Power lies in the way the box’s contents are interpreted. The power is bequeathed to the intermediary interpreters, the prognosticators. While you’re busy peering inside, they’re busy spinning a story about what it is you’re looking at and why that means you should give them your firstborn.
The magi left as soon as they dropped off their gifts. Perhaps they were needed at court. Maybe they didn’t want to stay long enough for the chosen family to notice their blemishes and the dirt on their not-entirely-pure white robes.
Or maybe there were other potentially messianic penny stocks worth an investment of gold, frankincense, and myrrh to get to.