Warriors and priests

Ancient societies were controlled by two groups: the warriors and the priests. The influence of the warriors antedated the emergence of Homo sapiens. Many social species are dominated by the most physically intimidating individuals. In the case of human societies, the warriors served two purposes: that of the group, by defending against enemies, and that of the warriors themselves, by securing privileged access to mates and other resources.

The priests appeared later, after our lineage developed the ability to reason from cause to effect and to ponder the abiding questions of existence. What makes the rain fall? Where do we go after we die? While the arena of the warriors was physical, the arena of the priests was metaphysical.

The warriors and the priests sometimes clashed. At a minimum, each group balanced the other. They competed for the allegiance of the many, because neither group ruled without some degree of popular consent. The warriors required recruits to fill their ranks. The priests required adherents to their beliefs.

The balance of power between the two groups shifted according to time and circumstance. The warriors held the power of life and death in their hands. The priests held the power of afterlife and damnation. A high priest such as Pope Gregory VII could bring warrior chieftain Emperor Henry IV to his knees in the snow at Canossa. By contrast, England's Henry VIII defied Rome’s excommunication, banished popish priests and bishops, and seized their property.

Sometimes the warriors and the priests were the same people. The Puritan theocracy in colonial New England combined the two roles, as has the Muslim theocracy in Iran since 1979.

The European Enlightenment of the 18th century diminished the role of priests per se, but transferred it to an intellectual elite. This group was responsible for creating the American republic, formally secular but with a holy writ to which loyalty had to be sworn and which hundreds of thousands gave their lives to defend.

While the priests were turning political, the warriors were becoming economical. The great captains of America's Gilded Age were captains not of the military but of industry. The rank and file were their workers, who answered not reveille but the factory whistle. The moguls conquered not territory but market share. They acquired not scalps nor medals but vast fortunes.

Today the warriors in America are still the great capitalists, though their field of battle is often virtual as well as physical. Musk, Bezos, Zuckerberg, Ellison, Page, Brin and their like command the heights of the American economy, and much of the world’s. Meanwhile the priests are the intelligentsia of politics and the media. The warriors make the stuff of modern life. The priests make the rules.

Only rarely since colonial times have the two groups intersected in America. Herbert Hoover was a millionaire mining engineer before becoming president. But Hoover’s failed presidency warned other capitalists against reaching for the top spot.

Donald Trump ignored the warning. The former real estate developer surprised many, perhaps including himself, by winning the presidency in 2016. His 2024 victory was less surprising. And its consequences appear likely to be more dramatic, amounting to a hostile takeover of the political priesthood by the capitalist warriors.

Trump's most visible counselor so far is Elon Musk, who parlayed a quarter-billion dollar contribution to Republican candidates into a nearly quarter-trillion dollar increase in his personal wealth—a staggering return on investment even for a high flier like Musk. Assuming Trump doesn't get jealous at the attention paid to Musk—which he very well might, considering their egos—Americans and others will witness the unprecedented partnership of the most powerful political figure on the planet and the world’s wealthiest capitalist.

Other capitalists are catching on. One by one they've arranged audiences with Trump and written checks to fund his inauguration. When this kind of thing has happened in other countries, the result has been crony capitalism, with the high priest bestowing beneficences on his favored warriors. There’s no compelling reason to think it won’t happen here.

Commoners fared best when the warriors and the priests each checked the power of the other. They fared worse when one group gained a substantial advantage over the other. They fared worst of all when the two groups merged, typically by one taking over the other.

Donald Trump isn’t everyone’s idea of a warrior. Still less of a priest. But he’s surprised us before. He might do so again.

For the commoners the surprise won’t be a pleasant one.