Why gods of technology can’t replace gods of myth
As a professional interested in technology, and as a bibliophile with a love for mythology, one piece of fiction I often recommend is Neil Gaiman’s novel American Gods. Published right at the turn of the millennium (2001), American Gods was a wild success, selling millions of copies (and later being adapted into a TV series). A story about gods in America (from old gods of myth to new gods of technology), the narrative begins with an ex-convict by the name of Shadow.
Here’s the story, in a nutshell—followed by a brief interpretation of Shadow’s character, on my part.
After he’s released from prison, Shadow finds work as a kind of errand boy for a man who calls himself Wednesday. However, it soon becomes clear there’s something not quite right about Wednesday. At first, Shadow sees him as a con man who tricks others to get what he wants. Later, Shadow discovers something far more eccentric about his employer. He’s not a man at all. He’s a god.
Specifically, he’s a living incarnation of the ancient Norse god Odin. (Etymologically, there’s a play on words here. The name ‘Wednesday’ comes from the Germanic term for ‘Woden’s Day,’ which became ‘Odin’s Day’ in Old Norse).
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Old gods of myth: the has-beens
As they travel around the country together, Shadow meets Wednesday’s friends, who are also living incarnations of old gods. For instance, there are gods of knowledge, like Mr. Ibis (Thoth, Egyptian god of writing). There are gods of death, such as Mr. Jacquel (Anubis, Egyptian god of mummification). Trickster gods show up too, including Low-Key (Norse god Loki) and Mr. Nancy (Ghanaian god Anansi).
Where did all these gods come from? Bear in mind that America consists of a melting pot of immigrant cultures, including diverse religious beliefs and backgrounds. Consequently, when immigrants came to America, they not only brought their cultures with them. They evidently brought their gods with them as well.
Nevertheless, as the nation modernized to become more technologically advanced, religious beliefs in old gods began to fade. As the gods of myth turned into a bunch of has-beens, a new faith emerged: belief in cutting-edge technologies. With that, a new group of gods began to enter America.
New gods of technology: the clichés
Shortly after meeting the gods of myth, Shadow runs into some spooky henchmen who, like him, work for gods. However, the gods these henchmen work for aren’t the old gods of myth. Rather, they’re the new gods of technology. For example, the new gods include Technical Boy, (god of the Internet), Media (goddess of TV), and the Intangibles (gods of the stock market).
Along with their more modern—though artificial—appearance, what distinguishes the new gods from the old ones is their cliché-like nature. Their behavior is brutish, and they really have nothing intelligent to say. In short, the new gods of technology may seem chic on the outside, but they’re superficial on the inside. As Shadow notes while comparing the old gods to the new:
It occurred to him that the reason he liked Wednesday and Mr. Nancy and the rest of them better than their opposition was pretty straightforward: they might be dirty, and cheap, and their food might taste like shit, but at least they didn’t speak in clichés (p 223).
American gods at war: gods of myth vs. gods of technology
Having met both old and new gods, Shadow learns a war is coming. The new gods of technology are determined to replace the old gods of myth in an apocalyptic battle of old versus new. This impending doomsday leads Shadow through a series of adventures, which culminate in a dramatic scene of self-sacrifice: Shadow hanging himself on a tree for nine days and nights.
(This scene very much mirrors Odin’s legendary sacrifice and rebirth on the World Tree in Norse Mythology).
Shadow hung from the tree while the lightning flickered and forked across the sky, and the thunder subsided into an omnipresent rumbling, with occasional bangs and roars like distant bombs exploding in the night, and the wind tugged at Shadow, trying to pull him from the tree, flaying his skin, cutting to the bone; and at the height of the storm—and Shadow knew in his soul that the real storm had truly begun, the true storm, and that now it was here and there was nothing any of them could do but ride it out: none of them, old gods or new, spirits, powers, women or men…
A strange joy rose within Shadow then, and he started laughing, as the rain washed his naked skin and the lightening flashed and thunder rumbled so loudly that he could barely hear himself. He laughed and exulted.
He was alive. He had never felt like this. Ever.
If he did die, he thought, if he died right now, here on the tree, it would be worth it to have had this one, perfect, mad moment (p 584).
Shadow’s rebirth and the end of the war between old vs. new
After his self-sacrifice, Shadow is reborn as kind of peacemaker—a liaison, so to speak, between old and new gods. As such, he convinces them not to engage in a battle to the death, declaring in a climactic speech:
“This is a bad land for gods,” said Shadow. As an opening statement it wasn’t Friends, Romans, Countrymen, but it would do. “You’ve probably all learned that, in your own way. The old gods are ignored. The new gods are as quickly taken up as they are abandoned, cast aside for the next big thing. Either you’ve been forgotten, or you’re scared you’re going to be rendered obsolete, or maybe you’re just getting tired of existing on the whim of people” (p 681).
And, upon hearing that speech, all the gods—both old and new—suddenly decide to depart from Shadow’s sight!
When the old grows obsolete, but the new feels shallow
What are we to make of this ending? I admit, it baffled me at first.
On one hand, it’s clear the old gods are obsolete, even if there’s something profound to admire about them. As the novel suggests, maybe it’s what those gods ultimately symbolize: a sort of religious (or spiritual) feeling of awe and inspiration, which encourages us to trust, love, or imagine new possibilities, as a way to get through this thing called life.
Religions are, by definition, metaphors, after all: God is a dream, a hope, a woman, an ironist, a father, a city, a house of many rooms, a watcher who left his prize chronometer in the desert, someone who loves you—even, perhaps, against all evidence, a celestial being whose only interest is to make sure your football team, army, business, or marriage thrives, prospers and triumphs over all opposition.
Religions are places to stand and look and act, vantage points from which to view the world (p 643).
On the other hand, it’s clear the new gods are more current and up-to-date for contemporary society. And yet, they’re incredibly shallow at the same time. Plus, they know it. As the goddess Media blatantly tells Shadow at one point:
“I’m the idiot box. I’m the TV. I’m the all-seeing eye and the world of the cathode ray. I’m the boob tube. I’m the little shrine the family gathers to adore” (p 221).
Interpreting Shadow’s character: a bridge between old and new?
So, to understand the ending of American Gods, you have to think about what Shadow’s character signifies. By calling off the war, Shadow appears to represent a parley between two extremes. On one side, there are the old, has-been gods of ancient myth and culture, which society has outgrown. On the other side, there are the new, cliché gods of technology and innovation, which are useful but lacking in meaning.
Hence, one interpretation of Shadow’s character could be that we need to find a way to bridge the old and new. For example, perhaps we shouldn’t uncritically espouse new tools, machines, or media, while mindlessly forgetting old stories, traditions, and values. After all, if we deify the former and relegate the latter, we may end up feeling like lifeless, mechanical beings, isolated from society, possessing lots of material things but no real sense of purpose in life.
In other words, although technological innovation creates convenience and brings countless economic benefits, it doesn’t provide an ultimate source of meaning or moral guidance. For that, we need culture, including mythic stories. Therefore, in a society that idolizes modern technology at the cost of disregarding its cultural heritage (what media critic Neil Postman called “Technopoly”), only one thing is certain: We’ll likely find ourselves feeling empty inside.
References
Gaiman, Neil. (2001). American Gods. New York: William Morrow.