Fatal flaw in Jordan Peterson’s “Cain complex.”

How Peterson’s alignment of Cain and Abel’s tale with market dynamics is akin to straying into Cain’s own erroneous path.

Imagine if:

Cain and Abel present their offerings to God. Abel, self-absorbed and unaware, brings a dead animal. Cain, with care and effort, brings an array of vibrant fruits and vegetables. God praises Abel's offering, ignoring Cain's.

Feeling deeply wronged and ignored, Cain confronts Abel, who remains clueless and indifferent to his brother's pain. This interaction opens Cain's eyes to the impact of insensitivity and favoritism.

Determined not to replicate such behavior, Cain vows to treat others with empathy and fairness, understanding that everyone faces their own struggles.

He learns the value of kindness and the importance of not adding unnecessary pain to the world, a lesson neither God nor Abel seemed to appreciate.

END

Exegesis: Early in life, all I’d notice in the original story of Cain and Abel is the over the top murder and think Cain was jealous and unhinged. It’s almost impossible not to think that when you encounter this story.

But, later in life, I am oddly disturbed when reading that Cain’s offering is publicly rejected by the Creator Himself, without explanation, let alone compassion, while Abel stands oblivious to Cain’s feelings.

The true tragedy, though, is in how we, the readers, too, stand oblivious to Cain’s feelings. The lesson we are encouraged to take away is that Cain put in a half-assed effort and emerged bitter and jealous, instead of taking a lesson from the experience

But of course, instead of Cain accepting inequality and working harder next time, he lashes out with bitter violence.

His violence is, of course, indefensible and unjustifiable. That’s easy to conclude, full stop. The seriousness of murder eclipses any examination of the way God and Abel behaved. It scarcely dawns on the readers’ minds to consider Cain’s feelings.

We come away from the story only thinking of Cain’s evil and pathetic impulsivity and foolishness. A lesson is sealed inside us, but it’s a half measure, and deeply incomplete. I suspect this is by design.

These holy books ought to inspire us to be good men. But time and again they reveal a separate motive -- a way for one group to control another, through dogmatic faith in a system deemed infallible, such that fairness in just desert and good fortune is unassailable.

The Biblical story is perhaps less blameless than its interpretations. After all, God Himself is set up as omniscient and benevolent and thus his actions are by definition fair and wise. In the story, Cain is wrong by definition and had every opportunity to know better.

If a God with this power instructs, a faithful man would fight his covetousness impulse, even while Abel blithely enjoys his favor when the fates smile upon him.

I’m no Bible scholar, but when Jordan Peterson attempts to graft this story onto modern day human dealings, and talks of a “Cain complex,” this strikes me as an awfully dangerous sleight of hand.

Peterson turns it into a conservative trope encouraging the poor man to not covet what the rich man earns through hard work and self reliance.

The problem is this: While God is all-knowing and thus expected, in this context, to do the right thing, Capitalism is not God. Its decision to reward one and not the other is, of course, deeply fallible. It can penalize those who work hard and reward those who cheat or are driven by perverse incentives.

In the Bible story, luck — the ineffable hand of hard determinism — is nonexistent. And the miser isn’t your competitor or oppressor - no, he’s your very brother. The clergy preaches to accept your brother’s success with grace, and to entirely blame yourself when the Universe fails to smile upon you, and above all, to work harder.

It seems to be a natural parable written by the rich to control the poor, presenting a false dichotomy as a warning to what happens if this dictum of stoic acquiescence to inequality is disobeyed: one is seized with murderous intent. A slippery slope teaching us to dispel of any critique of inequality altogether.

I dare not speak of the origin of the Testament. But I daresay of the sermons on this story, they are at face value shallow readings of the human soul encouraging a deft swapping in of Adam Smith’s allegedly inerrant hand in place of an omnipotent, omniscient, benevolent God.

Are we to equate the free market system with God? Peterson would have us think so.

Now, if God’s behavior was a test, we can all agree Cain failed in spectacular fashion.

But in my humble retooling of the tale, Cain passes the test beautifully.

He comes away an empathetic man with an expansive view of humanity, compassion, and self esteem, and with not a drop of blood on his hands. (Unlike Abel’s, who slaughtered a living creature in its prime.)

His attitude connects him to the Universe and all the souls within it, and he lives out his days with self-esteem and peace, adding no pain to the world, and perhaps a great portion of well-being in just this act alone, on top of anything his labor and ground may yield.

This is a test we must also pass. We are blessed with the option to do so every day, as the free market looks upon our offerings and almost arbitrarily decides which offerings merit reward.

If there is any wisdom in the story whatsoever, for me, at least, it is that there is a middle path Cain could have taken.

A path betwixt bitter murder and blind acceptance of the meritocratic lesson to blame himself and toil harder next time, if, indeed, he wants the Universe to smile upon his efforts, to experience the warm validation of God (or the free market?) seeing his offering and pronouncing it is good.

One must not underestimate the power of the Almighty saying your offering is no good. I’d imagine it’s a psychologically weighty matter, to be sure.

But even more gravely consequential in a man’s life is whether the Almighty free market says your offering is no good.

That truly is a matter of life and death, and a decree coming from a fallible power, namely the demands of the buyer.

What buyers demand is sometimes good, sometimes evil. One must not use mere demand as the true north of where our best efforts ought to go lest we all become meth dealers or worse.

If your veggies don’t suffice, your offering can at least be one of righteousness in the face of rejection and inequality; a deeper sort of righteousness scarcely hinted at in the most common readings of the Bible.

A quiet confidence that your offering is not necessarily bad, but they just aren’t picking up what you’re laying down — and that’s okay.

After all, no animals were needlessly slaughtered by Cain on that day. He should have taken quiet pride in that, gone home and made a delicious vegetable stew for himself, and his friends, instead of slaughtering his own brother.

Those who partake in Cain’s vegan feast and proclaiming it good should more than suffice to lift Cain’s spirits, and yours.