​Chapter 25. The Mirror of Submission

Rejecting God or toppling a king does not undo delegation.

When a revolution deposes a monarch, the throne gets a new tenant: the Republic or the People's Will. The subject who once obeyed the divine right now obeys popular sovereignty. The rhetoric changes, but the mechanism remains identical: the individual still surrenders decisions to an external authority. Often the new regime demands even deeper submission because it cannot be challenged as tyrannical: a king can be corrupt, but the General Will, by definition, cannot err. Resistance becomes treason against the collective itself.

The same pattern appears in moral revolt. Rejecting Christian virtue does not produce autonomy if the rejection becomes a new commandment. To do evil because it is called evil is as reactive as doing good because it is virtuous. In both cases, the decision is made by a category, not by the subject. (This is what makes such people easy to govern: you do not need to change them, only to relabel the desired behavior as "good."). "I do this because it is wicked" is not different from "I act this way because it is righteous."

The same error appears in metaphysics. Popular Satanism swaps submission to God with submission to Satan or demons: a higher power promises rewards in exchange for service. Contracts are signed and the soul is traded for wealth or power. Those who prayed to the Father now petition the Adversary.

Anton LaVey tried to escape this trap by rejecting literal Satan and embracing egoism and atheism. He proclaims indulgence and vengeance as virtues. "I am a satanist! Bow down, for I am the highest embodiment of human life!" This resembles sovereignty, but it is not. LaVey defines his values against to Christianity: it condemns indulgence, so LaVey celebrates it, demands forgiveness, so he endorses revenge. The value is borrowed and inverted. LaVey remains inside the Christian framework, using its axis to plot himself and mistaking negation for independence.

The deeper problem is what LaVey calls egoism. His advice to do what you want sounds like freedom, but it hands Will to biology. The body commands, desire arises, and the ego executes. There is no sovereignty here, only servitude to impulse. The altruist delegates to the collective good; the egoist to biological craving.

The egoist objects: "I do not submit to biology. I indulge because I choose to.” But once indulgence becomes the organizing rule, Will reorganizes around pleasure and acquisition. The object shifts from God to sensation, but existence remains organized around an external pull. The Will serves appetite, even when the egoist calls that service "my choice." Egoism does not leave the system; it optimizes within it, delegating Will to markets, to desire-loops, to social hierarchies. He does not escape the system but rearranges his position within it and mistakes the rearrangement for freedom.

The Left-Hand Path does not stop at egoism, demanding exit from every system that places Will under external conditions. This is why apotheosis is necessary. As long as the subject operates within a framework of decay, scarcity, and external validation, Will remains constrained by conditions it did not set. The boundary of the organism limits what can be willed; the laws of matter limit what persists. Sovereignty under these constraints is partial. Apotheosis — the transformation of Will into a self-sustaining, acausal singularity — is the endpoint.

The Church of Satan, as guardian of LaVey's legacy, institutionalizes dependency on its opponent. Hierarchical ranks and membership protocols recreate the same structures of authority that Satanism claims to reject. Transgression is scripted and contained: ritual becomes psychodrama for personal catharsis, never escalating into rupture. Indulgence is channeled into forms compatible with consumer society — hedonism without consequence, rebellion without risk.

The Satanic Temple repeats the same pattern. Its campaigns invoke Satan as a symbol of resistance to theocracy, while the organization demands allegiance to collective actions and public representation. The adversary role requires a dominant Christian order to oppose; without it, the identity dissipates. Power is still sought through media and legal recognition — external validation rather than internal sovereignty.

On social media, rebellion is reduced to performance. "Satanism" becomes an aesthetic display: inverted crosses, black attire, hashtags. The gesture seeks likes and subcultural belonging. It is marketable and safely contained within the attention economy. The imagery shocks because it references a moral framework it pretends to escape. The outrage sustains its relevance; without the Christian shadow, the performance is meaningless.

Sovereignty does not require an enemy or an audience. Branded or performative transgression is a lateral move within the same system. The pop-satanist trades one master for another, or for the gaze of the crowd. What looks like rebellion is compliance useful to the system: worshiping Satan is no different from praying to God.