Jordan B. Peterson’s book We Who Wrestle with God currently tops Amazon’s bestseller list. It is
a surprising and gratifying achievement for a book focused on Old Testament interpretation. The popularity of
Peterson’s biblical analyses calls for scholarly review, even though his expertise lies in clinical
psychology rather than religious studies. His ideas warrant critical examination, lest misconceptions proliferate
throughout society.
Peterson bases his analysis almost solely on personal insights while disregarding two millennia of scholarly wisdom
from Church Fathers and theologians who have studied Old Testament narratives. He repeatedly dwells on the problem
of pride, citing Proverbs 16:18: “Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.”
Yet he fails to recognize the irony — one who presumes to interpret the Bible while ignoring
centuries of expert scholarship is destined to err through that very pride.
Peterson’s philosophical framework centers on a supposed duality between chaos and order, positing that order
emerges from chaos in an ongoing creative process that constitutes reality. Creation, he argues, involves an
ongoing struggle between these forces (p. 216). While consistent with Nietzschean thought, this view lacks
support in science and theology. Drawing on the concept that creation requires dual principles, he argues that God
first created opposing pairs: light and darkness, earth and water (p. 2).
Ancient maritime symbolism interprets the waters in Genesis 1 (where God’s Spirit hovered over the
waters) as representing chaos. However, the biblical text does not indicate that God created either waters (chaos)
or darkness, but rather created light and separated it from darkness. As Augustine explains, God created light and
arranged darkness as its absence. Scripture speaks of God creating forms, not absences, from nothingness. Says
Augustine:
[W]e should hold that God divided the light and darkness by the fact that he made the light. For light is one thing, and those privations of light that God ordered in the opposing darkness are something else. For Scripture did not say that God made the darkness. God made the forms, not privations that pertain to that nothing out of which all things were made by the divine artist. […] Thus He said, “Let there be light, and the light was made.” He did not say, “Let there be darkness, and darkness was made.” One of these he made; the other he did not make. But he ordered both of them, when God divided the light and the darkness. (Augustine, 1991, De Genesi, 5. 25)
In Augustinian terms, chaos equals disorder, representing a diminishment of order, just as darkness represents a
diminishment of light — whether interpreted spiritually or materially. Thus, Christian theology
emphasizes that chaos and darkness are not God’s creations. What appears chaotic really represents a less
organized form of order, still operating under natural laws. True metaphysical chaos (complete disorder) would mean
non-existence. In science, chaos refers to a state of disorder and unpredictability, often characterized by high
sensitivity to initial conditions in complex dynamic systems. However, unpredictability does not imply an absence
of lawful behaviour (cf. Sutter, 2022).
Consequently, neither chaos nor darkness possesses independent metaphysical existence — a view
that aligns with modern thermodynamics. Peterson’s dualistic framework of chaos versus order raises concerns
due to its similarity to Manichaean thought. Ancient cultures share a common narrative in the form of the
“combat myth,” in which a divine hero defeats a chaos monster and fashions the world from its corpse.
While such narratives hold psychological resonance in reflecting human experience, Peterson’s reliance on
tales, such as the Babylonian myth of Marduk and Tiamat, perpetuates an outdated worldview that conflicts with both
scientific understanding and theological principles. As a psychologist, he tends to blur the line between
psychological experience and objective reality. However, we must resist over-psychologizing, since the nature of
reality cannot be predicted from human inner conflicts.
In Platonic and Christian metaphysics, the transcendent represents a higher reality more authentic than the earthly
realm. Peterson psychologizes this concept, viewing it as an abstraction — a “necessary
fiction” that is true precisely because it aids our survival. He contends that any truth not serving life is
ultimately counterproductive and thus not fundamentally “true” (pp. 6-7). This echoes
Nietzsche’s concept of truth, which denies the existence of objective truths and instead defines truth as
that which enhances life. The morality of scientific truth thus yields to the morality of life itself (cf. Winther,
2024). Peterson says:
The story of Noah, like all the ancient stories we will consider, is thus not an argument for the existence of God […], but a description of what is to be held properly in the very highest of places, so that the continuation of man, society, and world may be ensured. (p. 173)
Peterson thus reduces the concept of God to “conscience,” simply because social life benefits when
people venerate moral ideals as divine. He asserts: “This is a discovery of unparalleled magnitude: the
possibility of establishing a relationship with God by attending to conscience” (p. xxiv). Therefore,
it is “conscience” that reveals itself to Elijah (1 Kings 19:11-12), though the divine can also
manifest in other psychological forms, such as “inspiration, adventure, enthusiasm, curiosity, even
temptation” (p. xxx). God’s personality becomes our “attempt to characterize the
meta-spirit of humanity itself” (p. 367). Satan, conversely, “is the psychological or abstract
equivalent of the concretely predatory and venomous…” (p. 59).
Peterson indulges in outright reductionism. He redefines transcendence as a psychologically functional concept
without acknowledging its departure from theological definition. The sacrificial rite, fundamental to religious
history, is reduced to mere delayed gratification: I give up something now and will therefore receive something
good in the future (p. 110). Yet humans hardly needed recurring symbolic acts to grasp such an elementary
concept — even hamsters store food. He claims all deep religious symbols can be translated into
linguistic formulations, at least with artificial intelligence’s help. The creation of meaning can be mapped
intellectually (pp. 14-15). The symbols extend no deeper than this. Transcendence, in its traditional sense,
thus ceases to exist.
Unfortunately, the author misinterprets key symbolic elements. He claims the Taoist symbols Yin and Yang represent
chaos and order (p. 503). In reality, Yin and Yang symbolize different types of order that complement each
other (cf. Jun Shan, 2024). As in his earlier work Maps of Meaning (1999), he misrepresents the
Egyptian Osiris myth. His interpretation assumes Osiris remains dead or languishing in the Underworld
(pp. 17; 33). However, the myth tells the opposite: Isis restores Osiris to life, after which he becomes king
of Duat — a realm that lies below us during day but above us at night. Duat was the afterlife
realm where Egyptians hoped to dwell in prosperity. Rather than paralleling the Christian hell, it more closely
resembles paradise (cf. Winther, 2018).
Furthermore, Peterson claims the Great Mother in religious history represents the most archaic personification of
chaos (p. 20). On the contrary, the Mother Goddess typically appears as a benevolent deity, embodying Mother
Earth, who generously bestows her fruits and vegetables upon humanity. She represents the Mother of Life on earth.
This role necessarily makes her also the Mother of Death, as all living things must eventually perish. One cannot,
however, equate this natural order with chaos (cf. Winther, 2018).
Cain’s great sin, argues Peterson, lies in his restraint — hiding his God-given light
“under a bushel” and failing to give his best. While Abel’s sacrifice earns praise, Cain’s
offerings fall short (pp. 129-131). This analysis finds no support in the biblical text, as biblical authors
think theologically, not psychologically. The theme of God favouring the youngest son runs throughout the Bible:
Abel over firstborn Cain; Isaac over Ishmael; Jacob over Esau; Joseph, the second youngest, above his brothers;
David, Jesse’s youngest, anointed as king. In Jesus’ parable, the prodigal youngest son returns to his
father’s loving welcome and is invited to the feast, much to his elder brother’s chagrin (Luke
15:11-32). This recurring motif likely foreshadows God’s replacement of humanity’s first prototype with
its second — Jesus Christ. Hence Paul’s reference to Jesus as “the second
Adam” (1 Cor. 15:45).
Peterson defends Christianity for its role in upholding social morality, despite his materialist, reductionist
worldview. He attempts to inject harmful concepts into Christianity, including the dualistic theory of chaos and
order, which is archaic and unscientific. He maintains the outdated Hegelian/Nietzschean worldview from Maps of
Meaning (1999). His biblical interpretations rely on psychological clichés, such as reducing the Tower of Babel
to a mere warning about hubris and humanity’s susceptibility to arrogance and misguided ambition
(p. 195). The colloquial writing style lacks refinement and suffers from verbosity, making for tedious
reading:
1/5.
© Mats Winther (2024 Dec.)
References
Augustine, St. (1991) (Teske, R. J., transl.) On Genesis: Against the Manichees and On the Literal
Interpretation of Genesis. The Catholic University of America Press. (De Genesi ad litteram.)
Sutter, P. (2022). ‘Chaos theory explained: A deep dive into an unpredictable universe’.
Space.com. (here)
Jun Shan (2024). ‘The Meaning of Yin and Yang’. ThoughtCo. (here)
Peterson, J. B. (1999). Maps of Meaning: The Architecture of Belief. Routledge.
--------- (2024). We Who Wrestle with God: Perceptions of the Divine.
Portfolio/Penguin.
Winther, M. (2018). ‘Critique of Jordan B. Peterson’s Neo-Hegelian philosophy’. (here)
--------- (2024). ‘Anti-Nietzsche: A Critique of Friedrich
Nietzsche’. (here)
