Article 112

“Chainsaws Against Scripture: Why Empiricism and Dialectics Alone Can Defeat Missionaries and Jihadists”

The aggression of Christian missionaries and jihadist Muslims is not about theology at all, though they disguise it with scriptural citations and appeals to revelation. It is civilizational. The missionary does not arrive to debate Hinduism or Buddhism as one system of thought against another. He arrives convinced that the debate is already finished, because his God has spoken once and for all, and the only duty is to repeat and enforce that revelation until the heathen bends his head. The jihadist does not trouble himself with persuasion. He comes with the sword, the suicide vest, the bomb, and the doctrine that God Himself has already delivered the verdict: submit or die. In both cases, the adversary relies on the same unspoken assumption—that faith is superior to reason, that revelation trumps inquiry, that authority overrules doubt. Once that premise is accepted, no matter how reluctantly, you are disarmed before the battle even begins. The Hindu who chants mantras in self-defense, the Buddhist monk who invokes compassion, the liberal who pleads for tolerance, all of them fight on the enemy’s terms, because they leave untouched the root of the assault: the epistemological supremacy of faith.

This is why civilizations that were once great and self-confident—the Zoroastrians of Persia, the Buddhists of Afghanistan, the pagans of Europe, the Hindus of large parts of the subcontinent—were steamrolled. They did not lose because their gods were weaker, but because they had no weapons against the axiom of revelation. They tried to defend their traditions with rituals, with metaphors, with appeals to ancient authority, but they never asked the one devastating question: why should revelation be believed at all? It is here, and only here, that the modern world has given us tools sharp enough to cut through the armor of theology. Those tools are logical empiricism and dialectical materialism. They are not “academic philosophies” to be studied in seminars. They are the immune systems of reason, designed precisely to defend humanity from the superstitions that enslave it.

Logical empiricism is ruthless in its simplicity. It recognizes no holy book, no prophet, no miracle unless the claim can be verified. Verification means: can it be observed, tested, repeated, logically demonstrated? “Christ rose from the dead.” Where is the evidence? Can it be reproduced? Can it be examined? “Muhammad ascended to heaven on a winged horse.” Where is the verification? Show me, not stories, not hymns, not threats, but evidence. “Moses split the Red Sea.” If so, let us test it, let us confirm it, let us see the geological record. In every case, revelation collapses. For all their shouting, the missionaries and mullahs cannot produce evidence that meets the standard of reason. They rely on authority, on tradition, on the supposed holiness of the claim. Logical empiricism refuses them all. What cannot be verified is not knowledge. What cannot be tested is not truth. This principle is devastating to the pretensions of the Abrahamic faiths, because their very foundation is unverified miracle. Take away miracle and revelation, and the entire edifice crumbles into folklore. Logical empiricism does not debate theology; it dissolves it into the air of mythology, stripping it of its aura.

But the critique is not complete until it is joined by dialectical materialism, which strikes from another angle altogether. If empiricism refutes revelation as knowledge, dialectical materialism refutes revelation as politics. It insists that religion is not eternal truth but historical phenomenon. It is born, it evolves, it serves interests, and it dies. It is ideology cloaked as divinity. Christianity was not the innocent gospel of fishermen; it was the state religion of empire, built into cathedrals funded by plunder, spread by swords blessed by bishops. Islam was not a purely spiritual message of peace; it was the banner of conquest, from Arabia to Spain to India, sanctifying expansion with the cry of jihad. Every missionary hospital, every Qur’anic madrassa, every church-funded school is not neutral charity but an instrument of social control. Dialectical materialism unmasks this with merciless clarity. It shows that theology is not some timeless metaphysics but a weapon in class struggle, a device of rulers, a tool of empires. It tells the villager: when you are being converted, you are not encountering “God.” You are encountering imperialism dressed as salvation. When the jihadist tells you “God demands your submission,” he is not delivering a heavenly decree but executing a political program of domination.

Put together, logical empiricism and dialectical materialism form the iron pincer that no theology can escape. One denies the truth of revelation; the other denies its innocence. One strips it of intellectual authority; the other strips it of political legitimacy. The result is total disarmament. The missionary cannot argue on the terrain of evidence, because his claims are unverifiable. He cannot argue on the terrain of history, because his church is soaked in empire and conquest. The jihadist cannot argue either, because his sword and his book are equally exposed as human, historical, material, and therefore fallible. For once, the weapons of faith face weapons sharper than themselves, and they tremble.

That is why priests, imams, rabbis, and evangelists fear these tools more than they fear rival theologies. They can handle a competing god. They cannot handle the refusal of gods altogether. A Hindu swami chanting the Rig Veda can be brushed aside as quaint. A secular intellectual armed with empiricism and dialectics is another matter. He shifts the battlefield from revelation to reality, from scripture to verification, from dogma to history. On that ground, faith is powerless. On that ground, miracles dissolve, prophets shrink to their historical size, and the empire of superstition begins to collapse.

The lesson is clear. Do not fight missionaries with more theology, or jihadists with counter-theology. That is precisely what they want, because it keeps you in the prison of their own terms. If you fight scripture with scripture, you have already conceded the primacy of scripture. If you fight miracle with miracle, you have already conceded the category of miracle. The only way out is to refuse the game altogether. Logical empiricism and dialectical materialism give you that refusal. They free you from the prison-house of faith. They allow you to say: your revelation is unverifiable, your god is unproven, your empire is naked. And once you say that, loudly and relentlessly, the missionary loses his charm and the jihadist loses his terror.It is fashionable among liberals to think that tolerance and pluralism are enough. They are not. Tolerance without reason is surrender. Pluralism without critique is camouflage for aggression. Only reason, relentless and uncompromising, can stand against the dual assault of Bible and Qur’an. Logical empiricism and dialectical materialism are not luxuries. They are shields of survival. They are the only tools sharp enough to cut through the theological net that has ensnared humanity for two millennia. Without them, every chant, every ritual, every appeal to “interfaith dialogue” is wasted breath. With them, the Semitic hegemony of revelation begins to crumble, and humanity can finally breathe the air of freedom.

The tragedy of our age is that civilizations which should have been fortified with reason instead surrendered to ritual. Hindus imagine that quoting the Upanishads will protect them from missionaries. Buddhists imagine that meditation will shield them from jihad. Both are delusions. The Abrahamic faiths are not looking for dialogue. They are looking for submission. To answer them with theology is to validate their terrain. They demand you treat revelation as an acceptable category, when the only honest response is to reject revelation itself. Logical empiricism teaches precisely that rejection: unless a statement can be tested and verified, it is not knowledge. It is not even an argument. It is noise. The resurrection of Jesus, the dictation of the Qur’an, the miracles of Moses—these are not claims to be debated, they are myths to be dismissed. This is not arrogance; it is intellectual hygiene. Just as medicine rejects magical cures without evidence, philosophy must reject theological claims without verification. The missionary wants you to treat myth as history; empiricism demands you treat myth as myth.

Yet exposure of falsehood is not enough. Religion does not survive for two thousand years merely because of gullibility. It survives because it serves material interests: it organizes people, sanctifies power, justifies conquest. This is where dialectical materialism completes the critique. Marx wrote that religion is the “opium of the people,” but it is more than a drug: it is a weapon. It dulls the pain of exploitation while securing obedience to the exploiters. Missionaries in India did not merely preach Christ; they served the empire that wanted docile subjects. Jihadists today do not merely chant “Allahu Akbar”; they embody the frustrations of societies unable to modernize, transmuting despair into holy war. Dialectical materialism cuts through the illusion of sanctity by placing religion in its historical context: who benefits, who rules, who profits. Once seen in this light, the Qur’an and the Bible lose their aura of divine revelation and appear for what they are—manuals of political domination dressed as sacred law.

Consider the Islamic State, that grotesque parody of medieval conquest. Its fighters did not build schools of science or institutions of culture. They blew up museums, executed dissidents, enslaved women, and declared that God commanded it. To argue theology with them is idiotic; they do not care. What unmasks them is dialectical materialism: ISIS was not a divine caliphate but the product of social collapse, imperial interventions, and class rage. Strip away the Quranic verses, and you see unemployment, humiliation, corruption, and despair fueling the war machine. Religion was the banner, not the cause. The same is true of Christian missionaries who flooded Africa and Asia. They came with the Bible, but behind them stood colonial gunboats and mercantile companies. They built churches, but also legal systems, schools, and trade networks designed to subordinate entire peoples to foreign empires. Religion was the perfume masking imperial expansion. Only dialectical materialism sees this clearly, because only it insists that ideology is rooted in material conditions.

If empiricism clears the mind of superstition, dialectics clears the eye of illusion. Together, they are devastating. For example: a missionary says, “Jesus healed the blind.” Empiricism replies: where is the evidence? Can this miracle be repeated under controlled conditions? No? Then it is a tale, nothing more. The missionary pivots: “But faith brings hope, it transforms societies.” Dialectics replies: yes, it transforms them into colonies, subjects, consumers of foreign powers. Christianity did not spread by miracles, but by swords and ships, by bribes and schools, by material force. Islam did not conquer by argument, but by armies, taxes, and trade routes. Once you combine empiricism and dialectics, the mask falls twice: first as falsehood, second as exploitation.

This is why Hinduism and Buddhism must learn quickly that philosophy, not theology, is their last line of defense. Chanting Sanskrit verses may nourish the spirit, but it does not expose the falsehood of resurrection. Meditating on compassion may calm the mind, but it does not refute the imperial history of the Church. The battlefield has changed. Civilizations survive not by producing more gods but by producing more reason. Logical empiricism and dialectical materialism are the modern armor of civilization. Without them, India will lose more ground to missionaries. Without them, Buddhists will continue to vanish from their own historical homelands. Afghanistan was once Buddhist; today it is a desert of jihad. Persia was once Zoroastrian; today it is an Islamic theocracy. Anatolia once hosted philosophers, temples, libraries; today it kneels before the mosque. Do we imagine India is immune? Do we think Sri Lanka, Nepal, Thailand, or Japan are invincible? Without reason, they are all vulnerable.

The missionary is cunning. He does not come waving the Bible like a sword. He comes with medicine, schools, orphanages, aid. He offers food for your children in exchange for your god. He smiles, he pities, he embraces. And then he baptizes. Logical empiricism unmasks him instantly: if his God is true, why must he bribe you with rice? If his miracle is real, why does he need donations from foreign churches to prove it? Why not resurrect the dead, heal the blind, end the famine? When empiricism asks these questions, the missionary is exposed as a salesman, a marketer for empire, a broker of superstition. Dialectical materialism goes further: it shows that these schools and hospitals are not innocent. They create loyalty, dependency, gratitude. They turn independent villagers into clients of a foreign ideology. This is not charity. It is imperial investment. The return is not profit but submission.

The jihadist is less subtle but equally dependent on illusion. He shouts, “God is great,” as if greatness could be measured by the number of corpses left behind. He insists the Qur’an commands the killing of unbelievers, but when dialectical materialism examines him, it finds not God but politics: unemployment, disenfranchisement, broken states, manipulated rage. His religion is a mask for powerlessness turned violent. Logical empiricism strips away his divine justification: no God has been proven, no revelation verified, no miracle confirmed. Dialectical materialism strips away his political claim: he is not building paradise, he is perpetuating misery, a pawn of geopolitics disguised as a soldier of faith. Expose him in this way, and his terror loses its aura. He becomes not a holy warrior but a thug with a slogan.

The defenders of Indic civilization must understand this: the fight is not only military, it is intellectual. Empires do not conquer merely with guns; they conquer with ideas. They write laws, build schools, shape imaginations. If your children grow up believing miracles are knowledge and revelations are history, you have already lost them. If your intellectuals cannot distinguish myth from evidence, you have already surrendered. Logical empiricism and dialectical materialism are the weapons that prevent this surrender. They are not Western imports to be feared. They are universal tools of reason, forged in the crucible of humanity’s struggle against superstition. To reject them is to embrace slavery. To wield them is to ensure survival.

History is merciless in teaching what happens when civilizations refuse to arm themselves with reason. Europe before Christianity was a continent of temples, shrines, and diverse gods. The Norse, the Celts, the Greeks, the Romans—none of them were atheists. They were saturated with ritual, mythology, and theology. Yet when Christianity came armed with a doctrine of exclusive truth and the machinery of empire, these traditions melted like wax before fire. Why? Not because the Christian god was stronger, but because the pagans lacked the critical instruments to resist. They tried to answer dogma with dogma, miracle with miracle, ritual with ritual. In the end, their gods were dismissed as demons, their temples burned, their libraries destroyed, their people baptized under duress. Logical empiricism was not yet born, dialectical materialism was not yet forged, and so there was no philosophical immune system. Civilization fell, and the so-called “Dark Ages” spread across Europe for a thousand years.

The same story unfolded in Persia. Zoroastrianism was once a mighty civilization with its own theology, ethics, and rituals. When Islam erupted from Arabia, Persia fought bravely but not intelligently. The Zoroastrian priests quoted their Avesta as if scripture could withstand the Qur’an backed by armies. They could not. Revelation defeated revelation, faith outshouted faith, and the empire of Cyrus and Darius was shattered. Today, the land of Zoroaster is a theocracy that jails freethinkers, stones women, and exports jihad. Again, the absence of rational weapons doomed a civilization. If Persia had developed the tools of logical empiricism, the absurdities of revelation could have been mocked into irrelevance. If it had developed dialectical materialism, the political role of Islam could have been exposed as naked conquest rather than divine decree. Instead, Persia became a cautionary tale.

Afghanistan, too, was once a flourishing Buddhist civilization. The Bamiyan Buddhas stood for centuries as emblems of a culture that valued meditation, compassion, and philosophy. But when Islam came with armies and tax systems, the Buddhist monks had no answer. They could meditate, they could chant, but they could not dismantle the epistemological claim of revelation or the political reality of jihad. Their monasteries were burned, their statues smashed, their texts scattered. The final insult came in 2001 when the Taliban dynamited the Bamiyan Buddhas into dust, a symbolic repetition of the ancient conquest. Buddhism in Afghanistan was not defeated by superior theology—it was defeated by force married to faith. Without empiricism to expose revelation as unverifiable myth, and without dialectics to expose conquest as historical exploitation, Buddhism had no armor.

India itself came close to the same fate. When Islamic empires expanded into the subcontinent, temples were razed, idols shattered, scriptures dismissed as pagan babble. Yet Hinduism survived, not because it had better arguments, but because India was vast, fragmented, and resilient. Hinduism could bend and adapt, absorbing blows without collapsing. But survival is not the same as victory. Millions converted under pressure, taxation, or persuasion. Countless temples became mosques. For centuries, Hindu civilization lived under the shadow of imported faith. When Christian missionaries arrived with the British Empire, the threat grew sharper. The missionary schools mocked Hindu rituals, the missionary hospitals contrasted Christian charity with Brahminical hierarchy, the missionary preachers quoted the Bible as revealed truth while dismissing Sanskrit texts as superstition. Once again, the Hindus answered with theology, with revivalist movements, with reform societies that tried to defend ritual on ritual’s terms. Some victories were won, but the deeper battle was never joined. The missionaries were never confronted with the devastating fact that their miracles were unverifiable myths and their empire was political domination dressed as divine providence.

This is why the lesson is urgent: civilizations cannot be defended by theology. Theology fights on the wrong terrain. Revelation cannot be answered with counter-revelation because both are unverifiable. Myth cannot be refuted by myth because both dissolve into fantasy. The only true antidotes are the two modern weapons of reason: logical empiricism, which refuses to treat unverifiable claims as knowledge, and dialectical materialism, which refuses to treat religion as innocent truth rather than historical ideology. Together they provide a shield and a sword. Without them, civilizations collapse. With them, they can resist not only armies but also the subtler invasions of schools, charities, and propaganda.

Take colonial India as the clearest case. British missionaries declared Hinduism a jungle of superstition. They mocked idol worship, caste, and polytheism. They insisted Christianity was superior because it was based on a single book, a single God, a single truth. Many Hindu reformers responded by trying to sanitize their own tradition: discarding idols, softening rituals, imitating Christian moral rhetoric. But this was concession, not victory. What was needed was a fearless empiricism: to reply that the resurrection of Christ is no more verifiable than the miracles of Krishna, and that unverifiable claims are not knowledge at all. What was needed was a dialectical analysis: to show that the missionary’s Bible was not a gift of truth but the propaganda of empire, sanctifying British domination with divine approval. Few took this route. Most remained caught in the snare of theology. As a result, India absorbed Christianity into its fabric rather than expelling its pretensions. Even today, missionaries roam the subcontinent converting the poor with promises of food and medicine, their work lubricated by the failure of Hindu intellectuals to expose their premises as fraudulent.

The same failure haunts Buddhism. In Sri Lanka, in Nepal, in Southeast Asia, Christian missions have flourished not because they had better gods but because Buddhist intellectuals too often refused the weapons of reason. They tried to answer theology with sermons on compassion or discourses on emptiness. But the missionary is not defeated by kindness; he thrives on it. He is only defeated when his truth is shown to be false and his empire is shown to be criminal. Logical empiricism could expose his miracles as fables. Dialectical materialism could expose his schools as instruments of imperialism. Without these tools, compassion becomes impotence.

It is fashionable to say that all religions can coexist, that interfaith dialogue will create harmony. But history shows otherwise. Christianity did not coexist with the gods of Europe; it annihilated them. Islam did not coexist with Zoroastrianism or Buddhism; it eradicated them. Both faiths have doctrines of exclusivity that cannot tolerate rivals. They are built on revelation, and revelation demands monopoly. To imagine coexistence is to misunderstand the very logic of these systems. Against exclusivity, tolerance is weakness. Against monopoly, pluralism is surrender. Only reason, wielded with the precision of empiricism and the force of dialectics, can expose exclusivity as absurd and monopoly as criminal. That is why the so-called liberal response of “tolerance” fails. It offers a handshake when the enemy carries a sword.

The world has already paid the price for this failure. Count the civilizations destroyed, the temples razed, the philosophies silenced. Zoroaster erased, Socrates baptized against his will by the Church, the Buddha bombed into rubble in Bamiyan. These are not accidents of history. They are the logical result of civilizations that fought theology with theology and lost. To repeat the mistake is suicidal. To finally learn the lesson is survival. And the lesson is this: there are only two tools sharp enough to resist revelation—logical empiricism and dialectical materialism. One exposes the lie of miracle; the other exposes the violence of empire. Together they break the spell that has enslaved humanity for two thousand years.

The battlefield today is no longer only the sword or the cannon. It is subtler, more insidious, and therefore more dangerous. Christian missionaries no longer march behind colonial gunboats, yet they still operate with the same strategic vision: conquest of souls as conquest of civilizations. They have replaced the ship with the NGO, the musket with the orphanage, the priest with the aid worker. They descend on villages devastated by poverty, disease, or disaster, and they arrive with bags of rice, bottles of medicine, and promises of education. The cross is tucked neatly behind the schoolbook. Conversion is not presented as violence, but as kindness. Yet the logic is identical to the conquistadors baptizing at sword-point: submit to Christ or remain condemned. The jihadists, by contrast, broadcast their aggression openly. Their propaganda floods social media, their videos show beheadings, their sermons call for martyrdom. But beneath the brutality is the same logic: revelation has already spoken, reason is irrelevant, all that remains is obedience or death. These two strategies—the velvet glove of the missionary and the iron fist of the jihadist—form a pincer movement that has suffocated entire civilizations.

And how do most respond? With slogans of tolerance, with appeals to interfaith dialogue, with the empty gestures of pluralism. This is weakness disguised as virtue. The missionary thrives on tolerance, because it grants him space to operate freely. The jihadist laughs at pluralism, because he interprets it as cowardice. Neither can be confronted on the terrain of theology. To answer the missionary with Hindu mantras or Buddhist sutras is to concede his premise: that revelation is an acceptable category of knowledge. To answer the jihadist with quotations from your own scripture is to fight fire with fire in a house already burning. The only genuine counter is reason. Logical empiricism demolishes the claim to knowledge. Dialectical materialism demolishes the claim to innocence. Together they destroy the aura of revelation.

Consider the evangelical empires headquartered in the United States. With billions of dollars, satellite channels, publishing houses, universities, and armies of preachers, they are perhaps the most efficient conversion machine in human history. They disguise their aggression under the language of charity: disaster relief, rural education, healthcare. But what is the underlying transaction? Believe in Jesus, and you will receive aid. Deny him, and you remain excluded. Logical empiricism unmasks this cruelty instantly: if Christ is true, why must he be sold like a commodity? If his miracles are real, why must he be advertised with billboards and financed with billions? What kind of god requires marketing? Dialectical materialism cuts deeper: these networks are not about saving souls but about expanding geopolitical influence, entrenching Western hegemony, and cultivating loyal subjects in the global South. Religion here is the velvet face of empire, no different in structure from the East India Company—only the weapons have changed.

Now consider the jihadist statelets of the Middle East and South Asia. Funded by oil wealth and foreign patrons, they recruit disillusioned youth with promises of glory. They flood the internet with slick propaganda, glorifying martyrdom as the highest form of existence. They offer identity to the alienated, certainty to the confused, power to the powerless. But strip away the Qur’anic verses, and what do you find? Failed states, economic collapse, patriarchal rage, resentment against Western imperialism. Dialectical materialism sees through the scripture to the conditions beneath: unemployment, humiliation, corruption. Logical empiricism takes aim at the theological claims: no God has been proven, no revelation verified, no paradise demonstrated. What remains is naked violence, justified by unverifiable myths. Only by exposing both layers can the jihadist mystique be broken.

The problem is that many intellectuals in India, in Asia, in Africa, and even in the West refuse to wield these tools. They are paralyzed by political correctness, terrified of offending “faith communities.” They bow before the false idol of “respect for religion.” But respect for falsehood is complicity. Respect for unverifiable myth is treason against reason. If you grant revelation the dignity of truth, you have already surrendered. That is why missionaries and jihadists succeed even in the 21st century, in an age of science and technology. They exploit the cowardice of intellectuals who refuse to confront them on the battlefield of reason. They exploit the naivety of politicians who mistake pluralism for strength. They exploit the inertia of societies that still believe rituals and mantras are enough.

But rituals are not enough. The twenty-first century belongs to those who can command reason, not those who can chant louder. The great danger is that Hindu and Buddhist societies, instead of arming themselves with logical empiricism and dialectical materialism, are falling back into ritualism and nostalgia. They imagine that the recitation of ancient texts can defend them against satellite television and digital propaganda. They imagine that building bigger temples can protect them against billion-dollar missionary industries. They imagine that meditating longer can shield them from bombs and jihadist videos. These are comforting illusions. History has shown, again and again, that rituals collapse before reason, and that revelation conquers ritual unless it is dismantled by critique.

To resist in this century requires courage—the courage to call myths what they are, the courage to expose empires for what they are, the courage to endure the outrage of priests and mullahs. Logical empiricism provides the vocabulary of this courage: to say, “I will not believe what cannot be verified.” Dialectical materialism provides the analysis: to say, “I will not mistake ideology for truth, or empire for divinity.” Together, they constitute militant rationalism—the only force strong enough to resist the twin aggressors of missionaries and jihadists. Without militant rationalism, India will become another Persia, another Afghanistan. With it, India can become the fortress of reason the world desperately needs.

We must understand that the fight is global. Missionaries are active not only in India, but across Africa, South America, and even China. Jihadists are active not only in the Middle East, but in Europe, Asia, and online across the world. Their strength is not in the truth of their doctrines but in the weakness of our resistance. They win not because their god is proven but because our intellectuals are timid. They win not because their miracles are real but because we refuse to laugh at them. They win not because revelation is strong but because reason is absent. Restore reason, and their empire collapses. Restore militant rationalism, and their aggression is exposed as fraud.

The missionary with his orphanage and the jihadist with his bomb are not two opposites. They are two faces of the same coin. Both demand submission to unverifiable revelation. Both despise reason. Both thrive on fear, guilt, and obedience. Both are enemies not just of Hinduism or Buddhism, but of humanity itself. Against them, there can be no compromise. Against them, tolerance is suicide. Against them, pluralism is camouflage. Against them, only logic and history can stand. That is why logical empiricism and dialectical materialism are not just intellectual curiosities. They are the frontlines of survival. To wield them is to defend civilization. To ignore them is to prepare for collapse.

If the lesson of history is that civilizations collapse when they fail to arm themselves with reason, then the lesson of the present is that survival demands a new alliance—an alliance not of ritual but of rationalism, not of theology but of philosophy. The time has come for a United Dharmic Alliance, a coalition of civilizations descended from Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism, Sikhism, Taoism, Shinto, and even those strands of secular humanism that reject revelation. Such an alliance would not be built on chanting or on temples but on a shared commitment to reason as the highest authority. Logical empiricism and dialectical materialism are the intellectual engines of this alliance. Without them, “unity” remains sentimental and fragile. With them, unity becomes militant and unbreakable.

Imagine India, Japan, Nepal, Sri Lanka, Thailand, Vietnam, Cambodia, Korea—joined not only by cultural affinity but by a philosophical arsenal. Imagine universities in Delhi, Kyoto, and Seoul teaching young people that miracles are myths, that revelation is unverifiable, that empires cloak themselves in scripture, that all claims must submit to evidence. Imagine governments that no longer bow to clerics, but train citizens to expose clerics as frauds. Imagine media outlets that do not hesitate to laugh at miracles, to dissect holy texts with empirical scrutiny, to reveal the political functions of every sermon. This is what a United Dharmic Alliance could be—not an echo chamber of piety, but a fortress of militant rationalism.

Why “Dharmic”? Because the Indic and East Asian civilizations already contain within them traditions of philosophy that can harmonize with empiricism and dialectics. Shankara’s relentless logic, Nagarjuna’s dialectical negations, the Buddha’s insistence on testing the Dharma by experience rather than faith—all of these are precursors to modern rationalism. They are not identical to logical empiricism or dialectical materialism, but they point in the same direction: truth must be examined, not worshipped. The tragedy is that these traditions were marginalized by rituals, by priesthoods, by cultural inertia. The task now is to resurrect them—not as museum pieces, but as weapons for survival. Logical empiricism gives the method: test every claim. Dialectical materialism gives the context: unmask every ideology. Together they give life to the latent rationalism that has always existed in Dharmic traditions but was never fully armed.

Contrast this with the Abrahamic world. Judaism, Christianity, and Islam do not contain rationalism at their core. They contain authority at their core. They insist on revelation as their starting point. They demand obedience before inquiry. Every attempt at philosophy within them was crushed: the rationalist Mu‘tazilites in Islam were suppressed, Spinoza was excommunicated, heretics were burned. The Abrahamic core is hostile to reason. That is why the West had to break with Christianity through the Enlightenment before it could modernize. That is why Islamic societies stagnated when they crushed their rationalists. The Dharmic world does not need to break with itself—it only needs to rediscover the rationalism it already produced and fortify it with the modern weapons of empiricism and dialectics.

This is not merely an intellectual project. It is geopolitical. The Organization of Islamic Cooperation (OIC) unites nearly fifty Muslim-majority countries under a common banner. The West unites under NATO, bound by its Christian-secular heritage. Where is the alliance of Dharmic nations? Where is the coalition that says: we will defend not only our borders, but our philosophies, against the aggression of missionaries and jihadists? A United Dharmic Alliance armed with rationalism could be ten times more powerful than the OIC. It would represent billions of people, immense economic power, and a philosophical tradition older and deeper than anything in the Semitic world. But without rationalism, without empiricism and dialectics, such an alliance would be a hollow shell, vulnerable to the same missionary exploitation and jihadist intimidation that have already destroyed so many civilizations.

Some will object that empiricism and dialectics are “Western” tools. This is false. They are universal tools of reason, accessible to any civilization that values truth. The microscope is not “Western.” The law of gravity is not “Western.” Likewise, the principle that claims must be verified and ideologies must be unmasked is not Western. It is human. If anything, the Dharmic world is uniquely suited to adopt them, because its traditions have long resisted the monopolistic claims of revelation. Hinduism has no single prophet, no single book, no single revelation. Buddhism has no God demanding obedience. These are precisely the cultural conditions in which reason can flourish. The tragedy is that instead of embracing reason, too many cling to ritual. The opportunity is to turn that around—to make empiricism and dialectics the dharma of the modern age.

Consider what such an alliance could achieve against missionaries. No longer would Christian aid workers be able to buy conversions with rice or medicine. Their miracles would be laughed out of villages by young people trained in empiricism. Their schools would be exposed as pipelines for cultural subjugation by analysts trained in dialectics. No longer would jihadist recruiters be able to seduce alienated youth with promises of paradise. Their revelations would be dismantled by empiricist scrutiny; their political manipulations exposed by dialectical critique. The glamour of martyrdom would dissolve when shown to be a mask for unemployment and despair. In such a world, missionaries and jihadists would find no fertile soil, only resistance.

This is not utopian speculation. It is survival strategy. Look at the map of history: Persia, gone. Afghanistan, gone. Central Asia, gone. Anatolia, gone. Each fell to revelation because it lacked rational resistance. India survived only by size and resilience, not by intellectual victory. But how much longer can it survive without arming itself with reason? Every day, missionaries convert the poor, jihadists radicalize the alienated, and intellectuals remain silent. Every day, revelation advances and reason retreats. A United Dharmic Alliance armed with empiricism and dialectics is the only counterbalance. Without it, the future will look like the past: temples turned into ruins, scriptures reduced to curiosities, civilizations erased. With it, the future can be different: revelation finally unmasked, reason finally victorious, humanity finally liberated from two millennia of superstition.

Let us be clear. This is not a call for violence. It is a call for militant rationalism. The battlefield is the mind. The weapon is critique. The enemy is faith in revelation. Christian missionaries and jihadist Muslims represent not two different enemies but one common threat: the tyranny of unverifiable claims. The only answer is to deny them the dignity of debate, to strip them naked with the twin weapons of empiricism and dialectics. Against these, their gods collapse, their miracles vanish, their empires are revealed as frauds. And once humanity sees this clearly, their aggression ends.

The task, then, is before us. Build the alliance. Arm the young with reason. Replace ritualism with rationalism. Replace nostalgia with critique. Replace the comfort of tolerance with the courage of confrontation. For two thousand years, the Bible and the Qur’an have held humanity hostage. It is time to break the chains. Logical empiricism and dialectical materialism are not only tools of philosophy; they are weapons of liberation. Wield them, and civilization survives. Neglect them, and civilization falls. The choice is ours.

For too long, humanity has lived under the shadow of revelation. Two books—the Bible and the Qur’an—have held billions captive, not because they contain wisdom, but because they demand obedience. Their miracles are unverifiable, their histories are stitched with conquest, their claims are immune to critique. And yet they spread, century after century, erasing civilizations, rewriting cultures, annihilating philosophies. Why? Because the victims fought on the wrong battlefield. They answered revelation with counter-revelation, theology with counter-theology, miracle with counter-miracle. And in every case, revelation triumphed—not because it was true, but because it was never forced to answer the only questions that matter: Is it verifiable? Who benefits? These are the questions logical empiricism and dialectical materialism ask relentlessly, and these are the questions revelation cannot answer.

That is why they are the only true weapons of resistance. Logical empiricism strips revelation of its intellectual authority. It says: a claim without verification is not knowledge. Christ did not rise from the dead, because no one has verified it. Muhammad did not ascend to heaven, because no one has proven it. Moses did not split the sea, because no evidence confirms it. The burden of proof lies on the claimant, and until it is met, faith is nothing more than myth. Dialectical materialism strips revelation of its moral innocence. It says: religion is not eternal truth but historical ideology. Christianity was the mask of empire. Islam was the banner of conquest. Both are tools of domination, serving rulers, traders, and conquerors while dressing their power in divine robes. Once you see this, the aura evaporates. The missionary is a salesman. The jihadist is a thug. The prophet is a politician. The holy book is propaganda.

This is not cynicism. It is liberation. To live under revelation is to live in chains—to surrender one’s mind to unverifiable myths and one’s society to exploiters. To live under reason is to live free. Logical empiricism guarantees that no claim, however sacred, escapes scrutiny. Dialectical materialism guarantees that no ideology, however holy, escapes exposure. Together they establish the only foundation on which civilization can stand without fear of missionaries or jihadists. Together they break the spell of the sacred and reveal the human beneath.

And so the task before us is not modest. It is civilizational. Hindus, Buddhists, Jains, Sikhs, Taoists, Shintoists, secular humanists—all must recognize that their survival depends on abandoning the illusions of ritual and arming themselves with the weapons of reason. Mantras will not protect India. Meditation will not protect Nepal. Temples will not protect Sri Lanka. Only militant rationalism can protect them. The missionaries will keep coming, smiling and offering rice. The jihadists will keep coming, shouting and wielding bombs. To both we must reply, with unwavering clarity: your revelation is false, your empire is exposed, your god is unproven, your miracles are myths. This is not dialogue; it is confrontation. And it is the only confrontation that works.

A United Dharmic Alliance must be forged—not of nostalgic rituals but of rational weapons. Universities must train students to laugh at unverifiable claims. Journalists must expose the imperial machinery behind every sermon. Politicians must have the courage to say that religion is not sacred, it is dangerous. Intellectuals must stop bowing before the idol of “respect for faith” and start speaking the truth: faith without evidence is fraud. Empires have been built on this fraud. Civilizations have been destroyed by it. If we do not resist it now, with every tool of reason at our disposal, we will be next in line for erasure.

This is not an appeal to tolerance. Tolerance is submission. This is not an appeal to pluralism. Pluralism is camouflage. This is not an appeal to interfaith dialogue. Dialogue with unverifiable myths is wasted breath. This is a call to arms—not with swords or bombs, but with ideas sharper than both. Logical empiricism and dialectical materialism are not optional philosophies. They are the immune system of civilization. Without them, societies are defenseless. With them, revelation crumbles into dust, and the aggression of missionaries and jihadists collapses under its own absurdity.

Let the priests shout. Let the mullahs rage. Let the missionaries weep about persecution. Their protests are proof of their defeat. For the first time, their claims are forced to answer to reason, and reason exposes them as hollow. No god has descended, no book has fallen from the sky, no miracle has survived verification. What remains is myth, politics, and power—and these deserve not reverence but resistance.

The time has come. Enough temples destroyed, enough libraries burned, enough civilizations erased. Enough surrender to unverifiable revelation. The twenty-first century must be the century of militant rationalism, or it will be the century of final collapse. The Bible and the Qur’an cannot be defeated by rival scriptures; they can only be defeated by reason. Logical empiricism and dialectical materialism are the chainsaws that cut through their lies, the floodlights that expose their frauds, the weapons that defend civilization when rituals fail. Wield them without hesitation, and humanity survives. Neglect them, and humanity sinks deeper into the darkness of superstition.

The choice is ours. Submission to unverifiable revelation—or liberation through reason. Chains of faith—or freedom through critique. Collapse into history’s graveyard—or survival as civilization. There is no middle ground. There is no compromise. Only militant rationalism can stand against the aggression of missionaries and jihadists. Only logical empiricism and dialectical materialism can protect the future.

1. Ayer, A. J. Language, Truth and Logic. London: Gollancz, 1936.
2. Carnap, Rudolf. The Logical Structure of the World. Chicago: Open Court, 2003 [original 1928].
3. Marx, Karl. “Contribution to the Critique of Hegel’s Philosophy of Right: Introduction.” In Karl Marx: Early Writings, edited by T. B. Bottomore. New York: McGraw-Hill, 1964.
4. Marx, Karl, and Friedrich Engels. The German Ideology. New York: International Publishers, 1970 [original 1845–46].
5. Engels, Friedrich. Anti-Dühring. Moscow: Progress Publishers, 1977 [original 1878].
6. Russell, Bertrand. History of Western Philosophy. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1945.
7. Popper, Karl. The Open Society and Its Enemies. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1966.
8. Spinoza, Baruch. Theological-Political Treatise. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007 [original 1670].
9. Masuzawa, Tomoko. The Invention of World Religions. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2005.
10. Kuenen, Abraham. National Religions and Universal Religions. London: Williams and Norgate, 1882.
11. Pfleiderer, Otto. The Development of Theology in Germany Since Kant, and Its Progress in Great Britain Since 1825. London: Williams and Norgate, 1890.
12. Jaspers, Karl. The Origin and Goal of History. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1953.
13. Thapar, Romila. Somanatha: The Many Voices of a History. London: Verso, 2005.
14. Eaton, Richard M. The Rise of Islam and the Bengal Frontier, 1204–1760. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993.
15. Wink, André. Al-Hind: The Making of the Indo-Islamic World, Vol. I–III. Leiden: Brill, 1990–2004.
16. Armstrong, Karen. The Battle for God. New York: Ballantine, 2000.
17. Gibbon, Edward. The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. New York: Modern Library, 1995 [original 1776–89].
18. Frykenberg, Robert Eric. Christianity in India: From Beginnings to the Present. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008.
19. Metcalf, Barbara, and Thomas Metcalf. A Concise History of Modern India. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012.
20. Assmann, Jan. The Price of Monotheism. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2009.
21. Asad, Talal. Formations of the Secular: Christianity, Islam, Modernity. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2003.