“You act like mortals in all that your fear, and like immortals in all that you desire.” (Seneca, ca. 65 CE/2004, p. 5)
Preface
Long before modern psychologists set sail into the uncharted waters of the human psyche, ancient Mesopotamians etched the story of Gilgamesh onto clay tablets—an epic that is, quite literally, as old as time, being the earliest recorded written story in human history. But to read the story at face value—as just a heroic saga—would be missing the point. Beneath the surface of its battles and divine encounters lies a meditation on power, mortality, and the unrelenting search for meaning, seen through the eyes of a leader in crisis. Despite being over four millennia old, the struggles of Gilgamesh feel eerily contemporary, especially today, as if the anxieties of the proverbial kings haven’t changed all that much. Perhaps they never do.
The Modern Quest for Omnipotence: Echoes of Gilgamesh in Today’s Leaders
Since the dawn of civilization, power has seduced, corrupted, and ultimately devoured those who grasp it too tightly. The Epic of Gilgamesh tells of a king obsessed with immortality—a ruler who, after conquering all he could, sought to escape the one enemy he could not defeat: time. Today, echoes of Gilgamesh’s pursuit of omnipotence, reverberate in boardrooms, political offices, and billionaire enclaves.
In fact, this pursuit has taken on new, grotesque forms. In its literal manifestation, we have biotech moguls like Bryan Johnson, pouring fortunes into longevity research, essentially transforming his body into a controversial science experiment, treating aging like a technical flaw to be engineered away. An attempt to outlive nature itself under the premise “Don’t Die”.
This phenomenon has also become part of the zeitgeist. The billion-dollar wellness industry thrives on the promise of extending life, repackaging ancient dreams of immortality into supplements and biohacking regimens. People now seek measurable proof of their defiance against time by testing their biological age against their chronological years. The trend fuels the illusion of control over aging, reinforcing the idea that mortality can be hacked, delayed, or even avoided.
Meanwhile, in its broader, more symbolic sense, the pursuit of omnipotence is apparent in world leaders (and the powerful interest groups that shape their decisions). They bend laws and institutions to secure their grip on power. Seeking political immortality, they extend their rule through manipulation, fear, and, at times, abhorrent violence. They push as far as rewriting constitutions to cling to their precious power, refusing to step aside even when democracy (and humanity) demands it.
We also see its insatiable fangs in the oligarchs who once sought to dominate markets, accruing wealth beyond any conceivable need. But even that was not enough as they turned their gaze to the stars, only to find that space, too, could not satiate their lust for power. While others sought to extend their empire beyond Earth, as if reaching the cosmos would solidify their place among the gods.
In these figures, it is evident that the pursuit of omnipotence—the belief that no boundary, whether physical, biological, or societal, is beyond their ability to overcome—is fuelled by power and power is never satisfied. It is always hungry. And just as Gilgamesh discovered that immortality was an illusion, will today’s leaders meet the same fate and recognize the fragility of their own power? Or will their pursuit reshape our world in ways we have yet to understand?
This article explores the modern obsession with omnipotence through the lens of one of humanity’s oldest cautionary tales. Drawing from psychodynamic theory, I explore the intricate themes of omnipotence and the eventual need for wholeness (a subject that I will continue to explore in my upcoming article). These ideas permeate this ancient text, where the archetypal battle erupts between “the bad”—the ego's illusion of godlike power—and “the good”—the soul's yearning for integration and completion.
The Omnipotence of Thoughts: When Thoughts Becomes Delusion
Freud’s concept of ‘omnipotence of thoughts’ (Freud, 1913) describes a psychological state where individuals believe their sheer will can shape reality. It begins in childhood, when imagination and reality blur, allowing for magical thinking—the belief that thoughts alone can influence the external world. Imagine of a child jumping off a chair thinking they can fly like Superman. Most people outgrow this. But some—particularly those in positions of extreme power—never do. Instead, wearing their figurative Superman capes, they regress into this mindset, mistaking their authority for invincibility.
Surrounded by wealth, perverse adulation, and unquestioned authority, they convince themselves that:
- Their vision alone determines reality – “If I say it, it must be true”.
- Their will is stronger than facts – “I don’t need advisors, I know best”.
- Their power makes them untouchable – “I will never fail because I am invincible”.
This might seem like ego run amok, but it is not. In fact, it is what Freud (1923) and later theorists, including Melanie Klein (1946), also recognized as a defence mechanism—a psychological shield against anxiety and helplessness. From this lens, leaders who become blindly entranced by their own mythos are often warding off a deep-seated fear of mortality and limitation, splitting reality into absolutes—seeing themselves as all-powerful while projecting weakness, failure, and vulnerability onto others, with no room for nuance.
In psychodynamic theory this behaviour is known as inflation—a phenomenon where individuals develop an exaggerated sense of power, seeing themselves as godlike or invincible. Klein saw a similar process in early development: when a child believes that their thoughts alone shape the world, it provides a comforting illusion of control. But when adults cling to this belief by internalizing their subjective experience of their childhood vis-a-vis their parents, it mutates into a dangerous form of detachment from reality.
Freud, Jung, and the Psychology of Power: Why Some Leaders Never Learn
Both Freud and Jung explored the dangers of unchecked omnipotence, but they disagreed on how to escape it.
Freud warned that leaders trapped in the omnipotence of thoughts remain in delusion until catastrophe forces them to confront reality and tears their illusions apart. Gilgamesh resisted his mortality until Enkidu’s (his greatest friend and companion) death shattered his illusion of control. Likewise, according to Freud, leaders who refuse to acknowledge their limits often (and eventually) face collapse with no other way out.
Jung, however, saw a different way forward. He believed that wisdom comes through integration, which can be achieved through the process of individuation (Jung, 1959). Individuation is a process where individuals accept their limitations rather than deny them. Jung warned that leaders who reject their flaws become fragmented and thus consumed by their own illusions of grandeur. He argued that true wholeness comes from acknowledging the unconscious and confronting the shadow self. He defined the shadow as the hidden, often repressed aspects of the self that, when suppressed, leads to hubris and downfall. He believed that true wholeness can never be achieved through external conquests or control. The more one resists the internal path of individuation the more violently reality forces itself upon them leading to collapse. History is littered with leaders who refused to step down. They resisted change, believing they could bend the world to their will. But in the end, the result was always the same: emperors dethroned, CEOs ousted, regimes overthrown.
Enkidu: The Shadow That Shaped a King
Gilgamesh laments the death of Enkidu. From Ludmila Zeman’s The Revenge of Ishtar, the second volume of a trilogy of beautifully illustrated children’s books retelling The Epic of Gilgamesh.
The wild man Enkidu was first created by the Gods to tame Gilgamesh. He reflected everything Gilgamesh rejected: humility, instinct, and the inevitability of death. Their initial clash was a violent struggle for dominance as Gilgamesh had to confront a force he could not overpower, something he had never experienced before.
In Jungian terms, we can stipulate that Enkidu represents the shadow. At first, Gilgamesh attempts to dominate Enkidu, which at some point he does, convinced that control equates to strength. But when Gilgamesh embraces Enkidu as an equal, he becomes a more balanced leader, showing that true power lies in integration. However, this balance is lost when Enkidu dies, after which Gilgamesh spirals into a desperate pursuit of immortality, completely rejecting the idea that his power has limits.
Modern leaders fall into the same trap. The pursuit of omnipotence, at its core, can be seen as a rejection of their shadow. Those who fail to integrate their own "Enkidu”, the part of themselves that reminds them they are human, become consumed by fear and isolation. Clinging to the illusion of invincibility, they lose touch with reality.
Gilgamesh’s greatest tragedy was not the death of Enkidu but rather the death of what it represented. He lost his tether to reality because without Enkidu, he could no longer see his own limits, and in that blindness, he chased an impossible dream. Today’s leaders must ask themselves: What illusions are they clinging to? And what truths are they refusing to confront? What is their impossible dream?
The Seductive Trap
In today’s rapidly changing and highly connected world, modern leaders, however, seem to resist this lesson and refuse to even reflect on the above questions. We see many leaders fall into the trap of believing in their own invulnerability. This delusion is often fuelled by the mega power of their positions and the high stakes of their decisions. However, the onus does not lie solely on them. It is also driven by latent societal expectations of leadership. There’s an innate pressure on leaders to appear infallible with any sign of vulnerability seen as weakness. There is also the undeniable rapid technological change, which feeds into their false sense of control.
Seduced by the belief in their unlimited power, leaders become blinded by overconfidence and hubris. As a result, they disregard diverse perspectives and make unilateral decisions. These choices alienate key stakeholders and push their organizations toward unsustainable goals—and, often times, eventual demise.
Mastery Over Power, Mastery Over Self
What then is the alternative?
Leaders who don’t exhibit omnipotent behaviour are ones who acknowledge their own limitations. They embrace their vulnerability and accept the transience of power. They don’t see leadership as a form of escape from the proverbial death and instead create something greater than themselves. Nelson Mandela embodied this philosophy in a way few leaders ever have.
After 27 years in prison—stripped of agency, dignity, and time—Mandela emerged like a phoenix from the ashes. He did not seek retribution. He arose as a statesman committed to reconciliation. He had seen what unchecked power does to men and knew firsthand that real leadership is not about domination. He recognized that it lies in the ability to unite people who have every reason to remain divided.
Perhaps, what was most striking was his willingness to step aside. Mandela could have clung to the presidency easily and justified extending his rule under the guise of stability. Instead, he made the radical choice—the one most leaders fail to make. He served only one term as president and left, voluntarily passing the baton—a decision that cemented his legacy as a leader who put the country above himself. He did not mistake himself for the movement. In doing so, he shattered the pattern of strongmen who outstay their welcome. He proved that a leader’s legacy is not built on how long they reign but on what they leave behind. By letting go, he ensured that the transformation he started would outlive him. He ensured the survival of an idea—the belief that justice, unity and dignity would prevail over oppression and vengeance.
Marcus Aurelius is another visionary that recognized the necessity of confronting one’s own ego. Like Mandela, he practiced humility in the face of power. Make no mistake, he was an emperor who wielded absolute power, but he saw it as a test of discipline rather than a licence for excess, which he detailed in Meditations—his manifesto for self-mastery. He considered the tyranny of his own desires to be his own true foe in battle, not his enemies of the frontier.
As he wrote, “Things do not touch the soul, for they are external and remain immovable; but our perturbations come only from the opinion which is within (Aurelius, ca. 180/2023, Book 4, Section 3, p. 57).
The Omnipotence Paradox: How the Most Powerful Become Trapped by Their Own Myth
The Omnipotence Paradox asks: Can an all-powerful being create a weight so heavy that even they cannot lift it? If they can, then there is something they cannot do—lift the weight. If they cannot, then their power is already limited. Either way, absolute power contradicts itself.
The same paradox plays out in the real world: Can a leader amass so much control that even they cannot escape its consequences? History has made the answer clear, yet today’s titans have not been paying attention. They are constructing systems so vast, accumulating wealth so extreme, and clinging to power so desperately that they become trapped by their own creations.
If today’s leaders wish to endure, they must learn what Gilgamesh ultimately did—true power comes not from conquering the world, but from understanding oneself. Those who fail to grasp this truth will, like him, inevitably learn it the hard way.
Will modern leaders learn this lesson? Only time (their mortal enemy) will tell.
References:
Aurelius, M. (2023). Meditations (G. Long, Trans.). Dover Publications. (Original work published ca. 180 CE)
Freud, S. (1913). Totem and taboo: Resemblances between the mental lives of savages and neurotics (A. A. Brill, Trans.). Moffat, Yard & Co. (Original work published 1913)
Freud, S. (1923). The ego and the id (J. Riviere, Trans.). W. W. Norton & Company. (Original work published 1923)
Jung, C. G. (1959). The archetypes and the collective unconscious (R. F. C. Hull, Trans.). Princeton University Press.
Klein, M. (1946). Notes on some schizoid mechanisms. International Journal of Psychoanalysis, 27, 99–110.
Seneca. (2004). On the shortness of life (C. D. N. Costa, Trans.). Penguin Books. (Original work pupublished ca. 65 CE).
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