But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also.

The Bible, Matthew 5:38-39

If ego merely harmed critical thinking, I would not even bother writing this post. Plenty has been written about that already, and I touched on it myself when I explained why I stopped arguing with people. It turns out the damage goes much further. Ego can be a disaster, for the individual who carries it and for the whole of humankind.

I mean that literally. Follow ego from the inside of one skull outward, and the same mechanism that makes a code review unpleasant ends up, at a large enough scale, filling graveyards. Here is the path.

Ego Doesn’t Want the Truth. It Wants to Be Right.

Start at the surface, where the damage is familiar.

Seeking truth requires one thing above all: the willingness to be wrong. You hold a belief loosely, you test it against reality, and when reality disagrees, you drop the belief. That is the entire method. Everything else is detail.

Ego makes this impossible, because ego turns beliefs into possessions. Once an opinion is mine, dropping it feels like losing a limb. So the mind quietly switches jobs. It stops asking “is this true?” and starts asking “how do I defend this?” Every counterexample becomes an attack to be repelled. Every piece of evidence gets sorted into “supports me” and “must be explained away.” The engineer who cannot let go of his design, the scientist who cannot let go of her theory, the investor who cannot let go of a losing position: they are not stupid. They are simply no longer looking for the truth. They are guarding a self-image, and the truth is collateral.

And here is what makes the whole trade absurd: the self-image is fake. It is not a person. It is a story the mind tells about a person, stitched together from old praise, old wounds, and the positions it happened to take last year. Eckhart Tolle, in The Power of Now, calls it the false self, and the phrase is exact. There is no engineer who is his design, no scientist who is her theory. There is only a mental picture that claims to be them, and it is that picture, not any real person, that cannot survive being wrong. Ego trades away the truth to protect something that was never there.

The cruel part is that ego disguises this as thinking. It feels like reasoning from the inside. But reasoning that can only arrive at one conclusion is not reasoning. It is a lawyer with a verdict already written.

There is a new reason this matters, and it is not a small one. We now share the world with AI that has read more than any human ever will, and it has no ego. Show it a counterexample and it updates on the spot. It does not defend last year’s answer, it does not need to save face, and it has no self-image to protect, because it has no self. So ask yourself honestly: if the machine already knows more than you and can also change its mind faster than you, what exactly are you bringing to the table by refusing to change yours? Knowledge used to be the human edge, and that edge is gone. The only thing left to compete on is judgment, and judgment is precisely the faculty ego destroys. A person with an ego in the age of AI is a worse thinker than the machine on both fronts at once: it knows more, and it is more willing to be wrong.

This is bad enough. If ego stopped here, it would be hard to call it a disaster. It does not stop here.

The Body Pays for the Mind’s Stories

The second stage is what convinced me the word “disaster” is not an exaggeration.

Tolle makes a second claim in that book, one that sounds mystical at first and turns out to be brutally practical. The ego, he says, is the mind identified with itself: the voice in your head that narrates, judges, compares, replays the past, and rehearses the future, and that you mistake for you. Emotion, in his framework, is the body’s reaction to that mind. The mind tells a story of threat, insult, or loss, and the body responds as if the story were happening right now.

Think about what that means. Your body does not know the difference between a tiger in the room and a tiger in your thoughts. When the ego replays the slight from last week, the body floods itself with the chemistry of danger. When the ego rehearses tomorrow’s humiliation, the body braces for a blow that is not coming. The chest tightens. Sleep goes. The jaw clenches. All of it is the body faithfully responding to a mind that will not stop broadcasting alarms.

Do this once and you have a bad afternoon. Do it every day for years and the body settles into a permanent state of siege. This is where mental health stops being an abstraction. We talk about anxiety and depression as if they were weather, something that rolls in from outside. Tolle’s framework points at a source much closer to home: a mind that never stops generating threats, and a body that has no choice but to believe it. He calls the accumulated residue the pain-body, and whatever you call it, anyone who has lived through depression will recognize the shape: a mind that attacks its own host, relentlessly, and a body that has stopped being able to tell the attack from reality. The exhaustion is not imaginary. The mind’s stories are fiction, but the body’s response to them is entirely real.

I am not claiming ego is the only cause of mental illness. Brains have chemistry, lives have real tragedies, and some people need medicine and professional help, full stop. But a large share of everyday suffering has no external cause at all. It is manufactured, one thought at a time, by a self that cannot stop defending, comparing, and replaying. That share is the part ego owns.

At the extreme end, the ego’s story becomes so unbearable that people end their own lives to escape it. I want to say this carefully, because it is the heaviest sentence in this post. Suicide is rarely a response to circumstances alone. It is a response to what the mind says about the circumstances, to the story that this pain is permanent, that I am worthless, that there is no way out. Those are the ego’s sentences. The body simply cannot survive being told them forever.

So no, ego does not merely cloud judgment. Left unwatched, it eats mental health first and then the body, until it can wear a person down to nothing. That is what one ego does to its own host.

Two Egos in a Room

You can watch the next stage any night of the week. Two people start arguing. It does not matter about what; a parking spot, a referee’s call, a comment on the internet. Within a minute, the topic is gone and only the egos are left, and neither can back down, because for the ego backing down means losing the self, not the point. So each reply has to be a little sharper than the last. Voices rise. Someone says the thing that cannot be unsaid. Then a shove, and then a fist.

Nobody in that fight decided to be violent. They only decided, one sentence at a time, not to be the one who yielded. That is what makes ego so much more dangerous than anger. Anger flares and burns out. Ego ratchets. Every exchange raises the floor, and the floor never comes back down, because lowering it would mean admitting the last exchange was a mistake, and the ego cannot admit mistakes. Bar fights, road rage, feuds between neighbors, and a heartbreaking share of domestic violence all follow the same script: two minds fused with their own positions, escalating each other until words run out and bodies take over.

This is why the verse at the top of this post is not the naive advice it sounds like. Jesus said it in the Sermon on the Mount, two thousand years before anyone wrote a book about ego, and he was describing exactly this script. Turning the other cheek reads as weakness until you have watched an escalation up close. The second cheek is the one move that breaks the script. It is a refusal to raise the floor, and an escalation needs two players to keep climbing. What it costs is exactly one thing: the ego’s insistence on not being the one who yielded. That is the point. The instruction is not really about the other person at all. It is about having no self in the room that needs to be defended, because a fight cannot escalate against someone who is not fighting back.

Notice that nothing new was needed to get here. The same refusal to be wrong that guards a bad design in a code review, the same story-telling mind that wears down its own body, is all it takes. Add a second ego and the damage simply stops being contained inside one person. Two egos are already a small war. What is missing is only the scale, and ego is very good at scaling.

Ego Does Not Stop at the Skin

Here is the property of ego that makes it dangerous at scale: it attaches to anything it can call mine.

My opinion, my solution, my code. My team, my organization, my company. My language, my religion, my country. Each attachment extends the boundary of the self a little further, and each extension brings the same defenses along with it. The football fan says “we won” about a game he watched from a couch. The patriot feels a personal wound when a stranger criticizes a country of hundreds of millions of people, most of whom he will never meet. Nothing happened to him. Something happened to an idea he has fused with himself, and the ego cannot tell the two apart.

Let me be precise about what I am criticizing here. Loving the place you grew up, its food and its language and its people, is not ego. Gratitude is not ego. The trouble begins with identification, the moment “I am from here” becomes “this is what I am,” so that any flaw in the country becomes a flaw in me and must be denied the way I would deny a flaw in myself.

Watch what this does to truth-seeking. A person who cannot hear criticism of himself now cannot hear criticism of his nation either, and the reasons are identical. Questioning the collective self-image feels like betrayal, not of a country, but of oneself. And now the mechanism has a multiplier: a million people defending the same image, each one reinforcing the others, none of them able to say “we might be wrong” without feeling like a traitor. Group ego is individual ego with the volume turned up and the brakes removed.

From Bruised Ego to War

Put a strong ego at the top of a strong collective ego, and the bar fight is played out with armies.

A leader who has fused himself with the nation experiences every diplomatic setback as a personal humiliation. Backing down is no longer a policy option. To the ego, backing down is death, so it is simply not on the menu. Every escalation by the other side must be answered by a bigger one, not because the bigger one is wise but because the smaller one would feel like losing. The same person who could not concede a point in a meeting now cannot concede a border, and this time other people’s sons pay for it.

Read the history of almost any war and you will find the ego’s vocabulary all over it: face, honor, prestige, humiliation, never appearing weak. Rarely are wars fought because the arithmetic favors them. Most are fought because someone with power could not bear to be seen giving way, and because a population that had fused its identity with the flag cheered him on. The cold cost-benefit calculation, the kind that would have said “this is not worth it,” never gets a hearing, for the same reason it never gets a hearing inside one ego-driven mind: the conclusion was written before the reasoning started.

That is the whole path. Ego prevents one person from seeing the truth. Ego makes one body sick. Ego turns two people into a fight. Ego fuses a million bodies into one wounded self. Ego sends that self to war. It is the same disease at five different scales, and nothing new is added at any step. Only the body count changes.

The Only Place to Put It Down

If ego scales up this cleanly, then the only place it can be reliably stopped is at the bottom, in one mind at a time. Nobody can dissolve a nation’s ego from the outside. But every collective ego is made of individual ones, and an individual ego has a weakness a nation’s does not: its owner can look at it directly.

Tolle’s advice is to start there. Watch the voice in your head. Not argue with it, not suppress it, just notice it as a voice. The moment you can hear the mind narrating, you are no longer fully identified with the narration. There is you, and there is the story, and a gap has opened between them.

That gap is the beginning. Observing your ego is like noticing a leak in the hull. It is necessary, and it is far better than sailing on in ignorance, but the boat is still taking on water. A lot of people stop here. They learn to catch themselves being defensive, they get comfortable saying “that’s my ego talking,” and then they go right on being defensive, now with better vocabulary. Awareness that never turns into removal is just a more sophisticated way of keeping the ego around.

The goal is to get rid of it. Not to manage it, not to keep it in check, not to have a healthy amount of it. There is no healthy amount of a thing whose entire function is to make you unable to be wrong. Every time you catch the voice defending a position, the work is to ask what you would lose if you simply let the position go, and then to notice that the honest answer is nothing. The design was never you. The comment was never about you. The country’s mistake was never your mistake. Drop the identification each time it appears, and each time it comes back a little weaker, until one day you notice that the thing that used to bristle is no longer there to bristle.

I am not going to pretend I have finished this work. I still catch my ego many times a day, defending a design, bristling at a comment, feeling a small hot flash of how dare they. But catching it is no longer where I stop. Each time, I try to actually put it down, and each time it is a little lighter than the last. That is the whole program: notice it, then let it go, over and over, until there is nothing left to notice.

I used to think ego was a personality flaw, the sort of thing you could work around in a difficult colleague. I no longer think that. Ego is a mechanism. It runs the same way at every scale, and at every scale it does the same thing: it trades the truth for the feeling of being right, and then it sends the bill to the body, or to the country, or to the world.

So the answer is not to tame it. The answer is to get rid of it, and getting rid of it comes down to one word: mine. My opinion, my design, my reputation, my side, my country. Every one of those is a handle the ego uses to grab hold of you, and every fight, every sleepless night, every war in this post started with someone refusing to let go of one of them. Take away “mine” and there is nothing left for the ego to defend, because there is no longer an owner in the room.

The masters, the enlightened ones like Jesus, often call it surrender. Not surrender to the other person, and not giving up on what is true. Surrender of the self that needs to win. Turn the other cheek, not because the slap did not land, but because there is no one there who has to answer it.

I followed ego outward in this post, from one skull to a battlefield. The path runs the other way too. Every war begins as an argument, every argument begins as a self that cannot yield, and every self that cannot yield begins as a story someone believed. Stop believing the story, and the whole chain has nowhere to start.

So I will end with a plea rather than a conclusion. Your ego is not protecting you. It is costing you the truth, wearing down your body, poisoning your relationships, and, multiplied by enough people, it is the raw material every war has ever been made of. It gives you nothing back, because the self it defends was never real to begin with.

For your own health, and for the whole of humankind, please get rid of your ego. It is the only disaster in this world that every one of us has the power to end, and the place to end it is in your own mind, the best time to end it is now.