If the Ancestors of Humankind Were Apes, Why Is There No One Who Worships Apes?

If the Ancestors of Humankind Were Apes, Why Is There No One Who Worships Apes?

The question “If the ancestors of humankind were apes, why is there no one who worships apes?” is intriguing because it touches both evolutionary science and the history of religion, culture, and psychology. To address it, we must clarify what “ancestors” and “worship” mean, and then explore how humans choose the objects of their reverence. The absence of ape-worship is not a historical accident but the outcome of symbolic, cultural, and psychological dynamics that shape human meaning-making.

From science, humans did not literally descend from today’s chimpanzees or gorillas. Evolutionary biology shows that humans and modern apes share a common ancestor millions of years ago, neither fully ape nor human. Thus, the question rests on a misunderstanding of evolution. Still, the symbolic point remains: why are beings so close to us in lineage not objects of worship?

Religious worship rarely concerns ancestry. Instead, people worship what they perceive as transcendent, mysterious, powerful, or protective. Gods are linked to the sky, storms, fertility, or death. Sacred animals usually became so because of their symbolic power or their role in survival. Cats in Egypt protected food stores and embodied mystery; cows in India became sacred for their economic and social value. Apes, however, were not central to human survival, nor did they represent traits admired universally. Their closeness to humans may even have discouraged worship.

Psychologically, humans tend to worship what is “other,” not what is “too similar.” Apes resemble us in intelligence and emotion but lack the language, morality, and culture that define humanity. This creates unease rather than awe, echoing the “uncanny valley” effect. Instead of reverence, apes may have inspired discomfort, leading cultures to symbolically avoid them.

Yet it would be false to say apes were never valued. In Hinduism, Hanuman—divine monkey—embodies strength and devotion. In Chinese mythology, Sun Wukong, the Monkey King, blends trickery and divine power. Such examples show ape-like beings held symbolic roles, though societies worshipped mythologized versions, not real apes.

Geography also mattered. Apes are native to Africa’s forests and parts of Southeast Asia. Early civilizations in Mesopotamia, Egypt, Greece, and China rarely encountered them. Lacking daily presence, apes were less likely to become sacred, unlike cattle, horses, or dogs, which were integral to survival and easily absorbed into religious symbolism.

Religious evolution also moved upward—from animistic animal spirits toward gods of the heavens. Apes, bound to jungles, did not match the cosmic aspirations of civilizations. Worshipping them could seem like regression to primitive origins, while religion aimed to elevate humanity beyond animal nature.

Ironically, apes may have been excluded precisely because of their closeness. To worship them would mean acknowledging too directly humanity’s animal roots—something cultures sought to transcend. Religion often reinforced a boundary between human and animal, divine and earthly. Apes, uncomfortably placed on that boundary, were left outside sanctity.

In conclusion, the absence of ape-worship is neither evidence against evolution nor a cultural anomaly. It reveals how humans construct identity and transcendence. We worship what is distant enough to inspire awe, useful enough for survival, or mysterious enough to symbolize divine power. Apes, too similar yet not exalted, occupied a symbolic blind spot. Still, through figures like Hanuman and Sun Wukong, humans reimagined them in myth rather than direct worship. The question thus highlights less about apes and more about humanity’s urge to rise above animal ancestry and claim a higher destiny.