The spiritual war, which has been the meaning and nerve of world history at its present stage, as we can see, ends with the temporary triumph of the powers of darkness on the eve of the day of Judgment. This triumph is revealed to John in the form of two "beasts": the "beast from the sea" (v. 1) and the "beast from the earth" (v. 11). This is, of course, not about animals: the beings John sees most of all resemble the underground monsters of Egyptian or Babylonian mythology, personifying the forces of chaos that rose up against the world order established by the higher powers. In the Bible such monsters symbolize the forces of world evil opposing God. It is no accident that the "beast from the sea" has the same seven heads and ten horns as the dragon, who in the biblical books becomes a symbol of the devil himself: the "beast" acts by his power and according to his will (v. 2). And yet the "beast from the sea" and the "red dragon" are not one and the same. The spirit of darkness prefers, when possible, to act in the world through others' hands, hiding behind natural elements or social processes that he strives to direct in the direction he needs.
The sea and water in the Bible often became symbols of chaos, of the element directed by dark forces toward the destruction of the world order created by God. Of course, chaos could never have appeared in the world created by God on its own; it was generated by a will opposing God and seeking to destroy God's design for the world. And this chaos evidently affected not only the natural sphere but also the social one: it is no accident that the apostle mentions wars which, as we can see, cover if not the whole world then a large part of it, becoming a temptation even for the "saints," that is, for Christians. John can only recall, slightly modifying, Jesus' words about the path of the sword, on which destruction inevitably awaits everyone who takes that path (v. 10).
The war mentioned here does not have to be a world war in the sense familiar to us; the so-called "small wars" spreading everywhere can turn out to be spiritually no less, and perhaps even more, destructive. After all, both world wars began and ended within the lifetime of a single generation, one that had not forgotten peace as the norm of relations between states and peoples, although, of course, war could not help leaving its mark on the souls and hearts of those who passed through it.
Meanwhile, "small" wars last for decades, and where they are fought, whole generations often grow up knowing nothing except war, which they perceive no longer as an emergency but as the norm of life. It is natural for a person who has grown up in such conditions to think that one can rely only on force, that universal chaos is the natural state of society, and that there is no alternative and there can be none. And "who is like this beast? And who can fight against it?" (v. 4). It is no wonder that the preaching of the Kingdom in such conditions often proves powerless: to see an alternative to universal violence in the nightmare of unceasing war is possible only by special revelation; for this one must be "written in the book of life" (vv. 7-8). And without revelation, from a person living in such a world, in response to words about God and the Kingdom, one can sooner expect mockery and blasphemy: for nothing around him reminds him of God or the Kingdom, while everything reminds him of the devil and of hell (vv. 5-6).
As we can see, the proclamation of the beast means the beginning of the age of the "red horseman" (Rev 6:3-4): he proclaims that war of all against all, that triumph of force which this horseman with the sword symbolizes. Here it can indeed appear that there was no defeat of the devil: the mortal wound on the beast's head does not appear healed by accident (v. 3). In the age of the "red horseman," of the triumphant "beast from the sea," the majority will think that the Kingdom is as far from the world and from each of us as it was before the coming of Christ, and perhaps even before the calling of Abraham.
