Deconstructing the Worldview of Peter Thiel
Peter Thiel is one of Silicon Valley's most prodigious thinkers, and he's a very dangerous man with a very dangerous worldview. Thiel's philosophical framework is notoriously byzantine, it weaves together Christian eschatology, mimetic theory, and technological determinism, and his ideas have gained outsized influence despite being, in my view, fundamentally and catastrophically wrong. His worldview represents a profound misunderstanding of human nature, society, and progress - yet his ideas continue to shape Silicon Valley's trajectory in deeply concerning ways.
For my sins, I've read several hundred pages of Thiel's writing and listend to all of his lectures. I've also read a number of books and articles that have been written about him for this project. I'm not going to cover his personal life or history of his business, Max Chafkin's book The Contrarian does that much better than I ever could, instead I'll focus purely on philosophy and politics. For core ideas and terms that Thiel uses in a heterodox way that differs from mainstream philosophy, I'll use "bold quotes" to indicate that.
The sheer volume of Thiel's writing and lectures either indicates either superhuman cognitive dissonance or the pretense that he genuinely believes what he is saying. I'm going to err toward the latter and try to analyze his worldview in a way that takes what he says at face value, because it's a simpler explanation. Although I wouldn't rule out the possibility that some of the things he professes are merely sophistry.
Introduction
Thiel's philosophical worldview is woven from threads of Christian eschatology, René Girard's mimetic theory, and a profound skepticism towards modern political and technological narratives. At its core lies a Manichean vision, where the world is a battleground between order and chaos, good and evil, with humanity teetering on the brink of self-destruction due to the insidious force of mimetic desire. This is not a passive observation; Thiel perceives himself as an active agent, a harbinger of the future tasked with guiding civilization away from the abyss and towards a more meaningful existence. This sense of urgency fuels his engagement with technology, politics, and even religion, as he attempts to understand and ultimately shape the course of history.
Thiel's deep engagement with Girard's mimetic theory forms the cornerstone of his worldview. He believes that human desire is not innate, but rather a product of imitation, leading to a perpetual cycle of rivalry, envy, and violence. This understanding informs his critique of modern society, which he sees as being swept away by the "limitless violence of runaway mimesis". He views the modern left as being driven by mimetic rivalry, where competing groups clamor for status and recognition, leading to a cycle of blame and resentment. He also sees the drive for social justice as being connected to the scapegoat mechanism, where societies will seek to blame others for their own problems. He is deeply concerned with preventing the "bad aspects of mimesis" and is critical of utopian dreams of social harmony, arguing that such visions are a form of “indeterminate optimism” — the idea that the future will just get better on it's own — that distract from real problems. Thiel views the traditional political right as being just as complicit in these trends, and often frames his ideas in contrast to both the left and the right.
Thiel's worldview is deeply rooted in Christian eschatology, specifically its emphasis on a linear view of time culminating in a final judgment. He interprets the Book of Revelation not merely as a symbolic text but as a guide for navigating the challenges of modernity. He views the concept of the Antichrist as a real and present danger, embodied not by a single figure but by a system, a one-world totalitarian government that gains power through deception, promising peace and safety while ultimately suppressing freedom. His literal interpretation of the core concepts of Christian theology, such as the fallen nature of man and original sin, frames his understanding of human nature, but he takes a more metaphorical view of the specifics of prophecy. Notably, Thiel appears more interested in Christianity's institutional and doctrinal structures than metaphysical questions about God's existence or nature - he is "religious rather than spiritual". He does not view the future as predetermined, but rather that it is contingent on human action. He believes that humans are capable of rational and moral behavior, and that their actions matter in the long run. He believes that he is living in a "powerfully apocalyptic dimension", where mimetic desire has the potential to lead to a catastrophe, while also seeing the possibility of a better future.
In Thiel's mind the Enlightenment believes in the "wisdom of crowds" - that large groups of people will naturally arrive at better decisions than individuals. This stands in stark contrast to the Biblical view which emphasizes the "madness of crowds" - how mobs can be driven to violence and irrationality, as seen in events like the crucifixion of Jesus. This tension between these two views of collective human behavior deeply informs Thiel's skepticism of democracy and modern liberal institutions. He sees the Enlightenment's faith in collective wisdom as dangerously naive, ignoring humanity's tendency toward mimetic violence and scapegoating that the Bible allegedly recognizes. For Thiel, this represents a fundamental flaw in Enlightenment thinking that threatens to unleash destructive social forces if left unchecked.
However, Thiel is also deeply critical of the secular narratives that dominate modern thought. He sees the Enlightenment as having "whitewashed away" the fundamental issue of violence and is skeptical of the modern idea of progress. This skepticism extends to modern technology, which he sees as having the potential for both great good and great evil. He is wary of technology being used for mass surveillance and control, particularly by a centralized authority. He sees globalization as having a similar effect, and he is critical of the concept of a one-world government, which he believes would tend towards totalitarianism and the suppression of dissent. He sees the "nation-state" as an important safeguard against a one-world government. He also sees China as a major geopolitical and ideological rival to the West, and calls for a unified response to counter its influence.
Allegedly, Thiel finds hope in the non-violent message of Jesus Christ, which he views as a solution to the cycle of mimetic violence. For Thiel, the Christian perspective unveils the truth of the human condition, specifically exposing the "hidden victims" at the heart of the social order. He sees Christ’s sacrifice as a way to break this cycle, emphasizing that “death is evil” and should not be accepted. Although, he is aware of the tension within Christianity itself concerning peace and violence. He sees the need for a critical and discerning approach, which can include using violence, where “limited and sacred violence” is required to protect against “unlimited and desacralized violence.” He embraces a linear view where our actions in the present can either lead to catastrophe, or a more just and peaceful future, and believes that history is moving towards a final end.
Thiel's engagement with Christian cosmology operates on multiple levels, embracing both literal and metaphorical interpretations that he sees as pointing to deeper truths about human civilization. While he takes core concepts like original sin and the fallen nature of man quite literally, he views the specifics of prophecy more metaphorically - not as precise predictions, but as archetypal patterns that reveal fundamental dynamics of human society. For Thiel, Christianity's linear view of time, culminating in either catastrophe or redemption, captures an essential truth about civilization's trajectory. He sees the biblical narrative of creation, fall, and potential redemption as mapping onto real historical processes, where humanity's mimetic nature (original sin) leads to cycles of violence and scapegoating, but also contains the possibility of transcendence through Christ's example of non-violence. The Antichrist, in this framework, represents not necessarily a single individual but rather the ever-present tendency toward totalitarian control and the suppression of human freedom. Thus, for Thiel, Christian cosmology is "true" in a deeper sense than mere historical accuracy — one might say he holds Christian cosmology to be presuppositional or suprarational. It provides him with a framework for understanding the fundamental arc of human civilization and the choices we face as we move toward either destruction or redemption, chaos or order, not unlike the cosmic forces of the Lord of the Rings.
Ultimately, Thiel’s worldview is driven by a deep-seated need for order and a rejection of the chaos and violence he sees as defining the modern world. He believes in the power of human agency to shape the future and seeks to guide civilization away from disaster, not just as an observer, but as an active participant. He sees himself as or part of the "katechon", a force that restrains chaos and evil, and believes that he has a responsibility to make the world what he perceives as a better place. This Manichean vision, coupled with his belief in the importance of long-term planning and the power of "definite optimism," fuels his relentless pursuit of new technologies and his contrarian approach to politics and society. Thiel is not just a businessman, or a political commentator, but a philosopher seeking to understand and shape the trajectory of human civilization, convinced that it is headed towards either a catastrophic end, or a new beginning. Let's deconstruct each facet of this philosophy in sections and see how they allegedly synthesize into something like an overarching worldview.
René Girard
Thiel's interpretation of René Girard's mimetic theory forms a central pillar of his philosophical worldview, providing a framework for understanding human behavior, societal structures, and the potential trajectory of civilization. At its core, Thiel understands Girard as arguing that human desire is not an autonomous force but rather a product of imitation. People do not instinctively know what they want; instead, they mimic the desires of others, leading to a complex web of relationships defined by envy, rivalry, and ultimately, violence. This concept, known as mimetic desire, is the foundation upon which Thiel builds his analysis of everything from social media to political movements and the potential for both human destruction and redemption.
Thiel’s understanding of mimetic desire emphasizes its triangular nature, where desire flows not directly from the subject to an object, but through a "mediator" or model. This means that individuals often want something simply because someone else desires it, regardless of the inherent value of the object itself. The relationship between the subject and the mediator becomes more significant than the object being pursued, often leading to competition and conflict. This dynamic is not limited to individuals, but extends to group dynamics where entire communities can become embroiled in mimetic conflicts as they seek to emulate or outdo each other. Thiel sees this constant pursuit and imitation as a significant driver of human history, a process where human desires often become detached from any intrinsic value, becoming instead a reflection of the desires of the "other".
This understanding of desire naturally leads to Girard's concept of the scapegoat mechanism, which Thiel sees as a recurring pattern in human societies. When mimetic rivalry reaches a critical point, leading to a buildup of tension and conflict, societies seek to restore order by channeling the violence onto a single individual or group. The scapegoat, often innocent, becomes the receptacle of collective blame and is sacrificed to appease the community and release pent-up tensions. Thiel emphasizes that the scapegoat mechanism is not an aberration, but a central feature of human societies, reflecting the ever-present potential for mimetic violence. He also notes that this violence is often obscured or hidden, as societies develop elaborate justifications for the scapegoating, and individuals are often unaware of their own participation in these dynamics. He sees the "city of man" as being built upon hidden victims.
Thiel's interpretation of Girard is profoundly influenced by his Christian perspective, particularly by the Judeo-Christian revelation, where the story of Jesus Christ exposes the injustice of the scapegoat mechanism. Thiel sees the Christian tradition as uniquely offering a lens to view the world from the perspective of the innocent victim, unlike pagan mythologies, which typically view victims as inherently guilty. Jesus' crucifixion, in Thiel's reading, unveils the truth about the scapegoat mechanism and offers a path beyond the cycle of violence and vengeance. He sees the non-violence of Jesus as a way to overcome the inherent violence that arises from mimetic desire. However, while Girard is considered a pacifist, Thiel does not necessarily share this interpretation, and he understands that force is sometimes required to prevent violence from escalating. He does however believe that forgiveness is a key aspect to overcoming mimetic violence. This interpretation of Christian eschatology is central to Thiel’s worldview and is intimately tied to his belief that “death is evil”.
Thiel applies Girard’s ideas to understand various facets of the modern world. He is deeply critical of modern politics, seeing it as having “whitewashed” the problem of human violence, particularly after the Enlightenment. He views identity politics as a form of mimetic conflict, where different groups compete for status and recognition, leading to a cycle of resentment and blame. Thiel is also wary of the idea of inevitable progress, and believes that technology can be used for both good and evil, especially if left unchecked. He believes that technology could also potentially amplify mimetic rivalry, violence, and the potential for global destruction. His concern about existential risks is also informed by his Girardian view, as he believes the modern world, with its interconnectedness and potential for destruction, is particularly susceptible to the “limitless violence of runaway mimesis”, which could lead to an apocalyptic end. He is concerned that we will be stuck in a cycle of mimetic rivalry that could cause a catastrophic end to civilization.
When Thiel says "the state contains violence," he is asserting his observation about the nature of political power and social order. Thiel sees the state as serving an essential function: it acts as a mechanism to channel, control, and limit the inherent violence within human society. This violence, which Girard identifies as stemming from mimetic desire and rivalry, must be contained and directed to prevent society from descending into chaos.
Many on the right-wing spectrum like Thiel allege that the state achieves this containment through what Max Weber called the "monopoly on violence" - the exclusive right to use physical force within a given territory. By establishing laws, enforcing order, and wielding authority, the state claims sole legitimacy over coercive power. This monopoly on violence allows the state to suppress private feuds and vigilantism while channeling conflict resolution through its courts and police. The state's institutions become the only recognized arbiter of force, theoretically preventing the chaos of everyone wielding violence independently.
However, Thiel's relationship with state power is deeply ambivalent, shaped by his fear of becoming a target of the state's scapegoating mechanism. Drawing from Girard's insights about sacrificial violence, Thiel sees successful founders and innovators as potential victims of societal envy and state persecution. This personal anxiety about becoming a scapegoat has driven him toward anti-democratic positions that advocate for limiting state power. His support for minimal government isn't just philosophical—it's a psychological response to his understanding of Girardian dynamics, where he sees state institutions as potential instruments of mimetic violence that could be turned against individuals like himself.
However, while Thiel views mimetic desire as a powerful force driving human history, he also believes that it is not an insurmountable barrier. He believes that certain individuals, whom he terms "sovereign individuals" or "founders", can escape the cycle of imitation and create new realities. These individuals must be protected from the scapegoating tendencies of the state and the mob and are crucial for innovation and progress. His emphasis on human agency, linear time, the Kingdom of Heaven, and a future where all injustices will be revealed, further demonstrates how intimately his Girardian interpretations are tied to his Christian theology. He sees the Christian view as not only a way to understand human behavior, but also a way to overcome the cycle of violence.
If we assume good faith, Thiel's interpretation of René Girard is not simply an academic exercise but a lens through which he views and acts in the world. He understands Girard's ideas as providing a framework for understanding human nature, the roots of violence, and the potential for both destruction and redemption. He uses these concepts to critique modern politics and technology and to guide his own actions in business and politics. Thiel’s approach to Girard is intimately tied to his Christian beliefs, his view of history, and his vision of a future where mimetic violence is overcome and humanity moves towards a more just and peaceful order.
Carl Schmitt
Thiel's philosophical landscape is also significantly shaped by the ideas of Carl Schmitt. It is important to note that Schmitt was a literal member of the German Nazi party. He presented his theories as an ideological foundation of the Nazi dictatorship and a justification of the Führer, which is problematic to say the least. Though Thiel's engagement with Schmitt is neither uncritical nor without qualification, both thinkers share a profound skepticism towards the Enlightenment and its subsequent influence on liberal political theory, especially its tendency to downplay the fundamental role of violence in society and the inescapable nature of political conflict. This shared critique forms a crucial point of convergence between their respective worldviews, yet Thiel's framework, ultimately informed by Christian theology and Girardian insights, seeks to transcend the limitations of Schmitt's more purely political analysis.
A key point of alignment lies in their mutual critique of modern secular politics, which both Thiel and Schmitt view as having failed to address essential questions about human nature and the persistent reality of violence in social orders. Both thinkers argue that modern states, in their attempt to achieve a veneer of neutrality, often neglect underlying theological and moral questions that are crucial for understanding the nature of power and social cohesion. Thiel echoes Schmitt's claim that the Enlightenment has "whitewashed away" the fundamental problem of human violence, leading to a naive and potentially dangerous approach to politics, which he sees as failing to understand the core of human conflict. Both are highly critical of the idea that modern politics is a neutral playing field, and that this belief is actually a delusion.
Schmitt's concept of the political, defined by the fundamental distinction between friend and enemy, also resonates deeply with Thiel. Thiel, like Schmitt, argues that this friend/enemy distinction is not an archaic relic but a crucial element in understanding political dynamics. He views the modern world’s attempt to ignore or transcend this reality as a dangerous oversight. Thiel uses the example of the Reagan coalition, unified by a common enemy in anti-communism, as a powerful illustration of Schmitt's point. This concept informs Thiel's perception of China as a significant geopolitical rival to the West, demonstrating how he uses the friend/enemy distinction to understand international relations. He believes that this concept is not just relevant, but essential for understanding how the world works.
Schmitt's concept of "political theology" posits that modern political concepts are fundamentally secularized theological concepts. He argues that there exists a systematic analogy between theological and political concepts, where sovereign power in the modern state mirrors divine authority in theological systems. This theoretical framework suggests that despite secularization, political structures retain their theological origins and cannot be fully understood without acknowledging this genealogy. The concept of sovereignty, for instance, emerges from the theological notion of divine omnipotence.
The "borderline concept" in Schmitt's work refers to ideas that operate at the limits of normal legal and political order. The most significant of these is his notion of the "state of exception" - a situation where normal legal frameworks are suspended and sovereign power manifests in its purest form. These borderline concepts reveal the underlying structure of political authority by examining moments where established systems reach their limits. Through analysis of these edge cases, Schmitt believes political order ultimately rests on decisions that cannot be fully rationalized or legally codified.
Both Thiel and Schmitt also share a rejection of utopian visions of the future, particularly the belief that society can be perfected through political or social reforms. Thiel views such utopianism as a form of indeterminate optimism that distracts from real problems and real solutions. Similarly, Schmitt believed that attempts to transcend the friend/enemy distinction are ultimately futile and lead to dangerous illusions, and that any attempt to create a universal and peaceful world order is ultimately a dangerous fantasy. This common rejection of utopian thinking is a core element of their shared critique of modern liberal thought.
The role of violence in human societies is also a point of convergence between Thiel and Schmitt. Schmitt argued that a society cannot achieve cohesion without an enemy to define itself against, implying that violence is an inevitable aspect of political order. Thiel, influenced by Girard, sees mimetic desire as a fundamental driver of conflict and violence in the world. However, while Schmitt accepts this as an inherent aspect of politics, Thiel, drawing from Christian theology, posits that the non-violence of Jesus offers a possible alternative to the perpetual cycle of violence. This subtle, but significant divergence, reveals that while Thiel embraces the Schmittian view of violence as an essential aspect of human nature, he does not believe that it is something that must necessarily be embraced.
Thiel’s skepticism towards democracy is another point of convergence with Schmitt, who saw liberal democracy as weak and indecisive, incapable of dealing with exceptional circumstances. Thiel similarly views democracy as having a tendency to devolve into mob rule, leading to scapegoating and the undermining of individual freedoms. He sees that democracy can become a tyrannical force, and that this can be used to justify oppression. This is also connected to his views on Girard, and that the scapegoat mechanism can easily be used by democratic states.
Leo Strauss
Thiel's interpretation of Leo Strauss centers on the idea of hidden truths and the necessity of esoteric writing, a notion that deeply resonates with Thiel's own worldview and his critique of modern secularism. Thiel sees Strauss as a thinker who, like René Girard, recognized the fundamental problem of violence in human nature and the inadequacy of modern political thought to address this issue. Thiel’s understanding of Strauss focuses on the belief that profound truths about human nature and the best form of governance are often concealed, and that only through a careful reading of classical texts, particularly in an esoteric fashion, can one uncover the true meaning of these ideas.
At the core of Thiel's interpretation is the concept of "esoteric writing", which he sees as a crucial method employed by great thinkers to convey their deepest insights while avoiding persecution and misunderstanding by the masses. Strauss argued that these thinkers often wrote on two levels, the exoteric, which is apparent on the surface, and the esoteric, which is hidden beneath the surface and only accessible to those who are willing to engage in a deeper reading. Thiel sees this as a way to preserve valuable knowledge, which could be misconstrued or misused by those lacking the necessary intellectual or moral capacity. This concept of esoteric writing resonates with Thiel's own emphasis on "secrets" and his belief that some truths are not for everyone. He sees the world as filled with hidden knowledge, and those who are able to find and utilize these truths are capable of creating the future. He seems to see himself as one of those who can read past the surface and discover the "secrets" of the universe.
Thiel also shares Strauss's critique of modernity, particularly its secularism, which he sees as having eroded traditional values and created a dangerous form of relativism. Strauss believed that modern political thought had lost sight of fundamental questions about human nature and the good life, leading to a dangerous shallowness of thought. Thiel echoes this sentiment and sees the modern era as being unable to grasp the importance of moral and religious questions. This rejection of modern secularism also ties into Thiel’s overall worldview, particularly his Christian theology. He sees that modernity has failed to address the root problems of human violence, and that it has created a vacuum in which an "apocalyptic" catastrophe could occur. Thiel believes that modern people have rejected the "wisdom of the ancients" and that the classic texts are crucial for understanding and solving modern problems.
Thiel's interpretation of Strauss also emphasizes his concern with the enduring problem of human nature, particularly its tendency towards conflict and violence. Like Girard, Strauss believed that violence is a fundamental aspect of the human condition, and that it has been largely ignored by the Enlightenment. Thiel recognizes this connection and links Strauss to both Girard and Carl Schmitt, all of whom he sees as thinkers who acknowledge the enduring role of violence in the social order. Thiel views human nature as inherently prone to mimetic desire, and therefore violence, and that this is a central aspect of any political order that must be taken into account. He sees that modern political thought has "whitewashed" away the importance of human violence.
Thiel sees the relationship between religion and political order as another key concern of Strauss, particularly the idea of the "best regime". He sees this as being connected to his own view of Christianity and governance. Strauss was concerned with the ideal political order, and Thiel sees this as being reflected in his own desire to create a better, more ordered society. Thiel seems to believe that there is a relationship between religion and politics that cannot be ignored, and that any political order must take this relationship into account. He also does not believe that a state should be a-religious or neutral when it comes to religion.
Thiel shares Strauss's skepticism about the nature of democracy. He fears that it can devolve into mob rule, leading to the scapegoating of individuals and groups, and that it can undermine individual freedom. This is connected to his Girardian views on scapegoating and his emphasis on the importance of individual agency. It seems that Thiel believes that democracy is often hostile to progress, especially if it challenges conventional ideas, and that an elite, composed of those capable of understanding the true nature of things, may be more capable of ruling.
It is important to note that Thiel is not a Straussian in the traditional sense, but rather uses aspects of Strauss's thought to support his own worldview. He is interested in thinkers who have wrestled with questions of violence, truth, and the nature of human existence, which is why he seeks to find common ground between Strauss, Girard and Carl Schmitt. Thiel sees value in esoteric writing as a means of protecting ideas and power, and that this is in keeping with the view that some truths are not for everyone. In his view, the world is full of hidden knowledge, and those who are able to find those "secrets" are in a better position to shape the future.
Thiel interprets Strauss as a thinker who understood the limitations of modernity, the importance of hidden truths, and the enduring nature of human conflict. He uses Strauss's concept of esoteric writing to support his own approach to knowledge and power, his critique of modern politics to justify his contrarian stance, and his concern about violence to support his overall philosophical framework. He sees Strauss, along with Girard and Schmitt, as offering a critical perspective on modernity, and a way to understand and overcome its limitations. Thiel's interpretation of Strauss is not just an academic exercise, but rather a reflection of his broader worldview, which seeks to understand and shape the future by uncovering hidden truths and confronting the enduring problem of human violence.
Lord of the Rings
Thiel's engagement with J.R.R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings transcends simple admiration, instead acting as a fictional cornerstone that reinforces his Manichean worldview and his belief in a need for the return of a rightful king to restore order. Thiel's use of elements from Tolkien’s work provides a framework for understanding his views on history, power, and the constant struggle between good and evil, all filtered through his own unique lens and perspective. He sees that the world is very much like Middle Earth, and that it is his role to bring order to it — to "Save The Shire".
At the heart of Thiel's interpretation lies his fundamentally Manichean view of the world, a constant battleground between good and evil, order and chaos. This aligns perfectly with the central conflict in The Lord of the Rings, where the forces of good, represented by the free peoples of Middle-earth, are constantly threatened by the evil machinations of Sauron and Mordor. Thiel sees the world as being locked in a similar struggle, where he believes that it is his role to fight for good. He sees the narrative of The Lord of the Rings as a direct reflection of the true nature of the world, where good and evil are real forces that are constantly in conflict.
Thiel is also drawn to the theme of the return of the king, a central narrative element in The Lord of the Rings, where Aragorn's return to the throne of Gondor is a restoration of order and justice. This concept resonates deeply with Thiel's own belief that a strong, decisive leader is needed to counter the chaos he sees in the modern world. He sees the "founder" as being similar to a quasi-monarch, who can be both “God” and a “victim”, echoing the character arc of Aragorn. He sees that a return of a strong, just leader is necessary to overcome the forces of evil. Thiel views his own role as being one that is similar to Aragorn’s, where he can help to bring about the restoration of order and justice.
Thiel’s Manichean outlook is further reinforced by the clear distinction between good and evil that is present in Tolkien's work. He sees that Tolkien’s story emphasizes that good and evil are not just abstract concepts, but real forces that shape the world. This vision helps to solidify Thiel’s understanding of the world, and it reinforces his view that he must take a side in this cosmic struggle. He believes that he is able to see the difference between good and evil, and that this unique ability puts him in a position to make a difference in the world.
Thiel also named his data analytics company Palantir, not surprisingly, after the cursed artifacts from Lord of the Rings that the Dark Lord uses to spy on his enemies. Both the culture and mission of Palantir are very much in line with Thiel's philosophical views on the world, with a bizarre corporate culture of a flat title structure to avoid mimetic desire and an aversion to "secrets" that can be used to wield influence.
Thiel’s contrarian nature is also reflected in his interpretation of Tolkien's work. For example, he views Mordor, the primary source of evil in the story, as being a technological civilization based on reason and science. He sees this as being in contrast to the forces of good, which are based more on nature and mysticism. This interpretation reflects his own skepticism of unchecked technological progress, but also recognizes the value of technology. He often seems to see traditional interpretations as being simplistic, and that there is a deeper meaning hidden behind the surface of the narrative.
Thiel sees The Lord of the Rings as being part of a literary canon that has shaped his thinking. He views these works as sharing certain themes and perspectives, which are formative to his worldview. He uses these stories as a way to explain the world around him, and he seems to believe that they can provide important lessons about human nature. He sees the stories as having hidden truths that can only be found through deep engagement with the text, ala Strauss.
Thiel's senior quote, "The greatest adventure is what lies ahead / Today and tomorrow are yet to be said" comes from the animated version of The Hobbit. He claims that he memorized this passage, and that it became a motto for his life. This further shows that this work has had a profound effect on his worldview. He seems to believe that the future is not yet written, and that his actions can help to shape what it will become.
The Lord of the Rings is more than just a story for Thiel; it is a significant childhood influence that reinforces and shapes his Manichean view of the world, his desire for a return of the king, and his belief that he has a role to play in shaping the future that is driven by cosmic forces acting on the world.
The Katechon
Thiel's interpretation of the katechon (Greek for "he or that which restrains") is a concept that draws from his Christian eschatology, his understanding of history, and his deep-seated concern for the forces of chaos and tyranny. He views the katechon not as a static entity, but as a dynamic and mysterious force that restrains the advance of evil and disorder, particularly the rise of the Antichrist and a one-world totalitarian government. Thiel's understanding of this concept is not purely theological, but also deeply political, as he believes it provides a framework for understanding the dynamics of power and the challenges of the modern world. He sees the katechon as a necessary, although temporary, barrier against the forces of chaos and tyranny.
At its core, Thiel understands the katechon as a restraining force, something that holds back the forces of chaos and prevents the world from descending into complete disorder. This force is not necessarily aligned with any specific political ideology or institution, and Thiel is skeptical of any entity that claims to fully embody the katechon. He views it as a precarious and often thankless task that is essential for maintaining a semblance of order in a world that is constantly threatened by violence and tyranny. He does not see the katechon as a perfect solution, but rather a temporary measure, a necessary delay against the advance of evil. He views the world as a battlefield between order and chaos, good and evil, and that the katechon is one of the forces that seeks to restrain the chaos.
Thiel also sees the katechon as being related to, but not synonymous with, different historical forces and institutions, including certain aspects of the Roman Empire, elements within the Roman Catholic Church, and various individuals and groups throughout history who have sought to restrain the forces of chaos. He sees that these forces, while far from perfect, have played a role in holding back the rise of tyranny and preserving some semblance of order. He views these entities as temporary and limited manifestations of the katechon, as none of them can fully embody this restraining force, but still play an important historical role.
Thiel often suggests that the United States is a potential candidate for the katechon, as a powerful nation that has, at times, sought to maintain global order. However, he is also critical of the U.S., and does not view it as a perfect embodiment of this force. Thiel is skeptical of all earthly institutions, and sees them as being vulnerable to corruption and abuse of power. He therefore views the katechon as being something that can be supported, but not fully embodied by any worldly institution. He seems to see the katechon as a force that is often imperfect and limited, but still plays an important role in restraining evil. He views anti-communism as being a manifestation of the katechon.
Thiel also links the katechon to his concern about the rise of a "one-world totalitarian government". He views this as a culmination of the forces of chaos and evil, and believes that it must be resisted at all costs. He sees the katechon as a force that actively opposes the rise of this government, which he believes would destroy individual freedom and human flourishing. He sees the one-world government as a threat to the katechon, and that these forces are ultimately opposed. He believes that this type of government is the type that the Antichrist would seek to establish, so that they may exercise their power over the world.
While Thiel acknowledges the importance of the katechon, he also believes in the power of individual agency, and he emphasizes the importance of individuals in resisting the forces of evil and creating a better future. He does not believe that the future is determined, but that it is contingent on human action. He sees the role of the "sovereign individual" or "founder" as being a positive force that can help to shape the course of the world and avoid mimetic violence. He believes that people must make conscious choices to resist evil and embrace good. He also believes that it is important to create new things, and not to be trapped by mimetic rivalry. He sees his own ventures as a force for progress.
Thiel’s understanding of the katechon is also deeply tied to his Christian eschatology and his interpretation of biblical prophecy. He views the world as being caught in a struggle between good and evil, and that the katechon is a force that restrains evil, even while recognizing that the forces of evil will ultimately be dealt with through a final reckoning. He sees the katechon as being temporary, and that it is not a final solution, but rather a way of delaying an ultimate judgement. He sees this as being a call to action to work against evil and promote good. He is not passive, and believes his own actions can have a positive influence in this struggle.
Secular Decline
Thiel's analysis of secular decline and technological stagnation paints a stark picture of the modern West, which he believes has been in a state of secular decline since the 1970s. He does not view this decline as a result of inevitable forces, but rather as a consequence of specific choices, philosophical shifts, and an inability to confront the core issues of human nature and societal organization. Thiel's perspective is a complex interplay of his views on history, technology, politics, and religion, all filtered through his unique lens, informed by Girard's mimetic theory and a Christian worldview.
Thiel believes that the West has lost a clear vision for the future, and this has led to a sense of stagnation and decline. He connects this to a rise of "indeterminate optimism", where people are optimistic about the future without a clear plan or path for getting there. He sees this type of optimism as dangerous, and that it sets up society for a disaster. He also sees a lack of long-term planning and a focus on short-term gains as being a form of sin. This sense of lost vision, for Thiel, is intimately tied to a broader secular decline, a rejection of traditional values, and a loss of purpose that has occurred since the counterculture movement. He also sees the counterculture of the 60s and 70s as being antithetical to progress.
Thiel is deeply critical of modern secular governance, which he believes has failed to address the fundamental problem of violence in society. He argues that the Enlightenment "whitewashed away" this issue, leading to a naive and dangerous approach to politics. He is also critical of the "one world" government idea, viewing globalization as a destabilizing force and a threat to individual freedom. He believes that modern governments are unable to see the "big picture", and that they are often unable to make real progress. He sees that the abandonment of political theology has made people "ever smaller cogs in an ever bigger machine." He views the secularization of the West as contributing to both moral and technological decline.
Thiel also connects secular decline to a cultural disintegration, especially the breakdown of the generational compact of the middle class. He sees this group as being defined by the belief that their children will do better than them, and he sees the erosion of this belief as a sign of decline. He believes that the modern world has become nihilistic, and this is tied to a loss of traditional values. He also rejects the idea that the world can "muddle through" to a better state, and that this type of thinking only sets up the world for disaster.
Thiel also points to what his colleague Eric Weinstein calls the Distributed Idea Suppression Complex (DISC) - a network of media organizations, bureaucracies, universities, and government-funded NGOs that allegedly work to suppress certain ideas and control public discourse. For Thiel, these institutions act as gatekeepers determining which ideas can be discussed openly in society, contributing directly to secular decline by preventing important but controversial ideas from being properly debated. While he believes the internet has begun to break DISC's control over narratives, pointing to events like Jeffrey Epstein's death where public skepticism showed these institutions could no longer fully control discourse, he sees this complex as a major ongoing obstacle to progress and innovation. The suppression of ideas by DISC fits into his broader critique of how modern institutions and power structures actively work to maintain stagnation rather than enable real advancement.
Thiel believes that this secular decline is also reflected in a technological stagnation, particularly in fields beyond information technology. He contrasts the multifaceted progress of the first half of the 20th century, such as the development of rockets, agriculture, and medicine, with the more limited progress of recent decades, where "technology is synonymous with information technology." He acknowledges advancements in the digital world, but suggests that progress in other fields has stagnated, and that even progress in information technology has slowed. He criticizes the current tech industry for focusing on incremental innovation and "fake technologies" that solve "fake problems," rather than pursuing ambitious, transformative innovations. He uses the phrase "we wanted flying cars, instead we got 140 characters" to encapsulate this sense of disappointment. He believes the focus on social media and online platforms has come at the expense of real progress.
Thiel also suggests that hyper-specialization of knowledge has made it difficult to see the "big picture" and make progress. He sees modern academic experts as being more focused on power games than making real progress. He also sees "endless fake culture wars around identity politics" as a significant distraction that has slowed down real technological progress. He believes that a focus on "woke" issues has come at the expense of real innovation. He believes the problems of technological stagnation are a direct result of human choices. He seems to believe that "runaway science" and tech are actually pushing the world toward disaster.
Underlying Thiel's analysis of secular decline and technological stagnation is his belief that mimetic desire plays a crucial role. He sees a focus on "me too" ideas rather than "zero to one" innovation as a result of mimetic forces, and that this prevents truly transformative progress. He sees mimetic rivalry as contributing to a culture of fear and distraction, and that people are more focused on "playing the game" rather than trying to make progress.
However, Thiel does not view this situation as hopeless. He sees Christianity, specifically its emphasis on long-term planning, as a potential solution to these problems. He believes that a focus on the "fruits of eternity" is a better focus than the fleeting pleasures of the day. He believes that a Christian worldview can help people break free from the cycles of mimetic desire and help them to focus on the future. He also sees the Christian view of time, as being linear rather than cyclical, as important. He also sees the importance of human agency in choosing to make a positive change.
Thiel views secular decline and technological stagnation as interconnected problems that stem from a loss of vision, a rejection of traditional values, a focus on short-term thinking, an inability to address the fundamentals of human nature, and the influence of mimetic desire. He believes that the West has lost its way, and that a return to long-term planning, a focus on innovation, and a renewed commitment to a positive vision of the future, all inspired by a Christian worldview, is necessary to overcome these challenges and move toward a better future. He sees that the problems are largely the result of human choices, and that new choices can change our trajectory. He does not see progress as inevitable, but rather as a result of human effort, and he sees his role as helping to guide people towards this future.
Wokeism and Original Sin
Thiel’s interpretation of original sin is deeply intertwined with his critique of what he calls "wokeism," both concepts finding their foundation in his understanding of René Girard's mimetic theory and his Christian worldview. For Thiel, both "wokeism" and original sin are manifestations of a fundamental problem of human nature: a tendency towards mimetic desire, violence, and the obfuscation of the truth. He views both as deeply problematic, and he believes that Christianity is the key to escaping these destructive forces.
Thiel's understanding of "wokeism," filtered through Girard’s lens, positions it as a modern manifestation of mimetic rivalry. He sees identity politics, a central element of "wokeism," as a competition between different groups for status, recognition, and power. This competition, driven by mimetic desire, inevitably leads to a cycle of resentment and blame, where groups seek to outdo one another in claiming victimhood. Thiel is highly critical of what he denotes the "victim olympics" which he beieves as being a competition to see which group is the most victimized. He sees this preoccupation with victimization as unhealthy, leading to an "absolutization" of victim status, making forgiveness and reconciliation nearly impossible. For Thiel, “wokeism” is driven by an underlying desire to tear down existing hierarchies, rather than build up new ones, and is driven by the inherent resentments of mimetic desire.
Thiel is equally critical of the utopian impulses that he sees as underlying "wokeism," rejecting the idea that society can be perfected through political or social reforms. He views this as "indeterminate optimism" that distracts from genuine problem-solving. He emphasizes that rearranging existing social orders is not enough to solve the root problems of society. He believes that attempts at controlling and managing society are not as effective as creating new things. He sees the modern left as being "brainwashed" and unable to engage in productive dialogue. He also believes that the left actively tries to silence debate through the creation of "safe spaces." He is also critical of globalization, viewing it as a force that undermines the power of nation-states and creates instability and conflict. Thiel sees these as all part of the problems inherent to "wokeism", which ultimately seeks to control and limit progress and freedom.
Thiel’s concept of original sin, heavily influenced by Girard, goes beyond a mere act of disobedience and focuses on a shift in human desire. He believes that the "fallen nature of man," a core Christian concept, has made humans inherently prone to imitate the desires of others. This mimetic desire, according to Thiel, leads to envy, rivalry, and ultimately, violence. He sees it as the root cause of conflict and a never-ending cycle of violence. He believes that mimetic desire makes humans deeply influenced by the desires of others, creating the conditions for sin and violence. He views this not only as a personal problem, but a problem at the root of civilization.
Thiel emphasizes that human sin is not just violent but also deeply obfuscated, meaning that people are often unaware of the true nature of their own desires and the violent implications of their actions. This obfuscation, he argues, perpetuates the cycle of violence, as people hide or deny their own roles in it. He sees the “city of man” as being built on hidden victims. This is tied to his view that people are not in control of themselves as much as they may like to think, and that the desires of others can overwhelm them.
Thiel’s perspective on original sin leads him to reject the utopian ideals of perfectibility, mirroring his critique of “wokeism." He believes it is impossible to create a perfect society because of the inherent flaws in human nature. Thiel is critical of “secularized” versions of utopianism, which he sees as simply attempting to solve a problem that they do not even understand. He does not believe that social or political reforms are enough, as these reforms cannot address the problem of mimetic desire.
However, Thiel does not view original sin as an insurmountable problem, and this is where he connects it to a solution through Christian theology. He views Christianity, specifically the teachings of Jesus, as offering an antidote to mimetic violence. He believes that Christ's sacrifice provides a path to breaking the cycle of violence that is caused by mimetic desire. He believes that “death is evil” and should not be accepted. Thiel sees Christianity as a way to move past the endless cycles of violence. He categorically rejects ideologies that deny the reality of evil and that do not seek a transcendent solution to the problems of human nature.
For Thiel, both "wokeism" and original sin are not simply disparate concepts, but intertwined manifestations of the same fundamental problem: mimetic desire and the inherent flaws of human nature. He believes that "wokeism" is driven by the same forces of mimetic desire that caused original sin, and he believes that both are fundamentally opposed to a Christian view of forgiveness and reconciliation. He sees Christianity as a force that subverts the cycle of mimetic violence and points the way towards a more just and peaceful future.
Moral Trilemma
Extrapolating from Thiel's view of original sin, he then postulates a trilemma in how humans can respond to and interpret the moral weight of history. Notably he does not allow for any other options, which we will discuss later.
The first approach, which Thiel associates with Christianity, acknowledges that the past contained great evil and injustice, but emphasizes the importance of forgiveness and reconciliation. Through a Girardian lens, this perspective recognizes that historical atrocities - colonialism, slavery, genocide, and countless other crimes against humanity - were manifestations of mimetic violence and scapegoating mechanisms. The Christian response of forgiveness represents a deliberate break from the cycle of mimetic rivalry and retribution. By choosing forgiveness over vengeance, this approach follows Christ's example of refusing to participate in reciprocal violence. The emphasis on reconciliation acknowledges that both victims and perpetrators are caught in mimetic patterns that must be transcended, not through forgetting or minimizing past wrongs, but by consciously choosing to end the cycle of revenge. This aligns with Girard's view that Christianity uniquely reveals and provides an escape from mimetic violence. The Christian perspective maintains that while we must understand how historical injustices emerged from mimetic dynamics, we cannot allow those same dynamics to perpetuate "endless cycles of recrimination and counter-violence".
The second approach, which Thiel links to "wokeism" and modern progressive movements, can be understood through Girard's theory as itself caught in mimetic patterns while claiming to oppose them. While this perspective correctly identifies historical crimes and injustices, its refusal of forgiveness and insistence on eternal condemnation risks perpetuating the very mimetic dynamics that led to those original crimes. From a Girardian view, the maintenance of righteous anger and the demand that certain acts be viewed as unforgivable represents a form of sacred violence - the creation of "permanent outcasts" who must eternally bear the mark of transgression. The focus on maintaining moral condemnation can be seen as a new form of scapegoating mechanism, where historical perpetrators must be endlessly sacrificed on the altar of present justice. This approach, while claiming to prevent the recurrence of past violence, may paradoxically ensure its continuation by remaining trapped within mimetic patterns of accusation and exclusion. The insistence that victims' memory requires eternal unforgiveness reveals how this perspective sacralizes victimhood itself, making it an untouchable category that demands perpetual veneration through maintained hostility.
The third approach, which Thiel attributes to Bronze Age Pervert and Nietzschean philosophy, takes a radically different view that fundamentally rejects the moral premises of the other two positions. This perspective, drawing on Nietzsche's concept of master-slave morality, argues that what others call historical "injustices" were simply manifestations of power dynamics - the strong doing what they could while the weak suffered what they must. From this view, there is nothing to forgive because there was no wrong done - it was simply nature expressing itself through human affairs. This approach sees moral condemnation of historical actions as meaningless sentimentality, a weak-minded imposition of slave morality onto the raw reality of power relations. The Nietzschean view thus sidesteps the question of forgiveness entirely by rejecting the moral framework that would make forgiveness necessary or meaningful. Thiel categorically rejects this view, but he humors it in debates.
The Antichrist
Thiel's interpretation of the Antichrist is a complex and multifaceted concept that extends beyond a literal reading of biblical prophecy. He sees the Antichrist not merely as a single individual, but as a recurring type throughout history, a dangerous political system, and a force that uses deception and fear to gain control, ultimately aiming to establish a totalitarian one-world government. Thiel’s understanding of the Antichrist is informed by his Christian eschatology, René Girard’s mimetic theory, and his acute awareness of the potential for human violence and oppression.
Thiel views the Antichrist as a counterfeit of Christ, a figure who superficially imitates Christ but is fundamentally anti-Christian in nature. This counterfeit Christ may even present as being "more Christian than Christ", while distorting the core teachings of Christianity, especially concerning the use of power and violence. Thiel sees the Antichrist as being "downstream from Christianity", with Marxist and other ideologies, being attempts to accelerate and bring about the Christian promise while ultimately perverting it. He believes the Antichrist will co-opt Christian ideals and use them for their own purposes, making it more difficult to see the Antichrist as the evil figure that it truly is.
Central to Thiel’s interpretation is the idea that the Antichrist seeks to establish a totalitarian one-world government, a state of total control where individual liberty is suppressed. He sees this as a dangerous prospect, since such a government would have absolute power, without any checks or balances, and that once established, it would be nearly impossible to reverse. He worries that a one-world government would lead to a loss of diversity and the suppression of innovation. He believes that a global power structure would enforce a single way of thinking, stifling dissent and creativity.
Thiel emphasizes that the Antichrist's rise to power relies on deception and manipulation. This figure will not present as an obvious villain, but rather as a great humanitarian, a redistributor of wealth, and an effective altruist. He believes that the Antichrist will try to appeal to human decency and the desire for social justice, but that these actions will be aimed at consolidating power. The Antichrist will promise "peace and safety" as primary goals, and while these ideas are not inherently evil, Thiel understands that these become dangerous when used to justify oppression and the loss of freedom. Thiel notes that this is especially relevant in a world where the alternative is framed as total destruction, as people will accept draconian measures in order to avoid chaos.
Thiel believes that the Antichrist will use the fear of Armageddon to gain power, and that a constant harping on this theme will cause people to submit to a totalitarian government. Thiel sees that the Antichrist will offer this government as the only way to avoid global destruction, as people are more willing to sacrifice their freedom and autonomy if they believe that it will prevent a catastrophic event. He also notes that this fear resonates in a world that has nuclear weapons, which can cause mass destruction.
Thiel also sees that the Antichrist will distort or mimic Christian values in order to appear more appealing. This will mean presenting a version of Christianity that seems more Christian than Christ while changing the core message. This will involve an overemphasis on certain parts of the faith and a distortion of its teachings, particularly when it comes to violence and the use of power. This figure will present as though they are greater than Christ, which Thiel sees as the mark of being deeply anti-Christian.
Thiel also connects the rise of the Antichrist to modern technology, believing that the Antichrist will use it for mass surveillance and control. He suggests that a totalitarian government will need to monitor every keystroke everywhere to prevent any dissent. This would create a society where there is no privacy and where any challenges to authority are impossible. He also sees the Antichrist as being tied to a rejection of the nation-state, as a one-world government would need to destroy or marginalize all other forms of political power.
Thiel sees the framing of "one world or none" as a false dilemma, which will lead people to accept a one-world government. He believes this is a trap that the Antichrist will use to come to power, and that this false choice will make global tyranny seem like the only way to avoid Armageddon. He believes that there is no real need to choose between total destruction and a totalitarian regime, and that other paths must be explored.
Thiel views the Antichrist as both a metaphor, but also a literal threat that is both a political and a spiritual danger. He believes that the Antichrist will be a deceptive figure who seeks to establish a totalitarian one-world government through manipulation and by leveraging the fear of Armageddon. Thiel believes that the Antichrist will present as something other than the evil force that they truly are, and that they will seek to distort and mimic Christian values in order to consolidate their power. Thiel believes that it is utterly important to recognize the deceptive tactics that the Antichrist will use, and to resist the urge to submit to a centralized power, even if that power presents itself as a solution to existential threats like nuclear war or artificial intelligence. He believes that true progress requires a delicate balance of power, and that his definition of "freedom" is ultimately more important than security.
Kingdom of God
Thiel's vision of the "kingdom of God" and the "fruits of eternity" represents a complex interplay of Christian eschatology, Girardian insights, and his own critiques of modernity. He does not view the future as a predetermined path, but rather as a potential destination shaped by human choices and actions, with the possibility of either a catastrophic apocalypse or a peaceful, divine kingdom. For Thiel, human history is a linear journey, moving towards a definite end point, where the "city of man," built on violence and obscured truth, will either be redeemed or destroyed. His clearest statement of this idea is in "The Straussian Moment" where he writes: "For that world could differ from the modern world in a way that is much worse or much better—the limitless violence of runaway mimesis or the peace of the kingdom of God."
Thiel establishes a stark contrast between the “city of man” and the "city of God," seeing the former as being built on hidden victims and "obfuscated violence." He views the modern world, with its secular governance, emphasis on short-term gains, and tendency toward mimetic conflict, as ultimately a "city of man," prone to chaos and instability. In his view, the "city of man" is built upon the scapegoating of innocent victims, and is designed to hide the truth about human violence. In contrast, the “city of God” represents a state of peace, justice, and divine order, where these destructive forces are overcome. He believes that the modern world is on an apocalyptic trajectory that is driven by the unraveling of archaic culture and the "whitewashing" of violence that occurred in the Enlightenment.
Thiel's view of history is informed by the Judeo-Christian concept of linear time, where history moves toward a definite end point. He believes that history is not either aimless or cyclical, where events repeat endlessly, and that humanity is moving toward a final, definitive conclusion, either positive or negative. This concept of linear time is central to his understanding of progress, as he views history as "going somewhere," and that choices people make matter. He sees Christ’s ministry as a “hinge moment of history” where a new path became available.
Thiel believes that the modern world is on an apocalyptic trajectory, with a potential for both positive and negative outcomes. He sees that the modern world is especially vulnerable to runaway mimesis because globalization and technology have created a situation where the potential for mass violence is greater than ever. He worries that this “runaway science” is pushing the world toward Armageddon. Thiel, following Girard, identifies mimetic desire as the root cause of human conflict and violence. He emphasizes that human beings are not autonomous but are deeply influenced by the desires of others, which creates the conditions for sin and violence. He sees the tendency to imitate the desires of others as the core problem of the "city of man". He also sees that society is built upon the scapegoating of innocent victims, which serves to obfuscate this inherent violence.
Thiel envisions two possible end states for humanity. If the cycle of mimetic desire and violence remains unbroken, Thiel believes that the world is heading towards a catastrophic apocalypse. This would be a future defined by “runaway mimesis” with mass violence, war, disease and death. He sees modern society as being particularly vulnerable to these scenarios. However, Thiel also believes that there is a positive alternative. Humanity has the potential to experience the "peace of the kingdom of God," a state of justice, forgiveness, and non-violence. He sees that the “city of God” can be achieved by breaking free from mimetic patterns and following the teachings of Jesus. He also views Christianity as a potential antidote to the violence inherent in mimetic desire.
Thiel also emphasizes human agency in determining the future, which is an idea that runs through all of his thought. Despite his emphasis on mimetic desire and the potential for destruction, he believes that people have the power to influence whether humanity experiences "limitless violence of runaway mimesis" or "the peace of the kingdom of God". He does not see the future as pre-determined, and he believes that the choices people make in the present will significantly influence which of these possible futures becomes a reality. He believes that people must be worried about the future and attempt to change it. He does not believe that the world will just simply work out for the best, as he believes that human effort is required.
Thiel's understanding of the "fruits of eternity" is closely tied to his Christian worldview and his belief in the importance of long-term planning. He believes that focusing on "the fruits of eternity" is a better focus than the fleeting pleasures of the day. He also sees a focus on short-term gains as a form of sin. He emphasizes the need to move beyond the “city of man” and towards the “city of God”. He also connects this vision to technological progress, and that it is necessary to prevent the "runaway science" of modernity from destroying civilization.
And thus we reach the core of Thiel's cosmology. Through the lens of Christian eschatology and his critique of modernity, Thiel envisions the "kingdom of God" and "fruits of the future" as a pivotal battleground where humanity's fate hangs in the balance. Standing at an apocalyptic crossroads, he sees two stark possibilities: catastrophic ruin or divine peace. For Thiel, mimetic desire remains the dark undercurrent driving human conflict, the key that unlocks both our fallen nature and potential salvation. Yet he insists that human agency - our capacity to choose between these divergent paths - remains paramount. By following Christ's teachings, he argues, we can manifest the kingdom of God. Thiel casts himself as an active warrior in this cosmic struggle, believing his actions help determine which future materializes. Only by turning away from the corrupt "city of man" and embracing the transcendent "city of God" can humanity achieve true justice and lasting peace.
Critique
Thiel's philosophical framework ultimately crumbles under the weight of critical scrutiny, revealing a self-serving, authoritarian, and ultimately narcissistic worldview. Thiel's intellectual edifice, constructed on a foundation of exaggerated claims, misinterpretations, and a selective engagement with evidence, is not only deeply flawed but also dangerous, offering a veneer of intellectual sophistication to justify his elitist and anti-democratic tendencies. He presents a distorted view of human nature and societal dynamics, prioritizing his own biases and power over genuine understanding and progress. Like Plato's philosopher king who would rule with perfect wisdom and justice, Thiel fancies himself uniquely qualified to guide humanity's destiny - but history has shown repeatedly and tragically how such delusions of enlightened governance inevitably end in tyranny.
A nuanced critique of Thiel's application of Girardian mimetic theory reveals fundamental problems not with the basic insight that human desires are influenced by imitation, but rather with how Thiel weaponizes and oversimplifies this framework to serve his ideological ends. While Girard's core observation about the role of mimesis in human behavior contains important truth - humans are indeed highly imitative creatures - Thiel extends this insight far beyond its explanatory power in problematic ways.
The issue is not that mimetic theory fails to account for innate drives - Girard himself acknowledged biological needs while arguing that how these needs manifest is shaped by social imitation. Rather, the problem lies in how Thiel uses mimetic theory as a universal acid to dissolve all other explanations for human behavior and social dynamics. Where Girard offered mimesis as one important lens for understanding human desire and conflict, Thiel transforms it into a totalizing framework that reduces all social movements, political ideologies, and human motivations to mere mimetic rivalry.
This intellectual sleight-of-hand allows Thiel to dismiss any criticism or opposition as simply manifestations of mimetic desire, while positioning himself and his favored "founders" as somehow uniquely capable of escaping mimetic patterns. The circularity of this reasoning becomes apparent - those who agree with Thiel have transcended mimesis, while those who disagree are trapped in mimetic rivalry. This convenient framing reveals how Thiel's application of mimetic theory serves more as a rhetorical weapon than a genuine analytical tool.
Furthermore, Thiel's interpretation strips mimetic theory of much of its explanatory nuance. Where Girard explored how mimetic desire operates differently across various social and cultural contexts, Thiel flattens these distinctions into a simple binary between destructive mimesis and productive innovation. This reductionism ignores how imitation can serve positive social functions - in learning, in building cultural cohesion, in transmitting knowledge across generations. By focusing solely on mimesis as a source of conflict, Thiel misses its crucial role in human development and social coordination.
The weakness in Thiel's framework is not that he recognizes the importance of mimetic desire - clearly imitation plays a vital role in human behavior and social dynamics. Rather, the problem lies in his tendency to elevate mimetic rivalry into a monocausal explanation for all human conflict while simultaneously claiming immunity from these same dynamics for himself and his ideological allies. This selective application reveals how mimetic theory functions in Thiel's worldview not as a genuine theoretical framework but as a convenient tool for delegitimizing opposing viewpoints while elevating his own perspective above criticism. By contrast modern philosophers like Martha Nussbaum, for instance, emphasizes the role of compassion and empathy in human interactions, suggesting a more nuanced view of human motivation beyond mere imitation.
Thiel's Christian worldview also faces substantial critique, particularly regarding his selective and heterodox interpretations. His emphasis on the apocalyptic aspects of Christianity, combined with a strong focus on human agency, appears to be more of a justification for his own political views than a genuine expression of religious belief. Critics argue that he uses Christian concepts, such as the Antichrist, to support his skepticism of a one-world government, his preference for individual power, and his rejection of utopianism, all of which ultimately align with his desire for concentrated power in the hands of a select few. Furthermore, while Thiel emphasizes the non-violence of Jesus, his own actions, such as supporting hawkish politicians and investing in defense technologies, reveal a disconnect between his stated beliefs and his practical choices. He seems to use the language and symbols of Christianity to create a story that supports his own worldview, and that justifies his own power. His emphasis on the need to “fight” against the forces of chaos and the coming of the Antichrist, suggests that he sees the world as a literal battleground between good and evil, and that he is a participant in that battle.
Thiel’s political and social views are equally problematic, marked by a deep-seated anti-democratic sentiment and a preference for elitist structures. His skepticism of democracy, coupled with his admiration for strong leaders and "founders," betrays an authoritarian tendency, revealing a fundamental distrust of collective decision-making. This is further exacerbated by his critiques of the modern left, which he often dismisses as being driven by mimetic rivalry, thereby undermining genuine concerns about inequality and injustice. This dismissal of collective action is rooted in his belief that the masses are incapable of reason, and that they must be led by a select elite.
Thiel's application of Girardian mimetic theory to political movements reveals another significant weakness in his framework. His characterization of progressive movements as purely mimetic phenomena ignores the material conditions and legitimate grievances that often drive social change. For instance, his dismissal of environmental activism as mimetic rivalry fails to engage with the scientific evidence of climate change and its concrete impacts on communities. Similarly, his reduction of social justice movements to status competition overlooks documented patterns of systematic discrimination and inequality. This oversimplification leads to policy prescriptions that address symptoms rather than root causes of social problems.
Thiel's political framework appears to suffer from what philosopher Karl Popper termed the "paradox of tolerance"—while advocating for pluralism and freedom, his preferred political structures would likely lead to less diversity of thought and more concentrated power. His support for figures and movements that actively work to restrict civil liberties and democratic participation suggests that his commitment to freedom is selective and instrumental rather than principled. Popper also warned against historicism—the idea that history unfolds according to predetermined laws—arguing that such beliefs can justify authoritarianism by promoting the notion that drastic measures are necessary to avert perceived existential threats.
From a Marxist perspective, Thiel's philosophical framework represents a quintessential example of ruling class ideology masquerading as profound insight. His emphasis on "founders" and technological elites as the primary drivers of progress is nothing more than a sophisticated justification for capitalist class relations, obscuring the fundamental role of labor in creating value and driving innovation. By focusing on mimetic desire and religious eschatology rather than material conditions and class struggle, Thiel mystifies the real contradictions within capitalism that generate social conflict. His interpretation of social movements as mere manifestations of mimetic rivalry deliberately ignores the material basis of class consciousness and the legitimate grievances arising from exploitation and alienation under capitalism. This ideological sleight-of-hand serves to naturalize existing power relations while delegitimizing collective action by the working class.
Thiel consistently argues that the West is in secular decline and that technological stagnation is the result of this decline. However, this narrative ignores significant technological breakthroughs in fields like renewable energy (e.g., advancements in solar and wind technologies), biotechnology (e.g., CRISPR gene-editing), and space exploration. Scholars such as Mariana Mazzucato have argued that innovation is deeply tied to public investment and regulatory frameworks, challenging Thiel’s implication that market forces and visionary founders alone drive progress. By dismissing these factors, Thiel presents a narrow, technologically deterministic view that underestimates the complex interplay between public policy, global collaboration, and innovation.
Thiel's adoption of Schmittian skepticism towards democratic governance represents another major flaw in his philosophical framework. Drawing heavily on Carl Schmitt's critique of liberal democracy, Thiel sees democratic institutions as fundamentally unable to handle existential crises without devolving into authoritarianism. However, this view overlooks decades of political theory and real-world evidence demonstrating democracy's resilience. Theorists like Jürgen Habermas have shown how liberal democracies can successfully navigate major crises through deliberative processes and strong civil institutions, without abandoning democratic principles. The post-WWII recovery of Western Europe, South Korea's transition to democracy, and the peaceful resolution of the Cold War all demonstrate how democratic systems can handle extreme challenges while maintaining their core values.
Thiel's reading of Schmitt appears selective and self-serving, focusing primarily on Schmitt's critique of liberalism while ignoring the problematic implications of Schmitt's own authoritarian alternatives. This selective interpretation reveals more about Thiel's anxieties regarding state power than it does about any genuine limitations of democratic governance. His fear of democratic "tyranny of the majority" masks a deeper discomfort with collective decision-making that might constrain the actions of powerful individuals like himself. Rather than engaging seriously with democratic theory's rich tradition of addressing these concerns through constitutional limits, separation of powers, and protection of individual rights, Thiel retreats into a simplistic narrative of democracy's inevitable failure.
Moreover, Thiel's technological determinism and emphasis on "definite optimism" reveal the limitations of bourgeois thought in understanding historical development. While he correctly identifies stagnation in certain areas of technological progress, he fails to recognize this as a symptom of capitalism's internal contradictions—specifically, how the profit motive and private ownership of the means of production increasingly act as fetters on human development. His solution, concentrating more power in the hands of a technological elite, simply intensifies these contradictions rather than resolving them. His fear of "chaos" and "mimetic violence" is, in reality, a fear of proletarian revolution and the potential disruption of capitalist social relations. The religious and philosophical framework he constructs serves primarily as an ideological superstructure to justify and maintain these relations of production, demonstrating precisely what Marx meant when he wrote that "the ruling ideas of each age have ever been the ideas of its ruling class."
Thiel also has a Manichean worldview, a stark dichotomy between good and evil, which simplifies complex issues and ignores the nuances of the human condition. This simplistic view of the world, where he positions himself as a force for order in a chaotic universe, fuels his self-perception as a harbinger of the future, a role that borders on hubris. His constant emphasis on his unique ability to see “secrets” that others cannot, also suggests a narcissistic view of himself as someone who is uniquely qualified to lead. He is not simply a commentator on the world, but a figure who believes he has a crucial role to play in the shaping of its future.
At the heart of Thiel’s philosophical project is a palpable dread of meaninglessness, a void he seeks to fill with a rigid and often fantastical vision of a divinely ordained future. Unlike existentialist school that embraces the inherent lack of intrinsic meaning in the universe, Thiel recoils from such a prospect, desperately clinging to the idea of a predetermined purpose and a transcendent end-state for humanity. This fear of meaninglessness manifests in his vehement rejection of secularism, which he views as a nihilistic force that undermines traditional values and leaves individuals adrift in a world devoid of purpose. He sees secularism as a form of "indeterminate optimism" that lacks a clear vision for the future, ultimately setting society up for disaster.
Similarly, Thiel's rejection of Eastern philosophies, which often emphasize cyclical views of time and the impermanence of self, further underscores his fear of meaninglessness. Unlike the cyclical view that some Eastern philosophies embrace, Thiel insists on a linear view of time, with a defined beginning, middle, and end, where human actions have lasting significance. This linear perspective is inextricably linked to his Christian eschatology, which offers a vision of a transcendent future, a kingdom of God where all wrongs are righted. For Thiel, meaning is not to be found in the present moment but rather in the promise of an ultimate future, providing a bulwark against the existential dread that threatens to engulf him. He sees that a transcendent future, a place where justice will ultimately prevail, as being necessary for life to have meaning. This fear of meaninglessness, coupled with his rejection of secularism and Eastern philosophies, propels Thiel towards a warped and ultimately incoherent quasi-Christian worldview.
Thiel's moral trilemma, which presents a false choice by artificially limiting the possible responses to historical injustice, further reveals the inadequacies of his framework. There are numerous other frameworks for understanding and addressing historical wrongs that don't fit neatly into his three categories. Most notably, Rawls' theory of justice offers a systematic approach through the "veil of ignorance" thought experiment - asking us to design principles of justice as if we didn't know our place in society. This provides a powerful framework for addressing historical inequities that doesn't require either Christian forgiveness or eternal condemnation. Under Rawlsian justice theory, we can acknowledge historical wrongs while working to create fair institutions and compensatory mechanisms that reasonable people would agree to behind the veil of ignorance. Secular moral philosophy offers other sophisticated approaches to justice and reconciliation, including restorative justice practices that focus on healing and rebuilding rather than punishment or absolution. Progressive movements are also more nuanced than Thiel suggests - many combine acknowledgment of past wrongs with practical efforts at repair and prevention, without demanding eternal unforgiveness. Furthermore, many indigenous and non-Western traditions offer their own frameworks for dealing with historical trauma and injustice that don't map onto any of Thiel's three options. By presenting only these three choices, Thiel creates a strawman of both progressive politics and secular moral philosophy while elevating his preferred Christian framework as the only viable alternative to either eternal condemnation or amoral power worship.
Thiel's understanding of the state as built primarily on a monopoly of violence, while reductionist, points to real limitations in modern democratic theory. While contemporary political theorists emphasize institutional frameworks, accountability mechanisms, and complex governance systems, history suggests we should be cautious about placing too much faith in these structures alone. The failures of past attempts at concentrated state power - whether authoritarian or democratic - demonstrate that no political system perfectly resolves the tension between collective action and individual rights. However, this does not validate Thiel's anti-democratic alternative. Rather than embracing either naive faith in democratic institutions or Thiel's oversimplified critique, we must acknowledge both democracy's advantages over historical alternatives and its inherent limitations. The challenge is building systems that harness democracy's benefits while remaining clear-eyed about its constraints.
Thiel's embrace of Girard's mimetic theory, filtered through an overly reductionist lens, becomes a convenient way to project his own anxieties and inadequacies onto the world. He sees mimetic desire as the primary source of all conflict, allowing him to reduce complex social phenomena to a simplistic and ultimately self-serving narrative of human imperfection. By casting human nature as inherently flawed and prone to imitation, he can absolve himself of any personal responsibility for the negative consequences of his actions, conveniently blaming the inherent mimetic nature of others for all the problems he sees in the world. This allows him to view the world as being fundamentally broken, while simultaneously maintaining his belief that he alone has the ability to fix it, further emphasizing his narcissistic sense of self.
Thiel’s rejection of humanism and his distorted quasi-Christianity reveal a deep-seated insecurity about the possibility that there is no grand, transcendent purpose to human existence. Like a child who fears the dark, he needs a comforting narrative to reassure himself that human experience is ordered, a need that reveals his inability to grapple with the potential for a world that is intrinsically aimless and chaotic. This is not a mature embrace of faith, but rather an attempt to avoid having to face the harsh realities of a universe that doesn't revolve around him.
Ultimately, Thiel's philosophical edifice reveals less a profound intellectual engagement with the human condition and more a desperate, almost pathetic, attempt to evade the complexities and ambiguities of the real world. He retreats into a hyper-intellectualized realm of grand narratives, mythical archetypes, and rigid dualisms, a world where he can cast himself as a Tolkienian heroic figure battling against the forces of darkness, while conveniently ignoring the messy, contingent, and often contradictory realities of human existence.
Thiel’s philosophical framework, while deeply considered, falls into the same trap that ensnared Sauron himself, who in Tolkein's legendarium began as Mairon, "the Admirable," a spirit who sought to order all things according to his own wisdom. Like Sauron, who believed his vision would create a more efficient and orderly world, Thiel's worldview reveals a man so convinced of his heroic role in history's grand narrative that he fails to see how his actions and beliefs might cast him as its antagonist.
Thiel's philosophy is not a product of intellectual rigor or profound insight but rather a symptom of an arrested development, a retreat into a fantasy world where he can play the role of a savior and where he is not forced to grapple with the messy realities of human experience. His worldview, like a child’s elaborate make-believe game, is ultimately incoherent, intellectually dishonest, and profoundly out of touch with the actualities of human existence. It is not a philosophy for adults, but rather a symptom of a little boy who has not yet found his way in the real world, and who has therefore permanently retreated into a realm of fantasy.