Deconstructing the Worldview of Peter Thiel

Peter Thiel is one of Silicon Valley's most prodigious thinkers, with a complicated and influential worldview. Thiel's philosophical framework is notoriously byzantine, weaving together Christian eschatology, mimetic theory, and technological determinism, and his ideas have gained outsized influence despite being, in my view, fundamentally flawed. His worldview represents what I consider a profound misunderstanding of philosophy, human nature, society, and progress—yet his ideas continue to shape Silicon Valley's trajectory in ways that warrant critical examination.

For my sins, I've read several hundred pages of Thiel's writing and listened 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. This is also not a character assessment (or assassination)—after all, every man is the hero of his own story—but rather an examination of the internal consistency of his arguments and philosophical framework.

The sheer volume of Thiel's writing and lectures 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. This is my best attempt to engage in good faith (as much as I can muster) with a philosophy I find both profoundly wrong and harmful. Although I wouldn't rule out the possibility that some of the things he professes are merely sophistry. After all, most people tend to develop ideologies that conveniently align with their self-interest, rather than aligning interests with their ideology. As the German philosopher Theodor Adorno once said, "If the lion had a consciousness, his rage at the antelope he wants to eat would be [his] ideology." The powerful often develop intellectual frameworks that just happen to justify their ambitions.

Introduction

If one were to sum up Thiel's philosophy in the most succinct form possible it would be like the following:

Peter Thiel’s worldview centers on the conviction that Western society faces existential threats from nihilism, progressivism, and the rise of a global totalitarian order, which he believes are leading to decline and could culminate in an apocalyptic collapse. His proposed solution involves a right-wing religious revival rooted in Christianity, combined with technological acceleration and a reimagined political order that prioritizes competition and libertarian principles.

At first glance, this is neither new nor interesting. While anxieties about societal decline are a perennial feature of right-wing thought, often harking back to a perceived golden age, Thiel's particular synthesis is distinctly contemporary. He melds this traditionalist concern with hyper-modern, techno-utopian aspirations, all filtered through a heterodox interpretation of Christian eschatology. This fusion—a desire to interpret ancient scripture as a means to engineer a radically different future—marks his ideology as distinct and divergent, even as its foundational fears echo older conservative discourses.

This framework is built upon several key pillars, which the following sections will explore in detail:

1. Girard's Mimetic Theory: Central to Thiel's thought is René Girard's concept of mimetic (imitative) desire as the root of human rivalry and violence. Thiel applies this to critique modern society, particularly what he sees as the mimetic-driven conflicts of contemporary progressive movements and the dangers of scapegoating. He views this understanding as crucial for navigating a world prone to "limitless violence."

2. Christian Eschatology & the Antichrist: Thiel's worldview is deeply imbued with Christian end-times narratives. He interprets concepts like the Antichrist not necessarily as a literal individual, but as a systemic threat—often a global, totalitarian entity promising false peace and safety. While he uses Christian doctrinal structures, his engagement often prioritizes their functional or civilizational utility over affirming literal metaphysical claims in the traditional sense. His "truth" of Christianity appears rooted in its perceived efficacy as a moral and ordering system for Western civilization.

3. Critique of the Enlightenment & Modernity: Thiel expresses profound skepticism towards Enlightenment ideals of progress, rationalism, and democratic governance. He argues that modernity has "whitewashed" the problem of human violence and fostered a naive "indeterminate optimism." This critique extends to concerns about globalization, mass surveillance, and the rise of China as a geopolitical rival.

4. The Role of the "Katechon" and "Definite Optimism": In this often bleak landscape, Thiel sees a role for heroic agency, sometimes invoking the concept of the katechon (a restraining force against chaos). He champions "definite optimism"—the belief in a specific, engineered better future, driven by visionary individuals and technological breakthroughs—as an antidote to societal stagnation.

At the core of Thiel's ideology a Manichean vision, where the world is a literal 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, secular stagnation, and authoritarianism. 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 attempts to build a mental model to understand and ultimately shape the course of history.

Thiel's worldview is deeply rooted in Christian eschatology (theology concerned with the end times and final destiny of humankind), specifically its emphasis on a linear view of time culminating in a final end times. He interprets the Book of Revelation not merely as a symbolic text but as a guide for navigating the challenges of modernity. The specter of the Antichrist looms large in Thiel's thinking—he views it as both 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. This vision of the Antichrist also serves as a proxy for what Thiel sees as his political antithesis: liberalism run amok into totalitarian control. 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 self-describes as "religious rather than spiritual". Thiel often discusses Christianity's importance but strategically hedges on affirming the literal, metaphysical existence of the Christian God in the way many devout believers do. Instead, he tends to frame "Christianity as true," where the word "true" carries a specific, functional weight rather than indicating belief in a supernatural being who intervenes in the world. For Thiel, Christianity's "truth" appears rooted in its perceived efficacy as a foundational moral system and a crucial unifying narrative for Western civilization, providing structure, meaning, and potentially a bulwark against nihilism or societal decay (often from, in his mind, non-Western influences), rather than asserting a philosophical commitment to the objective reality of a supernatural being and the literal miracles described in the Bible.

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. 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.

In light of this heterodox interpretation of Christianity, Thiel 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 course of history. He believes that the world we live in contains a "powerfully apocalyptic dimension", where mimetic desire has the potential to lead to a catastrophe, while also seeing the possibility of a better future. Much of his philosophy seems to revolve around the idea of shaping the future so that particular apocalypses he fears can be avoided.

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.

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 (which he hopes is the "last sacrifice") as a way to break this cycle, and that the role model of Jesus Christ is the only role model that doesn't lead to runaway mimesis 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".

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. Thiel essentially views himself as a philosopher king seeking to shape the trajectory of human civilization, convinced that it is headed towards either a catastrophic end, or a new beginning. He sees 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 he labels the "City of God".

In the sections that follow, I'll deconstruct each tenant of this philosophy and examine how they allegedly synthesize into something like an overarching philosophical worldview before discussing its internal contradictions. It's worth noting that this attempt at steelmanning Thiel's worldview is inherently challenging, as his beliefs are not fully articulated, frequently ambiguous, and often contradictory. His tendency to use metaphorical and literal terms interchangeably further complicates any effort to present a coherent account of his thinking. This interchangeability represents a form of referential opacity. When metaphorical terms are substituted with supposedly co-referential literal ones (or vice versa), the result is often a shift in truth value and a distortion of the intended meaning. Nevertheless, this represents a best effect attempt to engage with the ideas on the merits before offering criticism.

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. Girard, who died in 2015, was a French literary critic and cultural theorist who taught at American universities, publishing more than 20 books on topics ranging from 19th-century novels to Indian scripture. Notably, Thiel studied under Girard while at Stanford University, forming an intellectual connection that would profoundly shape his thinking. It's worth noting that Girard was not a philosopher in the traditional sense—he approached human culture and history more as literary texts to be interpreted, rather than developing systematic philosophical arguments or conducting scientific research. Despite never being a household name, his work has experienced a surprising resurgence among a particular Venn diagram of Catholics, entrepreneurs, and political figures, with Thiel being perhaps his most influential disciple in Silicon Valley.

At the core of Girard's theory, as embraced by Thiel, is the concept that human desire is not an autonomous force but rather a product of imitation. This idea, known as "mimetic desire," was first set out in Girard's 1961 book Deceit, Desire and the Novel, where he analyzed how literary characters from Don Quixote to Dostoyevsky's protagonists come to desire things simply because others want them. As Girard wrote, "Man is the creature who does not know what to desire, and he turns to others in order to make up his mind." This borrowed nature of desire inevitably leads to competition—if you desire your neighbor's wife, you must contend with your neighbor to get what you want, or what you think you want. The result is a complex web of relationships defined by envy, rivalry, and ultimately, violence. Girard envisioned this mimetic rivalry escalating to runaway violence, both interpersonal and international, driven by warring doubles like Fascism vs. Communism or the United States vs. the Soviet Union. This concept forms 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. As Girard elaborated in his 1972 work Violence and the Sacred, human societies enter into periods of crisis in which competition becomes unbearable, and the solution is a violent act of scapegoating. Girard argued that mimetic violence and the scapegoating of victims are the very "things hidden since the foundation of the world." For scapegoating to be effective, the persecutors must, on some level, be unaware that they are performing a psychosocial act, viewing it instead as a religious epiphany that unites them. Indeed, a central idea for Girard is that all powers and principalities depend on scapegoating violence for their existence. The scapegoat typically has certain recurrent features: they are often a foreigner, someone with a disability, or a person in a position of authority. These acts of violence are then commemorated in the founding myths of cultures, myths in which the scapegoat becomes deified.

Girard's development of the scapegoat theory was influenced by his observations of post-World War II France, where collaborators were publicly punished as scapegoats for the Nazi invasion. Though Girard rarely used contemporary case studies, preferring to find evidence in ancient literature, scripture, and anthropology, his view on lynchings both ancient and modern was unambiguous: they were unconscionable.

The scapegoat mechanism also informed Girard's response to Nietzsche, who condemned Christianity as a philosophy of victimhood. In this intellectual confrontation, Nietzsche criticized Christianity's "slave morality" for its defense of the weak, interpreting its emphasis on mercy as a corruption of human vitality that undermined the pre-Christian values of power and strength. Girard, while fundamentally opposed to Nietzsche's antipathy toward victims, paradoxically thought he was a philosophical genius who recognized what many failed to perceive: Christianity's singular focus on defending victims. Their agreement on Christianity's uniqueness but diametrically opposed conclusions—Nietzsche seeing it as humanity's corruption, Girard viewing it as the revelation of truth that could reverse culture's violent foundations—exemplifies the tension at the heart of Thiel's understanding of victimhood. Thiel believes 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. In Girard's 1978 book Things Hidden Since the Foundation of the World, he argues that Christianity had revealed the hidden truth of the scapegoat mechanism. By insisting on their saviour's innocence, Christians had deconstructed the "primitive" belief in the scapegoat's guilt.

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. In Thiel's reading of Girard, Christianity fundamentally exposes the scapegoat mechanism by presenting Christ as fully innocent while his persecutors are complicit in the literal death of God. This revelation forces the victimizers to confront their own culpability rather than projecting blame onto an outsider. The crucifixion thus unveils the truth about scapegoating by revealing it as a profound moral failure rather than a justified sacrifice.

He posits that beyond merely exposing the mechanism, Christianity offers a path beyond the cycle of violence through Christ's teachings. When Jesus instructs his followers to "turn the other cheek," he introduces a radical alternative to mimetic rivalry. Instead of responding to violence with retaliatory violence (which perpetuates mimesis), Christ's model substitutes forgiveness and non-violence. This creates a new mimetic pattern where peace, rather than vengeance, becomes the desire to be imitated. For Girard, this represents the only viable escape from the endless cycle of mimetic violence.

While Girard is considered a pacifist in his interpretation of these principles, Thiel does not necessarily share this strict interpretation. He believes that force is sometimes required to prevent violence from escalating further. Nevertheless, he maintains that forgiveness remains a crucial aspect of overcoming mimetic violence and breaking the cycle of retaliation that drives human conflict.

Thiel is a pessimist about human nature, influenced by his Christian beliefs concerning original sin. He sees humans as inherently prone to violence and envy, requiring strong frameworks (often religious) to contain their darker impulses. This contrasts sharply with Enlightenment and liberal views that emphasize human goodness and the potential for progress through reason and democracy. When Thiel says "the state contains violence," he is asserting his deep-seated beliefs about the nature of political power and social order. Thiel sees the state as serving an a single 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.

Thiel's investment in Facebook/Instagram represents a shrewd capitalization on Girardian mimetic theory in digital form. These platforms systematically transform mimetic desire into a monetizable business model by creating environments where users constantly observe others' curated lives, possessions, and experiences—triggering waves of envy and imitative desire. Instagram's interface specifically optimizes for this dynamic: its visual emphasis on lifestyle, consumption, and status markers creates perfect conditions for mimetic contagion, where users desire what others display. This manufactured envy drives engagement metrics which Facebook converts directly into advertising revenue. The genius of the model lies in its self-reinforcing nature—the more users engage in mimetic comparison, the more attention they provide, which advertisers pay to capture. Thiel, understanding Girard's insights about human desire being fundamentally imitative, has effectively invested in a business that industrializes and monetizes the very psychological mechanism he intellectually critiques elsewhere.

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

Peter Thiel's philosophical landscape is also significantly shaped by the ideas of Carl Schmitt, a German jurist and political theorist whose work offers a trenchant critique of liberalism. It is crucial to acknowledge Schmitt's active membership in the Nazi party and his role in providing an ideological foundation for its dictatorship, a deeply problematic association that necessitates careful consideration when examining his influence. While Thiel's engagement with Schmitt is not uncritical, both thinkers share a profound skepticism towards core tenets of the Enlightenment, particularly its influence on liberal political theory and its perceived tendency to downplay the fundamental role of violence and the inescapable nature of political conflict. This shared critique forms a crucial point of convergence, though Thiel's framework, ultimately informed by Christian theology and Girardian ideas, seeks to navigate beyond what he sees as 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 adequately address essential questions about human nature and the persistent reality of conflict in social orders. Both argue that modern states, in their aspiration for neutrality, often neglect underlying theological and moral questions crucial for understanding power and social cohesion. Thiel echoes Schmitt's assertion that Enlightenment liberalism has "whitewashed away" the fundamental problem of human violence, leading to a naive and potentially dangerous approach to politics—one that fails to grasp the core drivers of human conflict and delusionally believes in a neutral political playing field.

Schmitt's concept of "the political" (das Politische), defined by the fundamental existential distinction between friend (Freund) and enemy (Feind), resonates deeply with Thiel. For both, this distinction is not an archaic relic but an ineradicable element of political dynamics. Thiel views the modern liberal attempt to transcend this reality as a dangerous oversight, citing, for example, the Reagan coalition—unified by a common enemy in Soviet communism—as a powerful illustration of Schmitt's point. This concept informs Thiel's perception of geopolitical rivalries, such as that with China, demonstrating his application of the friend/enemy distinction to contemporary international relations. He considers this concept essential for understanding the actual workings of the world.

Central to Schmitt's thought is his theory of "political theology," which posits that "all significant concepts of the modern theory of the state are secularized theological concepts." He argues for a systematic structural analogy between theological and political ideas: the omnipotent God in theology corresponds to the all-powerful sovereign lawgiver in jurisprudence. Thus, despite secularization, political structures and concepts of authority, particularly sovereignty, retain their theological DNA and cannot be fully comprehended without acknowledging this genealogy. The sovereign's ability to decide on the exception, for instance, mirrors God's capacity for miraculous intervention, suspending the normal order of nature or law.

Schmitt’s analysis often focuses on "borderline concepts" (Grenzbegriffe), ideas that illuminate the nature of order by examining its limits. The most significant of these is his notion of the "state of exception" (Ausnahmezustand)—a situation where normal legal frameworks are suspended and sovereign power manifests in its purest, most decisionistic form. For Schmitt, "sovereign is he who decides on the exception." These borderline concepts reveal that political order ultimately rests on foundational decisions that may lie beyond complete rationalization or legal codification, exposing the existential underpinnings of authority.

Both Thiel and Schmitt also share a rejection of utopian visions, particularly the liberal-progressive belief that society can be perfected through political or social reforms. Thiel views such utopianism as a form of "indeterminate optimism" that distracts from concrete problems and solutions. Similarly, Schmitt argued that attempts to eliminate the friend/enemy distinction and create a conflict-free, universal world order are futile and dangerously illusory, dismissing such projects as a "humanitarian-moral universalism" that often masks new antagonisms. This shared anti-utopianism is a core element of their critique of modern liberal thought.

The role of violence is another point of convergence. Schmitt contended that a political community cannot achieve cohesion without an enemy against which to define itself, implying that conflict, and potentially violence, is an inherent aspect of political order. Thiel, profoundly influenced by Girard, sees mimetic desire as a fundamental driver of conflict and violence. However, a significant divergence emerges here: while Schmitt largely accepts the political necessity of the friend/enemy distinction and its potential for violence, Thiel, drawing from Christian theology, posits that the non-violence of Jesus offers a possible (though perhaps not always practically realized) alternative to the perpetual cycle of violence. This reveals that while Thiel may adopt a Schmittian diagnosis of political realities, his proposed remedies or ultimate hopes are shaped by a different theological horizon.

Thiel's skepticism towards liberal democracy shares some surface-level similarities with Schmitt's critique of parliamentary democracy as weak and indecisive. However, from a Girardian perspective, Thiel sees Schmitt as too narrowly focused on the political realm and too invested in preserving what Thiel considers the ultimately nihilistic friend-enemy distinction. While both thinkers express concerns about democracy's potential to devolve into "mob rule" and undermine individual freedoms, Thiel's critique stems from his Girardian analysis of mimetic desire and scapegoating, rather than Schmitt's more cynical political framework that sees no way to escape the friend-enemy dichotomy.

Leo Strauss

Peter Thiel's intellectual framework is also significantly informed by his interpretation of Leo Strauss, a political philosopher renowned for his critiques of modernity and his distinctive approach to reading classical texts. Thiel's engagement with Strauss, notably articulated in his essay The Straussian Moment (prompted by and referring to the September 11 attacks), centers on the idea of hidden or esoteric truths and the perceived inadequacy of Enlightenment rationalism to address the fundamental, often violent, aspects of human nature and political life. For Thiel, Strauss represents a thinker who, like René Girard, recognized the persistent problem of violence and the limitations of modern political thought, advocating for a return to the "wisdom of the ancients" to navigate contemporary crises.

At the core of Strauss's own methodology, and central to Thiel's appropriation, is the concept of esoteric writing. Strauss argued that many pre-modern philosophers (and some modern ones) wrote on two levels: an exoteric (surface) teaching for a wider, potentially hostile or uncomprehending audience, and an esoteric (hidden) teaching intended for a select few capable of discerning deeper, often more radical, truths. This careful mode of writing was, for Strauss, a necessary response to the threat of persecution and a way to preserve philosophical inquiry into dangerous questions. Thiel seizes upon this idea, seeing it as a validation for his own emphasis on "secrets" and the notion that profound insights are not for mass consumption but are discovered and wielded by a discerning elite—a group he implicitly includes himself within—capable of shaping the future by uncovering these concealed realities.

Thiel aligns with Strauss's profound critique of modernity, particularly its secularism and optimistic belief in rational progress. Strauss contended that modern political philosophy, by abandoning classical and theological inquiries into virtue and the good life, had led to a "crisis of the West," characterized by nihilism and a dangerous shallowness of thought. In "The Straussian Moment," Thiel echoes this, arguing that the Enlightenment's faith in reason and material explanations (as seen in Locke, Hobbes, or Marx) proved insufficient to grasp or contain the irrational, violent forces unleashed on 9/11. For Thiel, this "Straussian moment" signifies a juncture where the West must confront the limits of its Enlightenment inheritance and rediscover more fundamental, perhaps pre-modern, understandings of politics and human nature. Both see modern secularism as having eroded traditional moral anchors and created a vacuum where, as Thiel fears, apocalyptic catastrophe could occur.

This critique naturally leads to an emphasis on the enduring problem of human nature, particularly its potential for conflict. Thiel draws a line connecting Strauss's concern with human imperfection to the insights of Girard on mimetic violence and Schmitt on the friend/enemy distinction, viewing all three as thinkers who acknowledge the ineradicable role of conflict in the social order, a reality he believes modern thought has dangerously "whitewashed."

Furthermore, Thiel interprets Strauss as recognizing the inescapable relationship between religion (or its absence) and political order. While Strauss himself was a complex figure regarding his personal faith, his work explored the political implications of theological claims and the classical philosophical engagement with revelation. Thiel translates this into a conviction that a political order cannot be truly neutral regarding ultimate questions and that his own Christian-inflected framework offers necessary guidance that purely secular or classical approaches (even Strauss's) might lack. In "The Straussian Moment," Thiel suggests that only a "Christian statesman or stateswoman" might ultimately restrain the cycle of violence, subtly positioning his Girardian Christianity as a necessary supplement or even corrective to a purely Straussian, classical revival.

Thiel's skepticism towards liberal democracy also finds resonance with certain interpretations of Strauss. While Strauss's own views on democracy were nuanced, his critique of mass society and the potential for "unthinking consent" can be read as aligning with Thiel's fears of democracy devolving into mob rule or hindering high-agency individuals and "founders." Thiel appears to believe that an elite, capable of discerning esoteric truths, is better positioned to govern than the masses, who might be swayed by exoteric simplicities or mimetic frenzies.

It is crucial to note, however, that Thiel's engagement is highly selective. He is not a "Straussian" in a conventional sense but rather mines Strauss's thought for concepts that bolster his pre-existing worldview. He emphasizes the esoteric method to validate his pursuit of "secrets," the critique of modernity to justify his contrarian and often anti-Enlightenment stances, and the focus on human imperfection to underscore his Girardian and Schmittian diagnoses of conflict.

In essence, Thiel uses Strauss as both an inspiration and a foil. He leverages Strauss's critique of modern rationalism to argue for a return to fundamental questions but ultimately filters these through his own distinct Girardian and Christian eschatological lenses. For Thiel, the "Straussian moment" is less about a wholesale adoption of classical philosophy and more about creating space for his own preferred blend of technological ambition, apocalyptic Christianity, and elitist governance, all framed as a necessary response to a modernity that has lost its way.

Lord of the Rings

For Thiel, J.R.R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings serves as more than literary entertainment—it functions as a foundational mythology that shapes his Manichean worldview. Through Tolkien's epic, Thiel finds validation for his belief in the necessity of a rightful king's return to restore cosmic order. He interprets the narrative as a framework for understanding history, power dynamics, and the eternal struggle between good and evil, viewing our world as a modern Middle Earth where he has been called to "Save The Shire"—his metaphor for an idealized "Christendom" or "Western civilization." While Tolkien's cosmology positions a fictional spiritual pantheaon of Valar as guiding supernatural forces, Thiel reframes these cosmic influences through a Girardian lens, seeing them as manifestations of the Judeo-Christian Spirit working purposefully through human history. This interpretation allows him to position himself within a grand narrative where he plays a pivotal role in the battle between order and chaos.

At the heart of Thiel's interpretation lies his fundamentally Manichean view of the world, a constant battleground between good and evil, where authoritarianism battles against freedom, and nihilism against purpose. This worldview is projected onto the cosmic forces of Middle Earth, aligning perfectly with the central conflict in The Lord of the Rings, where the free peoples of Middle-earth represent individual liberty and meaningful existence against Sauron's totalitarian control and spiritual emptiness. Thiel sees our world as locked in this same cosmic struggle, casting himself as a defender of freedom against encroaching authoritarianism. For him, The Lord of the Rings isn't merely fiction but a mythological framework that reveals deeper truths about reality—where good and evil aren't abstract concepts but tangible forces manifested in political and social structures that either liberate or subjugate humanity.

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 that attepts to unify Middle Earth under a totalitarian one world government. He sees this as being in contrast to the forces of good, The Fellowship of the free people of Middle Earth, which are based more on nature and mysticism and rebellion against the tyranny of totalitarianism.

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 after the seeing stones from Lord of the Rings—artifacts that are neither inherently good nor evil, but which can be dangerous in the wrong hands. In Tolkien's mythology, the palantíri were powerful seeing stones that allowed users to witness events across vast distances and communicate with other stone holders, but they came with significant warnings. The myth cautioned that these stones could be incredibly dangerous when wielded by those lacking wisdom or moral compass, as they could distort truth and present selective visions of reality that served the interests of corrupting forces like Sauron. This naming choice deliberately reflects Thiel's view on surveillance technology: like the palantíri themselves, data analytics tools are morally neutral but can be corrupted when misused. The company embodies Thiel's philosophical outlook through its unusual corporate culture, featuring a flat title structure designed to minimize mimetic rivalry, and its mission of uncovering hidden "secrets" that can be leveraged for strategic advantage.

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 alleges his favorite Tolkein quote is "The greatest adventure is what lies ahead / Today and tomorrow are yet to be said" which comes from the animated version of The Hobbit. He claims that he memorized this passage at a young age, and that it became a motto for his life. The Lord of the Rings is more than just a story for Thiel; it is a significant childhood influence that reinforces and shapes his view of the world as being in a state of conflict between cosmic forces.

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.

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 believes technological progress isn't innate to history but an expression of a specific cultural impulse rooted in Christianity that peaked during the Victorian Era of Western imperialism and has allegedly been declining since. Thiel's analysis of secular decline and technological stagnation paints a stark picture of the modern West, which he believes is now in a state of secular decline that needs to be reversed.

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 a conspiracy theory that his colleague Eric Weinstein calls the "distributed idea suppression complex"—the belief that a network of elite media organizations, bureaucracies, universities, and government-funded NGOs 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, autism vaccine conspiracy, and COVID-19 conspiracies 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" (string theory gets particular derision in his view), 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 progressive ideas 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 may actually be pushing the world toward disaster or maybe become a tool of the Antichrist if not curtailed.

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.

Original Sin and Moral Trilemma

Thiel's interpretation of original sin is deeply intertwined with his critique of what he calls "wokeism," (an imprecise slur used by the American right to refer to progressive ideas they dislike) 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 believes 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.

From this understanding of original sin and its manifestations in modern society, Thiel develops a framework for interpreting how humans can respond to the moral weight of history. He presents this as a trilemma—three distinct approaches to addressing historical injustices, with no other options permitted in his analysis.

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. Thiel thinks wokeness retains the slave morality of Christianity without Christ to expose and prevent the scapegoat mechanism. There is no mechanism in place for forgiving transgressions, so the cycle of violence repeats endlessly as woke adherents compile an ever-expanding list of transgressions to justify engaging in more struggle sessions. 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 (a deeply controversial right-wing provocateur), Paganism, 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, regarding it as "pagan", but humors it as a valid third branch of his trichotomy in debates.

Kingdom of God and the Antichrist

Thiel's vision of the "kingdom of God" and his interpretation of the Antichrist represent two sides of the same theological coin, forming a complex eschatological framework that shapes his worldview. Drawing heavily from René Girard's mimetic theory, Thiel sees human history as a linear journey moving toward a definite endpoint, where humanity faces a stark choice between two possible futures: the "limitless violence of runaway mimesis" or "the peace of the kingdom of God."

For Thiel, the Antichrist is not merely a single individual, but a recurring type throughout history, a dangerous political system, and a force that uses deception and fear to gain control. Central to this interpretation is Girard's provocative idea from I Saw Satan Fall Like Lightning, where he suggests that the Christian concern for victims—one of Christianity's most revolutionary contributions to human culture—could be exploited and weaponized. In his later interviews, Girard explicitly associated this "caricature" of Christian values with the figure of the Antichrist. For Thiel, this Girardian insight reveals how the Antichrist operates: by perverting Christianity's core concern for the marginalized into a mechanism for power and control. This force he calls "victimism" of which Girard said "Victimism uses the ideology of concern for victims to gain political or economic or spiritual power."

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 (a form of "ultrachristianity"), especially concerning the use of power and violence. The Antichrist, in Thiel's understanding, co-opts Christian ideals of victim protection and uses them for their own purposes, making it difficult to recognize the evil beneath the veneer of compassion.

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. 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. Thiel selectively cherry-picks biblical passages like 1 Thessalonians 5:2-4 as literal prophecies: "For when they shall say, Peace and safety; then sudden destruction cometh upon them, as travail upon a woman with child; and they shall not escape." He interprets this to mean the Antichrist will promise "peace and safety" as primary goals, and while these ideas are not inherently evil, Thiel believes that these become dangerous when used to justify oppression and the loss of freedom.

Thiel believes that the Antichrist will use the fear of Armageddon to gain power. He identifies several specific existential threats that could serve as catalysts for this fear: nuclear and thermonuclear weapons capable of global annihilation; environmental destruction and climate change; bioengineering and bioweapons that could trigger pandemics; nanotechnology with its potential for uncontrolled self-replication; autonomous weapons systems ("killer robots"); and perhaps most concerning to Thiel, artificial intelligence that could escape human control. He views these technological developments as potential instruments of Armageddon that the Antichrist could exploit to consolidate power through fear.

In stark contrast to this vision of the Antichrist stands Thiel's conception of the "kingdom of God." He establishes a clear dichotomy between the "city of man" and the "city of God," seeing the former as built on hidden victims and "obfuscated violence." The modern world, with its secular governance, emphasis on short-term gains, and tendency toward mimetic conflict, represents the "city of man," prone to chaos and instability. In contrast, the "city of God" represents a state of peace, justice, and divine order, where these destructive forces are overcome and the world is reborn, allegedly into a competative patchwork of libertarian enclaves where hyper-competative market pressures and mimesis are balanced and kept in check through universal Christian values.

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 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. Notably, Thiel emphasizes the biblical narrative arc where human society begins in a garden (Eden) and culminates in a city (the New Jerusalem), reflecting his belief that civilization's development follows a divinely ordained trajectory from nature toward an ultimate developed civilization.

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 connects the rise of the Antichrist to modern technology, believing that such a totalitarian government would use mass surveillance to monitor "every keystroke everywhere" to prevent any dissent. This would create a society where privacy is nonexistent and challenges to authority become impossible. Thiel believes that there is no real need to choose between total destruction and such a technological totalitarian regime, and that other paths must be explored.

Through the lens of Christian eschatology and his critique of modernity, Thiel envisions the "kingdom of God" and the threat of the Antichrist 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.

Immortality & Death

Thiel fundamentally rejects what he sees as the widespread philosophical and religious acceptance of death, framing it instead as humanity's greatest challenge, one that requires active combat rather than passive resignation. Thiel's worldview is built around this core conviction, motivating substantial investments and personal commitments aimed at significantly extending human lifespans, potentially achieving a form of technological immortality. His perspective positions him as a leading proponent of transhumanist ideals focused on overcoming biological limitations. Thiel's position contains several internal tensions. His simultaneous embrace of Christianity and transhumanism represents a philosophical hybrid that many would find contradictory, as traditional Christian theology emphasizes resurrection and eternal life through divine grace rather than technological intervention.

The philosophical underpinnings of Thiel's quest against death are deeply rooted in his philosophical framework. He explicitly characterizes death as "evil" and "wrong," a perspective he ties to his Christian background, suggesting a convergence between religious opposition to death and the transhumanist goal of defeating it. Thiel argues that the fight against mortality is a moral imperative, a crusade against the ultimate injustice. Further extending this moral argument, he provocatively reframes the pursuit of immortality as an egalitarian endeavor, suggesting that the greatest inequality exists between the living and the dead. This framing attempts to imbue the potentially self-interested goal of personal life extension with a broader, justice-oriented significance.

Thiel frames his opposition to death in explicitly moral terms, viewing mortality not as a natural process but as an evil to be conquered. Despite his Christian background, or perhaps because of it, Thiel has stated: "The one part of the Christian view that I believe more strongly than anything is that death is evil, that it's wrong and we should not accept it and fight it any way we can". This perspective positions the fight against death as a moral crusade rather than merely a scientific endeavor. Thiel selectively cites Matthew 6:9-13 from the Lord's Prayer—"Thy kingdom come; Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven"—to support his vision of technological immortality as bringing heaven to earth. Ironically, in his conversation with theologian N.T. Wright, Thiel claimed to see parallels between Christianity and transhumanism, remarking that "the thing that strikes me is how similar they are," despite Wright's own interpretation that "Jesus's resurrection is the beginning of God's new project not to snatch people away from earth to heaven but to colonize earth with the life of heaven. That, after all, is what the Lord's Prayer is about." This synthesis of religious faith with technological immortality represents a highly contrarian element of Thiel's worldview that separates him from both many secular transhumanists and most Christians. In his essay "Against Edenism" he argues that Christianity promotes an "eschatological frame" where humans work with God to build "the kingdom of heaven today, here on Earth".

Thiel rejects the conventional Kübler-Ross grief cycle that ends with acceptance of death. Instead, he advocates extending the "anger" stage indefinitely: "I'd like the fighting stage to be really long". This perspective challenges the psychological wisdom that peace comes through acceptance, suggesting instead that productive rage against mortality could drive innovation and progress. By rejecting acceptance, Thiel positions himself against both religious traditions that emphasize peaceful surrender to mortality and secular approaches that counsel coming to terms with death's inevitability.

Thiel explicitly rejects Steve Jobs' famous notion that death gives life meaning and urgency. Where Jobs called death "the single best invention of life," Thiel counters: "I believe the exact opposite of that. Maybe it's when people think they have no time left that they don't undertake things". This rejection of mortality as a source of meaning represents a profound break with existentialist philosophy and various religious traditions that find value in life's finite nature.

For most Christians throughout history, death represents not an ultimate evil but a transition to eternal life—a doorway to heavenly reunion with God. The Christian tradition has provided billions with profound comfort in the face of mortality, teaching that this life is merely a "veil of tears" before the glory of heaven. Rather than trusting in divine grace and resurrection, Thiel places his faith in technological solutions to cheat death entirely—a stance that borders on the hubristic rejection of divine order that many Christian traditions would view with skepticism. This tension suggests that despite his Christian rhetoric, Thiel may fundamentally doubt the metaphysical claims about the afterlife that form the basis of Christian doctrine.

In a very revealing interview with The Atlantic magazine, Thiel's profound death anxiety emerges as a central psychological force. He confesses his inability to confront mortality, refusing even to write a will because he sees it as "defeatist." His fascination with the immortal elves from Lord of the Rings—beings who "can die but can potentially live forever"—reveals his yearning for technological immortality. When asked why humans couldn't achieve similar immortality, Thiel's enthusiastic response betrayed his preoccupation with this subject. One might argue that this death anxiety may fundamentally shape his entire worldview, sublimated into his advocacy for monopolistic capitalism, extreme wealth concentration, and deregulated biomedical research—all potentially creating conditions that might allow him to cheat death through market solutions. His philosophical framework, political positions, and investment strategies could be interpreted as elaborate defensive structures built around this core existential terror. While purely speculative, this reading suggests that Thiel's quest for immortality may be the hidden foundation of much of his intellectual edifice, with his economic and political prescriptions serving as means to achieve this end.

Criticism

Peter Thiel's vaunted philosophical framework, upon closer inspection, collapses into a self-serving edifice designed to legitimize an elitist, anti-democratic agenda. It awkwardly fuses a selective interpretation of Christianity with techno-utopian aspirations, all while riddled with logical contradictions and unexamined theological presuppositions. Thiel weaponizes eschatological rhetoric to demonize international cooperation and progressive ideologies as an apocalyptic precursor, casting himself—a billionaire with immense global influence—as a beleaguered hero resisting nebulous forces of evil. This intellectual project is characterized by flagrant cherry-picking, opportunistically deploying concepts from Girardian theory and diverse philosophies without reconciling their inherent contradictions, particularly when such reconciliation would challenge his entrenched political and economic interests. The outcome is not a coherent philosophy but a sophisticated rationalization, a veneer of intellectual depth masking a project driven by personal anxieties transformed into cosmic dramas, where his fears become universal truths and his preferences, moral imperatives.

Perhaps most fundamentally, Thiel's entire philosophical framework rests upon an unexamined presupposition: that Christianity is true (or at minimum, uniquely useful). This is not a conclusion reached through philosophical analysis but rather an axiomatic starting point that remains undefended against the possibility that Christianity itself could be yet another myth—potentially even a harmful one. Thiel uses concepts like the Second Coming, the Antichrist, Apocalypse, and the katechon not merely as metaphors, but as fundamental, explanatory lenses for understanding history, politics, and the current cultural moment. He presupposes that this Judeo-Christian eschatological framework offers deeper insights than secular or purely philosophical analysis. If this presupposition were removed, his entire intellectual edifice would collapse. By treating Christian cosmology as somehow exempt from the critical scrutiny he applies to other worldviews, Thiel creates a self-reinforcing system that cannot engage honestly with the prospect that his theological foundation might be as mythological as the pagan beliefs he dismisses. This circular reasoning reveals the fragility of his framework: it depends entirely on accepting, without sufficient justification, a specific religious tradition as uniquely revelatory. And there is no a priori reason to accept this premise.

However, even if this foundational Christian premise were accepted—a commitment some might make akin to Kierkegaard's 'leap of faith' beyond rational proof—Thiel's framework would still be plagued by additional internal structural problems. Thiel uncritically assumes the fundamental correctness of René Girard's mimetic theory. Thiel assumes Girard's theories of mimetic desire, scapegoating violence as the foundation of culture, and the unique, destabilizing effect of the Christian revelation (unveiling the scapegoat mechanism) as essentially true and historically operative. He assumes this unveiling inevitably leads toward desacralization and potentially apocalyptic violence.

However, this uncritical adoption of Girardian theory ignores the substantial philosophical critiques that have been leveled against Girard's work. A primary flaw is Girard's theoretical overreach. What begins as plausible observations about mimetic psychology eventually transforms into a totalizing theoretical system attempting to explain every aspect of human nature. This overreach is particularly evident in Thiel's application, where mimetic desire becomes the universal explanation for everything from market competition to political movements he opposes.

The methodological foundations of Girard's work are equally problematic. His theories regarding mimetic desire are derived not from empirical research or controlled studies, but from literary analysis—essentially, reading works of fiction. While this approach may yield interesting thought experiments, it hardly constitutes a rigorous basis for sweeping claims about human nature. When Thiel applies these literary extrapolations to complex social and economic phenomena, he compounds this methodological weakness.

Most damningly, Girard's theory arguably fails Karl Popper's criterion of falsifiability. There seems to be no possible counter-example that could refute Girard's thesis. If a violent myth or ritual is considered, Girard argues this confirms his hypothesis. If a non-violent myth is examined, Girard claims this also confirms his theory because cultures "erase tracks of violence." Such circularity renders the theory practically unfalsifiable and thus, from a scientific perspective, limited in its explanatory power: a theory that explains everything often explains nothing specifically.

Girard's Christian apologetics further undermine his theoretical objectivity. His hermeneutic approach goes to great lengths to highlight violence in non-Christian rituals while offering an exceptionally charitable reading of biblical texts. This double standard is particularly evident in his exaggeration of the contrast between myths and the Bible. Girard seems predisposed to find sanctioned violence in myths while overlooking similar elements in biblical narratives. When studying myths, Girard is effectively just seeing faces in the clouds, projecting violence where alternative interpretations are equally plausible.

Even granting Girard's premise about Christianity's unique role in revealing scapegoating mechanisms, this wouldn't necessarily imply divine origin. Alternative sociological explanations exist—perhaps biblical authors sympathized with victims because they were themselves victims as subjects of ancient empires. Girard's leap to supernatural causation represents an ad ignorantiam fallacy: the fact that we cannot currently explain a phenomenon does not imply supernatural origins.

Thiel compounds these problems by selectively applying Girardian concepts. He uses mimetic theory to delegitimize his opponents while exempting himself and his ideological allies from the same analysis. This selective deployment demonstrates that, for Thiel, mimetic theory operates less as a genuine analytical tool and more as a convenient rhetorical cudgel.

His application of mimetic theory to political movements appears to be a post-hoc rationalization designed to delegitimize ideologies he finds threatening. Rather than engaging with the substance of liberal and progressive arguments, Thiel has pre-judged these movements and subsequently developed a theoretical framework that conveniently explains away their motivations as mere mimetic desire. His dismissal of social justice movements as status competition deliberately ignores the straightforward goal many participants share: creating a more equitable society. Similarly, his characterization of environmental activism as mimetic rivalry sidesteps the overwhelming scientific consensus on climate change and its documented impacts. This selective application of mimetic theory reveals more about Thiel's own biases than about the movements he critiques. His apparent fear of "cancel culture" may simply reflect the uncomfortable reality that many of his ideas are increasingly considered abhorrent in modern discourse—not because of mimetic contagion, but because society's moral understanding has evolved to recognize the harm such views can cause.

Finally, Girard's reliance on religious terminology to describe psychological mechanisms creates unnecessary confusion and obscures rather than clarifies his concepts. When Thiel adopts this language, particularly in secular contexts like business or politics, it further muddles the discourse and makes critical evaluation more difficult. For example Thiel's concept of the Antichrist is used incoherently throughout his writing. It shifts from a potential high-agency individual to symbolic literary figures, to potentially an institution or system embodying risk aversion ("peace and safety"). This conceptual slipperiness allows Thiel to apply the apocalyptic label to contemporary trends he dislikes (bureaucracy, safetyism), but it drains the concept of theological or philosophical rigor. It becomes a floating signifier for "bad outcome" within his chosen framework.

Ultimately, Thiel's embrace of a reductionist Girardianism appears less a dispassionate intellectual choice and more a projection of his personal anxieties. 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.

In essence, Thiel's reliance on Girard means his framework is critically dependent on a theory plagued by questionable validity, suffers from methodological weaknesses, exhibits clear religious bias, and ultimately offers a circular, unfalsifiable account of human behavior. His uncritical embrace of Girardian thought reveals less a profound intellectual engagement with human nature and more a convenient narrative that allows him to position himself as uniquely enlightened while dismissing his critics as merely trapped in mimetic rivalry.

Beyond his reliance on Girard, Thiel's specific interpretation of Christianity invites 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. Thiel 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.

Thiel's hermeneutical approach exemplifies a problematic selectivity that borders on eisegesis rather than exegesis. He employs a Straussian hermeneutic of suspicion to extract ostensibly "hidden" meanings from biblical texts, yet this methodology functions primarily as post-hoc rationalization for his pre-established political commitments. By cherry-picking disparate verses—particularly apocalyptic passages from Revelation and eschatological warnings from Thessalonians—Thiel imposes a false univocality upon inherently polysemic texts. This approach treats complex scriptural passages as if their meaning is singular and directly applicable to his contemporary concerns, conveniently sidestepping their rich history of varied exegesis. The textual corpus of scripture, with its contradictions, ambiguities, and competing theological frameworks, functions more as a Rorschach test onto which Thiel projects his ideological preoccupations than as a stable foundation for his claims. For instance, while Thiel heavily emphasizes apocalyptic foresight and long-term, definite plans, he conveniently overlooks Jesus's own admonition in Matthew 6:34: "Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." Such a call for present-moment focus and trust starkly contrasts with Thiel's selective focus on eschatological urgency and grand, future-oriented designs. His assertion of singular, definitive readings constitutes a sophisticated sophistry, leveraging the cultural authority of biblical texts while eliding the interpretive responsibility such engagement demands.

Furthermore, Thiel's eschatology is not an accepted a priori truth but a specific theological construct he imposes as an objective lens for historical and political interpretation. This approach blinds him to the empirical reality that the post-war liberal order he so disdains actually represents the period of greatest growth, stability, and peace in human history. His apocalyptic yearnings reveal less about the world's trajectory and more about his personal distaste for the dominant political order and his fears of a liberal world system that has, contrary to his narrative, delivered unprecedented prosperity and reduced global violence. There appears to be a troubling instrumentalization at work—Thiel's eschatological framework seems less a sincere theological position and more a convenient vehicle for advancing his preferred right-wing political revival. His desire for apocalypse functions not as a coherent argument about the world's future but as a rhetorical device that creates urgency around his political project, allowing him to position himself as a prophetic voice in a time of alleged decline despite evidence to the contrary.

Thiel also has a Manichean worldview, a stark dichotomy between good and evil, which overly 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.

Thiel's political and social views are equally problematic, marked by a deep-seated anti-democratic sentiment and a preference for elitist structures. Thiel's statement that "freedom and democracy are incompatible" reveals his fundamentally distorted conception of freedom—one that prioritizes negative liberty ("freedom from") over positive liberty ("freedom to"). This framing allows him to position democracy itself, rather than its imperfect implementations, as the enemy of his narrowly defined freedom. What Thiel truly seeks is not universal freedom but rather exemption from collective governance for himself and other elites. His rejection of democracy stems not from principled philosophical analysis but from a deep-seated psychological aversion to being subject to any power structure he cannot control or escape. Rather than engaging constructively with democracy's flaws—working toward reforms that might balance individual rights with collective decision-making—Thiel dismisses the entire democratic project. This wholesale rejection conveniently serves his interests as a billionaire seeking to operate beyond accountability to the societies that enabled his wealth and power. His libertarian conception of freedom thus functions primarily as ideological cover for what is essentially an aristocratic worldview that privileges the autonomy of the powerful while dismissing the democratic rights of ordinary citizens. 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 political framework appears to suffer from what 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. In The Open Society and Its Enemies, 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.

Viewed through a Marxist lens, 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.

A central tenet of Thiel's worldview is his belief that Western civilization faces secular decline, with technological stagnation as both symptom and consequence. This claim, however, rests on shaky foundations. Thiel frequently overindexes on perceived slowdowns in physics while overlooking remarkable advances in other fields. He attributes this supposed stagnation to a peculiar cause: an unconscious, collective fear of apocalyptic violence—a fear he believes stems from Christian revelation and is amplified by technologies like nuclear weapons. According to Thiel, this deep-seated anxiety drives modern scientific bureaucracy, demographic decline, and what he terms a cultural "retreat to interiority."

This monocausal explanation appears more politically motivated than empirically grounded. Thiel's narrative conveniently ignores transformative breakthroughs in renewable energy, artificial intelligence, biotechnology, and revivals in space exploration. Economists like Mariana Mazzucato, in her book The Entrepreneurial State, have demonstrated that innovation flourishes through complex interactions between public investment, regulatory frameworks, and private enterprise—challenging Thiel's simplistic analysis of scientific progress. By dismissing these nuanced factors, Thiel promotes a deterministic and reductionist view of innovation that fails to acknowledge how innovation actually emerges from the interplay of public policy, global collaboration, and diverse market incentives.

Thiel's depiction of recent decades as a "zombie era", an "endless Groundhog Day" of contained crises, implying a societal sclerosis ripe for radical rupture, can be sharply contrasted with the philosophy of Edmund Burke (like Thiel also a man of the right), who famously championed gradual societal evolution over revolutionary upheaval. From a Burkean perspective, the 'stretching' of institutions Thiel decries might be seen not as terminal decay, but as the necessary, albeit imperfect, adaptations of a complex social fabric striving to preserve order and continuity. As Burke warned, "Only unbridled power can deliver a revolutionary overthrow of the existing order. But unbridled power is by its nature destructive: it shatters the security on which productive human relations can be based and decent lives lived." Reform, in Burke's view, is not revolution but its opposite—it is impossible and deeply wrong to attempt recreating society from scratch, as if its history counted for nothing. The outcome of such attempts has always been destruction and despotism. Thus, the 'fizzling out' of crises that Thiel laments could be viewed as prudent societal self-preservation, a preference for gradual reform and the maintenance of inherited stability over the perilous path of revolutionary 'change' that risks far greater evils than Fukuyama's "end of history".

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 consider 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 technological progress. 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."

A Gramscian analysis also provides an insightful lens on Thiel, he operates as an organic intellectual for a techno-capitalist elite, attempting to construct a new cultural hegemony that normalizes anti-democratic sentiments and valorizes 'founder'-led innovation as the sole path to salvation from perceived civilizational decline. His philosophical pronouncements represent a 'war of position'—a sustained effort to reshape 'common sense' by discrediting liberal democratic norms and progressive ideals. By framing his agenda as a necessary response to existential threats, Thiel seeks to manufacture consent for a societal reordering that would cement the dominance of his class, masking particular interests as universal imperatives and naturalizing an otherwise radical vision of power.

In this Gramscian interpretation, Peter Thiel operates less as a philosopher and more as a political entrepreneur, astutely leveraging perceived crises of modernity to advance both his material interests and ideological agenda. By casting himself as a "great man" of history uniquely equipped to diagnose and solve civilizational decay through disruptive technologies and contrarian politics, he frames his often self-serving ventures and anti-democratic leanings as necessary, even heroic responses. This self-positioning allows him to simultaneously shape narratives, accumulate power, and profit from the very disruptions he forecasts, while his persistent critiques of 'wokeness,' multiculturalism, and democratic 'mob rule' serve as strategic maneuvers to dismantle the pluralistic liberal order in favor of a society where power consolidates within a select, culturally homogeneous elite adhering to his ideological tenets.

This vision ultimately points toward a future of eco-apartheid and disaster capitalism on an unprecedented scale, where Thiel's "chosen few"—defined by ideology and resources—attempt to seal themselves off from global chaos while leveraging their technological and financial power not to solve crises, but to ensure their own isolated prosperity. His talk of 'exit' and 'preserving Western civilization' rings hollow, revealed as justification for abandoning humanity to the ravages of a planet made uninhabitable by the very systems from which this elite profited. The least charitable interpretation sees his ideology not merely as contrarian intellectualism, but as a deliberate blueprint for a neo-reactionary ethnostate built around his peculiar fusion of Christian-inflected authoritarianism and techno-capitalist elitism, where his envisioned 'City of God' becomes merely an 'exit' for an exclusive 'purified' few.

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. Political theorists like Jürgen Habermas, in his work A New Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere and Deliberative Politics, 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 wealthy 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.

If Thiel's apocalypticism is actually sincere, and not sophistry, then at the heart of his philosophical project is a clear palpable dread of meaninglessness, a void he seeks to fill with a rigid and often fantastical vision of a divinely ordained future. Unlike the existentialist tradition that views nihilism as a perfectly fine starting point for finding meaning, Thiel recoils from such a prospect. He has failed to seriously engage with Nietzsche's substantive distinction between passive nihilism (resignation and despair in the face of meaninglessness) and active nihilism (the courageous destruction of old values to make room for the creation of new ones). While Thiel correctly criticizes passive nihilism as a destructive force in civilization, he conveniently ignores active nihilism's creative potential—Nietzsche's vision of humanity confronting the void and forging new values in its wake. Nietzsche understood that the collapse of traditional meaning systems, especially those rooted in religion and metaphysics, represented not merely a crisis but an opportunity for renewal. Thiel, by contrast, desperately clings to predetermined purpose and transcendent end-states, rejecting secularism as inherently nihilistic rather than recognizing it as a framework where meaning can be constructed without divine foundations. His characterization of secularism as "indeterminate optimism" lacking clear vision reveals his unwillingness to consider that meaning-making without predetermined endpoints might be not only possible but necessary in a post-metaphysical world.

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 assertion that only Christianity enables profound, cycle-breaking forgiveness is empirically dubious, contradicting the lived reality of forgiveness across diverse philosophical and religious traditions. Buddhism, for instance, offers a framework of forgiveness centered on freeing oneself from suffering through letting go of resentment and cultivating compassion and loving-kindness—without requiring divine intervention. Similarly, secular reconciliation processes have proven successful worldwide, grounded in powerful humanistic motivations like empathy, reason, and the pragmatic desire for peace and societal well-being. Thiel's critique arbitrarily dismisses these sufficient non-Christian foundations, insisting on an exclusive (and historically flawed, given religion's own role in violence) Christian-Girardian transcendent anchor. His argument ultimately relies on a circular, unfalsifiable definition of "true" forgiveness that conveniently discounts genuine moral capacity existing outside his specific theological framework.

Finally, 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 instead of falling into all-or-nothing thinking.

Thiel's obsession with "The West" reveals a troubling parochialism at the heart of his supposedly world-historical philosophy. His narrow focus on Western civilization betrays a profound disinterest in—and perhaps disdain for—the rest of humanity's cultural and intellectual traditions. This is not merely about ignoring non-Western thought (though he certainly does that), but rather reflects a deeper provinciality that sees only the West as worthy of serious consideration. His grand narratives about civilization and progress operate as if the vast majority of human experience and achievement simply does not exist or matter. This myopic Western-centrism fatally undermines his claims to universal insight, revealing instead a philosophy that is fundamentally local and limited in scope, incapable of meaningfully engaging with our interconnected global reality. What presents itself as a comprehensive worldview is in fact deeply provincial, betraying an intellectual and perhaps cultural insularity that sits uneasily with Thiel's self-positioning as a profound analyst of human civilization.

Thiel's rejection of humanism, coupled with his instrumental interpretation of Christianity, might suggest a profound insecurity regarding the potential absence of a grand, transcendent purpose. He perhaps exhibits a strong need for 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 may be intrinsically aimless and chaotic. This appears less an embrace of faith and more a flight from unsettling existential realities into constructed fantastical narratives.

This fantastical worldview—casting existence as an epic battle between order and chaos where humanity perpetually teeters on the precipice of self-destruction—may ultimately reveal more about his interior landscape than external reality. His apocalyptic framing of mimetic desire and authoritarianism, it is plausible, crystallized during his formative university years, when his conservative ideas faced rejection within liberal academic environments. This experience of intellectual marginalization has the potential to have catalyzed a psychological defense mechanism: the projection of personal alienation onto cosmic proportions, templatized through Tolkienian mythological structures.

As Napoleon observed, "To understand a man, you must know what was happening in the world when he was twenty." In Thiel's case, his confrontation with "political correctness" at university against the backdrop of Reagan's anti-communist crusade may have catalyzed this intellectualization as ego protection. This type of psychological defense has the potential to transform, and in Thiel's case may have transformed, personal rejection into a grandiose philosophical framework—recasting his marginalization as civilization's battle against chaos and elevating himself from marginalized contrarian to prophetic defender of civilization against the apocalypse.

If you heard someone on a street corner shouting "the Antichrist is fueling runaway mimesis through victimism while the katechon weakens, establishing the One World Government instead of letting us build the City of God with definite optimism," you would likely cross to the other side of the street to avoid the ranting of a disturbed individual. Yet when these same apocalyptic ramblings come from a billionaire, they are somehow treated as profound insights worthy of serious intellectual consideration. So, the apocalypse is nigh—yet again—just as it has been for every doomsday prophet throughout history.

Ultimately, Thiel's philosophical edifice reveals less a profound intellectual engagement with reality or the human condition and more a desperate, even arguably 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.

But this is not Middle Earth, and these are not harmless philosphical musings, Thiel's backing of Donald Trump can be directly traced to his apparent desire for disruptive, chaos agents capable of shattering perceived societal sclerosis and shaking up entrenched establishments. However, this embrace of disruptive force courts a profound tension: while Thiel spins elaborate anxieties about runaway technology or mimesis leading to apocalypse, his support for a volatile imbecile as president arguably places far more tangible apocalyptic power into hands demonstrably ill-equipped for such responsibility, a far more direct and less fantastical route to armageddon enabled by Thiel's own actions and philosophy.

Thiel's philosophical framework, though deeply complicated, is ultimately completely incoherent. It 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 on the side of darkness.

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 hero and where he is not forced to grapple with the messy realities of human experience. His worldview, like an elaborate make-believe game, is ultimately incoherent, and profoundly out of touch with the actualities of human existence. It is not a philosophy for adults, but rather like the musings of a child who clearly struggles to grapple with the complexities of modernity, and who has therefore permanently retreated into a realm of fantasy.

Primary Sources

Note: I don't endorse these sources, they're provided for context and research purposes.

Books

• Thiel, P., & Masters, B. (2014). Zero to one: Notes on startups, or how to build the future. Crown Business.
• Thiel, P., & Sacks, D. O. (1995). The diversity myth: 'Multiculturalism' and the politics of intolerance at Stanford. The Independent Institute.
• Davidson, J. D., & Rees-Mogg, L. W. (2020). The sovereign individual: Mastering the transition to the information age. Simon and Schuster.

Essays and Academic Papers

• Thiel, P. (2009, April 13). The education of a libertarian. Cato Unbound.
• Thiel, P. (2008, January). The optimistic thought experiment. Policy Review, 150.
• Thiel, P. (2007, November). Spending The Future. First Things.
• Thiel, P. (2007, January). The Straussian Moment. Michigan State University Press.

Op-Eds and Articles

• Thiel, P. (2025, January 10). A time for truth and reconciliation. Financial Times.
• Thiel, P. (2020, March). Back To The Future. First Things.
• Thiel, P. (2019, August 1). Good for Google, Bad for America. The New York Times.
• Thiel, P. (2016, November 1). Trump has taught us this year's most important political lesson. The Washington Post.
• Thiel, P. (2016, August 16). The Online Privacy Debate Won’t End With Gawker. The New York Times.
• Thiel, P. (2015, November 28). The New Atomic Age We Need. The New York Times.
• Thiel, P. (2015, June). Against Edenism. First Things.
• Thiel, P. (2015, January). Developing the Developed World (Transcript). Independent Institute.
• Thiel, P. (2014, November). Thinking too highly of higher ed. Tampa Bay Times.
• Thiel, P. (2014, September). You Should Run Your Startup Like a Cult. Here’s How. Wired.
• Thiel, P. (2014, September 12). Competition Is for Losers. The Wall Street Journal.
• Thiel, P. (2011, October 3). The End of the Future. National Review.
• Thiel, P. (2011, September). Swift Blind Horseman?. National Review.
• Thiel, P. (2010, April 13). The new atomic age we need. The New York Times.

Secondary Sources

Books

• Chafkin, M. (2021). The Contrarian: Peter Thiel and Silicon Valley's Pursuit of Power. Bloomsbury Publishing.
• Taplin, J. (2023). The End of Reality: How four billionaires are selling out our future. Random House.
• Rushkoff D. (2022). Survival of the richest: Escape fantasies of the tech billionaires. WW Norton & Company.
• Soni, J. (2022). The founders: The story of paypal and the entrepreneurs who shaped silicon valley. Simon and Schuster.

Web

• 35 books Peter Thiel mentioned, ranked! (recommentions.com)
• Billionaire investor predicts bleak future for innovation (yaledailynews.com)
• Christianity Was “Borderline Illegal” in Silicon Valley. Now It’s the New Religion (vanityfair.com)
• Competing to conform (thenewatlantis.com)
• David Graeber vs. Peter Thiel: Where Did the Future Go? (thebaffler.com)
• Founders Fund—What happened to the future (foundersfund.com)
• From Philosophy to Power: The Misuse of René Girard by Peter Thiel, J.D. Vance and the American Right (salmagundi.skidmore.edu)
• Hard Men, Hard Money, Hardening Right (taylorfrancis.com)
• How an esoteric philosophy book shapes his worldview (businessinsider.com)
• How Dangerous Is Peter Thiel? (motherjones.com)
• How Peter Thiel Mentored JD Vance and Turned Silicon Valley Towards Trumpism (youtube.com/New York Magazine)
• Inside the New Right: Where Peter Thiel Is Placing His Biggest Bets (vanityfair.com)
• Is woke religion an extreme form of Christianity? (washingtonstand.com)
• John Gray and Peter Thiel: Life in a postmodern world (newstatesman.com)
• MAGA's Demon-Haunted World (theatlantic.com)
• Max Chafkin on the Dark Genius of Peter Thiel (52-insights.com)
• Max Weber's critique of Marx (sancrucensis.wordpress.com)
• Mimesis, Violence, and Facebook (thesocietypages.org)
• Nietzsche's eternal return (newyorker.com)
• Nietzsche's eternal return in America (americanaffairsjournal.org)
• Nihilism is Not Enough (nihilismisnotenough.com)
• On Peter Thiel, radical life extension, and the state (philosophyforlife.org)
• On the dangers of a return to constantinianism (acireland.ie)
• Our dangerous illusion of tech progress (ft.com)
• Peter Thiel Is Taking a Break From Democracy (theatlantic.com)
• Peter Thiel on mimetic theory (mimetictheory.com)
• Peter Thiel on pre-Nazi Germany and the US comparison resurfaces (newsweek.com)
• Peter Thiel on Rene Girard (read.lukeburgis.com)
• Peter Thiel on Rene Girard's influence (businessinsider.com)
• Peter Thiel Wants to Inject Himself with Young People's Blood (vanityfair.com)
• Peter Thiel, Trump's Man in Silicon Valley (rollingstone.com)
• Peter Thiel's Favorite Interview Question (qz.com)
• Peter Thiel's influence over a network of Lord of the Rings inspired companies (disconnect.blog)
• Peter Thiel's pursuit of technological progress: It's not about democracy and it's definitely not about capitalism (part 1) (francinemckenna.com)
• Peter Thiel's pursuit of technological progress: It's not about democracy and it's definitely not about capitalism (part 2) (francinemckenna.com)
• Peter Thiel's Religion (perell.com)
• Peter Thiel's Religion: Apocalypse Dreams (thenerdreich.com)
• Political Ideology And Economic Activity (legacy.ghi-dc.org)
• The Anti-Democratic Worldview of Steve Bannon and Peter Thiel (politico.com)
• The Black Box of Peter Thiel's Beliefs (politico.com)
• The Bulletin of the Colloquium on Violence & Religion (uibk.ac.at)
• The Contrarians Guide to Changing the World (technologyreview.com)
• The end of the Straussian moment (europeanconservative.com)
• The End of the Straussian moment: Review (lrb.co.uk)
• The enigma of Peter Thiel (unpopularfront.news)
• The Gospel According to Peter Thiel (city-journal.org)
• The Rage of the Elite (link.springer.com)
• The Rise of the Thielists (newyorker.com)
• The scapegoating machine (thenewinquiry.com)
• The temptation of Peter Thiel (wisdomofcrowds.live)
• The Week—Secret to Innovation (theweek.com)
• Thiel and Schmitt (unpopularfront.news)
• Uncommon Knowledge: Peter Thiel on the end times and the katechon (hoover.org)
• Wait wasn't Peter Thiel a libertarian? (reason.com)
• WhatsApp? Even private chatter now exploited by billionaires (theconversation.com)
• What does Peter Thiel want? (damonlinker.substack.com)
• What Does Peter Thiel Want? He's Building the Right-Wing Future, Piece by Piece (salon.com)
• What is it about Peter Thiel? (newyorker.com)
• What You Can Learn From Peter Thiel's Brilliant Philosophy on Setting Personal Goals (inc.com)
• WBUR News—Peter Thiel Wants Us All To Go From Zero To One (wbur.org)
• Yale School of Management (som.yale.edu)

Talks and Interviews

• Why We Stopped Progressing | Peter Thiel (Jordan B Peterson | Apr 2025)
• Peter Thiel on Trump’s 125% Tariffs: How to Stop China (Joe Lonsdale | Apr 2025)
• What the Trump Administration Must Do Instead of Revenge (The Rubin Report | Mar 2025)
• Part II: Apocalypse Now? Peter Thiel on Ancient Prophecies and Modern Tech (Hoover Institution | Dec 2024)
• Apocalypse Now? Peter Thiel on Ancient Prophecies and Modern Tech (Hoover Institution | Nov 2024)
• Peter Thiel on the Triumph of the Counter-Elites (The Free Press | November 2024)
• Peter Thiel | All-In Summit 2024 (All-In Podcast | Sep 2024)
• Joe Rogan Experience #2190 - Peter Thiel (The Joe Rogan Experience | Aug 2024)
• "The Real Risk is Totalitarian World Government" - Peter Thiel (Triggernometry | Jul 2024)
• Peter Thiel | Cambridge Union (Cambridge Union | Jul 2024)
• The Iconoclast Peter Thiel (The Aspen Institute | Jun 2024)
• Peter Thiel on Political Theology (Conversations with Tyler | Apr 2024)
• Peter Thiel - Keynote Address | The Conservative and Republican Student Conference (The Harvard Salient | Feb 2024)
• Peter Thiel On The Diversity Myth, Corrupt Institutions, Woke Capital, Loss Of Religion, & China (Pirate Wires | Nov 2023)
• Peter Thiel: The Stagnation of Science and the AI Revolution (World of DaaS with Auren Hoffman | Oct 2023)
• Peter Thiel on 'Anti-Anti-Anti-Anti Classical Liberalism' (OxfordUnion | Jan 2023)
• Peter Thiel, Leader of the Rebel Alliance (Hoover Institution | Nov 2022)
• Peter Thiel | The Tech Curse | NatCon 3 Miami (National Conservatism | Sep 2022)
• Peter Thiel | Nationalism Breaks the Dogma Machine (National Conservatism | Nov 2021)
• A Conversation with Peter Thiel: Culture, Religion, and Technology (Foundation for American Innovation | Oct 2021)
• Peter Thiel: Zero to One (Socrates in the City | Feb 2020)
• The World According to Thiel (Hoover Institution | Jan 2020)
• Peter Thiel on “The Straussian Moment” (Hoover Institution | Sep 2019)
• Manhattan Institute—2019 Wriston Lecture: Peter Thiel (Manhattan Institute | 2019)
• Peter Thiel on "The Portal", Episode #001: "An Era of Stagnation & Universal Institutional Failure." (Eric Weinstein | Jul 2019)
• a16z Podcast | The (Definite) Optimism of Peter Thiel (a16z | Jan 2019)
• Peter Thiel Speaks at Brain Bar (Brain Bar | Jul 2018)
• Tim Ferris Show—Episode 28 Peter Thiel (Tim Ferris Show | July 2018)
• Cardinal Conversations: Reid Hoffman and Peter Thiel on "Technology and Politics" (Hoover Institution | Feb 2018)
• Competition is for Losers with Peter Thiel (Y Combinator | Mar 2017)
• Youtube (The Rubin Report)—Trump, Gawker, and Leaving Silicon Valley (The Rubin Report)
• TIME—Republican National Committee Speech (TIME | July 2016)
• Remarks by Commencement Speaker Peter Thiel (Hamilton College | May 2016)
• Peter Thiel on the Global Economy, the State of Our Technology, and Artificial Intelligence (Conversations with Bill Kristol | May 2016)
• Conversations with Bill Kristol—Peter Thiel Transcript (innovation) (Conversations with Bill Kristol)
• Conversations with Bill Kristol—Peter Thiel Transcript (story of paypal) (Conversations with Bill Kristol)
• DealBook Conference 2015 - Venture Capital And Where It’s Going (New York Times Events | Nov 2015)
• Peter Thiel Speaks at Center on Capitalism and Society’s 2015 conference (The Center on Capitalism and Society | Nov 2015)
• Peter Thiel Presents: "Developing the Developed World" (The King’s College | Oct 2015)
• Peter Thiel Interview (Tim Ferriss | Oct 2015)
• Peter Thiel: We are in a Higher Education Bubble (The Aspen Institute | Jul 2015)
• Imagining the Future, Innovation and God: N.T. Wright and Peter Thiel in San Francisco (The Veritas Forum | Jun 2015)
• PAYPAL MAFIA: Reid Hoffman & Peter Thiel's Master Class at CEIBS (China Europe International Business School | Jun 2015)
• Peter Thiel: PayPal, politics & the importance of being individual (Said Business School, University of Oxford | May 2015)
• Peter Thiel on Stagnation, Innovation, and What Not To Name Your Company | Conversations with Tyler (Mercatus Center | Apr 2015)
• Peter Thiel on being a contrarian (This Week in Startups | Mar 2015)
• Anderson Speaker Series: Peter Thiel (UCLAAnderson | Feb 2015)
• Zero to One: A Discussion with Peter Thiel (General Assembly | Feb 2015)
• Peter Thiel: Going from Zero to One (Chicago Ideas | Jan 2015)
• e@nu Speaker Series with Peter Thiel: Developing The Developed World (Northwestern Engineering | Dec 2014)
• From Zero to One - Peter Thiel at the Innovation Center at Cockrell School of Engineering (Emergent Order | Nov 2014)
• A New Way to Think About Startup Innovation (Knowledge at Wharton | Oct 2014)
• How To Build the Next Billion Dollar Startup (Forbes | Oct 2014)
• Peter Thiel on markets, technology, and education (Hoover Institution | Oct 2014)
• Peter Thiel Returns to Stanford to Share Business Tips from "Zero to One" (Stanford Law School | Oct 2014)
• Binary Truths with Peter Thiel | Disrupt SF 2014 (TechCrunch | Sep 2014)
• PayPal co-founder Peter Thiel on the future of technology (CBS Mornings | Sep 2014)
• Peter Thiel: Successful Businesses are Based on Secrets (Wired UK | Sep 2014)
• What is the Hope for Humanity? A discussion of technology, politics, and theology (The Veritas Forum | May 2014)
• Peter Thiel: You Are Not a Lottery Ticket (SXSW | Oct 2013)
• Peter Thiel and Andy Kessler on the state of technology and innovation (Hoover Institution | Sep 2013)
• Copy of In Tech We Trust? A Debate with Peter Thiel and Marc Andreessen (Milken Institute | May 2013)
• Peter Thiel - Developing the Developed World (Credit Suisse | Mar 2013)
• Peter Thiel and Charles Bolden on The World in 2050: What is the Next Big Idea? (World Affairs | Jan 2013)
• PandoMonthly: Fireside Chat With Peter Thiel (PandoDaily | Nov 2012)
• Big Think Interview With Peter Thiel (Big Think | Apr 2012)
• Youtube (Big Think)—Keynesian Economics Will Be Dead (Big Think)
• A Conversation with Peter Thiel and Niall Ferguson (John F. Kennedy Jr. Forum | Feb 2012)
• Eric Schmidt and Peter Thiel - Debate (Fortune Magazine | 2012)
• Max Levchin and Peter Thiel: Smart Venture Capital in 2011 (The Commonwealth Club of California | Feb 2011)
• TEDxSiliconValley - Peter Thiel - 12/12/09 (TEDx Talks | Dec 2009)
• The U.S. Economy with Peter Thiel (Hoover Institution | Dec 2008)
• Youtube (Imitatio Videos)—Optimistic Thought Experiment (Imitatio Videos)
• Youtube (Imitatio Video)—Peter Thiel On Rene Girard (Imitatio Video)
• Fox Business—Peter Thiel on Leaving Silicon Valley for Los Angeles (Fox Business)
• Youtube (Center for Natural and Artificial Intelligence)—Peter Thiel on the Failures and "Self-Hatred" of Big-Tech (Center for Natural and Artificial Intelligence)
• Into the night with Garry Kasparov and Peter Thiel
• Masters of Scale—Peter Thiel (Masters of Scale)
• Lesswrong—Growth, Violence, Stories (Lesswrong)
• Hoover Institution—What, U.S. Worry? Is the United States Losing Its Competitive Edge? (Hoover Institution)