We’ve all seen it. That weird, skin-crawling moment when a crowd gathers around a fender bender or the way a stadium goes deathly quiet before a high-stakes kickoff. It’s uncomfortable. It’s human. René Girard, a French polymath who spent decades obsessing over this, argued that violence and the sacred aren't just related—they’re practically the same thing in the eyes of early human history.
It sounds wild, right? We like to think of "the sacred" as something beautiful, like a cathedral or a quiet prayer. But go back far enough, and the holy is almost always drenched in blood. Girard’s whole thesis, which he dropped like a bomb in his 1972 book La Violence et le Sacré, suggests that human society didn't start with a handshake. It started with a murder. Specifically, a murder that everyone agreed on.
The Mimetic Trap: Why We Want What You Have
Everything starts with wanting. Not just wanting stuff, but wanting what other people want. Girard called this "mimetic desire." You don't actually want that specific vintage watch until you see your coolest friend wearing it. Suddenly, it’s the only thing that matters. This isn't just about consumerism; it’s about identity. We copy each other's desires because we don't know who we are supposed to be.
This creates a massive problem. If we all want the same tiny slice of the pie, we’re going to fight.
Conflict spreads like a virus. In a small community, if Person A hits Person B, Person B hits back. Then their cousins get involved. Then the neighbors. This is "mimetic rivalry," and it’s a feedback loop that leads to total social collapse. In a world without police or a centralized legal system, this kind of spiraling vengeance could wipe out a whole tribe in a weekend.
So, how did we survive?
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The Scapegoat Mechanism and the Birth of the Holy
When a community is about to tear itself apart, it instinctively looks for a pressure valve. It needs a way to stop the "all against all" violence and turn it into "all against one."
Enter the scapegoat.
The group picks someone. Maybe they’re an outsider. Maybe they have a physical deformity. Maybe they’re just... off. Suddenly, all the collective rage and tension are projected onto this one person. The group kills or exiles them. And—this is the crazy part—it actually works. The tension vanishes. Peace returns. Because the death of the victim brought peace, the survivors conclude that the victim must have been powerful.
The victim is viewed as both a demon (the cause of the trouble) and a god (the bringer of peace). This is the foundation of violence and the sacred. The "sacred" is essentially the memory of a successful murder that saved the community. We build rituals to reenact the event—sacrifices—to keep the peace from wearing off.
Real-World Echoes: From Ancient Altars to Twitter Dogpiles
You see this everywhere once you start looking.
Think about Shirley Jackson’s short story The Lottery. It’s not just a creepy tale; it’s a perfect illustration of the scapegoat mechanism. The village stones someone to death every year to ensure a good harvest. They don’t hate the person; they just need the ritual.
But it’s not just fiction.
Look at modern celebrity culture. We build people up into "idols" (the sacred) and then, at the first sign of a scandal, the collective turns on them with a terrifying, unified ferocity. The "cancel culture" dogpile is just a digital version of the ancient village square. It feels "holy" to the participants. They feel they are "purifying" the community. The rush of dopamine people get when they join a mob is the same communal high our ancestors felt when they finished off a scapegoat.
Why Ritual Matters
- Containment: Rituals like animal sacrifice were ways to "do" violence in a controlled environment so it wouldn't happen in the streets.
- Legal Systems: Eventually, we traded sacrifices for courtrooms. The state now has a "monopoly on violence," which is basically a secular version of the sacred.
- The Taboo: We create "no-go" zones and forbidden acts to keep the mimetic fire from catching.
The Problem With Modernity
The system is breaking. Girard argued that the "Judaeo-Christian" tradition actually blew the whistle on the scapegoat mechanism. By telling the story of an innocent victim (like Job or Jesus), the "magic" of the scapegoat stops working. Once you realize the victim is just a person and the mob is wrong, you can't feel that same holy peace after the execution. You just feel guilty.
This leaves us in a weird spot. We still have all that mimetic tension—the jealousy, the political rage, the "keeping up with the Joneses"—but we’ve lost the old-school way of venting it. Without the sacred to channel our violence, it just sits there, simmering.
We see this in the polarization of 2026. Every political "side" views the other as the ultimate scapegoat. If we could just "get rid" of those people, everything would be fine. But it’s never fine, because the desire to scapegoat is the actual problem, not the people being targeted.
Breaking the Cycle: Practical Insights
Understanding violence and the sacred isn't just an academic exercise for guys in elbow-patched blazers. It’s a survival skill for the 21st century. If you can spot mimetic desire in your own life, you can stop being a slave to it.
Honestly, it’s about awareness.
First, audit your desires. Ask yourself: "Do I actually want this, or do I just want to be the kind of person who has this because I see others being rewarded for it?" This applies to career moves, tech gadgets, and even lifestyle choices. If the desire is copied, the conflict is inevitable.
Second, step back from the mob. When you see a massive wave of hatred directed at a single person online or in your social circle, pause. Even if they did something wrong, the intensity of the collective reaction is usually a sign of a scapegoat mechanism in progress. Refusing to throw your stone is the only way to break the pattern.
Third, embrace the "clash of values." Recognize that true peace doesn't come from everyone agreeing to hate the same enemy. It comes from the much harder work of mediating differences without needing a victim. It’s messy. It’s slow. But it’s the only thing that keeps the "sacred" violence at bay.
The next time you feel that surge of "righteous" anger against a common enemy, remember Girard. You’re not just being a good citizen; you’re participating in one of the oldest, bloodiest rituals in human history. The "sacred" peace it offers is a lie. Real peace starts when we stop looking for someone to blame for the chaos we all help create.
Next Steps for Deeper Integration:
- Practice "Non-Mimetic" Decision Making: Next time you feel a strong urge to buy something or join a trend, wait 48 hours. If the urge disappears once you're away from the "influencer" or peer group, it was mimetic.
- Identify Your Personal Scapegoats: Write down three people or groups you instinctively blame for your frustrations. Challenge yourself to find one way you share the same flaws or "desires" as them.
- Study the Sources: Read I See Satan Fall Like Lightning by René Girard for a more accessible entry point into his complex theories on how violence shaped our world.