The Scapegoat

The Scapegoat is Rene Girard‘s study of collective violence, comparing persecution texts — written from the perspective of the persecutors — with ancient mythology. The ideas presented don’t fit easily into any academic niche, which might be why he is not widely taught in schools or universities. And yet, it is extraordinarily well-received in other spheres. Peter Thiel considers Girard’s theory as a significant influence on his life and business ventures. After he passed away in 2015, Thiel was one of the speakers at his funeral. Girard’s main contribution to philosophy would be his theory of mimetic desire. It’s a lot, but fairly easy to grasp if you cut out around ninety-nine percent of the terminology.

With that in mind, I should state that this won’t be my usual “This book is AWESOME!” two-minute book summary. Rather, I’ll be unpacking the text in a more conventional essay format. So, come in, relax, and sit down for a spell as I condense The Scapegoat and grossly oversimplify Girardian theory.

I have been teaching in Victorian schools for nearly nine years. As I’ve taught English and Humanities, what I’ve found is that there are many theories of conflict and group violence. I want to focus on two in particular:

Marxist and Shakespearean.

For the Marxist, conflict is rooted in difference, namely that of social class. The proletariat versus the bourgeoisie, over their views on how society ought to be structured.

The Shakespearean would attribute conflict to similarity, despite both parties having no idea what they’re doing or why. “Two households, both alike in dignity,” and all that. Not only do they hate each other severely, but that hatred intensifies as the conflict escalates.

Both theories are right… sort of. The Marxist account holds up when you look at the cost of living and the social and economic policymaking of Western nations today. Everything’s going to hell in a hand-basket, and something has to give. It is from these feelings of helplessness that class struggles are born. The world of business and startups, and the hustle culture and memes we see on social media, are nothing if not Shakespearean. Instagram versus TikTok. Alpha nerd with a backpack versus alpha nerd with a backpack. Twitter/X versus the entire mainstream media. And so on.

I often wonder how often the name Rene Girard pops up in Victorian schools. If I were a betting man, I’d say probably never. Which is fine, I’m not casting a shadow on that. We want our lessons to be engaging and beneficial, not bloodsports, after all. Moreover, I started this blog mainly so I could discuss authors and texts I don’t get to explore in the classroom as much as I’d like to, so here I am.

In Girardian view, violence is reciprocal and imitative. Individually, human beings don’t know what they want, so they imitate the desires of others. Conflicts arise over the objects of such desires, and they escalate in a never-ending cycle, taking society along with it. This state of perpetual conflict created a permanent threat of violence, forcing our ancestors to find some way to unify themselves. In order to do this, a victim is needed, a scapegoat against whom the community could unite. We see this play out in fiction and in real life; conflicts that can last for generations. Consider:

“No culture exists within which everyone does not feel ‘different’ from others and does not consider such ‘differences’ to be legitimate and necessary. Far from being radical and progressive, the current glorification of difference is merely the abstract expression of an attitude common to all cultures. There exists in every individual a tendency to think of himself not only as different from others but as extremely different, because every culture entertains this feeling of difference among the individuals who compose it.”

Human beings copy each other’s desires and are in perpetual conflict with one another over the object of their desire. Rooted in this theory is the concept of mimesis. Mimesis is a broad concept, and any attempt at a cut-and-dried definition would be asking for trouble in philosophy circles, but I’m going to try it anyway:

Mimesis is the principle that mimicry and reciprocity are always in effect within our society and culture.

Ever see Mean Girls? I love it, it’s one of my favourite films ever, and one that every teacher should see. It’s also a great example of Girardian conflict in action, even if it is fiction. Lindsay Lohan’s character, Cady Heron, begins her formal education at a public high school after being homeschooled for her entire life. When she starts, she is exposed to the idea of being popular. She does join a clique of popular girls, referred to as the “Plastics.” However, after being humiliated by the group’s ringleader, the “queen bee” Regina George, Cady decides to exact her vengeance by rising through the ranks of the Plastics and humiliating Regina in turn. Regina is the “scapegoat” in the Girardian sense. She is not the source of the school’s social hierarchy, yet she is a part of it and understands it thoroughly, and this is usually how scapegoats are chosen.

Why does Cady even want to be popular in the first place? Remember that, in Girardian view, individuals don’t know what they want, so they want what others want. Cady is told that popularity is something desirable, and very important. It is metaphysical and intangible, as opposed to physical and easily quantified. And yet, it is finite, in very short supply. Over the course of the film, she becomes her rival, and her rival, her. It’s like that famous Nietzsche quote:

“Beware that, when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become a monster. … For when you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.”

Same thing applies here. In Mean Girls, Cady is pushed by her friends to retaliate against her rival, despite the fact that Regina doesn’t understand that Cady is even competing with her at all. When she finds out, however, she must escalate things and raise the stakes even further to get back at Lohan’s character. I won’t get into a glossary of Girardian terms, but in Mean Girls, the conflict keeps escalating. It escalates, and the participants don’t even know why. It’s only when a teacher directly intervenes and tells them that their imitation games are all the same that the fighting stops. This is the moment of self-awareness for the participants. They realise their mimesis is destructive, and this is transformational for all. They engage in a different kind of mimesis, meaning that their desire is now one for self-development without hurting others.

If only all conflicts could be solved with such moments of realisation.

Taken in a Girardian view, Mean Girls says a lot about the darker parts of our wants and desires. But that’s basically what mimetic desire is. When it works, it helps us learn. When Cady copies Regina, she copies everything about her. Her taste in music, the way she talks and dresses, all of it. Most people, like Cady, learn by watching others, imitating them, even substituting their preferences for those of others. When mimesis goes wrong, it’s a fast track to conflict. When people want the same thing, even the cosiest of friendships can develop into bitter rivalries.

In early human communities, this state of perpetual conflict created a permanent threat of violence and forced our ancestors to find a way to unify themselves. In most cases, to put an end to a conflict, both sides choose a victim, a scapegoat against whom the community could unite. We see this with the examples of Socrates and Jesus. Could this be how organised religion became a thing? Because the Abrahamic religions are, at their core, examples of attempts to overcome conflict and the scapegoat mechanism (I know this is contradictory, more on that in a bit).

Yes, Girard goes deep into religion and the scapegoat mechanism, and the idea that God is a victim. In pre-Christian mythology, humans were victims of the gods. In the Gospels, however, God is perfect. All knowing, all powerful, et cetera. God is the victim of humanity’s imperfections. Humans are imperfect beings, struggling to fulfil the perfect the design of a perfect creator. In this case, the problem is not solved by scapegoating the other. The solution lies in acknowledging our flaws, our imperfections, and accepting some prophet as our lord and saviour. This creates a deity that is essentially impenetrable, unassailable, formless, omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent. Ancient Greek mythology, on the other hand, painted human beings as victims of imperfect deities. The Gods of Olympus were fickle, very humanlike, constantly fighting and competing over this and that. The entirety of Greek myth and legend was built on this theology. Christianity is less violent, in a way, in that it simply applies the scapegoat mechanism on the individual level. There is no scapegoat or sacrifice in the conventional sense. You’re just responsible if you fuck up. You pray, put some money in the collection plate, and all is forgiven.

In Ancient Athens, Socrates was known for being a social gadfly, stopping people in the streets to discuss all manner of philosophy, and unpack their ideas. Contradictions, inaccuracies, and inconsistencies were identified by Socrates, who assumed the position of the ignorant teacher. Plato, a student of Socrates, wrote down thirty-five of these dialogues, which were published into works such as Gorgias and The Republic, texts that have delighted VCE students for years.

Another student of Socrates was the Athenian general, Alcibiades. This general was a huge proponent of the Sicilian Expedition, which ended in complete disaster for the Athenians. After a lot of back and forth — which included the secession of many prominent Athenian statesmen — Socrates was essentially made the scapegoat for Athens’ problems at the time. Although, the official charges were the corruption of youth of the city-state; impiety; and introducing false idols. His punishment was determined by popular vote: death by consuming a substance known as hemlock.

Jesus suffered a similar fate. Arrested for claiming to be the King of the Jews (well, that and sacking a temple), he was crucified between two thieves. By placing all the blame on a single scapegoat, by accusing one party of all the crimes committed, all the sins of the community are forgiven, all transgressions forgotten. This blame-shifting and sacrifice brings peace, and an end to the violence and conflict. The perfect accommodation of the human desire to accuse the other and divert blame.

None of this is logical when you break it down, but I guess that’s not the point. Scapegoating is simply what allows institutions to exist, and order to be created and maintained. It’s also never fair. A scapegoat is someone who can easily be singled out, attacked, and not adequately defended. But the scapegoat must also understand the community and culture better than anyone else. Remember, mimesis is always in effect. The scapegoat must be a reflection of the community, otherwise there’s no point to it. So, you need somebody who is both an outsider and someone who reflects the community’s problems back at them. The scapegoat might protest, but those protests become irrelevant in the face of the greater power they represent.

You see this today, with populist movements both online and off. Whether it’s the outrage and sanctimony-driven shaming of the far left, or the law of the gang that emanates from the far-right, the scapegoat of that community becomes their Shaytan, having God-like power over their sense of being and identity. And since behaviour is mimetic, it can produce insane behaviours and responses. The Salem Witch Trials, McCarthyism, lynch mobs, MAGA, Antifa, NPCs, and so on and so forth. A meme in the Girardian sense functions like a virus in that once it starts, it will keep on spreading. Nobody is absolved until everybody is infected, or the community realises that they are in danger because of their actions, like in Mean Girls.

We all saw the assassination attempt on Donald Trump two weeks ago. One could easily make the case that it’s part of a mimetic war. Each side wants their guy in charge, by any means necessary. If you support one guy, you support insurrection. If you support the other guy, you support burning down cities. Rhetoric escalates, then violence. The far-right that used to complain about “cancel culture” are now calling for businesses to fire employees who seemed to cheer on the attempt, or joke about it. They become their rivals, and their rivals, them. On and on it goes.

What do you do about that? Again, the scapegoat mechanism.

I don’t know if I’d consider myself Girardian per se. I’d prefer to see conflicts end with greater awareness and understanding of ourselves and each other, kind of like at the end of Mean Girls, and the ability to walk away from conflicting desires. To just say, “You know what, never mind.” It will never happen, though. I just hope my summary of The Scapegoat is a decent one for the non-academic. And, I loved Ryan Holiday’s application of this theory of conflict in Conspiracy: Peter Thiel, Hulk Hogan, Gawker, and the Anatomy of Intrigue, which is one of my favourite books. It’s a page-turner, and one that breaks down Girardian theory very well, so I’d even recommend that as a secondary source.

Mimesis is always in effect in our society and culture, and conflict is reciprocal and imitative. Human beings copy each other’s desires and are in perpetual conflict with one another over the objects of our desire. In early human communities, this conflict created a permanent threat of violence and forced our ancestors to find a way to unify themselves. They chose a victim, a scapegoat against whom the community could unite, Socrates and Jesus being two prominent examples from history. These ideas have been well received in some spheres (business and economics), less so in others (humanities and social sciences).

Huge props to Yvonne Freccero for her exceptional translation this behemoth of a text into English. I might not be the smartest or the quickest reader when it comes to history and philosophy, but I managed to get through The Scapegoat and understand it well enough. Definitely worth checking out.