The True Consequences and Genuine Narrative Behind Peter Thiel’s Fascination with the Antichrist

From an early age, Palaver embraced activism for peace, registering as a conscientious objector at 18 and organizing campaigns against nuclear weapons during his university years. His understanding deepened in a course exploring the origins of human violence, where he encountered the groundbreaking ideas of Rene Girard—whose distinctive theories were making waves in various European circles.

Palaver discovered that Girard’s fundamental assertion is that humans are inherently imitators, especially in their desires. “Once their basic needs are met, people yearn intensely,” Girard noted, “yet they remain unclear about what they truly want.” Consequently, individuals emulate the ambitions of their most admirable peers—“leading to lives filled with endless conflict and rivalry with those they both despise and look up to.”

Girard proposed that this concept of “mimesis”—the continuous replication of desires—escalates through interpersonal dynamics. Within groups, individuals begin to mirror each other, converging on a limited set of role models, sharing similar aspirations, and fiercely vying for the same resources. The potential for this “mimetic rivalry” to erupt into widespread chaos is averted, however, as it often gets redirected into a conflict of all against one. Through a process Girard termed the “scapegoat mechanism,” everyone unites against a common victim deemed responsible for the woes of the community. Girard argued that this mechanism is vital for cultural unity, rendering scapegoat narratives the foundational myths of all ancient societies.

Girard contended that the inception of Christianity marked a significant shift in human perception—illuminating the reality that scapegoats are innocent and that mobs are morally corrupt. Within the crucifixion narrative, Jesus falls victim to a gruesome act of collective brutality. Yet, unlike most other sacrificial myths, this one is recounted from the viewpoint of the scapegoat, compelling the audience to recognize the injustice involved.

With this revelation, Girard asserted, traditional scapegoating practices started to falter, having been exposed and delegitimized. Humanity no longer derives the same sense of relief from acts of collective violence. While communities still resort to scapegoating, they do so with diminishing unifying strength. What lies ahead for humanity, then, is the unrestrained, spreading, and ultimately catastrophic violence stemming from mimetic rivalry.

On a brighter note, the crucifixion narrative provides a pathway to moral redemption for humanity. Girard concluded that regardless of the eventual outcome, scapegoating must be wholly rejected. While imitation remains an inescapable part of human life, we have the power to select our models. As he viewed it, the wise course forward is to emulate Jesus—the singular model who will never morph into a “fascinating rival”—and to pursue lives marked by Christian non-violence.

Almost immediately, Girard’s theory became a guiding light for the young Palaver, as he recognized it as a means to unite his peace advocacy and theological beliefs. “You come across Girard,” Palaver recalls, “and suddenly, you possess the perfect tool to critique all the scapegoaters.” The young activist had already identified key scapegoaters in his line of sight.

In 1983—the same year he first encountered Girard’s teachings—the bishop of Innsbruck attempted to thwart Palaver’s efforts to mobilize young Catholics for Europe’s largest protest against American missiles. Dismissing Palaver’s perspective as geopolitical naivety, the bishop urged him to read a German essay compilation titled Illusions of Brotherhood: The Necessity of Having Enemies. Palaver quickly discerned that the book extensively referenced an idea—articulated by Carl Schmitt—that politics inherently relies on distinguishing friends from foes. As he delved into the text, Palaver found himself “in opposition to nearly every sentence.”

Determined as a doctoral candidate, Palaver chose to craft a Girardian critique of Schmitt, wielding Girard’s theories against a legal architect of Europe’s last major catastrophe, who was now inspiring Cold Warriors eager for the next one. “By focusing on Schmitt,” he reflected, “I was effectively standing against the archenemy of my pacifist convictions.”

By the late 1980s, Palaver had emerged as one among a small group of Girardian advocates at the University of Innsbruck. Meanwhile, Girard’s concepts were gaining traction in academic settings across Europe. However, Girard continued to refine his theories in relative anonymity at Stanford University.

IV.

When Thiel arrived at Stanford in the mid-1980s, he was a teenage libertarian fueled by Reagan-era anti-communism, a disdain for conformity from his austere South African prep school experience, and an ambition, as he has described, to triumph “in one competition after another.” He quickly assumed the role of a quintessential high-achieving conservative provocateur on campus. He participated in the Stanford chess team, excelled academically, and founded The Stanford Review, a right-leaning student publication that criticized the fashionable politics of diversity and multiculturalism during a time of widespread student demonstrations against the Western canon and South African apartheid.

It’s no surprise, then, that Thiel was drawn to Robert Hamerton-Kelly, a contentious and theologically conservative campus minister at Stanford who once referred to himself as a “bumpkin from South Africa armed with fascist boarding school education.” Hamerton-Kelly taught courses on Western Civilization and, according to the school newspaper, faced boos at least once from anti-Apartheid audiences. Several acquaintances noted that Thiel regarded Hamerton-Kelly as a mentor, and it was through him that Thiel became acquainted with Girard on a personal level.

Hamerton-Kelly was among Girard’s closest associates at Stanford and one of the most vocal proponents of mimetic theory in the U.S. He led a biweekly Girardian study group in a campus trailer, and by his invitation, Thiel became a regular participant in the early 1990s. Thiel later acknowledged that his initial attraction to Girard’s mimetic ideas was largely contrarian. “It was decidedly out of sync with the times,” Thiel stated in a 2009 interview, “providing a natural allure for a somewhat rebellious undergraduate.” Beyond that, Thiel’s first impression of mimetic theory was that it seemed “crazy.”