I just finished reading Eric Hoffer’s The True Believer, first published in 1951, a few years after the start of the Cold War. I found this book at a Kiwanis Thrift Shop, languishing in the “classics” section. Maybe you have had this experience: a book you have not been looking for or never heard of falls into your hands at exactly the right moment, when you are ready to read about its particular subject. Sort of a when-the-student-is-ready-the-teacher-will-appear1 moment. In my experience, albeit limited, Hoffer’s book is one of the most serious books I’ve read lately. It was regarded as highly influential when it first appeared, over half a century ago.
The True Believer2 is dense with insights about human social behavior, especially as it pertains to political and religious movements, war, and culture—it’s about mass movements in general. Hoffer’s book is thoughtful, systematic, theoretical—and terrifying. It makes a good companion to Berger and Luckman’s The Social Construction of Reality (1966), which, if you can wade through the academese, also contains some startling observations about what constitutes knowledge and truth in society.
Hoffer’s book is grim and cynical; the author has a fondness for irony and paradox in human social interactions, often calling out behaviors and thought patterns that achieve exactly the opposite of what might be expected. Since his book was published at the beginning of the Cold War, and less than a decade after World War II, one might expect Hoffer to go after Communists, Nazis and fascists, but he doesn’t spare religious or capitalist inspired movements either. He is examining what he considers a universal human capacity—and psychological vulnerability—for mass movements of all kinds.
For example, he delights in quoting Martin Luther, the great leader of the Protestant Reformation, to show how partisan zeal, even religious enthusiasm can be counterbalanced and sustained by murderous hatred:
“When my heart is cold and I cannot pray as I should I scourge myself with the thought of the impiety and ingratitude of my enemies, the Pope and his accomplices and vermin, and Zwingli, so that my heart swells with righteous indignation and hatred and I can say with warmth and vehemence: ‘Holy be Thy Name, Thy Kingdom Come, Thy will be done!”
Yikes!
Hoffer’s premise is that people who join mass movements are frustrated and disappointed with their lives, and themselves. They have little hope for the future, and so readily subsume their own individuality in service to a movement and its leader. In this way they escape themselves (“…from an ineffectual self…”) and their misery, while slavishly hoping for the brighter future promised by the social movement they have joined. Fortified with a purpose in life and hope for an idealized future, members of mass movements are capable of great devotion and self-sacrifice—as well as grotesque violence and aggression.
Who would join a mass movement? Well, pretty much all of us would to some degree, depending on the circumstances of our lives and prevailing social and economic conditions. Hoffer devotes a section of the book—“The Potential Converts”—to describing all the different types of people who would be attracted to mass movements, among them the poor, as one might immediately suspect, since they may have little investment in the status quo.
But not all the poor. The abjectly impoverished, being consumed with the very purposeful struggle for survival, are immune to the appeal of mass movements. It’s the recently impoverished, resentful of what they have lost, or struggling artisans whose creative impulse has been stymied by circumstances, who are most susceptible among the poor.
Hoffer also lists social misfits, selfish people, “the ambitious facing unlimited opportunities”, minorities, “the bored”, and sinners as ready recruits for an emerging mass movement. He casts a wide net, and many of us I suspect could easily fall into it.
He reserves a special place in mass movements for writers and intellectuals. He writes:
“It is easy to see how the faultfinding man3 of words, by persistent ridicule and denunciation, shakes prevailing beliefs and loyalties, and familiarizes the masses with the idea of change. What is not so obvious is the process by which the discrediting of existing beliefs and institutions makes possible the rise of a new fanatical faith. For it is a remarkable fact that the militant man of words who ‘sounds the established order to its source to mark its want of authority and justice’ often prepares the ground not for a society of freethinking individuals but for a corporate society that cherishes utmost unity and blind faith…”
Cancel culture comes to mind, along with various extremist ideologies currently promulgated by people on both the left and the right.
What kind of person leads an emerging mass movement? According to Hoffer, three types of individuals are needed: “A movement is pioneered by men of words, materialized by fanatics, and consolidated by men of action”. The fanatic’s role is key, in that he or she serves as catalyst and leads the initial assault on institutions in need of radical change. But this individual becomes a liability later, a source of dissension, chaos, and factions.
Hoffer again: “If allowed to have their way, the fanatics may split a movement into schism and heresies which threaten its existence. Even when the fanatics do not breed dissension, they can still wreck the movement by driving it to attempt the impossible…”
Does this remind you of anyone?
Hoffer’s analysis of mass movements and those who join or lead them has some relevance to egregoric phenomena, insofar as a mass movement, an “ism” of some kind, alters the perceptions of its worshipful adherents and directs their behavior toward some end that is independent of its followers.
Communism, capitalism, evangelicalism, nationalism, scientism—so many isms!—can all become idols that enthrall their followers, especially if such “isms” become personified: Stalinism, McCarthyism, Calvinism, Trumpism, and many others.4 Egregores and mass movements are not the same thing, but the social psychological and material aspects of their formation are comparable, and they seem to be complementary processes.
It’s not surprising that Hoffer’s perspective would be a dark one. He wrote The True Believer just as the world was recovering from the trauma of a World War, and the Cold War was beginning. He offers no encouraging recommendations or solutions for the hazards of mass movements, other than an implied admonition to be aware of their nature. Hoffer’s book has great relevance today, in a fractured society of partisans seeking charismatic leaders they can dedicate themselves to—and easily identified enemies they can viscerally hate.
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1A quote often ascribed to Buddha, but likely to have originated with Theosophists.
2The True Believer, by Eric Hoffer (1951, 1963)
3Apparently there were no “faultfinding women of words” in the 1950s, though their existence was suspected by some.
4 “The human heart is a perpetual idol factory.”—John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, (1536).