Christ and the End of the Scapegoat
The work of René Girard has captivated intellectuals for decades, and for good reason. His theories of mimesis, mimetic rivalry, scapegoating, and the role of myth and religion in building culture offer powerful insight into human history and behavior. But as Fr. Elias Carr makes clear in his excellent new book I Came to Cast Fire, Girard’s understandings of mimetic rivalry, and particularly, of the human tendency to scapegoat, are not merely abstract conversations for academics. Mimetic rivalry and the scapegoat mechanism are a given in our current social problems.
What is mimetic desire, that core human behavior to which Girard attributes the cycle of human rivalry and violence, the tendency to scapegoat, the emergence of the sacred, and the creation of culture? Mimetic (or imitative) desire begins with human needs and especially with wants. Fr. Carr notes that while “needs are grounded in biology, wants are influenced strongly by other people who model desires.” The basis of the human problem Girard identifies is simple: most of the things we desire, “whether it be a person, relationship, object, experience, or feeling,” are imitative. We form the desire for these things through our (more or less conscious) observation of others desiring or possessing them. This explains the power of advertising (when we see enough people using something, we find ourselves wanting that thing) as well as the power of celebrity (we want the type of house, car, clothing, or woman that the rich, famous, and powerful man possesses).
Mimesis is not all bad; imitative desire generates more than just rivalry and violence. Among other goods that come from mimesis, Girard believes culture is created and passed down through this imitative behavior: as Fr. Carr points out, children “learn through imitation, acquiring language and other skills for social success. Learning their culture’s ethos, they become part of the community and eventually model it to the next generation.”
But mimesis is also the root cause of social strife and violence, because mimesis leads to rivalry when men compete for limited goods. Sometimes, the object of rival desire is sufficiently separated by class distance, such as when one has a mimetic desire for what the wealthy possess. In such a situation, which Girard calls external mediation, violent conflict over the mimetic rivalry is unlikely. But in situations of internal mediation, where the individuals or groups who desire the same thing are sufficiently close, the possibility of violence is quite real.
Girard maintains that this mimetic rivalry is the root cause of human violence. Tribes fight over resources; two men desire the same woman; envy over someone else’s wealth, fame, honor, or power escalates into violence. Girard argues that mimetic rivalry would descend into violence that would destroy lives and even human civilization but for the scapegoat mechanism.
We live in a world penetrated by biblical terminology, so “scapegoat” is a familiar word. But Girard means something much deeper by the term than what colloquial usage suggests. Girard takes the concept of the scapegoat from the Book of Leviticus, from the ancient Jewish Yom Kippur ritual of laying the sins of the community upon a goat that is then driven into the wilderness. In this symbol of the scapegoat, Girard sees an ancient ritual, one that transcends particular religious traditions or cultures: the ritual of attempting to save a people from the destructive violence of mimetic rivalry and sin by blaming and sacrificing a single victim.
The scapegoat mechanism is much older and more widespread than a Jewish ritual: as Girard understands it, the scapegoat is the primal way people have dealt with escalations of violence and social contagion caused by mimetic rivalry. To illustrate it, Girard often uses the example of King Oedipus and the city of Thebes. As Thebes experienced a plague and all the social chaos that went along with it, the various factions within the city united by scapegoating Oedipus. Oedipus was a foreigner (a man of Corinth, not Thebes) with a physical limp as well as the social stigma of inadvertently killing his father and marrying his mother. The community saw these as signs that Oedipus was marked, cursed by the gods, identifiable as the one bringing trouble upon them. When Oedipus was banished from Thebes, Apollo ended the plague and peace was restored. The sacrifice of the scapegoat reconciles mimetic rivals and restores order.
Fr. Elias Carr points out something necessary about the successful scapegoat: he cannot be wholly innocent, but he is also not rightly blamed. “Girard does not say that the scapegoat is innocent in the sense that he or she has never done anything wrong; rather, the scapegoat is no more guilty of causing the disturbance in the group than anyone else. Everyone is part of the conflict—none is without sin—yet the scapegoat gets the blame.”
Several things must come together for scapegoating to work. The scapegoat is generally an outsider. He also usually exhibits some exceptional quality, either good or bad; he may be extremely ugly or deformed, or extremely beautiful and enticing. He stands out from the group. And he often comes from the margins of society (either the top or the bottom)—either the prince or the pauper is generally a target for scapegoating.
The community must be unaware that it is arbitrarily choosing this scapegoat; the people must genuinely and unanimously believe in the scapegoat’s guilt, in his responsibility for the community’s ills. And once the scapegoat is killed or banished, Fr. Carr points out that “the community cannot doubt its justice; it must honestly believe in the righteousness of its action” in order to obtain peace.
With all these conditions in place, society experienced “catharsis, a release from the mimetic fury, and a concurrent, seemingly miraculous reconciliation.” Girard sees the scapegoat mechanism as the founding myth, a primordial (and real) event whose ritual repetition has echoed through human history. One need not look too far into the past to find examples of the tendency to scapegoat. History books are filled with literal witch hunts that blame a community’s troubles on one person who is sacrificed to restore peace and order, as well as nations blaming a particular ethnic or religious group for causing the community’s division. Sacrificing the scapegoat may bring some peace, at least for a time, as long as the community is united in the belief that it is innocent and the scapegoat is guilty.
But Jesus Christ turns the scapegoat mechanism on its head, because he is the voluntary scapegoat. He takes all human violence, all unfair hatred, every bit of sin upon himself and willingly dies in order to reconcile man with God. Ordinary scapegoats are insufficient, because they were never the true cause of the violence that plagued the community, nor were they guilty and therefore justly sacrificed. Christ, unlike these scapegoats, is truly innocent, yet takes all human sin, violence, and guilt upon himself. And when Christ rises from the dead, he reveals his innocence. He was not condemned by God as the guilty one; he proves this publicly by defeating death. Thus, those who put Christ to death see him risen, see his sentence and punishment reversed.
The people see that the scapegoat mechanism is a lie: the one they put to death to stop the chaos and violence within the community rose innocent and victorious, making clear that the scapegoating was based on a lie. Violence and chaos in a community are caused, not by any one particular scapegoated individual or group, but by the violence that exists in every human heart. Christ has brought this truth to light and only Christ can conquer those stormy human hearts. He exposes the scapegoat mechanism as an unjust and insufficient answer to mimetic rivalry and violence.
What do we take from this? What Christ reveals is that, from the time of His death and resurrection until the end of the world, the scapegoat mechanism can be no more. Before Christ, as long as the people truly believed in the guilt of the scapegoat, the scapegoat mechanism generated culture: scapegoating led to ritual sacrifice, certain social prohibitions, and the foundation of myth that allowed culture to grow and flourish. Girard argues that many social institutions—from laws and governments to ancient religion—flowed from the scapegoat mechanism.
After Christ, no longer is it acceptable (or successful) for the community to blame and sacrifice one person to quell the social evils that originate in every human heart. Christ exposed the scapegoat mechanism: the process only worked when the people did not realize what they were doing. But Christ’s death and resurrection reveal the scapegoat mechanism for what it is: blaming the violence and destruction caused by sin on a single victim in an attempt to purge it. Now, in the Christian era, the people know that they are scapegoating (or at least a sizeable portion of the people know) and so it can no longer bring peace and create stable culture. There are now only two options in the face of mimetic rivalry and violence: we will have peace through Christ, or we will not have peace at all.
Modern, globalized culture presents a particular problem of mimetic rivalry. In ancient times, mimesis was limited to one’s community: one could be in mimetic rivalry with neighbors, friends, or the local tribal leadership. This was more than enough to create crises, because people competed for a limited number of goods, sexual partners, etc. But the world of people with whom one could be in mimetic rivalry was rather limited. In the digital age, however, mimesis is global. Mimetic rivalry exists even among people who have never met. People fight on social media for fame and followers. They blame their lack of satisfaction—the lack of material goods, marriage partners, spiritual fulfillment—on individuals or groups they think are preventing their material well-being (the rich) or hindering the success of their community, tribe, or nation (the “elite”). These rivals may very well be wealthy or elite people they have never met. External mediation no longer has the same constraining power, because the internet brings people close enough together to foment dangerous rivalry among strangers. But as we said, there is no scapegoat who can be sacrificed to bring peace to our globalized disorder. There is only Christ: it is God or nothing.
Still, insofar as we have not turned to God with full faith and trust, we continue to attempt (in vain) to scapegoat. The modern instances of scapegoating by the left are perhaps more obvious to conservatives. Many blame social problems on President Trump and the MAGA movement: if we can only eliminate Trump (whether by electoral means, prison, or an assassin’s bullet), the world will experience catharsis and find peace. Or perhaps orthodox religious believers are the cause of the oppression of a growing list of minority classes, who would be relieved if only traditional religion could be purged from society. The left finds itself in mimetic rivalry with its political or religious opposition and seeks to sacrifice the scapegoat, falsely believed to be the cause of all its perceived problems. This is classic scapegoating, and it will never work; the problem ultimately lies not in a particular person, political party, or religion, but in the storm raging in every human heart.
But scapegoating is a real temptation on the right as well. There are obvious examples: those on the right think that if only they could purge “the Communists” or “the far left” (or perhaps just George Soros and Bill Gates) from society, communal violence would be eradicated and there would be peace. I am in no way saying that these scapegoated people or groups are innocent: far-left ideologies are indeed guilty of creating much disorder in our society. And we must continue to use all the political, rhetorical, and other means at our disposal to defeat them. But destroying the chosen scapegoat will not bring peace, because the source of violence and disorder is not that one particular “other,” but every human heart marred by original sin.
Another scapegoat of the day—a common scapegoat throughout the ages—is “the Jews.” Versions of this scapegoating tendency abound. Some concentrate on perceived corruption in the state of Israel as the scapegoated nation on the world stage. Others see a global conspiracy where “the Jews” control everything from global media to world government organizations. There is of course a logical problem with the latter conspiracy theory: each iteration of it revolves around the involvement of certain Jewish people in certain powerful roles, but none proves some kind of unified conspiracy where “the Jews” are an organized monolith performing calculated acts of wickedness. As with all scapegoats, the blamed party may be guilty of some things—even terrible things—but so is everyone else. Identifying and sacrificing the scapegoat will not solve social problems because everyone else is guilty along with the scapegoat.
Scapegoating relies on a falsehood: the scapegoat is not the source of the perceived problem, so sacrificing the scapegoat is the wrong answer to that problem. But modern scapegoating is a particular problem when it is practiced by conservative, believing Christians. Christ brought an end to any possible positive outcome from sacrificing a scapegoat. By dying and rising from the dead, Christ sent the Holy Spirit into the world. If there is a cure for mimetic rivalry and social violence, it is in the holiness that comes from adherence to the Gospel.
Scapegoating will never bring about the peace and catharsis that we seek. Yes, of course we must work for political goods; that work includes fighting bad actors and bad ideologies. But our only hope for final victory in this world is Christ, who offers us personal and communal transformation. All we can do with the inclination towards mimetic rivalry is turn it to positive ends: instead of imitating the desires of rivals and escalating violence, we must imitate Christ and the saints and bring about holiness.
Christ is both the ultimate and the only effective scapegoat. Christians need to realize that there is no scapegoat on this earth that can be sacrificed to bring us a peaceful end to the evils we encounter. Only fidelity to Christ, trust in the work of the Holy Spirit, and the seeking of personal, familial, and communal holiness will bring the peace for which we long.
Image licensed via Adobe Stock.