On the Path of Fanaticism

On May 1, 1945, Nazi Minister of Education and Propaganda Joseph Goebbels and his wife Magda committed suicide in the besieged Berlin bunker. But before that, the woman killed her six sleeping children with cyanide. Very stealthily, to avoid waking them, she placed a cyanide capsule between their teeth and gently pressed their jaws so they would bite down. One by one, she watched them convulse and die. She moved from one bed to another, taking their lives without hesitation, convinced she was doing them a favor. She did this six times! When she saw all her children dead, she bit her own capsule.

It is known that the Goebbels couple deeply loved their six little ones, and we can imagine that those poor children fell asleep that night trusting in the protection of their loving parents.

This horror is perhaps the greatest example of fanaticism in recorded memory, at least in modern times. The Goebbels were convinced that life was not worth living in a world without National Socialism. How does one reach such a state of madness?

Sometimes, we attribute extreme fanaticism to people with mediocre culture or little education. That is a mistake. Goebbels held a doctorate in philosophy, having graduated in 1922, and came from a Catholic family. This case of absolute fanaticism demonstrates that a solid academic background or the moral influence of a superior religion does not guarantee that a normal person is safe from this disease of the soul that is fanaticism. We are all exposed to falling into that black hole if we get too close to its dangerous edges.

According to the dictionary, a fanatic is a person who defends certain beliefs or opinions—especially religious or political ones—with excessive tenacity and blind passion. But this definition does not tell us much. There are harmless forms of fanaticism, such as that of a soccer fan, or young people following a particular band, or even certain groups who love classical ballet so much that they spend entire nights outdoors to get a good seat in the theater. The problem arises with political, religious, and even scientific ideas, where the disease of fanaticism spreads as rapidly as a forest fire. It is this type of fanaticism that gravely endangers peaceful coexistence in society.

Ortega y Gasset discusses fanaticism without using that word. In The Theme of Our Time, he refers to the radicalization of ideas originating from pure reason. Analyzing the process of humanity’s shift from collective tribalism to individuality, he reminds us that when human beings reject all tradition—all that they have inherited from their ancestors—and cling solely to reason, they are forced to reconstruct the universe for themselves using only their intellect. “From this moment on,” writes the Spanish thinker, “two opposing forces act within every human soul: tradition and reason.” And he categorically concludes that this geometric way of thinking was called rationalism when perhaps it would have been more appropriate to call it radicalism.

Continuing his reasoning, Ortega makes it clear that the few major revolutions in history, such as the French Revolution of 1789, have essentially been political radicalism, and that one is not radical in politics unless one has first been radical in thought. Radicalism occurs when people turn their backs on reality, when they fall in love with ideas to the point of forgetting that the goal of every idea is to align with reality.

Paraphrasing Jesus’ words about the Sabbath, we could say: Ideas were made for reality, not reality for ideas. Only on momentous occasions, such as the French Revolution, has reality been reshaped by ideas. But this phenomenon has only occurred when illuminating ideas—always driven by educated and radicalized minorities—received the rare and providential support of a society in turmoil that collectively felt the need for great change. But revolutions are over. Now, radicals or fanatics tend to appear alone, without popular support, and often full of resentment and anger. Contemporary societies generally seek to ensure that ideas serve real life.

Fanaticism follows a fatal path: it begins with a sudden fascination for some previously unknown «truth» (whether proven or fictional) that has unexpectedly reached the consciousness of a receptive person. It continues with a slow maturation, involving an obsessive search for information, readings, interpersonal contacts, meetings, etc., and ends in a powerful, often excessive, mobilizing conviction. A certain inner emptiness, deep existential uncertainty, a crisis of faith and hope (whether political, economic, sentimental, or religious), and a profound dissatisfaction and self-loathing form the perfect breeding ground. The person has found astonishing answers to their distress and becomes enthralled. A sudden conversion occurs: the individual changes their perspective on life or the afterlife, and in their psychology, a pleasant sense of security—and sometimes superiority—emerges. It is as if a steel armor now protects them from their own fragility.

But at this point, there is still no reason to be alarmed: this process is normal and does not necessarily lead to fanaticism. A shift in ideology, politics, religion—or, if I may say, even gender identity—is a healthy path that we have all walked at some point. But within this very process lies a lurking threat. The path of conversion does not stop at lucid and realistic conviction; it continues along its tempting and comfortable trajectory, ascending toward ever higher and more attractive regions of abstract thought. And it is possible that intellectual curiosity—or simple, treacherous personal vanity—prevents us from seeing that, at a certain point along the route, there is a boundary marked by common sense that should never be crossed. “We have come this far; let us go no further,” warns a prudent voice from within our intuition. But not everyone listens to it.

If, by temperament, we are inclined toward extreme positions, or if our passion blinds us to the guiding principle that every truth is always relative, questionable, and subject to new viewpoints that modify or contradict it; or if, through intellectual negligence (or ignorance), we forget what Ortega taught: that thought must always serve reality and not the other way around, then we may end up—almost without realizing it—in a kind of denialism toward anything that threatens to strip us of that armor that keeps us safe from, precisely, the harsh reality.

Enrique Arenz is a prolific Argentinian journalist and writer. Over his extensive career, he has published fifteen books—including essays, novels, and short story collections—and contributed to major newspapers such as La Prensa and La Capital. His work delves into themes of freedom, politics, and society, showcasing his lifelong dedication to independent journalism and literature.

This is an excerpt translated into English from the original, published in Spanish in the book On the Path of Fanaticism by Enrique Arenz. The original article can be consulted here. The author has granted permission for its publication.