Georges Sorel (1847–1922) remains one of the most unsettling intellectual figures of the early 20th century. While many of his contemporaries sought rational order, truth, or social harmony, Sorel insisted on something more volatile: the power of collective imagination. For him, societies are not primarily driven by logical arguments or empirical proofs, but by grand myths—stories that confer meaning, inspire solidarity, and propel people to act.
The best-known of these is the myth of the general strike. Sorel didn’t treat it as a technical labor tactic, but as a “redemptive myth.” Its significance lay less in whether such a strike would ever actually occur, and more in the belief it could. That belief alone, he argued, had the capacity to mobilize masses, forge bonds among workers, and unleash social transformation.
Violence as Creative Energy
Sorel also became infamous for his attempt to “redeem” the idea of violence. For him, violence was not simply blind brutality. When wielded collectively and deliberately, it could serve as a creative force—breaking apart corrupt institutions and clearing the ground for a new social order. He imagined it as a kind of existential energy, a purging act through which societies free themselves from stagnation.
This interpretation was divisive. It inspired radical socialists, who saw in Sorel a philosopher of working-class empowerment. But it also attracted nationalists and even Italian fascists, who seized on his ideas to legitimize their own authoritarian politics. The irony is stark: a thinker who sought to empower labor through myth and violence became a reference point for some of the most anti-democratic movements of the 20th century.
Myth in the Present
It is tempting to consign Sorel to history, but his insights still resonate. Political myths are alive all around us. Nationalist movements, environmental campaigns, even the techno-utopian visions of Silicon Valley all rely on grand narratives of salvation, freedom, catastrophe, or rebirth.
Even in an age saturated with data, artificial intelligence, and “fake news,” myths remain more potent than most rational arguments. They provide identity, belonging, and purpose. And, as Sorel warned, they can also justify the use of force in their pursuit.
What We Can Learn from Sorel
Engaging with Sorel raises an uncomfortable question: can a society survive without myths? Perhaps, like oxygen, they are indispensable—vital even when dangerous. For Sorel, myths were never mere fictions; they were mechanisms of collective action, the spark that animates politics.
History, however, shows that when myths fuse with unrestrained violence, the consequences can be catastrophic. The lesson, then, may not be to revere myths or to dismiss them, but to understand their power—and to imagine how they might be channeled toward creative, plural, and non-destructive futures.
Sorel offered no simple answers. Instead, he held up a mirror: politics is never only about interests or rational calculation. It is a theatre of images and stories, where myths shape the trajectory of history. Recognizing this means recognizing why one idea—however unrealizable—can sometimes change the course of the world.
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