The Extremist as a Spiritual Teacher: What Zealotry Reveals About Our Shadows
Salome with the Head of Saint John the Baptist by Guido Reni
For centuries, humans have found ways to divide themselves over the most arbitrary distinctions. History is filled with manufactured enmities, conflicts justified by ideology, faith, or nothing more than inherited prejudice. Think of the Protestant and Catholic wars, or other rivalries that were all consuming at the time but eventually gave way to peaceful coexistence and even collaboration.
These patterns have always existed, quietly simmering beneath the surface, erupting in moments of cultural tension. Now, in Eclipse Season of all times, the pattern has reached a fever pitch, marking a turning point for society: the curtain has burned away, revealing not just brain rot but soul rot.
This week, it became impossible to ignore how readily cruelty and dogma are celebrated, how dissent is treated as a threat, and disagreement is met with violence rather than thoughtful reflection and civil discourse. Words are increasingly seen as violence if they aren’t on the approved list, and even choosing to remain silent has been called violence, and the very act of speaking or expressing belief that other disagree with can be a death sentence. And this is happening in 21st century America, this isn’t a story from the Middle Ages or some authoritarian theocracy. The glass has been cracked for a while, but any illusion of remaining civility from those with the cultural megaphone has shattered into a million pieces, and the patterns that have simmered for centuries are now blatantly and unavoidably obvious. This turning point is not just about one person, one ideology, or one side of the political or spiritual spectrum, it is about the human tendency to project fear and shadow outward, creating enemies where none truly exist.
The Shadow They Refuse to See
Carl Jung wrote that “whatever is not brought to consciousness comes to us as fate.” That is the nature of the shadow, the part of ourselves we refuse to acknowledge. The further we push it down, the more violently it bursts forth, shaping our reality in ways we do not understand. This energy drives both religious extremism and ideological fanaticism. Each side believes they are the righteous ones, yet their behaviors mirror each other perfectly. They are consumed by the very thing they claim to fight against: control, oppression, fear, dogma.
What neither side admits is that they are not fighting external evil. They are running from their own internal contradictions. Jung called this psychological projection. I’m sure you’ve heard of projection because it’s everyone, especially online. Have you ever scrolled through the comments to read two strangers threaten one another because they have differing viewpoints, seeing them as two sides of the same coin? When we refuse to face something in ourselves, we often project it onto others and battle it externally instead, rather than acknowledging or facing our own shadow. The more someone insists that their enemies are the embodiment of evil, the more they reveal about their own unexamined darkness.
Nietzsche warned of this in Beyond Good and Evil: “He who fights with monsters should be careful lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.” Extremists believe they are fighting for justice or truth, but in their obsession they become exactly what they claim to oppose. The preacher who condemns sin with no compassion often harbors the darkest secrets. The activist who polices speech in the name of safety and inclusion often hungers for fame and control more than justice or genuine virtue. Rather than face these contradictions, they create an enemy to wage war against. That’s projection in a nutshell.
Baba Yaga and the Archetypes That Warn Us
Across myth, literature, and scripture, recurring archetypes warn us about the dangers of misplaced virtue, unchecked power, and the failure to discern shadow. Few figures embody this better than Baba Yaga, the wild and terrifying witch of Slavic folklore. Baba Yaga is not just an old woman in the woods. She is a test, a force of reckoning and the arbiter of justice to those who cross her path. In many stories, she appears to lost wanderers, often young girls, and presents them with seemingly impossible choices: face the unknown or be devoured by her. She teaches that remaining too long in the comfort of safety can be dangerous, that the need for safety can turn into a prison, and that personal growth demands courage and discernment. Baba Yaga does not reward naïve obedience or hollow empathy. Baba Yaga suffers no fools, and because of this shrewdness and her old crone status, she’s cast as a villain to many, but for those who have read her stories and taken the time to understand her, we see her for what she truly is. Baba Yaga isn’t good or evil, she acts as a mirror and a teacher, and she does it with some seriously eldritch flair. She’s a Trickster, The Wise Sage and even the Magician. True wisdom requires facing the darkness, stepping into the unknown, and acting with clarity, even when others might question your choices. Baba Yaga is a force of transformation, and transformations are rarely easy. She devours those who refuse to grow, who seek shelter in standing still. The only way to survive her is to face the darkness, to enter the woods, and to step into the unknown and face our shadow. True wisdom requires leaving the safety of ideological certainty. The lesson is not to harden our hearts but to integrate discernment, courage, and awareness, the very qualities Baba Yaga embodies.
This contrasts with the Devouring Mother archetype, which appears in myth and literature as the overbearing, enmeshed figure whose so-called protection becomes destructive. She is the hysterical mother who will burn the house down with her children inside, believing she is sparing or helping them, but actually consuming their autonomy and life. A literary example is the wife in Jane Eyre, whose obsessive, controlling behavior, driven by her madness and confinement, destroys lives around her despite her apparent vulnerability. Rochester thinks sparing his wife from the asylum is a mercy, that he is acting from compassion, but it turns him bitter and hardens him to others around him. And because the wife is consumed with madness, violence and destruction, she eventually burns the house down. In this way, Rochester is a literary example of suicidal empathy. The Devouring Mother teaches the danger of empathy untethered from discernment: a desire to “do good” that ignores reality and allows harm to flourish.
Then, we have the story of Little Red Riding Hood. A young, vulnerable girl ventures into the woods to visit her Grandmother, who we come to learn, has been eaten by a wolf who dresses up in her clothing to lure the girl into a false sense of safety. While it may seem absurd-how do you not see the wolf, that’s precisely the point. Even though RRH knows something is off and questions it, she isn’t sure. And the Grimm Brothers made the story even more tame-in their version, she survives but in the original, her naïveté and desire to “believe the monster” left her vulnerable and she lost her life, swallowed by the same fate as her grandmother. She carries her empathy for the wolf and her desire to do the right thing, but her lack of discernment and logic nearly leads her to be consumed. Her mistake is believing that kindness alone protects her and that others, even dangerous ones, will reward her virtue. In reality, the only benefactor of misplaced mercy is the predator. The tale warns us not to feed monsters, even in the name of virtue or empathy. Protection without discernment becomes a trap, and good intentions can have deadly consequences if we fail to see the reality before us. Damn, maybe we just really need to bring back story time with myth and fairy tales that haven’t been neutered so as not to offend. That’s the point-they act as metaphor, allegory and warning in our own lives, something we need to remember. There are plenty of monsters out there, and we need to get better at recognizing them. If Baba Yaga had been the grandmother at the home where the wolf knocked, I think the story of Little Red Riding Hood would’ve been a completely different story.
Similarly, the story of Salome from the New Testament illustrates this fever pitch of desire, coercion, and misplaced morality we are seeing in modern times. For context, Salome is the daughter of Herodias and the stepdaughter of King Herod Antipas. During a banquet, she performs a dance that pleases Herod so much that he promises to give her anything she asks. Coached by her mother, she requests the head of John the Baptist on a platter. Salome asks for John the Baptist’s head, not entirely from personal malice, but as a response to pressures and manipulations around her, her mother’s vengeance, the expectations of the court, the spectacle demanded by the crowd. Her act becomes a deadly expression of collective and individual shadow, a vivid example of what happens when desire, fear, and social influence override discernment and ethical judgment. Like Baba Yaga’s tests or Little Red Riding Hood’s encounter with the wolf, Salome’s story warns of the danger of surrendering personal responsibility and wisdom to external pressures or unchecked impulses.
The Extremist as a Spiritual Teacher
These archetypes and stories are not relics of the past, they reflect patterns in our present. Extremists, zealots, and mobs are the living echoes of these same dynamics: tests of discernment, shadow, and courage. And they can teach us, if we are willing to learn.Here is where I may lose some people, but that’s ok. What if we learn from the Extremists? Not to emulate, but to learn what not to do or be or think or act. If we learn groundedness and patience from their changeable hostility and knee-jerk reactions. If we learn to be fluid and adaptable and open to new ideas from their rigidity and dogmatic ideological capture, if we pay attention to the shadows and work to integrate our own, we can avoid the mistakes. The extremist can lead the way. Most people see these extremes and feel one of two things: anger or despair. Anger because they see how destructive these mindsets are. Despair because it feels like the world is being swallowed by them. But there is another way to see it.
What if these people exist to show us what happens when we refuse to do our own inner work? What if their purpose is to serve as a warning, a live demonstration of the consequences of unchecked ego, fear, and projection? Spiritual growth demands that we face ourselves fully. We must acknowledge our contradictions, fears, and shadows. We must sit with discomfort instead of fleeing into certainty. The zealots and ideologues of any ilk are those who refused to do that work. Because they refused, they have become trapped in a prison of their own making. They are warning signs, living examples of what happens when the desire for control overrides the pursuit of wisdom. We can see them and say: That is the road I will not take.
But here is the real trap, the one even so-called free thinkers fall into. The moment we think, “At least I am not like them. At least I can see the bigger picture,” we risk falling into the same self-righteousness we critique. The path of awakening is not about placing ourselves above others. It is about seeing clearly, without absorbing their fear, without reacting to their chaos. It is about recognizing that we too have shadows, and that if we do not face them, we might become just as lost as they are. The middle path resists easy answers. It is the path of nuance, paradox, and contradiction. It is standing at the edge of ideology and refusing to be consumed by it.
So What Do We Do?
The world will never be free of zealots, ideologues, or people who seek to control, inflame, or destroy. But we do not have to become them. The challenge is not to retreat, but to engage. To step outside the algorithm, to spend time in nature, to reconnect with reality and human relationships. To listen as much as we speak, and to approach disagreement with curiosity rather than contempt.
If you encounter someone whose beliefs differ from your own, resist the urge to scream, mock, or shut them down. Ask questions, try to understand, You’re allowed to defend your beliefs, but so are they. You may realize that you have more in common than you thought, or you may find you have nothing in common. This isn’t about agreement, but engaging with respect, patience, and an open mind. It’s ok to be challenged, and we have to stop looking at disagreement as a win/lose situation. This is not about blind acceptance or submission, but in strengthening our resilience and discernment so we don’t fall prey to the sophisticated forms from manipulation, ideological capture, and the corrosion of character that’s become a virus in our society. Conviction doesn’t excuse you from basic human decency, it really is that simple.
We are meant to wrestle with ideas, to be tested, and to have our convictions questioned. Freedom of thought and expression is meaningless if we do not exercise it responsibly. Violence has no place in the realm of ideas. But neither does avoidance. We must show up, discern clearly, and act with courage and presence. That is the way to become better, wiser, and freer, not by fleeing from conflict, but by facing it with clarity, compassion, and resolve.
