Archetype & Avatar

Carl Jung was not amused. His Red Book: Liber Novus, composed primarily between 1913 and 1930, is a visionary work documenting his intense self-exploration through active imagination, dreams, and reflections. It delves into archetypal themes, the dynamics of the collective unconscious, and the tension between opposing forces—individuation versus collective disintegration, order versus chaos, and the spiritual versus the material. Jung was deeply concerned with modernity’s disconnection from the soul, warning that such imbalances could lead to societal or psychic fragmentation. His visions, initially recorded in his Black Books, provide a foundation for understanding his concept of the Antichrist as a psychological archetype, which finds a striking modern parallel.

In 1913, before World War I, Jung experienced vivid visions of a “monstrous flood” covering northern Europe, with “mighty yellow waves, floating rubble, and drowned bodies,” followed by seas turning to blood. These recurring visions, detailed in The Red Book, were accompanied by an inner voice insisting they were real. Initially fearing psychosis, Jung later interpreted them as precognitions of World War I’s devastation in 1914, viewing them as manifestations of the “spirit of the depths”—a force reflecting both personal and collective unconscious turmoil. He believed these visions revealed the psyche’s ability to foresee historical crises, tying personal and societal upheavals to unaddressed psychic imbalances.

Jung’s assertion, made in 1954 at a Psychology Club discussion about the threat of atomic war, that “the coming of the Antichrist is not just a prophetic prediction—it is an invariable psychological law” encapsulates his principle of enantiodromia. Derived from Heraclitus, enantiodromia describes how extremes—such as excessive rationality, materialism, or ideological dogmatism—provoke their opposites, like chaos or deception. The Antichrist, in Jung’s framework, is not a supernatural entity but a symbolic archetype: a great deceiver embodying the Shadow, the repressed darker aspects of the psyche that emerge to counter one-sidedness. When a culture overemphasizes order or virtue, as in rigid religious or political systems, the Shadow gathers force in the collective unconscious, manifesting as falsehoods that disrupt harmony. Jung saw this as “invariable” because the psyche relentlessly seeks wholeness, correcting imbalances through often catastrophic eruptions.

In Aion (1951), Jung frames the Christ-Antichrist polarity as a psychic struggle: Christ represents conscious virtue, while the Antichrist, as a deceiver, embodies the Shadow’s challenge to integrate hidden truths. This dynamic is universal, as the psyche cannot tolerate prolonged one-sidedness. In The Undiscovered Self (1956), he warned that modern society’s loss of individuality and reliance on collective ideologies amplified the Shadow, risking global crises. His final vision in 1961, foretelling destruction around 2011, underscored his ongoing fear of unintegrated unconscious forces precipitating disasters, including wars.

Jung interpreted historical events like the World Wars as expressions of this deceptive archetype. In The Red Book, his pre-World War I visions reflected collective hubris and repressed tensions erupting into chaos. During the 1950s, he saw the Cold War’s ideological divide—capitalism versus communism—as fertile ground for the Antichrist archetype, potentially through leaders or movements obscuring truth for power. This psychological law, Jung argued, recurs whenever humanity ignores the unconscious, producing figures or forces that distort reality to force integration.

The biblical Antichrist, described in texts like 1 John 2:22 and Revelation 13, is a deceptive, charismatic figure who denies Christ’s divinity, exalts himself, and sways masses with worldly allure, akin to accepting Satan’s temptation of worldly power (Matthew 4:8-9). Donald Trump arguably aligns closely with this archetype. His documented history of tens of thousands of false statements, as tracked by PolitiFact and The Washington Post, fits the “liar” motif, while his charismatic persona and global fame as a billionaire and media figure mirror the Antichrist’s attractiveness and popularity. Trump’s self-exalting rhetoric, like claiming “I alone can fix it,” suggests a messianic pretense, and his wealth and political power evoke acceptance of worldly “kingdoms.”

Most strikingly, Trump’s support from over 80% of American Evangelical Christians underscores his religious charlatanry. Despite personal controversies and divisive rhetoric, he garners fervent devotion, presenting himself as a defender of faith. This paradox—leading self-described devout Christians while embodying traits antithetical to Christ’s teachings—makes Trump a compelling candidate for the Antichrist archetype, surpassing other contemporary figures in deceptive influence and religious sway.

His falsehoods—ranging from election fraud claims to policy distortions—exploit collective imbalances like distrust, polarization, and media fragmentation. Trump’s unprecedented deceit aligns with Jung’s vision of a great deceiver, amplifying chaos and challenging societal truth. As of July 9, 2025, his ongoing influence continues to reflect the Shadow’s disruptive power, fulfilling Jung’s psychological law by manifesting the Antichrist archetype in a modern, non-mystical form, driven by falsehood rather than supernatural force.

Trump’s alignment with Project 2025, a Heritage Foundation initiative to reshape U.S. governance with Christian nationalist policies, amplifies this archetype. Project 2025’s “Mandate for Leadership” seeks to centralize executive power, dismantle bureaucracy, and impose “biblical principles,” prioritizing traditional family structures and restricting gender and racial equity. As Jungian scholar Sue Mehrtens notes, the Antichrist archetype, with its numinous power, sways masses toward “mass-mindedness,” encouraging atrocities in the name of ideology.

As the Trump administration fully enacts Project 2025, America faces profound societal shifts. The unitary executive theory is concentrateing power in the presidency, undermining checks and balances. Policies targeting immigrants, including mass deportations, are causing social unrest, with proposals for work camps evoking authoritarian tactics. Restrictions on women’s and LGBTQ+ rights, rooted in Christian patriarchy, will marginalize these groups, enforcing a theocratic vision. Jung’s enantiodromia suggests that such extreme policies—favoring one ideology over pluralism—will provoke a backlash. Suppressed voices, like those of minorities or secularists, are erupting in protests.

America is seeing heightened polarization, with Christian nationalism alienating many other demographics. Jung’s warnings about collective ideologies (The Undiscovered Self) imply that this “mass-mindedness” will foster a climate of fear and conformity. Economically, prioritizing corporate interests and deregulating environmental protections, as Project 2025 advocates, will exacerbate inequality and ecological crises, further fueling unrest. Trump’s deceptive rhetoric, amplifying distrust, is intensifying these divisions, embodying the Antichrist’s role as a distorter of truth. He has expressed a desire to be a “king” or “dictator” in at least six documented instances between 2023 and 2025, with three explicit uses of “king” or “dictator” and three implying unchecked or extended power. These align with the Antichrist’s traits of self-exaltation and worldly ambition, particularly given his Evangelical support.

By 2029, America could resemble a fragmented, authoritarian state, with diminished democratic norms and social cohesion. The psyche’s drive for wholeness could spark resistance, as marginalized groups and moderates push back against theocratic overreach. Jung’s framework implies that integration of these tensions—through dialogue or reform—could mitigate collapse, though not without significant strife.

Meanwhile, as Belén Fernández writes. “A war criminal nominating his enabler is peak Nobel Peace Prize history. In the latest installment of the ‘can’t-make-this-sh*t-up’ contest in global politics and diplomacy, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has nominated United States President Donald Trump for the Nobel Peace Prize. In other words, the person currently presiding over the genocide of Palestinians in the Gaza Strip has proposed that the world’s top peacemaking prize be awarded to the primary enabler of that genocide – the man who in March announced that he was ‘sending Israel everything it needs to finish the job’ in Gaza. That ‘everything’ has entailed billions of dollars in lethal weaponry and other assistance. Since resuming office in January, Trump has also wantonly bombed civilians in Yemen and illegally attacked Iran…

“Indeed, it is a wonder that media outlets have managed to report on Trump’s Nobel Peace Prize nomination with a straight face…but in a world in which the supposed pursuit of peace is so often utilised as an excuse for more war, Trump’s nomination might very well be meaningful, indeed.” www.aljazeera.com/opinions/2025/7/9/who-better-than-trump-for-the-nobel-peace-prize

In the 2010s, Matt Taibbi characterized Donald Trump as the ultimate Ugly American, a figure embodying the crass excesses of post-1980s culture, representing the culmination of greed, vulgarity, and self-promotion—trends fueled by deregulation, Wall Street excess, and a media landscape that glorifies spectacle. In a 2016 article, he wrote, “Trump is the perfect mirror of America’s new low-rent reality,” reflecting a society that rewards ostentatious displays like Trump’s gold-plated branding and The Apprentice persona. His boasts about wealth and power, far from alienating, resonated with a downwardly mobile public desensitized to moral restraint.

Taibbi sees Trump’s rise as no accident but a product of a culture that “celebrates the hustle, not the result” (Insane Clown President, 2017). His transactional worldview epitomized the 1980s ethos of unchecked ambition. “He’s the living, breathing manifestation of our unreflective id,” wrote Taibbi, critiquing a nation enamored with celebrity and consumerism. He is America’s unfiltered reflection, thriving in a culture that rewards excess.

In The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious (1934–1954), Jung argues that archetypes are shaped by a society’s dominant values and collective psyche. A figure embodying extreme traits—like greed, ambition, or spectacle—may arise as a “shadow” of a culture that glorifies those qualities. “The Shadow is a moral problem that challenges the whole ego-personality… It is the dark aspect of our nature that we project onto others or that takes form in a figure who embodies it” (Collected Works, Vol. 9, Part 2). As he notes in Psychological Types (1921), “The more one-sided the culture, the more extreme the counterposition that emerges.” We live in a time of extremes…