Did the Occult Shape the Nazi Third Reich?
Before the swastika flew over Europe and the world recoiled from the horrors of the Third Reich, a different darkness brewed in the heart of collapsing empires. In Austria and Germany, hidden societies whispered, arcane symbols flickered by candlelight, and obscure doctrines found footholds in the chaos left behind by World War I. For many, the modern world’s disarray drove a desperate search for mystical answers—and in that search, the boundaries between myth, belief, and dangerous ideology melted away. Why, even decades later, does the mystical hold such sway over the story of the Nazis? Let’s peel back layers of history, hype, and horror to explore the true role of the occult in the rise of the Nazi regime.
Myth, Fascination, and the Cold Reality
Few historical villains have held the world’s attention like Adolf Hitler and the Nazis. There’s a strange, almost magnetic pull to evil; as historian Richard B. Spence points out, villains in our stories often draw us in far more than heroes do. It’s only natural, then, that when the world tries to make sense of the unimaginable atrocities of the Third Reich, people reach for explanations beyond the ordinary. Enter the occult—a realm that’s both alluring and chilling, stirring curiosity and dread in equal measure.
In recent years, the supposed connection between Nazism and the occult has become an international “cottage industry.” Documentaries, books, and articles often claim that secret societies and magical thinking were the driving force behind Hitler’s rise, but Spence urges us to look deeper. While occult themes were certainly present in the cultural stew of early 20th-century Germany, the idea that occultism was the puppet master directing Nazi evil is, he says, a considerable exaggeration. Hitler himself was fascinated by many things—including the occult—but he wasn’t a practicing occultist.
Yet, the public’s need to explain evil often finds comfort in supernatural explanations. When faced with historical figures who committed unfathomable crimes, it can be easier to picture them as vessels for demonic forces than to confront their profoundly human origins. The result is a powerful and persistent myth—one with just enough truth to keep us guessing, but far more fiction than fact.
The Weimar Republic: Fertile Ground for Mystical Thinking
To understand why occult ideas resonate so deeply with stories of the Nazis, it’s important to go back to Germany’s Weimar Republic, which followed the devastation of World War I. The war wasn’t just a military defeat for Germany; it was a psychological and societal earthquake. A young, newly united nation that had seemed destined for greatness was suddenly saddled with blame, debt, and an identity crisis of colossal proportions.
People struggled to explain the collapse of their world. In previous ages, calamities were often chalked up to having angered the gods or lost touch with spiritual truths. After World War I, Germany—grieving the loss of millions, wracked by economic misery, and politically unstable—became a hothouse for spiritual searching. Occultism boomed, as did interest in everything from spiritualism to mystical films. This wasn’t unique to Germany; similar movements flourished in France, the UK, and the US. But it was in Germany that these ingredients, fueled by a sense of collective grievance and defeat, fermented into something politically potent.
It’s also in turmoil that scapegoats are sought. For the Nazis, antisemitism became intertwined with the language of demonic evil. Jews were demonized, turned into symbols of everything thought to have gone wrong with the nation. That process—of turning social ills into supernatural threats—helped set the stage for the Nazi movement’s catastrophic rise.
Adolf Hitler: The Enigma Behind the Myth
Many want to believe that Hitler was some sort of dark sorcerer—an evil genius wielding ancient powers. In reality, as Spence emphasizes, Hitler was remarkable not for his supernatural gifts or cunning, but for his utter ordinariness. A mediocre artist, educational dropout, and drifter, he had little to recommend him prior to his military service in World War I. Even his antisemitism, often described as innate, seems to have developed later and under very specific post-war circumstances.
But Hitler was a sponge for ideas. He loved to read, to discuss, to pick up theories and worldviews wherever he encountered them—including from the fringe corners of occult publishing. For example, he annotated Ernst Schertel’s book on magic in his personal library—not because he was a true believer, but because he had the restless curiosity of someone always looking for an idea to latch onto. Sometimes, those ideas resurfaced in unexpected ways, twisted to suit the evolving narrative of Nazi ideology.
Still, the evidence for occultism as anything more than a minor influence on Hitler is thin. He was aware of groups like the Thule Society and their mystical philosophies but maintained a pragmatic, often dismissive attitude. His rise wasn’t propelled by occult forces; it was enabled by political chaos, tactical opportunism, and an ability to manipulate the masses with rhetoric, not ritual.
Himmler and the SS: Occultism as Organizational Identity
If Hitler was at most an occasional dabbler, Heinrich Himmler—the architect of the SS—was the true occult enthusiast. Himmler gravitated to strange amalgamations of myth, ritual, and pseudoscience, and even hired his own spiritual advisor, Karl Maria Wiligut, a figure as much con artist as believer.
Himmler aimed to turn the SS from a quasi-military guard into something resembling a cultish, pseudo-religious order rich in ritual and symbolism. He sought out artifacts, conducted research into witchcraft, and tried to reconstruct a mythical Germanic past using runes, astrological symbols, and plenty of creative license. The SS even had its own witchcraft research department, combing through medieval trial records in search of clues about ancient Aryan religions.
But even Himmler’s deep dive into occultism was more about shaping organizational identity and justifying Nazi racial theories than about summoning actual supernatural powers. His experiments with symbolism and ritual were part performance, part political theater, and only occasionally the actions of a man with genuine belief. Moreover, many others in the SS saw his obsessions as eccentric at best.
Occultism in Context: Myth, Culture, and Dangerous Ideas
So where does this leave us? The occult certainly played a role in the atmosphere of Weimar Germany and among some leading Nazis, but it’s a role that’s been inflated, dramatized, and mythologized over time. Human beings are drawn to the mysterious, especially when explaining the inexplicable; secret societies and whispered rituals make for compelling stories, especially when natural explanations—political chaos, economic hardship, wounded national pride—are too prosaic or too painful to face.
The tragedy is that these myths can be as dangerous as the ideas they try to explain. By focusing on the mystical and supernatural, we risk ignoring the ordinary darkness that resides in human nature: the greed, prejudice, and ambition that, in the right circumstances, can wreak more havoc than any spell or incantation.
Conclusion: Confronting History’s Shadows
The fascination with Nazi occultism isn’t going away any time soon. It holds our attention because it offers an almost comforting narrative—that something as monstrous as Nazism must have come from somewhere inhuman, something unknowable. The truth, however, is both more chilling and more important: the descent into horror was shaped by real people, making real choices, in a world shuddering from real wounds. Occultism provided a language for some of those choices, but the true engine of history was all too visible.
If anything, the story of Nazi occultism should serve as a warning. Beware of stories that seek easy answers to hard questions, of myths that distract from reality, and of ideologies that seduce with promises of hidden knowledge and secret power. The things visible and invisible are often closer than we think—but sometimes, the most dangerous darkness is hiding in plain sight.
