Thumos and the Psyche: Forgotten by Modern Psychiatry

“Man is sometimes extraordinarily, passionately, in love with suffering.” -Fyodor Dostoevsky, Notes from Underground

Dostoevsky knew. He saw it in the radicals, the fanatics, the men who would burn the world just to prove they existed. He saw it in Raskolnikov, slashing through moral law in search of greatness. He saw it in the nameless narrator of Notes from Underground, seething in his own self-imposed exile, too proud to ask for salvation. Carl Wernicke (1892) was the first psychiatrist to name Raskolnikov's murderous plot as motivated by overvalued ideas. Other greats, including Freud, Jung, and Jaspers, would also touch on it. But modern psychiatry has forgotten its place—until now. Thymotic drive is an important part of mental life. We all have it.

It is θῒμός (thumos), the fire in the soul. Not hunger, not logic, not sexual desire, but something deeper—the need for recognition, for dignity, for honor, or proof that one’s existence matters. The Greeks knew it ruled men’s hearts, sitting between λόγος (logos, reason) and ἐπιθυμία (epithymia, desire). It built empires and launched wars, made heroes and tyrants, fueled revolutions and vendettas. When guided by wisdom, thumos is the engine of greatness. When unchecked, it is the root of destruction.

Psychiatry never gave it a name. It studied identity, drive, and obsession, but it missed thumos, ignored its primal power. Yet thumos is behind the terrorist who needs his cause, the mass shooter who craves infamy, the anorexic who watches her body waste away in the mirror but won’t stop—not because she doesn’t see it, but because she must win the battle against herself.

This is the force we have ignored. And it consumes many attackers.

Extreme Overvalued Beliefs (EOBs). That’s what we as forensic psychiatrists, call it now: An extreme overvalued belief is shared by others in a person's cultural, religious, or subcultural group (including online). The belief is often relished, amplified, and defended by the possessor and should be differentiated from a delusion or obsession. Over time, the belief grows more dominant, more refined, and more resistant to challenge. The individual has an intense emotional commitment to the belief and may carry out violent behavior in its service (Rahman, 2018). Over time, belief becomes increasingly binary, simplistic, and absolute.

When an idea takes hold—burning into the psyche, growing beyond reason, immune to contradiction—it is no longer simply an ideology. It’s not a delusion (antipsychotics won’t fix it), and it is not an obsession (the person relishes, amplifies, and defends it rather than fights it); it’s more righteous, more true. It fuels revolutionaries, terrorists, assassins, and school shooters. It moves the lone gunman to carve his name into history with bullets.

Timothy McVeigh saw himself as the avenger of Waco, his thumos hijacked by ideology. Lee Harvey Oswald? The failed warrior, desperate for significance, clinging to Marxist rage. Anders Breivik? A man possessed by a narrative—himself the μάρτυς (martyr), the πολεμιστής (warrior), the ῕ρως (hero). Adam Lanza (Sandy Hook elementary school shooter) also sought legacy by killing very young children.

They don’t just want to kill. They want to be remembered.

Amour Propre: Recognition Distorted

German psychiatrist Karl Bonhoeffer (1868-1948) expanded on Carl Wernicke’s seminal work on overvalued ideas, describing how certain individuals exhibit a pathological amour propre—a deeply distorted self-regard. Bonhoeffer observed that those with overvalued ideas are hyper-sensitive to perceived slights, interpreting ordinary setbacks as profound personal insults. French philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau described amour propre as a "malign concern to stand above others, delighting in their despite," an insight echoed in modern threat assessment.

Reckoning with the Forgotten Force

Modern psychiatrists have observed and described “identity disturbance,” “fixation,” and “ideological rigidity.” They are often talking about thumos. It is something deeper—an ancient need to matter. It is also why most mass murderers are found competent and culpable, not insane, after committing a heinous criminal act.

So what do we do? The answer is not easy. Not in a world where social media is a colosseum of thymotic battle, where every tweet is a duel for status, where the need to be seen, respected, feared, or admired is more intense than ever. It certainly must be studied.

Why Thumos Still Matters

Ignore θῒμός, and you let it fester. Suppress it, and it erupts. That is the crisis we are living through now—not a war of resources, not a war of ideas, but a war for recognition. The battle cry of every extremist, every radicalized school shooter. See me. Acknowledge me. Make me matter.

Psychiatry Essential Reads

Is Rural Living Better for Mental Health?

The Origin of Community-Based Mental Health Treatment

That is something psychiatry has missed. Thumos is not something to be extinguished, not a disorder to be medicated away. It is something to be understood, something to be channeled, something to be cultivated into honor rather than grievance. The soldier who fights for justice, the activist who demands truth, the scientist who will not let a breakthrough die in obscurity—all are ruled by the same fire as the fanatic. The difference is in its "archetypal imprinting" and shaping.

We stand at a crossroads. If we fail to guide it, the next assassin, the next radicalized mind, is only a matter of time. But if we learn to recognize it, to harness it, to turn it toward creation instead of destruction—then thumos is the force that can drive not only individuals but civilizations toward something greater.

The fire is there. The question is: What do we do with it?