The Scapegoat (n.) ends ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠the reciprocal violence by becoming everyone's other: all converge on a victim only slightly more attractive than the rest, and the group is suddenly unanimous.

The Scapegoat (n.) extinguishes ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠the desire for revenge in the survivors, since only the scapegoat could want to be avenged and he is in no position to be.

The Scapegoat (n.) cures ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠only the human relations, never the plague, but by eliminating those relations' poison he seems to cure the external disaster too.

The Scapegoat (n.) has ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠the Lamb of God's meaning when we say "the victim is a scapegoat", assimilated so well that we no longer know the source.

Myth (n.) are ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠defended not out of belief but because they protect us from the revelation rising out of mythology's ashes.

Myth (n.) has ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠one elementary drama: twins with no real difference, mimetic rivalry, sacrificial crisis, collective murder; all the great writers and their imitators repeat it.

Myth (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠transformed in only one direction, toward the elimination of any trace of violence; the version without murder comes later.

Myth (n.) wears ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠a mask that covers the whole face, so that we see no victim and no persecutor, just as the Cyclopes heard only that no one had hurt Polyphemus.

The Gospel (n.) uncovers ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠even in ordinary behaviour around a fire the ancient gesture of Aztec sacrificers and witch-hunters pushing victims into the flames.

The Gospel (n.) have ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠no favourites, like the Heavenly Father; they care only about the unanimity of the persecutors, not who is more to blame.

The Gospel (n.) are ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠blamed for the collapse of our institutions, whether we know it or not: once the mechanism is understood, it can no longer work.

The Gospel (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠vindicating itself through an intellectual history that looks foreign to it, a history that has reshaped how we see.

Mythology (n.) holds ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠one enigma: the victim blamed for the disaster also restores the order, symbolises it and even incarnates it.

Mythology (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠a magician who shuffles the cards and lays them out in a new order; one card is always missing, and it is always collective murder.

Mythology (n.) eliminates ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠collective murder but never reinvents it, because the evidence says it was never an invention.

Mythology (n.) once ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠decoded prepares the way for the return of the Gospel: once we understand myths we can no longer accept the Gospel as another myth, since it is responsible for our understanding.

Persecution (n.) can ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠win by force and fail in significance: the coalition against Jesus kills him but cannot prevail on the level of meaning.

Persecution (n.) recorded ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠by historians is myth with its mask cracked; faint doubt lets us see the accusation, whereas in myth the mask is so whole we think nobody is behind it.

Persecution (n.) meant ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠only to prosecute before a court in classical Latin; the Christian apologists gave it the sense of injustice.

The Persecution (n.) who ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠is naive is the historian's best witness, because he is so sure he is right that he never thinks to hide anything.

Desire (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠a noose each man ties around his own neck, tightened at each tug of the scandalised; Judas's hanging is the same punishment.

Desire (n.) can ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠never be reconciled by preserving its object but only by destroying it: human desires find agreement only at a victim's expense.

Desire (n.) burns ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠hotter imitated than in the original: Salome rushes back to the king in a feverish haste, her mother's desire become her own.

Desire (n.) turned ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠demonic grows more aware of its own laws as it grows more frantic, without being freed from slavery; Dostoevsky took the dynamics of his Demons from Gerasa.

The Crowd (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠where the decision belongs at the highest pitch of crisis: Herod's guests react identically, and the ruler only ratifies.

The Crowd (n.) cannot ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠act on natural causes, so it craves a cause within reach, and a victim is always within reach.

The Crowd (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠a group in dissolution that can only reform at the victim's expense.

The Crowd (n.) once ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠mobilised has absolute power, dragging institutions with it until they disintegrate.

Satan (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠founded and destroyed by one principle: mimetic division and the mimetic unanimity of the scapegoat.

Satan (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠the principle of every kingdom, through violent expulsion and the deceit it produces.

Satan (n.) would ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠be the incarnation of mimetic desire were that desire not by definition disincarnate: it empties all people, things and texts of substance.

Satan (n.) means ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠the accuser in Hebrew: he persuades men, by mimetic skill, that innocent victims are guilty.

Ritual (n.) does ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠not curb mimetic desire but channels it toward designated victims, imitating the community's own conflicts to reach agreement at the victim's expense.

Ritual (n.) that ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠degenerates never ends: the scapegoat returns between crises, "everything blends, nothing ever ends," and physical violence gives way to unresolved psychopathology.

Ritual (n.) evolves ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠by attenuating the disorders that precede the sacrifice and making the festive and convivial elements ever more important.

Ritual (n.) explained ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠by ritual increases the mystery: opaque details are mistaken for clarity because they give the interpreter no hold.

Demon (n.) are ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠the false transcendence seen in its multiplicity: fragmented and weaker, they are invoked when disorder predominates, while Satan is both order and disorder.

Demon (n.) form ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠a society in the image of the human group, imago because imitatio, a unity of the multiple based on collective expulsion.

Demon (n.) are ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠dearer to the Gerasenes than their pigs: the drowned herd disturbs them less than the drowned demons, since they are attached to their demons as the demons are to them.

The Demon (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠both very intelligent and very stupid, the monkey of God, and its acknowledgment is acknowledging the force of desire, hatred, envy and jealousy.