Mythology of the North in Nazi Esotericism, Ariosophy, and Eurasianist Thought

(This is performance art, or something)

A 16th-century map by Gerardus Mercator depicting a hypothetical Arctic continent at the North Pole. Myths of Hyperborea or “Ultima Thule” imagined a blessed land in the far north beyond the known world.

Introduction

For over a century, various ideological movements have woven elaborate myths around the mystical North – a fabled arctic homeland of ancient wisdom and superior peoples. From the occult völkisch circles of interwar Germany to today’s Eurasianist philosophers, the idea of a primeval northern civilization (often called Hyperborea or Thule) has served as a powerful symbolic origin story. This white paper explores the historical and esoteric mythology of the North as conceived in Nazi ideology, Ariosophy, and contemporary Eurasianist thought – especially through Alexander Dugin’s interpretation of Hyperborea and the “People of the North.” We examine how Nazi occultists like the Thule Society and figures in the SS imagined an Aryan arctic cradle, how Austrian-German Ariosophists developed mystical notions of Nordic superiority and polar origins, and how these notions intersect (symbolically or otherwise) with the cosmologies of Indigenous Arctic peoples such as the Inuit and Sámi. We also analyze Dugin’s modern Eurasianist use of the Hyperborean mythos as a geopolitical contrast to the Atlanticist (Western) world. Throughout, we integrate both historical evidence and speculative interpretations to understand this enduring northern mythos and its real-world implications.

Nazi and Ariosophist Visions of a Hyperborean Aryan Homeland

Nazi occult ideology drew heavily on the notion of a far-northern ancestral homeland for the “Aryan” race. The early Nazi-aligned Thule Society itself was named after Ultima Thule – a mythical land “in the farthest north” described by Greco-Roman geographers . Thule Society mystics explicitly identified this lost northern land (sometimes placed near Iceland or Greenland) as the capital of ancient Hyperborea, the primordial Arctic paradise of legend . In their mythology, Hyperborea/Thule was not merely a distant island; it was the cradle of a great Aryan civilization that later spread south. Such ideas were inspired in part by earlier occult and Theosophical writings – for example, Helena Blavatsky’s root-race theory postulated a divine first race at the pole and a second root race in Hyperborea . Ariosophist writers absorbed these notions and claimed that the ancient Aryan homeland was a polar continent or vanished northern landmass (variously called Atlantis, Thule, or Hyperborea) . They envisioned this as a Golden Age realm where the ancestors of “true” Aryans – tall, fair, spiritually advanced – dwelt in a bygone era.

Key figures in Ariosophy (the occult-infused Aryan mysticism that prefigured Nazism) reinforced the Hyperborean myth. For instance, Guido von List and Jörg Lanz von Liebenfels romanticized an ancient Aryan race endowed with secret wisdom and godlike power; although their focus was often on Germanic folklore and Atlantis, their ideas “in respect of ancient Aryan homelands (Hyperborea and Atlantis)” later filtered into Nazi circles . The SS leader Heinrich Himmler was intrigued by such lore and sponsored the Ahnenerbe (Ancestral Heritage research office) to investigate humanity’s prehistory for traces of Aryan superiority. One of the Ahnenerbe’s founders, the Dutch-German scholar Herman Wirth, ardently advocated a Polar origin of civilization. Wirth argued that only by accepting the hypothesis of a polar, Nordic origin – a lost Arctic continent Hyperborea – could one decipher ancient symbols and runes, many of which he believed were vestiges of a “Polar Year” calendar and prehistoric writing . He envisioned a prehistoric Hyperborean culture centered on the North Pole, where a “divine race” of golden-haired, blue-eyed Aryans lived in harmony during the Golden Age . According to Wirth’s reconstruction, this Hyperborea (identifiable with Thule or the Persian myth of Vara) was a paradisical land that later fragmented – its remnants perhaps surviving in flooded northern lands like Dogger Bank in the North Sea .

Nazi esoteric doctrine thus merged racial pseudoscience with mythical geography. The Aryans were cast not as an ordinary ethnic group but as descendants of a Hyperborean master race from the polar paradise. The Thule Society and related völkisch groups taught that as the Hyperborean ancestors migrated south, they founded the great ancient civilizations. Any decline of this race was blamed on leaving the sacred polar realm or mixing with “lesser” peoples. In this narrative, the far North retained a sacred status – a source of occult power and purity that Nazi mystics hoped to recapture. Notably, the Thule Society’s emblem and rituals invoked Nordic-Germanic symbols (like the swastika and runic sigils) thought to derive from that primordial Arctic homeland. While Hitler himself was skeptical of some occult excesses, influential Nazis like Himmler, Rudolf Hess, and Alfred Rosenberg imbibed elements of these northern myths . Himmler’s private castle at Wewelsburg was even conceptually remodeled as a mystical Grail temple aligned with north-south axes, hinting at the symbolic importance of the North Star and polar orientation in SS ideology.

Ariosophists and Nazi occultists often overlaid this Hyperborean myth onto existing Germanic and Indo-European mythology. They equated the Hyperborean Aryans with figures like the Atlanteans, the ancient Germans, or even the Indo-Aryans of India, claiming all were part of one original race. Nicholas Goodrick-Clarke notes that Ariosophists “claimed a racial homeland in the north called Atlantis, Thule, or Hyperborea” and saw it as the birthplace of a racially superior civilization . This outlook recast Old Norse myths of Asgard or Greek tales of Apollo’s northern homeland into racialized history. For example, Ariosophist writings spoke of a “polar tradition” in religion: they believed the Aryan Pagan priest-kings (the “Wise Ones” of Hyperborea) established an esoteric wisdom tradition that later degenerated among other races. Some went so far as to assert that Hyperborea had been ruled by priestesses in a primordial matriarchal order – Herman Wirth insisted on a polar matriarchy, positing that ancient “White Lady” priestesses governed Hyperborean cults until later patriarchal cultures supplanted them . All these ideas provided a mythic pedigree for Nazi notions of Nordic Aryan supremacy. The Hyperborean mythos flattered Nazi racial theories by suggesting that qualities the Nazis prized – light skin, blond hair, blue eyes, and a warlike-yet-spiritual character – were literally divine inheritance from an Arctic Eden.

It must be stressed that such ideas were pseudoscientific and mythical, even in the 1930s. Yet they had tangible influence: the Ahnenerbe dispatched expeditions in search of archaeological evidence of Aryan ancestors from Tibet to Scandinavia. (One Ahnenerbe mission studied Finnish Karelia’s folklore, hoping to find traces of archaic Aryan religion in Nordic folk songs.) Some Nazi researchers speculated on finding proof of Hyperborea itself – whether in Arctic geology, ancient petroglyphs, or even occult clairvoyance. Although these efforts failed to uncover any “polar Utopia,” the Hyperborea/Thule legend helped justify Nazi claims that the Germanic peoples were destined to rule. By casting Germans as the direct heirs of a Hyperborean Aryan Ur-civilization, Nazi ideologues infused their geopolitical aims with a quasi-religious mission: the “rediscovery” or rebirth of the sacred Aryan North. This mythologizing of the North set the stage for bizarre theories and atrocious policies – from imagining Himmler’s SS as new Hyperborean knights, to framing real-world conquest as the recovery of ancient birthright.

Indigenous Arctic Parallels and Encounters

The Nazi and Ariosophist fascination with a mystical Arctic homeland largely ignored the actual peoples living in the far north. In their racial hierarchy, Indigenous Arctic groups like the Sámi of Lapland or the Inuit (Eskimo) of the circumpolar regions were typically seen as unrelated to the Aryans – sometimes even as obstacles guarding the gates of Hyperborea in mythic terms. Nazi racial theory viewed such groups as racially “other” (often classed under Mongoloid or Asian origins) and thus not part of the Aryan family. Nevertheless, the symbolic imagery of the North in Nazi myth sometimes intersected intriguingly with real Arctic cultural motifs. For example, the notion of a World Axis or cosmic pillar – central to many polar myths – appears in Arctic indigenous cosmologies and was co-opted by Nazi mystics. The Sámi shamanic tradition holds that a World Tree or pillar reaches up to the North Star, anchoring the cosmos . This mirrors the Indo-European idea of a cosmic axis (like the Norse world-tree Yggdrasil). Ariosophists eagerly pointed to such parallels as “evidence” of an ancient polar wisdom shared by Aryans and circumpolar peoples.

Moreover, both the Sámi noaidi (shaman) and the Inuit angakoq (shaman) played comparable roles as spiritual intermediaries, which 19th–20th century scholars noted as a striking similarity between these geographically distant cultures . Shamanic practices – trance journeys, spirit-animals, and nature reverence – are common across Arctic peoples. Nazi occultists like Herman Wirth, who was collecting global folklore, might have recognized these patterns as remnants of the “Primordial Tradition” he believed emanated from Hyperborea . In this speculative lens, the animistic and nature-centered religions of the far North were seen (romantically) as echoes of the original Aryan religion before the advent of organized patriarchal faiths. For instance, the prominence of female spiritual figures in Arctic myth – such as powerful goddesses or priestesses – resonated with Wirth’s theory of a Hyperborean matriarchy .

One fascinating point of convergence is the figure of a mighty Lady of the Sea in circumpolar mythology. In Inuit mythology, the most important deity is Sedna, the goddess of the sea and underworld. Sedna dwells at the bottom of the Arctic Ocean and controls the supply of sea animals; when humans violate taboos, she withholds the game, and shamans must appease her spirit, often by ritually “combing” her tangled hair as an act of atonement . Among the Sámi, there are tales of Saivo Neida (Saivo Niejta), a guardian spirit of the underworld who lives in the waters of a bottomless lake – again a female entity associated with a watery netherworld. Even Norse mythology, which the Nazis appropriated, contains the sea goddess Rán, who rules the deep ocean and pulls drowned sailors into her realm with a net. Although each culture’s stories are distinct, the recurring motif of a formidable feminine ocean-spirit suggests a parallel polar cosmology: the harsh, life-giving sea is personified as a female power that must be respected and propitiated. Nazi mythographers did not explicitly connect Sedna or Rán to their Aryan Hyperboreans, but one can see how such mythic archetypes – the Sea Mother, the Earth Mother, the Lady of the North – could be woven into a broader narrative of a shared polar origin. In a few fringe cases, later esoteric writers would indeed claim that Sedna and similar figures were dim memories of the “White Lady” priestesses of Hyperborea, or that Inuit shamans preserved Atlantis-like wisdom. These claims remain speculative, unsupported by evidence, yet they demonstrate how richly the northern mythscape can be interpreted.

Historically, there were actual encounters between Germanic/Norse people and Arctic indigenous groups, which sometimes led to cultural exchange (or at least fascination) that later myth-makers could latch onto. The medieval Norse explorers who ventured across the North Atlantic – Erik the Red, Leif Erikson, and others – not only colonized Iceland and Greenland, but also encountered the peoples of the High Arctic. The Norse term Skrælingjar (“wretches” or “wearers of skins”) was used to describe the indigenous groups they met. Initially it referred to Native Americans in Vinland, but by the 13th century Norse colonists in Greenland were coexisting with the Thule Inuit (proto-Inuit) who had migrated east from Canada . Saga accounts and archaeology indicate that Norse Greenlanders traded sporadically with the Inuit – for example, exchanging cloth and iron for furs or ivory – and there were also conflicts. While we have scant written record of mythology being shared directly, it is conceivable that each side observed the other’s spiritual practices. The Norse might have learned of Inuit shamans’ sea-spirit appeasement rituals (like Sedna’s appeasement), while the Inuit could have seen Norse Christian or pagan rites. Similarly, in Northern Scandinavia, the Norse had long-standing contact with the Sámi. Medieval Norse sagas portray Sámi (referred to as Finns in old Norse usage) as powerful sorcerers and seers; Nordic kings and heroes sometimes sought out Sámi shamans for guidance or took Sámi wives, acknowledging a certain mystique in Sámi spiritual knowledge. This reflects an undercurrent of respect (tinged with fear) for the “people of the far North” in Norse tradition.

Later European scholars, in the 17th–19th centuries, also speculated on links between Indo-European myths and Arctic lore. For instance, the Aurora Borealis (northern lights) inspired legends in both Scandinavia and among the Inuit (seen as dancing spirits or flaming swords in the sky), and some wondered if there was a common ancient interpretation of such polar phenomena. In 1903, the Indian scholar Bal Gangadhar Tilak published The Arctic Home in the Vedas, boldly arguing that Vedic hymns preserved memories of an Arctic origin – such as long dawns and nights consistent with polar day/night cycles . Tilak’s work (and similar theories by Europeans like Karl Penka) planted the idea in occult circles that Aryan religions had Arctic roots. This helped fuel later Nazi and neo-Nazi myths. By extension, if Indo-Aryans and Germans came from the Arctic, then perhaps the traditions of existing Arctic peoples might hold fragmentary echoes of the primordial “Aryan” religion. For example, both the Sámi and Inuit venerate the sun and moon (the Sámi Sun goddess Beaivi, the Inuit moon god Alignak, etc.), and have cosmologies with tiered worlds not unlike Indo-European cosmologies. While mainstream scholars attribute such similarities to broad patterns in human religiosity or to environmental influences (long winters, reliance on animals), occult historiographers eagerly interpreted them as evidence of a shared Polar origin story. In this way, indigenous Arctic cosmologies were co-opted into the Hyperborean narrative – sometimes respectfully (as ancient wisdom traditions), other times disdainfully (as degenerated remnants of Aryan truth).

It’s important to note the asymmetry here: Arctic peoples themselves did not conceive of Hyperborea or a racial Aryan north – these were external impositions. The Inuit and Sámi had their own rich mythologies tied to their landscape and survival, with no need for a pseudo-historical “Aryan” frame. Any suggestion of common origin between, say, the Norse gods and Inuit spirits is speculative at best. Nevertheless, the symbolic parallels are fascinating. We can observe, for example, that both Indo-European and Inuit traditions have flood myths (the Inuit tell of sea deluges sent by angry gods; Indo-Europeans have the tale of Yima’s flood or Manu’s boat). Both have sacred mountains or central poles (the Sámi world-pillar vs. Mount Meru or Sumeru in Indo-Iranian myth, often identified as polar). These correspondences, though likely coincidental or arising from human universals, have provided fertile ground for those constructing an esoteric “polar cosmology” that transcends individual cultures.

In Nazi Germany, official interest in Sámi or Inuit lore was minimal compared to interest in, say, Germanic or Indo-Aryan traditions. Yet one can find traces: German anthropologists studied circumpolar cultures for hints of ancient migrations; Nazi researchers in occupied Norway and Finland took note of Sámi shamanic drums and symbols (one SS ethnographer reportedly sent a confiscated Sámi drum back to Germany for study). Such artifacts were seen as exotic folk culture – but to someone like Himmler, who was captivated by Germanic paganism, the resonance of a drum used to trance into the spirit world would validate the shamanic underpinnings of his own Aryan mysticism. Thus, even if the Nazis did not openly embrace indigenous Arctic peoples, the idea of a “sacred Arctic” unites these disparate threads. The Hyperborean myth effectively appropriated the North Pole and all its mystique for the Aryan narrative, even as real circumpolar peoples continued to practice their traditions largely outside the view of Nazi ideologues.

Alexander Dugin’s Hyperborean Eurasianism

In the late 20th and early 21st centuries, the myth of the mystic North found new life in the writings of Russian political philosopher Alexander Dugin and his contemporaries. Dugin – a leading exponent of neo-traditionalist Eurasianist ideology – explicitly draws on Hyperborea as a civilizational symbol in what he terms the “Fourth Political Theory.” While Nazi Aryanism was about race, Dugin’s Eurasianism is more about geopolitics and culture, yet he uses a strikingly similar trope of a primeval polar civilization versus a rival Atlantic civilization. According to Dugin’s mythos, in antiquity there were two archetypal super-civilizations: Hyperborea (associated with the far north, the heart of Eurasia) and Atlantis (associated with the Atlantic Ocean and what is now the West) . These correspond not to literal continents but to spiritual-geopolitical orientations. Hyperborea, in Dugin’s view, stood for transcendence, sacred order, and mystical insight – a society attuned to the “divine knowledge” beyond the material world . Atlantis, by contrast, symbolized immanence and terrestrial ambition – a society of materialism, individualism, and technocratic rationality . Dugin claims that Hyperborea and Atlantis were locked in an ancient metaphysical war of ideals, and that this war “continues to this day.” He explicitly associates the modern Western liberal-democratic order with Atlantis, and positions Russia (and allied Eurasian cultures) as the heirs of Hyperborea .

In Dugin’s narrative, the “People of the North” are not defined by race but by a shared Eurasian spiritual heritage. Russians, in particular, are cast as a Hyperborean people – toughened by the northern climate and inclined toward communalism and mysticism. Dugin often contrasts the “seafaring mercantile civilizations” (Britain, the U.S., etc., metaphorical Atlanteans) with the “continental telluric civilizations” (Russia, Siberia, Inner Asia, as Hyperboreans) . This is essentially a reboot of the old geopolitician Halford Mackinder’s Heartland vs. Rimland theory, but wrapped in mythical terms. Dugin, influenced by traditionalist philosophers like René Guénon and Julius Evola , embraces their idea of a Polar Tradition – the notion that the primordial Tradition of mankind emanated from a polar origin and later degenerated. Like Evola, who spoke of a “northern-Atlantic race” and a polar golden age, Dugin sees the Hyperborean myth as a guiding archetype for a Eurasian renaissance. He even named one of his early nationalist publications “Arctogaia” (meaning Arctic Earth), invoking the polar theme.

Crucially, Dugin uses the Hyperborea vs. Atlantis dualism to frame current geopolitical tensions as spiritually rooted. In his view, the Atlanticist West values individualism, human rights, secularism, and mercantile order – traits he aligns with the mythic Atlantis . Meanwhile, the Eurasian Hyperborean bloc values hierarchy, collective identity, sacred tradition, and metaphysical truth beyond the material plane . He even assigns theological qualities: Atlantis is the realm of the “earthly” and perhaps demonic (in its embrace of ego and technology), whereas Hyperborea has “access to divine knowledge” and aspires to transcendent unity . Dugin frames Russia’s mission as leading modern Hyperborea in a final confrontation with the Atlantean world, “away from a corrupt earthly existence and back to the pure, divine spiritual knowledge of the original Hyperboreans” . This almost apocalyptic goal involves overturning the current world order (dominated by Western liberalism) and inaugurating a new golden age centered on Eurasia. In effect, Dugin repurposes the Nazi-era myth of Hyperborea – stripping it of overt racialism and recasting it as a battle of continents and values, not blood. Nonetheless, the esoteric imagery remains potent. He frequently references mountains, polar stars, and the boreal winds in his writings as metaphors for the Eurasian spirit. In one essay, Dugin describes how ancient civilizations arose just south of a great mountain chain spanning Eurasia, fed by raw human currents from the mysterious northern expanses beyond – which he equates with Turan (the steppe) and ultimately with Hyperborea . Here he alludes to Iranian legend (Iran vs. Turan) where Turan – literally lands of the “northwind” – is wild but vital. Dugin identifies this wild northern force with the Hyperborean impulse: the barbarian invasions that periodically rejuvenated decadent southern empires .

Interestingly, Dugin’s Hyperborea is inclusive of groups the Nazis would never have embraced. He regards the Turko-Mongol peoples of Central Asia, for example, as part of the Hyperborean/Turanian stock in the broad sense . He cites how many imperial dynasties in Eurasia (from Chinese to Persian to Indian) actually came from the nomadic “north” – e.g., the Huns, Mongols, Turkic tribes – injecting new “divine barbarian” blood into civilization . In his view, Genghis Khan was a vehicle of the Hyperborean mission, expanding the North’s domain and uniting continents . This is a far cry from the racial purity doctrines of Nazi Hyperborean lore; it is more about a spirit or ethos of the North: bold, austere, collectivist, and mystical. Dugin’s Hyperboreans thus include Slavs, Turkic Mongolians, possibly even Iranians and Arctic tribes – anyone aligned against the “Atlantic” worldview. This aligns with the Traditionalist School idea (from Guénon/Evola) that the Polar Tradition was universal to mankind before it split, and elements of it survive in various traditional cultures around the world . Dugin inherits that idea, placing Russia at the center of reviving the Polar Tradition.

From a geopolitical perspective, Dugin’s use of Hyperborean mythology has concrete implications. It sacralizes Russian Eurasian nationalism, portraying Russia not just as a nation-state but as the last bastion of a cosmic battle between sacred and profane. This has resonated within Russian military and political circles – Dugin’s works (Foundations of Geopolitics, The Fourth Political Theory) are reportedly read by some in the Russian strategic community . By invoking Hyperborea, Dugin taps into Russia’s own history of polar mysticism and nationalism. (One might recall that even under the Romanovs, some Russians glorified their “Northernness” – e.g., 19th-c. poet Fyodor Tyutchev’s vision of Russia’s cold mission, or Nikolai Roerich’s expeditions seeking Shambhala/Belovodye, a related concept of a hidden northern/eastern holy land.) Dugin’s novelty is tying it explicitly to anti-Western ideology. He sees the West’s global influence as a continuation of the Atlantean conquest begun long ago, and urges a Hyperborean revolt. In this framing, concepts like liberal democracy or globalization are not merely political or economic, but almost sacrilegious, an affront to the Hyperborean spiritual heritage. This illustrates how myth can be weaponized: Dugin effectively mystifies the East-West conflict as a clash of mythic archetypes, giving a spiritual rationale for political action.

It is worth noting that Dugin’s fanciful Atlantist-Hyperborean dualism is not supported by mainstream historiography – there were no Atlantis or polar empires in literal fact – but it serves as a metaphorical narrative to inspire and justify a Eurasian “civilizational” identity. In a sense, he has updated the Aryan racial myth into a civilizational-cultural myth suited for a multi-ethnic Russia. The Hyperborea concept allows Russian Eurasianists to claim the legacy of all northern peoples (from Vikings to Scythians to Siberian shamans) as part of one grand continuum opposed to the “southern” or maritime world. Dugin frequently references René Guénon’s idea of the “polar center” of spirituality – in Guénon’s terms, the original Tradition came from the pole (symbolized as the “Center of the World”) and later secondary centers (Atlantis, etc.) carried it outward . Dugin explicitly aligns himself with this line of thought, citing Guénon and Evola as believers in polar origins . Thus, his Fourth Political Theory seeks a return to Timeless Tradition by way of a Hyperborean restoration – essentially, overturning modernity (which he associates with the Atlantis spirit) and re-establishing a sacred order he imagines existed in the beginning.

Conclusion: Legacy of the Northern Myth and Geopolitical Implications

The enduring allure of Hyperborea and the mythic North reveals how powerful mythology can be in shaping ideologies and even international politics. In Nazi Germany, the romance of a lost Arctic Aryan homeland gave a mystical sheen to racist pseudoscience and imperial ambitions. It supplied a counterfeit antiquity to the concept of Aryan supremacy, motivating occult quests and influencing propaganda that cast the Third Reich as the fulfillment of an ancient destiny. The tragic irony is that such myths, while patently false, helped rationalize very real horrors – genocide, war, and cultural destruction – under the banner of reclaiming a fabled northern birthright. The Nazi Hyperborean myth died in the ruins of 1945, its racial doctrines discredited by history. Yet the idea of the North as a sacred, civilizational axis did not disappear.

In the post-war era, esoteric Nazism survived on the fringes (e.g. Miguel Serrano’s writings also lauded Hyperborea and polar immortals), but more significantly, the archetype of Hyperborea found new expression in movements like Dugin’s Eurasianism. This demonstrates a key geopolitical implication: mythic geography can be repurposed across contexts to legitimize new conflicts. Dugin’s contrast of a mystical Eurasian Hyperborea vs. a materialist Atlantic world recasts Cold War-like polarities in mythic terms, arguably encouraging a self-fulfilling prophecy of East-West antagonism . By believing themselves agents of Hyperborea, some Russian nationalists may feel historically and spiritually justified in opposing Western hegemony at all costs. The Hyperborean myth thus remains a tool of mobilization – forging a shared identity that transcends ethnicity or economics, uniting people under a banner of primordial cosmic significance.

Another implication is the cultural appropriation and distortion involved in these myths. Indigenous Arctic cultures have increasingly voiced their perspectives in recent decades, reasserting their own narratives that were long marginalized. The mystic-North ideologies co-opt elements of those narratives but often strip them of context. For example, the Inuit Sedna legend or Sámi shamanism are profound in their own right, rooted in an intimate relationship with the environment. When Ariosophists or Eurasianists cherry-pick these for supposed Hyperborean parallels, they risk trivializing living traditions for the sake of a grand abstract story. On the other hand, some scholars note that the fascination with circumpolar mythology has at times drawn positive attention to Arctic heritage (e.g., comparative myth studies, interest in shamanic knowledge). The challenge is maintaining respect for the sources of these stories rather than subsuming them into a Eurocentric (or Russocentric) super-myth.

In a broader sense, the mythology of the North speaks to a human tendency to seek origins in the extreme and the sublime. The image of a pure, radiant land at the top of the world – untouched by the corruptions of later history – is a powerful metaphor for a Golden Age or utopia. For the Nazis, it was a racial utopia; for Dugin, a civilizational utopia. Both frame the present as a fallen world that can be redeemed by returning to the principles of the North (whether literally or spiritually). This has a dual nature: it can inspire visionary thinking and unity, but also absolutism and conflict, since those who see themselves as Hyperborean inheritors may view all others as decadent or demonic (the Atlanteans to be overcome). In Nazi hands, that logic led to annihilationist policies. In Dugin’s ideology, it leads to a rejection of the universal values of the Enlightenment and could rationalize great-power aggression as a kind of holy war. Thus, the myth of Hyperborea is not a harmless fairy tale; it carries a millenarian charge that, if taken literally by its adherents, can motivate extreme actions.

In conclusion, the esoteric myth of the North has traveled a long road from ancient Greek poetry to Nazi occultism to modern Eurasianist philosophy. It has proven remarkably adaptable – a canvas onto which different groups project their hopes and fears. The case studies of Nazi Ariosophy and Alexander Dugin’s Neo-Eurasianism show how the Hyperborean ideal can be tailored to very different agendas across time. Understanding this mythology in detail is important, because it allows us to see the continuity in certain far-right and ultranationalist thought patterns. The names and target enemies change (Jewish Bolsheviks in one era, Atlanticist liberal globalists in another), but the structure of the myth – a noble Northern origin vs. a corrupting Southern/Western influence – remains intact. By shedding light on the historical origins and fallacies of the Hyperborea legend, we inoculate against its misuse. We also gain a richer appreciation for the genuine histories and myths of the real peoples of the North – Germans, Russians, Sámi, Inuit, and many others – whose diverse experiences underlie, albeit twistedly, this enduring legend.

Ultimately, the Hyperborean dream is exactly that: a dream, a symbol. When kept in the realm of metaphor, it can inspire art, literature, and a sense of mystery about the poles. But when mistaken for literal truth or political mandate, it becomes a dangerous delusion. As this white paper has explored, the mythology of the North is a double-edged sword – a source of fascination that can enlighten or mislead. In navigating our geopolitical future, recognizing the difference between constructive cultural myth and destructive ideological fantasy will remain crucial .

Sources: The analysis above integrates historical research on Nazi occult ideology, scholarly studies of Ariosophy, ethnographic accounts of Arctic mythologies, and contemporary writings by Alexander Dugin and commentators. Key references include Goodrick-Clarke’s The Occult Roots of Nazism , accounts of the Thule Society’s beliefs , Inuit and Sámi mythological records , and Dugin’s own explicative texts and their summaries , among others as cited throughout the document. These illustrate how the concept of Hyperborea evolved and was employed from the early 20th century to the present.