The madness of crowds: herd thinking and the hard lessons of offline life



When the herd starts running, even smart people get flattened

Imagine a campfire crackling beneath a wind-blown starry sky and the Milky Way stretching overhead like a bright river in the dark. Here, where it’s twenty miles of gravel and wood to the nearest lighthouse, clear thinking isn’t some fancy ideal. It’s a survival tool – with sharp axes and piles of firewood.

But the brutal truth is this: even the smartest and most self-reliant people can get carried away when the herd starts running away. History is full of it. The same people who could skin a deer or shoe a horse without blinking an eye sometimes found themselves caught up in wild gossip, panicked fear, or hysterical movements that made no earthly sense after the dust had settled.

Charles Mackay saw this as early as 1841 when he wrote Extraordinary popular delusions and madness of crowds. He watched entire cities go berserk with witch hunts, bustling markets, miracle cures, and political hysteria. He watched as crowds set fire to palaces, threw fortunes at doomed plans, chased spectral threats, and screamed for heroes one moment and villains the next.

He learned – and what anyone who lives off the grid already knows in their bones – that intelligence does not always protect against collective madness. Consciousness yes. Distance matters. The ability to step back, take a breath and ask, “Does this even make sense?” does. Because once the herd’s hooves start pounding, the real threat is the momentum, not the logic behind it.

A strange psychology that turns solid people into action figures

In a world engulfed by unpredictable currents of collective thinking, wisdom often begins on the outskirts – where a lone observer meets a glowing crowd, and wild forests whisper a warning against blindly following popular illusions.

But why is this happening? Why do grounded and sensible people falter when they enter crowds?

Gustaw Leon, observing the crowds milling around 19th-century Europe, I believed that a person changes the moment he blends into a group. He said that reason falls aside, primal emotions take over, and individuality melts away like snow in a spring thaw. One spark becomes a fire. One rumor becomes a prophecy. One strong voice turns into panic.

And then came 20th century scientists who confirmed many of Le Bon’s assumptions. Solomon Asch showed how people gave answers they knew were wrong just because everyone else did. Stanley Milgram showed how people will obey authority even when every cell in their body is screaming “no”.

Here’s the kicker: They weren’t weak people or stupid people. They were ordinary, practical, everyday people – the ones you trusted with your tools, your children, or your household. They made solid decisions on their own. In the crowd, they bent like willow branches in a strong wind.

It all comes down to ancient wiring. For tens of thousands of years, belonging meant survival. To be thrown out meant death. This instinct still buzzes beneath the surface. So when tensions rise, when uncertainty spreads, when people start looking around to see what others are doing – well, the bobblehead effect sets in quickly.

And here you can feel it more clearly than city dwellers ever could: fear spreads faster than a wildfire on a dry prairie, and belonging – no matter the cost – can drive good people to make stupid choices.

Good communities can lose their minds… but great ones can save lives

But let’s be honest, groups aren’t always a bad thing. In fact, in the offline world, community can be a lifesaver. Psychologist Henryk Tajfel he argued that tribes provide identity and meaning, and if you’ve ever had neighbors show up after a storm with chainsaws, you know exactly what he meant.

A true community – one that trades eggs for diesel fuel, that watches over each other’s woodpiles, and answers emergency calls at 2 a.m. – is a powerful thing. When a crisis hits, these bonds tighten. A washed out road, a barn fire, a blizzard, a medical panic – suddenly everyone is involved. The hermit at the end of the street starts sharing his soup. The teenager who never made eye contact now pulls water like a champ.

But the same wiring that makes a tribe strong can also make it dangerous. All it takes is one rumor, one misunderstanding, one outsider blamed for something he didn’t do, and suspicion spreads like rot under the floorboards. Communities can fracture as quickly as they are built.

So the question isn’t, “Do you have a group?”
The real question is: Can your group still think under pressure… or does it panic?

Digital bonfire: where global panic spreads faster than wildfire

Now jump to the world we live in – a place where the old campfire has been replaced by the cold glow of screens. The madness of the crowds did not abate; has evolved. He put on new clothes, bought better shoes, and started running faster than ever.

Today, one viral post can send millions of people racing for toilet paper, ammunition, generators or buckets of rice. Shaky video could spark outrage across six time zones. Rumors spread across the planet before the truth even reaches its mantle.

For the first time in human history, we are dealing with a global crowd – a herd connected by invisible cables and glowing screens, all reacting in real time. It’s as if every person on the planet was sitting around one giant digital bonfire, relaying stories, fears, theories, and half-truths that spread like sparks on the wind.

And this is where Irving Janis’ concept of “mind guardians” becomes downright chilling. It used to be that one loud person or a local leader shaping opinion dominated the conversation. Now the guardians of the mind are algorithms, bots, moderators, institutions and digital gatekeepers. They amplify some voices. They bury others. They lead the crowd in a way that most people never notice.

One nudge here. One deleted post. One popular topic overtook the rest.

Soon the herd is not only running, but also being guided.

And this is where offline wisdom shines: If you don’t guard your contributions, someone else will shape your thoughts.
Information is like water: pure springs keep you alive; polluted, they poison everything.

Offline Superpower: Thinking Clearly When the World Goes Crazy

Here’s the part that people often forget: history is full of moments when one stubborn soul – one man or woman willing to defy the tide – saved entire communities. Sometimes even nations. It never starts with the crowd. It always starts with a lone dissident.

And here, under the open sky and quiet nights, you are closer than most to the ancient tradition of independent thinking. Living off the grid naturally pushes you towards clearer thinking. You have to question things. You have to test ideas. You need to look at the evidence, because mistakes have real consequences – frozen pipes, sick livestock, failed harvests, a damaged charger, a misread storm.

Living off the grid forces you to think for yourself, and that becomes a rare superpower.

The world doesn’t need more unanimous nods. Needs fewer bobbleheads and more people with spikes. I need people who can look at the panic and say, “No thanks, I’ll walk.”

So the final lesson is simple:
Guard your mind as you guard a source of water.
Protect it from contamination.
Question what the herd accepts without thinking.
Welcome to discord.
Invite uncomfortable questions.
Think slower when the world forces you to think fast.

Whether you live in a high-rise building or a cottage under a wind-blown sky, remember this:

Never give your mind to the crowd.

Not when life is peaceful.
Not when the world is burning.
Not when the screens are screaming.
Not when the herd howls.

Stand your ground.
Think for yourself.
And keep the fire blazing bright – no matter how dark the world around you is.