The Philosophy of Vinland Saga

Vinland Saga is one of the most brilliant pieces of fiction ever written. It presents an incredibly complex and deep story that can be analyzed from many different angles, but I will focus on two aspects that have influenced me the most: how it approaches violence, and its ability to inspire and spread its ideas.

Please note, this will contain some spoilers.

Its stance towards violence is very peculiar. Its writer, Yukimura, is a deep and committed pacifist, but paradoxically, the story contains a large degree of violence, especially in the first season. It has plenty of action, fight scenes and gore.

One of the goals of the show was to expose the reality and terror of war. This largely faded in the second season, which led some people to be disappointed with its calmer pace.

Some have pointed out that it’s a bit ironic that the violence attracted so much of the original audience given the author’s goals. But I don’t think this is a coincidence. In order to truly understand anti-violence, one needs to first get into the mindset that creates violence.

To appreciate the Christian worldview that is bound by love and hinted at by some of the characters, one needs to have the opposite perspective.

This is very hard in our culture because these values are so ingrained, even in a secular environment — we take them for granted. The Vikings are such a powerful setting because they force us to step out of those values, untainted by the existing culture.

Only after you fully grasp the Vikings’ perspective, even if slightly mythologized, can you see how revolutionary its opposition is. It puts you in a position of normalizing or even glorifying violence, only to subvert it afterward. At times it feels like a meta-commentary on some aspects of shonen and its appeal in the modern world.

Through Thorfinn’s character development, it’s almost as if it’s forcing your development. It compels you to re-evaluate your values, the highest Good you’re aiming for, and your actions towards that Good.

What made me want to write this post was that I became obsessed with the phenomenon of how popular the story got, and the meme culture it generated. It exemplifies beautifully the true nature and value of stories, on how imagination can have such a powerful effect, where events and characters that aren’t “real” are able to bring out real change in the world.

In Vinland Saga, what’s so powerful is seeing Thorfinn’s journey, from being engulfed in darkness towards being the spark of light, goodness, and hope — following his father’s footsteps.

He got sucked into a cycle of hate and violence, watching his father die and getting obsessed with revenge. Only to be prevented from closure after an entire decade of being its sole life goal.

In Season 2, we see this transition towards the destruction of that personality, which Thorfinn struggled with: “without hate, I’m empty.” This allowed his later transformation, being “reborn” and following the true path — becoming a real warrior.

What’s so special about this story, however, is how it seems to call you. One cannot help but feel a desire to participate in this journey. This kind of personal transformation is in essence the very core and legacy of religious life, but often it’s hard to understand or engage with in the modern world.

What’s so genius about the story, however, is that it transmits this in a way that completely circumvents all the usual problematic aspects of religion: history, politics, epistemology, and metaphysics. In Vinland’s saga, none of that matters. Thorfinn is simply on a personal journey, fueled by a vision of who he wants to be and a dream of a more just world.

It is one of the best depictions of Pierre Hadot’s thesis of philosophy as a way of life, rather than a set of propositions one has to accept. For Thorfinn, there wasn’t a set of metaphysical beliefs he accepted. Rather, it was an act of will to carry his burden. To redeem his soul and to redeem the world.

It is plain obvious that Thors — Thorfinn’s father — represents a Christ-like figure. Not in the sense of being messianic or divine, but embodying its spirit — somewhat similar to a saint. Despite the fact that he hints at how he falls short of it, in the typical humility of real saints.

This serves as a background context to not only the implied values of the entire story, which bleed into all the characters, but also a deep and personal inspiration for Thorfinn himself.

In turn, both Thors and Thorfinn inspire us to pursue our own story of unconditional love, redemption, and forgiveness. This is what made the story so powerful for so many, and what fueled its internet meme spread of “I have no enemies.”

Few lines in manga or anime have gotten so widespread, viewed by millions and shared in infinite forms. Many might not even know the original context it came from, but nevertheless are able to appreciate and be inspired by its deceptively simple but powerful message.

Thorfinn’s transformation can be seen through Kierkegaard’s perspective on faith, as he describes it in his book Fear and Trembling.

Such deep transformations are not rational. Not in the sense of being irrational, but beyond rationality. And for those who get stuck in darkness, it’s close to impossible to reason your way out of it.

When Thorfinn depressingly confesses that “in all the days I’ve lived… not one good thing has happened”, it’s not a perspective you can change through argument.

This kind of escape is an act of faith — in oneself and in the world, that both can be better. And this is often inspired by something that shines forth that possibility of the Good.

For Thorfinn, this was partially fueled by his friend Einar, influenced by his good nature despite their similar trauma of losing a parent in war. They shared a common past, yet their paths went in completely opposite directions. Being able to see that possibility is what helped awaken Thorfinn.

This kind of inspiration and awakening was Yukimura’s hope for their readers as he wrote the manga. The goal isn’t to make any fictional character into an idol, but rather, they can serve as catalysts for change. A shift in perspective that changes one’s whole being.

Life is made out of meaning, and that meaning is undeniably real and undeniably morally prescriptive. Stories allow us to take a different or deeper perspective on that meaning.

This has also been a huge influence on my own thought.

I’ve long stopped thinking of reality as solely the concrete. Potential is just as real, and just as important, if not more so. But this potential can live and be engaged with in many different forms, including imaginary and symbolic realms.

Not being historical events does not diminish their significance. I don’t need Thorfinn to be real to be inspired by his way of being. Of course, Thorfinn happens to be real as it’s inspired by historical events, but that’s not where its primary value lies.

For many years I’ve engaged with a similar perspective towards religious traditions, viewing them as a source of sacredness for the symbols they provide towards a better life, more aligned with the Good.

For those who feel a yearning and calling for their own path of redemption, Thorfinn can be a gateway to embracing this process.

This path can take many forms and it’s why the story is so impactful, even though almost no one will experience its original form through direct violence and war. But the darkness, rage, resentment and thirst for power are universal and deeply felt.

For someone in need, explaining what a “true warrior” is in conversation or through an essay might not resonate deeply. But witnessing it in a story, in all its literary and visual mastery, will have a radically different effect.

Vinland Saga represents the pinnacle of what art can achieve: it captivates, draws you in, shifts your perspective, and compels you to align yourself with the ultimate Good.

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