Anger and rage in the Middle Ages – emotion, power and control

✨ Introduction: Anger as a guiding principle in a threatened order

In medieval thinking, anger was more than an impulsive emotion. It appeared as a feeling with cosmic significance: a force that could corrupt souls, overthrow empires or reveal saints. Between the 9th and 13th centuries, anger was considered a morally charged energy that not only endangered the psychological balance but also the social order – or defended it.

In theological treatises, chronicles, heroic epics and chivalric novels, anger was not merely condemned. Rather, it was portrayed as a dazzling field of tension between virtue and sin: sometimes righteous anger in the service of truth, sometimes destructive frenzy that leads people and the world into the abyss. This emotional ambivalence was not an expression of a deficient view of human nature, but rather of a deep sensitivity to the social and psychological effects of inner states.

Characters such as the vengeful Kriemhild, the obsessed Iwein, or the righteous wrath of God are projections for fundamental questions that are still psychologically relevant today:

• When does injury turn into revenge?

• When does legitimate protest tip over into destructive escalation?

• And how can inner anger be transformed into outer responsibility?

These questions do not only concern historical world views. They also have a profound impact on therapeutic processes: anger still manifests itself in many forms today – as suppressed emotion, as a warning signal, as a mask for shame, as remnants of unprocessed trauma. The medieval view may seem archaic, but it offers a surprisingly nuanced approach to the question: how can a person live with their anger without being consumed by it?

🔥 Anger as an inner fire: medicine, myth and morality

Fire was the basic element with which the Middle Ages interpreted anger. Angry figures were described as ‘boiling’, ‘glowing’ or ‘bursting’; their skin burned, their eyes blazed, their words scorched. In many texts, anger does not only consume itself symbolically: there are stories in which people ignite themselves in anger – an idea that can be read both as a warning against moral excess and as an expression of deepest emotional exhaustion.

These images are rooted in the four humours theory: an excess of choleric humour (yellow bile) generates heat, irritability and frenzy. But the medical model was never purely physical. It was transferred to ethics, spirituality and social role models. Those who were too hot had to cool down – through fasting, silence, prayer or confession.

Why this is still important today:

Fire as a metaphor for emotion allows intense feelings to be made visible. And it reminds us that anger is a physical state – with psychological, moral and social dimensions.

🧠 Anger as madness: the fall from order

‘Anger is a brief madness’ – for the Middle Ages, this was not merely an aphorism, but a psychological diagnosis. Those who raged lost the light of reason, became unpredictable, animalistic, beside themselves.

In Hartmann's Iwein, the knight loses control after a social breakdown, wanders naked and distraught through the forest, living like an animal among animals. His frenzy is an expression of guilt, shame and loss of self. Healing only comes through female affection, through mercy, through a symbolic reintegration into the order. Why this is still important today:

The equation of anger with madness points to a deep cultural unease about loss of control. It helps to understand why many people are afraid of their own anger – or avoid that of others.

🐊 Animal images, frenzy and dehumanisation

In the Middle Ages, anger turned people into animals – both linguistically and narratively. Angry people were compared to roaring lions, snorting boars or raging wolves. The loss of physical control – foaming at the mouth, rolling eyes, trembling limbs – was described as a visible sign of inner derailment.

In the Nibelungen saga, Kriemhild mutates into an apocalyptic figure: her anger is no longer human, but superhuman – a principle of destruction. Her rage is not impulsive, but cosmic. The logic of the text: those who give space to anger become something else. Why this is still important today:

Animal imagery allows us to understand destructive emotions as a breaking down of boundaries. It shows how deeply rooted in our culture is the idea that emotional escalation threatens our humanity.

🤯 Blindness and loss of moral control

‘Blind with rage’ is not a modern image. Even in the Middle Ages, the angry person was considered someone whose “eyes of the heart” were darkened. They no longer see what is right; they act against their better judgement.

In the lives of saints, tyrants fall in anger over their own misjudgements. In chivalric novels, outbursts of anger bring heroes down. Anger clouds insight, distorts memory, leads to guilt, remorse and social exclusion. Why this is still important today: The idea of emotional blindness addresses central themes in psychotherapy: affect diffusion, impulse control, moral dissociation. Those who do not reflect on their anger lose touch with themselves and others.

⚔️ The cycle of revenge: anger as a collective catastrophe

In the Middle Ages, anger was rarely just a momentary emotion. It was often the beginning of a cycle of revenge. In epics such as the Nibelungen saga, a single murder leads to a massacre. Kriemhild's grief turns into a thirst for revenge, her anger into strategy, her retribution into total destruction. Similar dynamics can be found in the Song of Roland and Willehalm, where pride, loss of honour and insults lead to protracted spirals of violence. Why this is still important today:

These texts show that anger that is not acknowledged and processed takes up space. It changes not only individuals, but entire systems. This insight is fundamental in conflict counselling, couples therapy and political education.

👑 The anger of rulers: sovereignty or tyranny?

Rulers in the Middle Ages were allowed – indeed, sometimes required – to be angry. But their anger was coded: a pointed glance, a broken chalice, a cool command. Only those who controlled their anger were sovereign. Those who gave in to it became tyrants.

Chronicles such as Liudprand of Cremonadescribed such outbursts with derision: an emperor who loses his temper loses his authority. The rex clemens (mild king) became the ethical ideal. Why this is still important today:

Emotional authority remains a central theme in leadership, parenting and counselling. The question of how to show anger without destroying remains relevant.

⛪️ Anger as a test in religion and allegory

In sermons and religious parables, anger was one of the seven deadly sins. It was personified as a figure tearing itself apart. The angry person is open to the devil, closed to mercy. But the holy person remains calm, patient, capable of suffering. Their serenity is the antithesis of the raging enemy.

Why this is still important today:

These images sum up the principle of overcoming emotions: the goal is not suppression, but inner transformation. This is a theme that continues to resonate in spiritual practice and mindfulness-based psychotherapy.

⚖️ Righteous anger: between ethics and emotion

Thomas Aquinas made a clear distinction:

• Ira inordinata: uncontrolled, destructive anger

• Ira ordinata: reasoned, righteous anger

The latter was not only permissible, but necessary: to defend the weak, to preserve justice, to condemn evil. Even God was angry – but never without measure.

Why this is still important today:

This distinction reinforces the idea that anger can be ethically productive – if it is reflective, restrained and justified. This applies to social movements as well as to therapeutic self-assertion.

🏛️ Final thought: Understanding anger before it speaks

The Middle Ages did not think of anger as one-dimensional. It asked: Where does it come from? Who does it serve? When does it become dangerous, when does it become a blessing? These questions are still relevant today.

In therapeutic work, anger is a signal: for boundary violations, for powerlessness, for unprocessed hurt. Those who read medieval images also read themselves.

Fury is not the opposite of reason. It is its challenge.