Over the ages, writers, philosophers, and politicians have fashioned a parade of images for the “ideal citizen.” In reviewing these archetypes, we see that not every one lives up to the lofty label—some are even downright chilling. This roundup of 10 personifications history shows the full spectrum, from lofty philosophers to grim totalitarian prototypes.
10 Ubermensch
The concept of the Ubermensch—sometimes rendered as “superman,” “overman,” or “beyond man”—became inseparably linked with the Third Reich and Nazi propaganda. To the Nazis, it symbolized everything they deemed pure and admirable about the Aryan race, while casting everything else as degenerate.
Although the term first surfaced in Nietzsche’s 1880s treatise Thus Spoke Zarathustra, the philosopher had been playing with the word since his teenage years. He never offered a crystal‑clear definition, leaving it open to interpretation.
Nietzsche envisioned the Ubermensch as a tangled figure: capable of tyrannical impulses yet ultimately rising above them to cooperate for the greater good. He saw this archetype as a balance of opposites—reason and passion, order and chaos—harmonized within a single individual.
In tandem with this balancing act, the Ubermensch assumes total responsibility for the world, refusing to blame any external force—be it God, the Devil, Christianity, or Judaism. The true Ubermensch would own every choice and its consequences.
Further, Nietzsche painted the Ubermensch as a free‑thinking global citizen, able to guide humanity’s evolution. He would discard the shackles of nation‑state identity, embracing a universal humanity. This lofty vision made the Nazis eager to appropriate the term for their own ends.
Ironically, the Nazis also invented the opposite, the Untermensch, twisting Nietzsche’s notion of a “sheeplike” ordinary person into a dehumanized class deemed worthy only of death.
9 The Randian Hero
Ayn Rand’s novels deliver a thunderous declaration about success, industry, and the human condition, giving rise to the archetype known as the Randian hero. These characters stand far from the traditional American ideal of self‑sacrifice and communal good.
Instead, they embody the ultimate capitalist magnate—towering tycoons who sit atop massive fortunes, caring only for themselves. Their moral compass points inward, with no room for altruism.
Rand famously asserted that a man’s first duty is to himself; for the Randian hero, that duty is absolute. Greed becomes a virtue, not a vice. Unlimited wealth is celebrated, and any means to achieve it are deemed acceptable, promising happiness without pain.
8 The Knight Of Faith And The Knight Of Resignation
Søren Kierkegaard draws a sharp contrast between two existential heroes: the knight of infinite resignation and the knight of faith. He illustrates their differences through the mythic tales of Agamemnon and Abraham, each forced to contemplate the sacrifice of a child.
Agamemnon, faced with the choice between his daughter Iphigenia and his people, opts for the collective good, surrendering his child to restore the winds needed for his army. This act makes him the knight of infinite resignation, bearing the weight of the world alone and accepting his grim role without protest.
Abraham, by contrast, receives a divine command to sacrifice his son Isaac. Yet, unlike Agamemnon, Abraham approaches the ordeal with unwavering faith, willingly walking toward the altar. In Kierkegaard’s narrative, his faith averts the tragedy, showcasing the knight of faith’s willingness to trust an unknowable higher purpose.
Both knights represent extremes of bravery. The knight of faith invests everything in a transcendent goal and an unseen authority, while the knight of resignation embraces solitary responsibility, shouldering the world’s burden by himself.
7 Junzi
In Confucian thought, the junzi stands as the benchmark of personal virtue. Originally denoting the son of a noble, the term evolved after Confucius to signify anyone striving toward moral excellence.
The ultimate aim is the shegren—the sage—an almost saintly figure. Since most people cannot achieve this pinnacle, the junzi serves as the next best aspiration, embodying the highest attainable moral standard.
The junzi must embody five core virtues: benevolence (ren), knowledge (zhi), trustworthiness (xin), righteousness (yi), and ritual propriety (li). These guide behavior toward family, community, and the state, contrasting sharply with the self‑serving xiaoren.
In practice, a junzi masters the proper ways of conduct—whether honoring ancestors, observing rites, or behaving responsibly when drinking. He knows his duties and acts in harmony with his social station.
6 The New Soviet Man
Born in the revolutionary fervor of 1917, the New Soviet Man was cast as the embodiment of communist ideals—a template for every citizen to emulate. Its roots trace back to Nietzsche’s Ubermensch, but it was reshaped to fit Marxist‑Leninist doctrine.
Lenin argued that only by shedding old social constraints could the masses forge a new, higher type of human being. This New Soviet Man was imagined as an inexhaustible source of energy, mastering emotions so that raw feeling would no longer dictate actions.
Trotsky described this emotional mastery as a “higher biological type,” and he warned that anyone refusing to conform would be deemed a failure, a lesser being compared to the ideal.
By the 1920s, under Stalin’s direction, the archetype shifted toward industrial might. The New Soviet Man became a tireless factory worker, a cog in the massive Soviet machine, whose labor was essential to achieving the promised utopia.
5 The Political Soldier
When Britain’s National Front fell under the sway of radical right‑wing elements, the notion of the Political Soldier emerged, championed by Derek Holland in his 1984 pamphlet of the same name.
Holland called for an elite cadre of warriors who placed their spiritual and religious convictions above all else, ready to die for their cause. He likened them to Roman centurions and Crusader knights, suggesting that only death could halt such devotion.
He positioned the Political Soldier against a perceived alliance of communism and capitalism, championing support for Libya and Palestine while demanding the expulsion of Zionist Jews and the silencing of certain media influences.
Also referred to as the Warrior Saint or Herald of a New World Order, the Political Soldier was portrayed as a pure, admirable figure. In a 1994 update, Holland reiterated the call for holy war, describing these men as disciplined, single‑purpose fighters willing to sacrifice everything, even detonating bombs, to confront capitalists, Freemasons, communists, and Zionists.
4 Mussolini’s Fascist New Man
With Benito Mussolini’s rise, the Fascist regime sought to forge a New Man—a citizen molded to embody fascist virtues. These individuals were to be rigorously drilled, hardened in combat, and physically sculpted into the ideal.
The regime even erected a central stadium surrounded by nude athletes from every Italian province, a visual testament to unity and the pursuit of the ideal. Beyond battlefield prowess, the New Man was expected to possess an unflinching willingness to restore Italy’s soul at any cost.
This archetype was a study in paradox: contemplative yet daring, authoritative yet beloved, realistic while dreaming of future possibilities.
Drawing inspiration from ancient Greece and Rome, the Fascist New Man combined military virtues with a cultural mission, with Mussolini viewing himself as the architect shaping a blank canvas of citizens into his envisioned masterpiece.
3 The Philosopher King
Plato’s seminal work The Republic tackles an age‑old query: what makes a ruler truly great? Through Socrates, Plato proposes the philosopher king—a leader equipped with both wisdom and practical skill.
The philosopher king perceives truth without distortion and applies that knowledge to any circumstance. He revels in learning and despises falsehood, seeking to guide his city with enlightened insight.
Plato acknowledges that many philosophers are corrupted by their upbringing. Yet, with proper education, a philosopher can evolve into both teacher and ruler.
He outlines a rigorous curriculum: poetry, music, mathematics, astronomy, harmonics, and physical training. Additionally, the study of dialectic leads the philosopher king toward the Form of the Good—a continually expanding understanding that enlightens all it touches.
Plato warns that the populace may resist such a ruler, so the philosopher king thrives best when founding a new city, constructing it from the ground up, and instilling appreciation for knowledge and the Good.
2 The Utopian Socialist New Man
The socialist vision of a New Man took a curious turn in the 1950s, when China reorganized society around a communal ideal. In this model, everyone worked together, theoretically laying the foundations for a new, collective humanity.
Charles Fourier, a French utopian socialist, identified monotony as the chief obstacle to success. He proposed phalanxes—work units where labor rotated with military precision—allowing individuals to thrive and communities to flourish.
Fourier imagined that, within such harmonious societies, men and women would grow to astounding heights—215 cm (seven feet)—and enjoy lifespans of 144 years. Their bodies would become remarkably resilient, capable of regenerating teeth, and after sixteen generations, they would develop a functional tail.
This tail, boasting 144 vertebrae, would enable swimming like fish and climbing trees with ease. Most intriguingly, the tail would end in a tiny hand, allowing its bearer to play musical instruments in a wholly novel fashion.
1 The Unknown Citizen
Pulitzer‑winning poet W. H. Auden penned the satirical piece “The Unknown Citizen” in 1940, profiling the archetypal state‑approved man, designated JS/07 M 378, on a monument erected by an anonymous government.
The poem notes that the Bureau of Statistics never logged a complaint against him. He led a compliant life, working steadily, enjoying a drink now and then, maintaining a handful of friends, reading newspapers, and he was insured when he fell ill.
He purchased modern comforts, never overspent, supported peace in peacetime and war in wartime, married, had an appropriate number of children, and embodied the ideal everyday man.
Auden’s chilling conclusion suggests that true happiness and freedom lie not in changing the world but in being a nameless, faceless cog in society’s vast machinery.