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Global FreeMasonry
Freemasonry is a subject that has attracted much discussion for centuries. Some have accused Masonry of fantastic crimes and misdeeds. However, instead of trying to understand "the Brotherhood" and criticizing it objectively, critics have been unduly hostile to the organization.
This book contains a true exposition of Masonry as a school of thought. The most important unifying influence among Masons is their philosophy—which can be best described according to such terms as "materialism" and "secular humanism." But, it is an errant philosophy based on false suppositions and flawed theories, as you will see in this book.
In this book, the reader will also be presented with a summary of the history of the Masons’ struggle against theistic religions. Freemasons have played an important role in distancing Europe from religious moral values, and in their place, founding of a new order based on the philosophies of materialism and secular humanism. The reader will also see how Masonry has been influential in the imposition of these dogmas—and a social order based on them—on non-Western civilizations.
After reading this book, the reader will be able to consider many aspects, from schools of philosophy to newspaper headlines, rock songs to political ideologies, with a deeper understanding, and better discern the meaning and aims behind events and factors.
This book contains a true exposition of Masonry as a school of thought. The most important unifying influence among Masons is their philosophy—which can be best described according to such terms as "materialism" and "secular humanism." But, it is an errant philosophy based on false suppositions and flawed theories, as you will see in this book.
In this book, the reader will also be presented with a summary of the history of the Masons’ struggle against theistic religions. Freemasons have played an important role in distancing Europe from religious moral values, and in their place, founding of a new order based on the philosophies of materialism and secular humanism. The reader will also see how Masonry has been influential in the imposition of these dogmas—and a social order based on them—on non-Western civilizations.
After reading this book, the reader will be able to consider many aspects, from schools of philosophy to newspaper headlines, rock songs to political ideologies, with a deeper understanding, and better discern the meaning and aims behind events and factors.
- GenresNonfictionHistoryIslam
228 pages, ebook
First published January 1, 2002
6 people are currently reading
235 people want to read
About the author
Harun Yahya
506 books320 followersAdnan Oktar (born Ankara, 1956), also known by his pen name Harun Yahya, is a prominent advocate of Islamic creationism in the creation-evolution debate. He is considered to be the leading Muslim advocate of creationism. He subscribes to Old Earth creationism. He is against Zionism and Freemasonry and sees them as very interrelated movements, though he denounces anti-Semitism and terrorism, which he says is a product of Darwinism, not religious fanaticism.
Adnan Oktar founded the Science Research Foundation (SRF, or BAV in Turkish), whose objective is "to [establish]...peace, tranquility and love..."
Adnan Oktar founded the Science Research Foundation (SRF, or BAV in Turkish), whose objective is "to [establish]...peace, tranquility and love..."
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Displaying 1 - 14 of 14 reviews
March 18, 2026
In “Global Freemasonry,” Harun Yahya writes with the unhurried certainty of a man convinced that ideas are never merely ideas. They are engines. They move civilizations. They reorder the heart. They make a person forget what they once knew, and then persuade him that forgetting is freedom. This book is built on that conviction. It is not, in the temperate sense, a history of an organization. It is a warning – a sustained argument that Freemasonry is best understood not as a social fraternity but as a philosophical program, one that has traveled through time in shifting guises, absorbing symbols and vocabularies, and arriving in the modern world with a mission: to loosen the bonds between human beings and God.
Yahya’s method is direct, cumulative, and meant for the reader who wants the scaffold visible. Each chapter climbs the same ladder: name a doctrine; locate its origin; show how it survives; show how it spreads; show what it does to the soul. In six chapters he sketches an ancestry that begins with the Knights Templar and their alleged drift into esoteric teachings, runs through the Kabbalah, blossoms into Renaissance and modern humanism, hardens into materialism, dresses itself in evolutionary rhetoric, and then expresses itself politically as secularization and anticlerical reform. The voice is steady, insistent, and, at times, almost pastoral in its repetition. He restates key claims not because he doubts them, but because he believes repetition is a form of instruction. The prose has the texture of a tract – plain, accessible, built for broad readership – yet it is also stitched with quotations and references that function as exhibits in a moral courtroom.
There is a great deal to admire in that clarity of purpose. “Global Freemasonry” is not coy about what it wants. It wants the reader to see the world as a battlefield of metaphysics. It wants the reader to recognize that modern life often speaks in a warm, foggy language – “progress,” “reason,” “freedom,” “humanity,” “tolerance” – that can conceal sharp theological claims. Yahya presses those abstractions until they reveal their bones. What does it mean to say the universe is self-existing? What does it mean to say that mind is only matter, that the human being is an accident of atoms, that there is no afterlife to answer to? Even a reader unconvinced by Yahya’s larger thesis may feel the jolt of his insistence: a society can change not only by law and economy, but by what it trains people to believe is real.
This insistence becomes most compelling when Yahya turns to modern humanism. He portrays humanism not as kindness or civic decency – the everyday way many people use the term – but as a worldview that enthrones the human being as measure and endpoint. Humanism, in this telling, is a theological substitute: it moves the center of gravity from God to man. There is polemical heat here, but also a legitimate philosophical challenge. Modern secular culture often wants the moral fruits of religious life without the metaphysical tree that once fed them. It wants dignity, ethics, compassion, meaning – but it asks that meaning remain unmoored from revelation. Yahya refuses that division. He treats it as unstable. He insists that once you remove divine authority, you must either rebuild morality on a firmer foundation or watch it thin into preference and power.
The same moral pressure animates the book’s chapter on materialism. Here Yahya argues that materialism is the central doctrine behind the wider philosophical agenda he attributes to Freemasonry: the belief that matter is all that exists, that the universe has no Creator, that spirit and afterlife are illusions, that human beings are the products of blind processes. He is attentive to the way such a worldview can be presented not as doctrine but as “science,” not as metaphysics but as “reason.” He also pays close attention to symbolic language – to what organizations wear on their lapels and carve into their halls, to the way symbols can transmit commitment without stating it directly. Whether one accepts Yahya’s interpretive conclusions or not, the attention itself feels salutary. We live in a culture that often assumes symbols are decorative, that rituals are quaint, that institutions are only what they publicly say they are. “Global Freemasonry” insists otherwise. It treats symbols as confession.
And yet, the book’s greatest strength is also its greatest vulnerability: its talent for pattern. Yahya has an instinct for resemblance, for echo, for thematic recurrence, and he builds his narrative by stitching those resemblances into an unbroken line. Ancient Egypt becomes the primal reservoir – a civilization with pagan cosmology, priestly secrecy, and a mythic account of creation in which order emerges from chaos. The Kabbalah becomes a conduit through which pagan ideas enter later religious cultures. The Templars become the dramatic medieval pivot, acquiring secret doctrines in Jerusalem, dispersing under persecution, and surviving, Yahya suggests, through lodges and later Masonic structures. Humanism and materialism become the modern philosophical expressions of that ancient core. Evolution becomes the scientific garment in which that philosophy walks into the contemporary world. Finally, anticlerical politics becomes the outward social expression of the same inner metaphysics.
This chain has the satisfaction of coherence. It makes the world readable. It offers the comfort of a single narrative arc rather than a tangle of competing causes. But coherence can be purchased too cheaply. History is full of borrowed motifs. “Egypt” has functioned for centuries as a symbolic storehouse for Western esotericism, a place onto which later movements project their own fantasies about ancient wisdom. When two traditions share a symbol, the resemblance can mean lineage, but it can also mean fascination, imitation, or the simple fact that certain shapes and myths travel easily. Yahya’s habit is to treat resemblance as inheritance, and inheritance as intention. The reader is rarely invited to linger with alternative explanations, to weigh probabilities, to separate what is documented from what is conjectured.
Still, it is important to recognize what Yahya’s interpretive certainty is doing for his intended reader. “Global Freemasonry” is not written for the person who wants footnoted nuance. It is written for the person who feels the modern world’s drift and wants a name for it. It is written for the reader who senses that religious life has been pushed to the private margins and that this marginalization is not neutral. Yahya offers not merely critique but moral orientation: a clear line between revelation and its rivals. To dismiss the book as mere paranoia would be too easy and, in a way, too flattering to modernity. Yahya is responding to a real experience: that institutions often do conceal their commitments; that ideologies do seek to reshape culture; that the language of “freedom” can become the language of forgetting.
The long chapter revisiting evolution reveals both the book’s persuasive gifts and its argumentative tendencies. Yahya frames evolution less as a biological theory than as a philosophical weapon: a modern creation story that removes God from the picture and persuades human beings that they are accidents. In this framing, the stakes are not academic. They are spiritual. He argues that the theory’s popularity is tied to its usefulness as justification for materialism. The chapter reads like an exposé: it is animated by the belief that the public has been misled, that evidence has been selectively presented, that errors have been repeated long after they should have been discarded.
There is something bracing in Yahya’s refusal to treat “science” as a sacred word. Scientific institutions can become cultural authorities, and cultural authorities can misuse their authority. Popular science communication often simplifies, dramatizes, and sells certainty. Yahya’s suspicion – that ideology can ride inside scientific rhetoric – is not, by itself, absurd. Where the chapter weakens is in the way it treats emblematic controversies as representative of an entire field’s intent. It is drawn to the drama of exposure, to the notion of deliberate deception, and it can sometimes confuse the messiness of scientific debate with proof of conspiracy. The result is rhetorically effective, but it does not consistently engage the strongest, most careful versions of the positions it criticizes. It prefers to refute the vulgarized version because that is the version that most resembles propaganda.
The final chapter, on what Yahya calls a “war against religion,” expands the argument outward into European political history. Here he reads anticlerical reforms, secular education initiatives, and revolutionary networks as expressions of a single anti-religious program. He moves through France, Germany, Italy, and Russia, drawing lines between lodges and political actors, between philosophical commitments and institutional decisions. Again, the reader is offered a master key: a hidden structure of coordination beneath the surface of events. This is the part of the book where the storytelling is most seductive. Real historical conflicts between church and state become scenes in a larger campaign. Complex political movements become legible as chapters in a single struggle.
But this is also the section where the explanatory burden becomes heaviest. Modernity’s secularization has many causes – economic change, scientific development, state-building, class conflict, nationalist movements, philosophical shifts, and the failures and corruptions of religious institutions themselves. Yahya’s account foregrounds one cause so completely that it risks flattening the others into irrelevance. The narrative becomes less a history than a moral diagram. For readers who want a single enemy to oppose, this may feel like clarity. For readers who want to understand why the modern world is what it is, it can feel like the world has been simplified into a story that cannot be wrong, because any counter-evidence can always be reinterpreted as proof of concealment.
And yet, even here, the book’s moral urgency has its own power. Yahya writes as though he is trying to rescue the reader from a slow, polite erosion. He does not treat secularization as an accidental social drift. He treats it as an assault on the human being’s ultimate purpose. When he describes education as a battleground, he is speaking to a fear many religious readers recognize: that the formation of children is often treated as a contest over reality itself. Whether one accepts his attribution of agency to Freemasonry or not, the anxiety is real, and the book’s intensity derives from that reality. It is a work written against complacency.
To read “Global Freemasonry” well is to read it on two levels at once. On the surface, it is an argument about a particular organization and its alleged philosophical program. Beneath that, it is a book about the modern condition: about the desire to live as though God were absent, and the institutional and cultural mechanisms that make that absence feel normal. Yahya’s book is at its best when it exposes the metaphysical assumptions buried in modern slogans, when it reminds the reader that “neutrality” is often a mask, when it insists that the human soul is shaped by what it is taught to worship – even if what it worships is called “nature,” “progress,” or “humanity.” It is at its weakest when its appetite for coherence outruns the evidence it provides, when it turns resemblance into certainty, when it treats history as a single plot rather than a field of competing forces and unintended consequences.
Still, the book’s impact is hard to deny. Its prose is accessible. Its moral argument is consistent. Its structure is designed to leave the reader with a map, and maps can be consoling in a world that feels confusing. The question is what kind of map this is: a chart that captures essential contours, or a diagram that mistakes its own simplicity for truth.
I come away thinking “Global Freemasonry” deserves to be taken seriously as a piece of religious polemic – a work that is trying, with earnest energy, to defend a vision of reality in which God is sovereign and the modern world’s rival metaphysics are not merely mistaken but spiritually dangerous. As history, it is too often overconfident in its chains of causation and too quick to read complex events through a single lens. As moral argument, it is bracing, sometimes illuminating, and at moments genuinely persuasive in its insistence that ideas have consequences. My overall assessment settles at 69 out of 100 – a book of clear purpose and real rhetorical force, whose warnings about metaphysical drift can sharpen a reader’s attention, even as its sweeping narrative asks the reader to accept more certainty than the evidence can reliably sustain.
Yahya’s method is direct, cumulative, and meant for the reader who wants the scaffold visible. Each chapter climbs the same ladder: name a doctrine; locate its origin; show how it survives; show how it spreads; show what it does to the soul. In six chapters he sketches an ancestry that begins with the Knights Templar and their alleged drift into esoteric teachings, runs through the Kabbalah, blossoms into Renaissance and modern humanism, hardens into materialism, dresses itself in evolutionary rhetoric, and then expresses itself politically as secularization and anticlerical reform. The voice is steady, insistent, and, at times, almost pastoral in its repetition. He restates key claims not because he doubts them, but because he believes repetition is a form of instruction. The prose has the texture of a tract – plain, accessible, built for broad readership – yet it is also stitched with quotations and references that function as exhibits in a moral courtroom.
There is a great deal to admire in that clarity of purpose. “Global Freemasonry” is not coy about what it wants. It wants the reader to see the world as a battlefield of metaphysics. It wants the reader to recognize that modern life often speaks in a warm, foggy language – “progress,” “reason,” “freedom,” “humanity,” “tolerance” – that can conceal sharp theological claims. Yahya presses those abstractions until they reveal their bones. What does it mean to say the universe is self-existing? What does it mean to say that mind is only matter, that the human being is an accident of atoms, that there is no afterlife to answer to? Even a reader unconvinced by Yahya’s larger thesis may feel the jolt of his insistence: a society can change not only by law and economy, but by what it trains people to believe is real.
This insistence becomes most compelling when Yahya turns to modern humanism. He portrays humanism not as kindness or civic decency – the everyday way many people use the term – but as a worldview that enthrones the human being as measure and endpoint. Humanism, in this telling, is a theological substitute: it moves the center of gravity from God to man. There is polemical heat here, but also a legitimate philosophical challenge. Modern secular culture often wants the moral fruits of religious life without the metaphysical tree that once fed them. It wants dignity, ethics, compassion, meaning – but it asks that meaning remain unmoored from revelation. Yahya refuses that division. He treats it as unstable. He insists that once you remove divine authority, you must either rebuild morality on a firmer foundation or watch it thin into preference and power.
The same moral pressure animates the book’s chapter on materialism. Here Yahya argues that materialism is the central doctrine behind the wider philosophical agenda he attributes to Freemasonry: the belief that matter is all that exists, that the universe has no Creator, that spirit and afterlife are illusions, that human beings are the products of blind processes. He is attentive to the way such a worldview can be presented not as doctrine but as “science,” not as metaphysics but as “reason.” He also pays close attention to symbolic language – to what organizations wear on their lapels and carve into their halls, to the way symbols can transmit commitment without stating it directly. Whether one accepts Yahya’s interpretive conclusions or not, the attention itself feels salutary. We live in a culture that often assumes symbols are decorative, that rituals are quaint, that institutions are only what they publicly say they are. “Global Freemasonry” insists otherwise. It treats symbols as confession.
And yet, the book’s greatest strength is also its greatest vulnerability: its talent for pattern. Yahya has an instinct for resemblance, for echo, for thematic recurrence, and he builds his narrative by stitching those resemblances into an unbroken line. Ancient Egypt becomes the primal reservoir – a civilization with pagan cosmology, priestly secrecy, and a mythic account of creation in which order emerges from chaos. The Kabbalah becomes a conduit through which pagan ideas enter later religious cultures. The Templars become the dramatic medieval pivot, acquiring secret doctrines in Jerusalem, dispersing under persecution, and surviving, Yahya suggests, through lodges and later Masonic structures. Humanism and materialism become the modern philosophical expressions of that ancient core. Evolution becomes the scientific garment in which that philosophy walks into the contemporary world. Finally, anticlerical politics becomes the outward social expression of the same inner metaphysics.
This chain has the satisfaction of coherence. It makes the world readable. It offers the comfort of a single narrative arc rather than a tangle of competing causes. But coherence can be purchased too cheaply. History is full of borrowed motifs. “Egypt” has functioned for centuries as a symbolic storehouse for Western esotericism, a place onto which later movements project their own fantasies about ancient wisdom. When two traditions share a symbol, the resemblance can mean lineage, but it can also mean fascination, imitation, or the simple fact that certain shapes and myths travel easily. Yahya’s habit is to treat resemblance as inheritance, and inheritance as intention. The reader is rarely invited to linger with alternative explanations, to weigh probabilities, to separate what is documented from what is conjectured.
Still, it is important to recognize what Yahya’s interpretive certainty is doing for his intended reader. “Global Freemasonry” is not written for the person who wants footnoted nuance. It is written for the person who feels the modern world’s drift and wants a name for it. It is written for the reader who senses that religious life has been pushed to the private margins and that this marginalization is not neutral. Yahya offers not merely critique but moral orientation: a clear line between revelation and its rivals. To dismiss the book as mere paranoia would be too easy and, in a way, too flattering to modernity. Yahya is responding to a real experience: that institutions often do conceal their commitments; that ideologies do seek to reshape culture; that the language of “freedom” can become the language of forgetting.
The long chapter revisiting evolution reveals both the book’s persuasive gifts and its argumentative tendencies. Yahya frames evolution less as a biological theory than as a philosophical weapon: a modern creation story that removes God from the picture and persuades human beings that they are accidents. In this framing, the stakes are not academic. They are spiritual. He argues that the theory’s popularity is tied to its usefulness as justification for materialism. The chapter reads like an exposé: it is animated by the belief that the public has been misled, that evidence has been selectively presented, that errors have been repeated long after they should have been discarded.
There is something bracing in Yahya’s refusal to treat “science” as a sacred word. Scientific institutions can become cultural authorities, and cultural authorities can misuse their authority. Popular science communication often simplifies, dramatizes, and sells certainty. Yahya’s suspicion – that ideology can ride inside scientific rhetoric – is not, by itself, absurd. Where the chapter weakens is in the way it treats emblematic controversies as representative of an entire field’s intent. It is drawn to the drama of exposure, to the notion of deliberate deception, and it can sometimes confuse the messiness of scientific debate with proof of conspiracy. The result is rhetorically effective, but it does not consistently engage the strongest, most careful versions of the positions it criticizes. It prefers to refute the vulgarized version because that is the version that most resembles propaganda.
The final chapter, on what Yahya calls a “war against religion,” expands the argument outward into European political history. Here he reads anticlerical reforms, secular education initiatives, and revolutionary networks as expressions of a single anti-religious program. He moves through France, Germany, Italy, and Russia, drawing lines between lodges and political actors, between philosophical commitments and institutional decisions. Again, the reader is offered a master key: a hidden structure of coordination beneath the surface of events. This is the part of the book where the storytelling is most seductive. Real historical conflicts between church and state become scenes in a larger campaign. Complex political movements become legible as chapters in a single struggle.
But this is also the section where the explanatory burden becomes heaviest. Modernity’s secularization has many causes – economic change, scientific development, state-building, class conflict, nationalist movements, philosophical shifts, and the failures and corruptions of religious institutions themselves. Yahya’s account foregrounds one cause so completely that it risks flattening the others into irrelevance. The narrative becomes less a history than a moral diagram. For readers who want a single enemy to oppose, this may feel like clarity. For readers who want to understand why the modern world is what it is, it can feel like the world has been simplified into a story that cannot be wrong, because any counter-evidence can always be reinterpreted as proof of concealment.
And yet, even here, the book’s moral urgency has its own power. Yahya writes as though he is trying to rescue the reader from a slow, polite erosion. He does not treat secularization as an accidental social drift. He treats it as an assault on the human being’s ultimate purpose. When he describes education as a battleground, he is speaking to a fear many religious readers recognize: that the formation of children is often treated as a contest over reality itself. Whether one accepts his attribution of agency to Freemasonry or not, the anxiety is real, and the book’s intensity derives from that reality. It is a work written against complacency.
To read “Global Freemasonry” well is to read it on two levels at once. On the surface, it is an argument about a particular organization and its alleged philosophical program. Beneath that, it is a book about the modern condition: about the desire to live as though God were absent, and the institutional and cultural mechanisms that make that absence feel normal. Yahya’s book is at its best when it exposes the metaphysical assumptions buried in modern slogans, when it reminds the reader that “neutrality” is often a mask, when it insists that the human soul is shaped by what it is taught to worship – even if what it worships is called “nature,” “progress,” or “humanity.” It is at its weakest when its appetite for coherence outruns the evidence it provides, when it turns resemblance into certainty, when it treats history as a single plot rather than a field of competing forces and unintended consequences.
Still, the book’s impact is hard to deny. Its prose is accessible. Its moral argument is consistent. Its structure is designed to leave the reader with a map, and maps can be consoling in a world that feels confusing. The question is what kind of map this is: a chart that captures essential contours, or a diagram that mistakes its own simplicity for truth.
I come away thinking “Global Freemasonry” deserves to be taken seriously as a piece of religious polemic – a work that is trying, with earnest energy, to defend a vision of reality in which God is sovereign and the modern world’s rival metaphysics are not merely mistaken but spiritually dangerous. As history, it is too often overconfident in its chains of causation and too quick to read complex events through a single lens. As moral argument, it is bracing, sometimes illuminating, and at moments genuinely persuasive in its insistence that ideas have consequences. My overall assessment settles at 69 out of 100 – a book of clear purpose and real rhetorical force, whose warnings about metaphysical drift can sharpen a reader’s attention, even as its sweeping narrative asks the reader to accept more certainty than the evidence can reliably sustain.
September 17, 2007
Well... asal tau aja, Freemasonry (Tarekat Mason Bebas) scr historical banyak berperan dlm sejarah dunia scr global, Indonesia khususnya. Banyak tokoh2 ternyata pernah terlibat dgn organisasi bikinan kaum Yahudi laknatullah ini. Tujuan mereka sich cm msh kyk dulu, menjauhkan umat muslim dari agamanya (scr sadar ato tdk sadar) dan menguasai dunia dgn berbagai cara.
February 13, 2013
This book had agreat influence on my understanding of the current dilemma...
the post-Arab-Spring-conflict is now much clearer...
the idea that some people had hopes that the Arab revolutions would lead to an effect similar to that of the French revolution... their hopes and aspirations were not realistic and thus were never to be satisfied.
the post-Arab-Spring-conflict is now much clearer...
the idea that some people had hopes that the Arab revolutions would lead to an effect similar to that of the French revolution... their hopes and aspirations were not realistic and thus were never to be satisfied.
October 13, 2012
Suka penjelasan soal sejarahnya yang berhubungan dengan peradaban Mesir zaman dulu X3 Hubungan materialisme, humanisme sekuler, dan hal-hal lain. Sebagai seseorang yang mempercayai adanya Tuhan ini cukup membuka wawasan :3
January 30, 2008
Membaca versi ebooknya, Adnan Oktar mengkaji sejarah freemasonry dengan cukup lengkap.
June 18, 2009
buku terjemahan dari english to malay... mak, pusing bacanya... salah beli... tapi overall got the point, way to go, mr yahya!
June 13, 2010
lengkap buat tau apa itu free masonry
October 15, 2010
hari gini apakah masih banyak yang percaya pada teori darwin ? hahahaha.. just wondering..!!
July 6, 2011
Eye opening book for those who understand... a new world order emerged
October 16, 2012
pendedahan tentang gerakan FreeMason secara menyeluruh dari penubuhan hingga ke zaman kini.
November 3, 2012
An informative book I skimmed through for information sake.
June 30, 2016
If most of what's written in this book is true, I got a feeling that the author himself might be a member of this 'cult'.
March 4, 2008
penting banget bwt orang2 yang tertarik tahu ttg freemason (apaan tu?? makanya baca ni buku cuuy)
Displaying 1 - 14 of 14 reviews