Wisdom & Inaction

(2017)

One idea expressed throughout Nietzsche’s essay, “On the Utility and Liability of History,” is that wisdom breeds inactivity. Essentially, at a certain point, knowing and remembering too much debilitates a person’s life.

The premise of the essay is that learning history can be useful, but at the same time pernicious, a double edged sword. Nietzsche introduces two sides to this spectrum, the “unhistorical,”(126) which is akin to a herd animal, like a cow or sheep, that forgets things nearly as soon as they happen, and is only concerned with the present. On the other end is someone “who does not possess the power to forget,”(127) and is therefore radically historical, remembering everything they have ever heard, seen, thought or otherwise sensed. While some people might initially be drawn to such an idea for its apparent utility, Nietzsche suggests this side of the spectrum is just as unfavorable if not more so than the unhistorical. He argues that through disillusionment, such a person “would no longer believe in his own being,”(127) “lose himself,”(127) and in the end, “would hardly even dare to life a finger.”(127) Thus, Nietzsche argues we need to forget, at least to a certain degree.

It isn’t a new idea at all that acquiring knowledge can create suffering. In the Bible, it is said that “with much wisdom comes much suffering,” and the idea circulates through other texts and cultural references across the years. But Nietzsche extends this idea to remembering in general. As humans, he says we are tied to the past as with a chain. Not only does human memory grossly surpass the vast majority of life on earth, but we are the only animals with a true history. Unlike chimpanzees, dolphins, and other intelligent animals, who have complex forms of communication, teach their young, and have memory of their own lives, we pass down a collective history of our race: the successes, failures, and follies of those who came before us. Consequently, memories that would have died out in the scope of decades can last millennia, and with the historical obsession of Nietzsche’s time, and the ever increasing technology of our own, those memories are becoming more and more vivid, and have the potential to last even longer.

From this comes the suprahistorian, who understands the entirety of history, and has lost interest in life. Having realized the true nature of things, they no longer have a will to act. They know that “everyone who acts loves his action infinitely more than it deserves to be loved.”(129) In other words, nothing is worth doing. Stifled by this realization, they live stagnant lives, which is the most rational option, but not at all healthy option.

Although an excess of knowledge certainly has the potential to create inaction, it does not need to. Becoming discouraged by the apparently cyclic nature of history and a perceived hopelessness in what the world can be a real problem. But there really is no way to know how a person who remembers everything, like in Nietzsche’s “extreme example,” would react. In essence, all of his claims about such a person are speculations based on the lesser pain we feel as partially historical human beings, closer to the middle of his spectrum.

It’s easier to understand the unhistorical, for, as Nietzsche says, you can simply “observe the herd as it grazes past you”(125). And as for the completely unhistorical, that too can be perceived on earth. Many organisms, animal or otherwise, function without a mind or memory at all, driven purely by internal instinct. But his argument is complicated by the fact that have not, and possibly will never perceive a completely historical being in any context. The very design of the mind does not allow this; every time a memory is accessed, it is corrupted, at least to some degree. To function with such perfection, one would need to be a god, which Nietzsche himself denies the existence of.

If such a being did know everything there was to know, it is quite imaginable that it would stop “taking history over seriously,”(129) as Nietzsche suggests, but would it be driven into inaction, or would it continue on for something greater? Nietzsche himself, who grew disgruntled in his historical studies, found a dedication to life.

What matters more than being historical or unhistorical is the way a person reacts to this history. One may despair, resolving like the suprahistorical human being that there is nothing to live for. But radical hope, the irrational belief that the seemingly impossible will happen, and a dedication to that cause, can overcome this obstacle and make life not only livable, but worthwhile once more. Nietzsche scoffs at this idea, dismissing it as foolish and blind. Yet we do not know what ultimate wisdom would tell. The suprahistorian is only a guess, and to accept it and deny all reason for hope is just as erroneous. Nietzsche himself finds a profound dedication to life, and later the overman. If not in this text, later in his life he holds that we can create our own meaning, transcending meaninglessness to be truly great in this world, an aspiration with its foundations rooted in hope. In this way, Nietzsche’s own life can be used as an argument that knowledge does not always breed inaction.

Is there a healthy amount of involvement and dedication to history, beyond which little good can come? Yes, very likely. But at the same time, being historical need not be feared as a chain that will ruin life. What matters is the mindset of the person.