INCOMPATIBLE OR SYMBIOTIC?

Nietzsche’s genius is especially attractive for its versatility and open-mindedness, which allows him to see the very same thing in totally different lights, depending on the time of day and the eye’s mood, sometimes very positively, sometimes very negatively, but always very interestingly. We have already noted before that there is no inconsistency here, or at least as much or as little of it as in all world folklore, or even in the Scriptures. There are two reasons why Nietzsche can express totally different opinions on the same subject. We might call them synchronic and diachronic. Synchronically, this effect can be reached by two different angles of vision, which allow him, and us, to see the same thing from different perspectives, and exhibiting different qualities under this type of scrutiny. Diachronically, however, we may be putting together two Nietzschean passages and marveling at their expression of very different opinions without realizing that these opinions belong to somewhat different Nietzsches, caught at two different “historical” stages of the man’s life.

Nietzsche comments on this general possibility, and most probably, necessity, in Menschliches (2), and he attributes such a failure to recognize the diachronic effect (the words synchronic and diachronic are chosen by me, they are not Nietzsche’s!) to a “congenital defect of philosophers,” which he then goes on to explain in the following manner:

“Philosophers suffer from the same defect: they start with present-day man and think that they can arrive at their goal by analyzing him. Instinctively they let ‘man’ hover before them as an aeterna veritas, something unchanging in all turmoil, a secure measure of things. But everything the philosopher asserts about man is no more than a statement about man within a very limited time span. A lack of historical sense is the congenital defect of all philosophers. Some even take the most recent form of man, as it developed under the imprint of certain religions, or even certain political events, as the fixed form, from which one must proceed. They would not understand that man has evolved, that the faculty of knowledge has also evolved, while some even permit themselves to spin the whole world from out of this faculty of knowledge.”

Applying this reasoning to Nietzsche, we may notice that some of his opinions change rather significantly in the course of his life, sometimes more than once. It is particularly noticeable in his attitude toward ob­jective scholarship. (This fact was observed and reported by the Canadian scholar Peter Preuss thirty years ago, or so; Walter Kaufmann offhandedly glosses over it; while Bertrand Russell’s snapshot of Nietzsche, although eminently commendable, offers no diachronic depth at all, which is not at all surprising and even understandable, as he has no intention of going further in-depth on this subject.) In Nietzsche’s early period (Geburt and Unzeitgemäßen) he finds “objective scholarship” too dry for human life, which requires the moisture and the nutrients only obtainable from subjective elements, which include illusion and allow error. But his Menschliches, Morgenröte, and Fröhliche belong to the Mittelspiel of Nietzsche’s life, where he speaks of the “objective science” favorably, while condemning all illusion. In his Endspiel, however, he goes back to his earlier position, epitomized by the phrase he coined in Unzeitgemäßen: “fiat veritas pereat vita,” which means that “truth,” that Holy Grail, which objective science is after, is deadly to life.

Coming back to Menschliches, one familiar mostly with Nietzsche’s later writings (or the earlier ones, for that matter) may be surprised to read the following excerpt from Menschliches (3):

Esteeming humble truths. It is the sign of a higher culture to esteem the little humble truths discovered by a strict method, rather than the gladdening and dazzling errors which originate in metaphysical and artistic ages and men. At first, one has scorn for humble truths, as if they could offer no match for the others: they stand modest, simple, sober, even discouraging, while the other truths are beautiful, splendid, enchanting, even enrapturing. But truths that are hard won, certain, enduring, and still of consequence for all further knowledge, are higher; to keep to them is manly, shows bravery, simplicity, restraint. Eventually, not only the individual, but all mankind will be elevated to this manliness, when men finally grow accustomed to the greater esteem for durable, lasting knowledge and lose all belief in inspiration and seemingly miraculous communication of truths. The admirers of forms (artists and aesthetes, as opposed to scientists), with their standard of beauty and sublimity, will surely have good reason to mock at first, when esteem for humble truths and scientific spirit first comes to rule, but only because either their eye has not yet been opened to the charm of the simplest form, or because men raised in that spirit have not yet been fully and inwardly permeated by it, so that they continue thoughtlessly to imitate old forms (poorly, like one who no longer really cares about the matter). Previously, the mind was not obliged to think rigorously; its importance lay in spinning out symbols and forms. This has changed: that importance of symbols has become the sign of lower culture. Just as our arts are becoming ever more intellectual, and our senses more spiritual, and as that which is sensually pleasant to the ear is judged quite differently now than a hundred years ago, so the forms of our life become more spiritual, to the eye of older times uglier, but only because it is unable to see how the realm of the internal, spiritual beauty is continually deepening and expanding, and to what extent a glance full of intelligence can mean more now than the most beautiful human body and the most sublime edifice.

I am not surprised however by how different this passage reads from others, written earlier or later. I expect surprises from Nietzsche, and I get them all the time, as I become surprised by the inexhaustible novelty of his writing, but not by the fact that it is novel and inexhaustible. Being inconsistent both synchronically and diachronically is part of his strength and of his charm. Nietzsche is a great artist, rather than a scientist, and I am not surprised either, by the fact that his defense of objective science was, with him, not of a long duration.

But let us stay on with his defense of objective science in Menschliches, with this passage (6), which I have already quoted in my entry Science, Philosophy, And Religion As One, in the Philosophy Section, plus also (7), which in this case sums up (6) very elegantly:

(6). The scientific spirit is powerful in the part, but not in the whole. The distinct, smallest fields of science are treated purely objectively. On the other hand, the general, great sciences as a whole pose the question, a very unobjective question: what for, to what benefit? Because of this concern about benefit, men treat the sciences less impersonally as a whole than in their parts. Now in philosophy, which is the top of the whole scientific pyramid, the question of the benefit of knowledge is posed automatically. Every philosophy has an unconscious intention of ascribing to knowledge the greatest benefit. Therefore, all philosophies have so much high-flying metaphysics, and wariness of the seemingly insignificant explanations of physics. For the importance of knowledge for life must appear as great as possible. Here we have an antagonism between individual scientific fields and philosophy. The latter, like art, wishes to render the greatest possible depth and meaning to life and activity. In sciences, one seeks knowledge and nothing more, whatever may be the consequences… Until now, there has been no philosopher in whose hands philosophy has not become an apology for knowledge. In this way everyone is an optimist, by thinking that knowledge must be accorded the highest usefulness. All philosophers are tyrannized by logic: and logic, by its nature, is optimism.

(7.) The troublemaker in science. Philosophy divorced from science when it inquired, which knowledge of the world and life could help man live most happily. This occurred in the Socratic schools: out of concern for happiness, man tied off the veins of scientific investigation and does so still today.

And finally, via Nietzsche, we shall raise the same old question again for the purpose of answering it with added vigor: are science and philosophy (which in this case ought to include religion) utterly incompatible or compatible, at least in part? The answer is that their seeming incompatibility is an illusion, caused by a human error, whereas, in fact, they are not only compatible, but symbiotic.

By the same token, an interesting parallel can be made with Nietzsche’s views of objective and subjective scholarship over the years. Those have been changing ostensibly back and forth, but it may be instructive to examine them on account of their compatibility, which examination will then convince us that they are not only compatible, but also symbiotic, both literally and figuratively speaking.