William M. Schneider 
Nietzsche’s Noble Lie
Whether the truth is useful and hurtful
to you or me—what do I care? Let us create new men to whom the truth is useful.
—Nietzsche
Nietzsche-Zarathustra
has undertaken to bring his message of
the eternal recurrence of the same to humanity and it is the acceptance of this
doctrine that is to result in the birth of the new human: the superhuman.
Zarathustra’s animals remind him of his fearful occupation, claiming “O
Zarathustra, you who are and must become: behold, you are the teacher of the
eternal recurrence—that is your destiny!” And in the same passage, giving
voice to Zarathustra’s thoughts, admit
“I
come back eternally to this same, selfsame life . . . to teach again the
eternal recurrence of all things, to speak again the word of the great noon of
earth and man, to proclaim the overman again to man.”
The most defensible, hence most popular
interpretation of Nietzsche’s doctrine of eternal return is that it is not to
be read literally, as a cosmological doctrine. Rather, it must be interpreted
as a metaphor or myth designed to prompt the modern nihilist to a
transvaluation of values, to a reaffirmation of life in a world that has lost
its ancient ties to the divine otherworldly. In this vein, Bernd Magnus
sketches an interesting comparison between Plato’s “Allegory of the Cave” and
Nietzsche’s doctrine of eternal recurrence. Magnus claims that the doctrine of
eternal return is properly interpreted as Nietzsche’s counter-myth to the
Platonic doctrine advanced in the Cave allegory, that pernicious doctrine of an
otherworldly realm of truths.
Notwithstanding the value of this
comparison in understanding the importance that the doctrine of eternal return
held for Nietzsche, I think a rather more obvious, though just as important,
comparison may be made between Nietzsche’s doctrine and Plato’s “Myth of the
Metals.” At Republic Book III, (414c), Sokrates suggests that what is
needed is a “noble lie” to serve as justification for maintaining a certain
desirable order in the polis. Moreover, this “opportune falsehood [is] .
. . to persuade if possible the rulers themselves, but failing that the rest of
the city.” However, it is agreed among the interlocutors that, though the
founders of the city would not be likely to believe the myth, “their sons and
successors and the rest of mankind who came after” could be counted upon to
adopt the doctrine and that this would lead to the desired effect of making
them more concerned for the welfare of one another and the good of the state.
It must not be forgotten that the
concern of the Republic is not with the creation of an ideal state per
se, rather, with an examination of the concept of justice as it appears to
the individual (and, a fortiori, what comprises the good life).
Similarly, Nietzsche’s concern in preaching the doctrine of eternal recurrence
is not to introduce some curious cosmological doctrine but to provide a
respectable route for humanity’s reaffirmation of life, to bring about the
birth of the overman, (at last) the “healthy” individual who truly affirms
life.
An important element in this parallel
between Plato and Nietzsche is the role that Zarathustra plays in the
propagation of the doctrine of eternal recurrence. Zarathustra is not himself
an instance of the overman. Neither is he capable of attaining such a status.
Moreover, Zarathustra is continually referred to as (merely) the teacher, or
proclaimer, of the overman,
and the “shadow of that which must come.”
In Part Two of Zarathustra, we learn from Zarathustra that “I should not
know how to live if I were not also a seer of that which must come. A seer, a
willer, a creator, a future himself and a bridge to the future—and, alas, also,
as it were, a cripple at this bridge: all this is Zarathustra.”
Nietzsche’s role then, mirroring
Zarathustra, is analogous to those founders of the republic who are themselves
unable to accept the noble lie yet who must nonetheless dedicate themselves to
its propagation among the citizens with whom it is to take root, be carefully
tended, and eventually become self-sustaining. Accordingly, Nietzsche offers us
“the most scientific of possible hypotheses.”
He presents us with a number of ill-developed considerations that are supposed
to move us toward a reasoned acceptance of the doctrine of eternal recurrence.
Especially important in this respect are those passages contained in The
Will to Power (W.P.) that treat of eternal return.
At W.P. 1066, Nietzsche gives
one of his least cryptic accounts of the reasoning underlying this crucial
doctrine. He argues that “If the world may be thought of as a certain definite
quantity of force and as a certain definite number of centers of force . . . it
follows that, in the great dice game of existence, it must pass through a
calculable number of combinations. In infinite time, every possible combination
would at some time or another be realized. . . .”
Moreover, in infinite time, every combination, as well as every sequence
of these combinations, would have to be repeated an infinite number of times.
Nietzsche
introduces further “scientific” support for his doctrine in the form of his
“refutation” of the mechanistic theory of heat-death. He argues that, if it
were possible to achieve a state of thermal stasis, given infinite time, we
would have achieved it. But since we observe a universe that is quite active,
it should be obvious that such an equilibrium cannot obtain.
By dressing up the doctrine of eternal
recurrence of the same in scientific trappings,
Nietzsche lends it an air of respectability. What (at least) appears
respectable may have a better chance of being favorably received by society. As
Nietzsche claims in The Will to Power, “what is needed is that something
must be held to be true—not that something is true.”
Now, it is quite clear that not everyone will accept the doctrine. Zarathustra
does choke on the “blackest thought” of eternally recurring “Last Men.” But there
is hope that some will adopt this most burdensome of thoughts and, thereby,
grow into persons who reject the emptiness of nihilism and instead affirm life.
There is a difficulty concealed in this
hope similar to the problem confronting Plato in his ideal republic. The
philosopher-king is to love the truth and to seek it only. Such a truth-seeker
would see through the thin veil of the myth of the metals and would thus be
confronted with the reality of promulgating a lie. In the republic, it is far
from clear that the ruler could both love the truth and serve the republic
through a lie. Similarly, it seems as though Nietzsche’s overman, who has risen
from nihilism, will not be able to embrace both the Nietzschean perspectivalism
and accept the myth of recurrence.
It may be just such a troubling
possibility that motivates Nietzsche, in Beyond Good and Evil, to remark
that “Something might be true while being harmful and dangerous in the highest
degree. Indeed, it might be a basic characteristic of existence that those who
would know it completely would perish, in which case the strength of a spirit
should be measured according to how much of the ‘truth’ one could still barely
endure. . . .” Notice that
the scare quotes mark the spurious truth as that which must be borne by
the strongest spirits. After all, this individual is to be the person for whom
the truth will have become useful. In this light, Zarathustra’s “Drunken Song”
may conceal a very sobering thought indeed. He warns us: “just now my world became
perfect; midnight too is noon; pain too is a joy; curses too are a blessing;
night too is a sun—go away or you will learn: a sage too is a fool.”
To return to an earlier point
concerning the comparison with Plato’s noble lie, what is needed in each case
is a rooting of the myth among humans. For Nietzsche, this rooting of
the doctrine of eternal recurrence might be thought of as necessary for
development of an unconscious embodiment of a life-affirming attitude or
instinct.
Still, it is not easy to see just how
this acceptance of eternal recurrence will lead one to affirm life as Nietzsche
wishes. This consideration prompts Magnus to remark that “there is a temptation
to construe the doctrine of eternal recurrence as if belief in it produced Ubermenschen
. . . [but] such an interpretation would be erroneously causal, disappointing,
and ludicrous. . . . It [acceptance of the doctrine] does not cause or induce
affirmation . . . [further,] once the doctrine is ‘understood’ no automatic
liberation seems to follow. . . . [I]f I have to rush eternal recurrence into
service to try to affirm my life, my life is not yet affirmative.”
I
have not here claimed that merely understanding the doctrine of eternal
recurrence results in Ubermenschen. Rather, I insist that the acceptance
or embodiment is a necessary condition for the overman inasmuch as each
choice made by the individual must be informed by the wish for the eternal
return of the consequences of that choice. The doctrine is not rushed into
service, as Magnus writes, but is cultivated as a noble lie.
Recall the doubts harbored among the founders of the republic concerning the
immediate acceptance of the myth of the metals. Yet, with time, such an
embodiment is seen as a possibility (indeed, is seen as the only
possibility) for achieving the desired end.
The
eventual acceptance of the myth of eternal recurrence will likewise serve to
bury the doctrine deep within individuals; the individuals who have thus
embodied the myth will no more need to think about choosing in light of eternal
return than they will need to think about the effects of the law of gravity on
various of their activities. Choices that reflect the affirmation of life will
simply become automatic among the overmen. The myth will have established
itself and the overmen will thrive.
1Friedrich Nietzsche, Nachgelassene
Werke (1881-86), Grossaktavausgabe, p. 245.