Stray Thoughts: The ‘Ultimate Fidelity’

Note: The title art for this post is ‘Ouroborous, Cosmic Loveheart’ by Silvana D. You can see more of her work on Etsy.

A few posts ago, I tried to illustrate the profoundly dark mindset that human beings can fall into during the most extreme moments of suffering and resentment. This attitude, which I associate with the ‘extinction-drive’ (the yearning to put an end to life itself in the face of overwhelming suffering), can be captured in a single term: Invidia Fati. Literally meaning the ‘hatred of fate’, this life-negating maxim has been a major motivator in countless acts of death, destruction, and mayhem throughout human history.

In essence, it is nihilism-turned-activism; the result of a process by which evil is perversely elevated to the status of the Highest Good. Faced with a world too painful to endure, some poor wretches become genuinely convinced that the only solution to the problem of life is to tear the whole damn thing down and stamp it into oblivion. ‘Burn down the circus, kill all the clowns, and end the great cosmic joke forever’. This is the cynical, even genocidal impulse which motivates such characters.

Yet, despite this rather gloomy subject, my previous post ended on a notably brighter note. This was: that whilst Invidia Fati – and hence human evil – is an active force in the world, it fortunately does have an antonym. Indeed, just as every light casts a shadow, every shadow must also have some distant light which generates and defines it. In this case, that light is Amor Fati; the ‘love of fate’.

This life-affirming maxim is as optimistic and bracing as its opposite is life-denying and grim. (It may therefore be a surprise for you to learn that the most famous articulator of this concept was none other than Friedrich Nietzsche; a man not usually associated with sunshine and rainbows). Its foundational precept is that our fate – no matter how painful, difficult, or tragic it might be – should be embraced wholeheartedly with all the passion and spirit we can muster. Essentially, this is an injunction to fall in love with the world as it is, warts and all, and keep coming back for more no matter how many times life knocks us on our backs.

This mindset might be the considered the final aim of the Nietzschean philosophy of life, summed up by the man himself in On the Genealogy of Morals / Ecce Homo:

“My formula for greatness in a human being is amor fati: that one wants nothing to be different, not forward, not backward, not in all eternity. Not merely bear what is necessary, still less conceal it… but love it”.

As shown above, the mindset of Amor Fati involves the cheerful acceptance of the actual lives we are living, regardless of the great hardships we all face. Indeed, taking the point further, Nietzsche is encouraging us to learn to love difficulty itself, in all its guises. Death, war, pain, disease, financial ruin – all should be embraced not because they are easy or ‘good’, but because we recognize they are indelible parts of a grand tapestry which would unravel without every thread (light and dark) to bind it together. In other words, life is a patchwork of elements whose nature would be fundamentally different if all the bad things in the world were forcibly removed.

I have spoken elsewhere of the ineptitude of such visions of paradise, and how subtly insidious Utopian ideals are in their naïve simplicity. This is because human beings are simply not built for such halcyon worlds of abstract perfection. Placing a human being in an environment which is ‘perfect’ in every way (by whatever definition you might choose) would do one of two things: 1) break the so-called perfect system by introducing a deeply flawed and unpredictable element into the mix. 2) Drive the human being insane with boredom the longer life progresses according to such a predictable, cosy design. Indeed, the only way Man could exist in such surroundings were if his fundamental nature were changed from the bottom-up. By shearing off his sharp edges and mercilessly culling the irrational extremities of his nature, the utopian system aims to create its perfect denizen in accordance with an ideal ‘blueprint’.

For my money, this goal is not actually possible – though that doesn’t stop people from trying. Human beings are not infinitely malleable through conditioning, no matter how intense the effort to make them change. But, regardless of where one falls on the Nature/Nurture question, my point remains: either Man breaks Utopia, or Utopia breaks Man by changing him into something else entirely. Put simply, the two cannot co-exist, even in theory.

The key to Amor Fati, therefore, is to recognize that the deep imperfections of the world are an ineradicable part of the whole – and so should be accepted with a kind of loving fatalism. What’s more, it should be emphasized that the inherent difficulties and challenges of life are also fundamental to our development as human beings. Evolving as we did in a Fallen world, each one of us is biologically and psychologically adapted to learn through difficulty. Whether it be through physical struggle, facing danger, enduring setbacks, or experiencing rejection, our species requires a consistent level of strife to drive positive growth. There is therefore even reason to be grateful that we don’t live in a utopia – or else we would risk becoming as brainless and docile as the Eloi from H.G. Well’s The Time Machine.

This is not to say, of course, that efforts to ameliorate some of these problems are always pointless. The world can be made a better place, and progress is possible. (And it is certainly possible that life can put such a burden on us that all hopes of positive change are crushed under the weight). However, such attempts to improve the world must always be tempered by a recognition that the existence of difficulty itself, even in its most hideous forms, is not within our power to resolve. Life and the world will always have their dark side – and any attempt to overturn this reality is by its nature based more on hatred for existence itself, than on any kind of deep love for the world.

Acceptance of the world as it is, and the principled refusal to indulge in Utopian fantasies of perfection, these are the proper guides for projects of reform and improvement. This spirit – captured in the term Amor Fati – can therefore be defined as having a kind of fidelity with existence itself. To illustrate this concept, we can draw yet again on the work of Nietzsche, who laid down a mind-bending thought experiment meant for testing the precise degree of faithfulness one feels for the world.

In his vision of the Eternal Recurrence, we are told to imagine that one day an omniscient power – be it God, Satan, or another being – tells us that death is not the end. Rather, when we reach the close of our mortal lives, we are sent spinning through time all the way back to the beginning. We will be born into the exact same conditions, surrounded by the exact same people, and made to live identical lives to the one we just left. We would simply live, and live, and live again – caught in an infinite loop whereby everything that ever happened, and everything that ever will happen, repeats forever without any chance to alter its course.

The question is: how would you react? What would you say to that omniscient power telling you your fate? Would you despise the idea – cursing and gnashing your teeth about the raw injustice of the whole thing? Or, instead, would you rejoice? Would you find the prospect of living again exactly as you are now a wonderful prospect? If your answer is the former, then don’t worry; you aren’t alone. For Nietzsche, responding positively to the Eternal Recurrence represents one of the greatest achievements of the human spirit. To be so completely reconciled with the world as to celebrate being ensconced in it forever; that for him was the most concrete manifestation of Amor Fati.

Achieving such an indestructibly joyful state of mind is therefore a gauntlet which Nietzsche throws down for all of us, and it is one very few will be able to achieve. Still, aiming for Amor Fati, no matter how distant we are from that ideal in practice, may be a worthwhile enterprise in itself. This is because by consistently practicing gratitude and humour in the face of life’s setbacks – as one might in the company of a dear friend or lover – we can effectively shield ourselves from the black cynicism of Invidia Fati. Equally, such an attitude can inoculate us against the bright white temptations of Utopian fantasies, keeping us grounded and grateful for the world we actually live in.

In essence, Invidia Fati and Utopia are two sides of the same life-denying coin, as each are built on a yearning to finally put an end to the fallen world around us. Alternatively, by learning to make our home in the middle space – that grey and murky arena in which human life exists – we can become stronger, happier, and better-actualised beings. Who knows, we might even make the world slightly better as well?

In short: love, not hate, should be the key motivator of our thoughts and actions. Sometimes the simplest ideas are the hardest to explain.