One attempt at a holding action against the impossibility of breaking out of the enclosure of
“interpretation” is a “plural style.” In an essay translated as “The Ends of Man,” Derrida
writes: “As Nietzsche said, it is perhaps a change of style that we need; Nietzsche has
reminded us that, if there is style, it must be plural.” 30 And, much later, “the question of
style can and must try its strength against the grand question of the interpretation, of, simply,
interpretation, to resolve or disqualify it in its statement.” (QS 253) The confounding of
opposites, with the attendant switching of perspective, might be an example of that plural
style. And so might Nietzsche’s use of many registers of discourse in such works as Thus
Spoke Zarathustra, The Gay Science, and
Ecce Homo, or Derrida’s shifts between
commentary, interpretation, “fiction,” in the works immediately following Of Grammatology
and his typographical play with modes of dis-course in Marges or Glas.
Perhaps Nietzsche’s boldest insight in the face of the inescapable boundary is an exhortation
to the will to ignorance: “It is not enough that you understand in what ignorance man and
beast live; you must also have and acquire the will to ignorance.” (WM II. 98, WP 328) What
is more conventionally called “joyful unwisdom” (NW III. i. 252, UA 15) in an
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early text is later named “joyful wisdom”—the gay science—and seen as the greatest threat to
the chain of self-preservative interpretations that accepts its own activity as “true” and
“good”: “The greatest danger that always hovered over humanity and still hovers over it is the
eruption of madness—which means the eruption of arbitrariness in feeling, seeing, and
hearing, the enjoyment of the mind’s lack of discipline, the joy in human un-reason. Not truth
and certainty are the opposite of the world of the madman, but the universality and the
universal binding force of a faith; in sum, the nonarbitrary character of judgments.” (NW V. ii.
107–08, GS 130) The will to ignorance, the joyful wisdom, must also be prepared to rejoice in
uncertainty, to rejoice in and even to will the reversal of all values that might have come to
seem tenable: “No longer joy in certainty but in uncertainty . . . no longer will to preservation
but to power....” (WM II. 395, WP 545)
This continual risk-taking is the affirmative play in Nietzsche that Der-rida will often
comment on. “I do not know any other way,” Nietzsche writes, “of associating with great
tasks than play.”31 “Wisdom: that seems to the rabble to be a kind of flight, an artifice and
means for getting one-self out of a dangerous game; but the genuine philosopher—as he
seems to us, my friends?—lives ‘unphilosophically’ and ‘unwisely,’ above all im-prudently, . .
. he risks himself constantly, he plays the dangerous game.”32 This imprudence, constantly
attempting to bypass the prudence of stabilizing through “interpretation,” is amor fati, the
love of what Derrida calls “the game of chance with necessity, of contingency with law.” (Dis
309) This is the dance of the Over-man, a dance Nietzsche describes in terms of himself with
a certain poignancy: “How wonderful and new and yet how gruesome and ironic I find my
position vis-à-vis the whole of existence in the light of my insight! . . . I suddenly woke up in
the midst of this dream, but only to the consciousness that I am dreaming and that I must go
on dreaming lest I perish—.... Among all these dreamers, I, too, who ‘know,’ am dancing my
dance.” (NW V. ii. 90-91, GS 116)
The “knowledge” of the philosopher places him among the dreamers, for knowledge is a
dream. But the philosopher “knowingly” agrees to dream, to dream of knowledge, agrees to
“forget” the lesson of philosophy, only so as to “prove” that lesson. . . . It is a vertiginous
movement that can go on indefinitely or, to use Nietzschean language, return eternally. This
pre-carious
“forgetfulness,” “active
forgetfulness,” is what Derrida emphasizes in Nietzsche’s
Over-man. He writes, again in “The Ends of Man”:
His [the Over-man’s] laughter will then break out towards a return which will no longer have
the form of the metaphysical return of humanism any more than it will undoubtedly take the
form, “beyond” metaphysics, of the memorial or of the guard of the sense of the being, or the
form of the house and the truth
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of Being. He will dance, outside of the house, that “aktive Vergeszlichkeit,” that active
forgetfulness (“oubliance”) and that cruel (grausam) feast [which] is spoken of in The
Genealogy of Morals. No doubt Nietzsche called upon an active forgetfulness (“oubliance”)
of Being which would not have had the metaphysical form which Heidegger ascribed to it.
(MP 163,
EM 57)
Like everything else in Nietzsche, this forgetfulness is at least double-edged. Even in his early
writings “forgetfulness” makes its appearance in two opposed forms: as a limitation that
protects the human being from the blinding light of an absolute historical memory (that will,
among other things, reveal that “truths” spring from “interpretations”), as well as an attribute
boldly chosen by the philosopher in order to avoid falling into the trap of “historical
knowledge.” In the work of the seventies, there are, on the one hand, passages such as the
following (in which we must grasp the full irony of the word “truth”) :
We do not yet know whence the impulse to truth comes, for up to now we have heard only
about the obligation which society imposes in order to exist: to be truthful, that is, to use the
usual metaphors, therefore expressed morally: we have heard only about the obligation to lie
according to a fixed convention, to lie gregariously in a style binding for all. Now man of
course forgets that matters are going thus with him; he therefore lies in that fashion pointed
out unconsciously and according to habits of centuries’ standing—and by this very uncon-
sciousness, by this very forgetting, he arrives at a sense for truth. (NW III. ii.
375, IF 180–81)
If we appreciate the full irony of this passage, it becomes impossible for us to take a passage
such as the following, also written in the seventies, at face value, with the “historical sense” as
the unquestioned villain (although, admittedly, we must make a distinction between an
academic and preservative [on the one hand] and a philosophic and destructive [on the other],
sense of history) : “The historical sense makes its servants passive and retrospective. Only in
moments of forgetfulness, when that sense is intermittent [intermittirt; compare the
discontinuous energizing of Willens-Punktationen], does the man who is sick of the historical
fever ever act.” (NW III. i. 301, UA 68) And through this network of shifting values, we begin
to glimpse the complexity of the act of choosing forgetfulness, already advanced as a partial
solution to the problem of history in the same early essay: “. . . the antidotes of history are the
‘unhistorical’ and the ‘super-historical.’ . . . By the word ‘unhistorical’ I mean the power, the
art of for-getting, and of drawing a limited horizon round one’s self.” (NW III. i. 326, UA 95)
I am not going to comment extensively on Nietzsche’s thought of forgetfulness, but simply
remark that, even in the passage in The Genealogy
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