An eternal past in exchange for a single future
Oh, wouldn’t you just love the opportunity to go back in time to put right that one action or choice that spoilt everything?
Of course, this is not a desire which Nietzsche would have much respect for:
It seems such an extreme idea – to have to live the exact same life over and over again – even in ‘Monday’ there were slight differences each iteration of the day. Certainly, there lies a number of impossibilities involved.
For instance, if we were to live over and over again the same life we could not possibly be conscious of the fact – and therefore the demon could never come to ask us the question Nietzsche poses.
If we were indeed conscious of our reliving a life already lived, exactly as we had lived it, unable to make even the slightest change – not one dot, not one little stroke (cf. Mt. 5:18) – we would, as likely as Pam in ‘Monday’, find ourselves getting more and more distraught. Except we wouldn’t because that would be a change. But we would surely feel as if we were losing our minds, wouldn’t we? But this would be a feeling that crept up on us and therefore we wouldn’t feel it, unless we felt it the very first time through life – but, why would we?
Even if we retained our equanimity throughout the eternal recurrence of the same, if we were in fact conscious of our plight we wouldn’t know we were conscious of it unless we could actually contemplate it, ponder its implications, look forward to what happens next – or dread what lies ahead! But even this would be beyond us for who can deliberately have precisely the same thought more than once? So, if even our thoughts were eternally recurring, beyond our control and change, we could not be conscious.
Not to be conscious of the eternal recurrence renders it meaningless.
And yet, it is a thought which has sent shivers down the spine of many a philosopher over the decades since Nietzsche formulated it. Because, though we are fully aware of the impossibility of going back to make a change to life, we live in the hope of being able to change the future. Living my past a million times over is as nothing compared to the thought of already having lived my future.
“Redrum” very cleverly overcomes the impossibility of changing what has already been by having Martin Wells move forward into his past. Not a conceit worth giving too much consideration to; just let it serve its purpose and ignore the logical chaos.
Of course, though more dramatic, it isn’t even his preventing his wife’s murder that is the whole point of the episode. Far more important is the dawning realisation that he hasn’t always been the decent, up-standing individual he has always seen himself to be. His being in prison, wrongly accused of his wife’s murder is merely a visual representation of his feeling of guilt over sending not entirely guilty individuals to the same fate.
Fortunately, because we don’t have to face an eternal recurrence of the same – which, contrary to Nietzsche would actually prevent us from saying an unequivocal ‘Yes’ to life – Martin Wells is able to make changes to himself that have a profound impact upon his future.
Of course, this is not a desire which Nietzsche would have much respect for:
“The question in each and every thing, “Do you desire this once more and innumerable times more?” would lie upon your actions as the greatest weight. Or how well disposed would you have to become to yourself and to life to crave nothing more fervently than this ultimate eternal confirmation and seal?
Friedrich Nietzsche ‘The Gay Science’ (Kaufmann’s translation) p. 342
According to Nietzsche we should be able to say ‘Yes’ to life and not cravenly seek to change a single nano-second of what has already been.It seems such an extreme idea – to have to live the exact same life over and over again – even in ‘Monday’ there were slight differences each iteration of the day. Certainly, there lies a number of impossibilities involved.
For instance, if we were to live over and over again the same life we could not possibly be conscious of the fact – and therefore the demon could never come to ask us the question Nietzsche poses.
If we were indeed conscious of our reliving a life already lived, exactly as we had lived it, unable to make even the slightest change – not one dot, not one little stroke (cf. Mt. 5:18) – we would, as likely as Pam in ‘Monday’, find ourselves getting more and more distraught. Except we wouldn’t because that would be a change. But we would surely feel as if we were losing our minds, wouldn’t we? But this would be a feeling that crept up on us and therefore we wouldn’t feel it, unless we felt it the very first time through life – but, why would we?
Even if we retained our equanimity throughout the eternal recurrence of the same, if we were in fact conscious of our plight we wouldn’t know we were conscious of it unless we could actually contemplate it, ponder its implications, look forward to what happens next – or dread what lies ahead! But even this would be beyond us for who can deliberately have precisely the same thought more than once? So, if even our thoughts were eternally recurring, beyond our control and change, we could not be conscious.
Not to be conscious of the eternal recurrence renders it meaningless.
And yet, it is a thought which has sent shivers down the spine of many a philosopher over the decades since Nietzsche formulated it. Because, though we are fully aware of the impossibility of going back to make a change to life, we live in the hope of being able to change the future. Living my past a million times over is as nothing compared to the thought of already having lived my future.
“Redrum” very cleverly overcomes the impossibility of changing what has already been by having Martin Wells move forward into his past. Not a conceit worth giving too much consideration to; just let it serve its purpose and ignore the logical chaos.
Of course, though more dramatic, it isn’t even his preventing his wife’s murder that is the whole point of the episode. Far more important is the dawning realisation that he hasn’t always been the decent, up-standing individual he has always seen himself to be. His being in prison, wrongly accused of his wife’s murder is merely a visual representation of his feeling of guilt over sending not entirely guilty individuals to the same fate.
Fortunately, because we don’t have to face an eternal recurrence of the same – which, contrary to Nietzsche would actually prevent us from saying an unequivocal ‘Yes’ to life – Martin Wells is able to make changes to himself that have a profound impact upon his future.
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