Early on in his Anti-Christ (§2), Friedrich Nietzsche has a series of questions and answers, akin to a catechism or creed. For all his railing against philosophical presuppositions the German firebrand had his own. He firmly believed in the will to power, that human happiness is directly proportionate to the expression and expansion of it. This leads him to ask: “What is more harmful than any vice?” (Anti-Christ, §2). His answer, consistently with his convictions: “Active sympathy for the ill-constituted and weak.” According to Nietzsche, the greatest offenders in this regard are Christians, but I’ve considered that charge already,here. This post weighs up the philosopher’s criticisms of empathy and sympathy.

Everything That’s Wrong With the World

As he saw it, the next and necessary step for mankind was to breed—or, you guessed it, will—those who are “more valuable, more worthy of life” (§3). Who might they be, you ask. In answer to your questions, Nietzsche draws on one of his more famous ideas: “the herd animal.” And yes, he blames the Christian faith, again, which “has waged a war to the death against this higher type of man” (§5).

In his eyes, 19th century Europeans had grown sick and diseased through their long exposure to Christian teaching in at least two ways. Firstly, people were mindlessly subject sheep, having been deceived by the belief in heaven. Because of the Christian hope they desired nothing meaningful in the present (see §23). Secondly, Nietzsche claimed Christianity had made virtues out of vices, such as empathy and pity. So the subdued herd was made up of “sick animal men” rather than Übermenschen.

So Nietzsche longed to liberate the thoughtless masses, heralding his own good news or gospel. Though he might have bristled at being labelled a moraliser or—even worse—sermonic, his books do preach faith, of a kind. Sure their force is typically more pathos than logos. Nevertheless, Nietzsche exhorts anyone who’ll listen to repent and believe; to dissociated oneself from the herd and denounce weakness, among the other virtue-wrapped vices, which include empathy or pity.

The Problems of Empathy

As the German understood it, “pity stands in antithesis to the tonic emotions which enhance the energy of the feeling of life: it has a depressive effect. One loses force when one pities. The loss of force which life has already sustained through suffering is increased and multiplied even further by pity. Suffering itself becomes contagious” (§7). This is the first aspect of Nietzsche’s critique in this section of his Anti-Christ. The second is that it “thwarts the law of evolution…selection,” by preserving “what is ripe for destruction.” Though the latter is chilling it is also philosophically consistent, which is something that can’t be said about many contemporary materialists. Maybe we can consider that thread on another occasion, but it’s the first critique that I want to reflect on below.

Nietzsche deems empathy a “multiplier of misery,” alluding to his earlier description of it as contagious. For when one pities another in their weakness or hurt, one inevitably inhabits that suffering to some extent. Instead of striding on ahead and abandoning the ill-constituted to chance or fate, genuine empathy entails slowing down to tend the wounded and the sufferers. This care is personally costly, possibly a hindrance to me reaching the heights I would otherwise have known.

Nietzsche Has a Point

As is often the case, Nietzsche isn’t entirely wrong. Personally, I struggle to empathise with people. I blame this, in part, on my make-up. But that’s not the whole truth. For entering into the suffering of others doesn’t “enhance the energy of the feeling of life.” Instead, as Nietzsche continues, “it has a depressive effect.” Truly participating with others when they’re weak and low is more often than not costly. It doesn’t fill you up but “stands in antithesis to the tonic emotions which enhance the energy of the feeling of life.” Thus I don’t think I’m alone in admitting that I tend to be selective and sparing with my empathy, self-preserving and even selfish. Indeed, “One loses force when one pities.” So Nietzsche’s keen observation poses some searching questions.

Have I opted for less involvement in the lives around my own because it means giving up less of myself? Do I prefer pity at a distance because it’s less demanding and “depressive”? In my pursuit of personal flourishing have I forgotten those who’re flailing?

I could level various criticisms against Nietzsche, naturally. But perhaps we’re better off with the discomfort he sows. That is, we don’t have to follow him into his conclusions. But we must wonder to ourselves whether we haven’t already done so. Joining with others in their suffering does—in some way or other—multiply that suffering. It is “contagious.” Etymologically this is conveyed by both words, ‘sympathy’ and ‘empathy.’ We know this. Does that knowledge move us towards indifference or greater investment, regardless of the cost?