Nietzsche’s Napolean

Ridley Scott’s 2023 biopic “Napoleon,” with Joaquin Phoenix in the titular role (perhaps even as the Joker still!), ventures into the tumultuous landscape of one of history’s most enigmatic figures, Napoleon Bonaparte. Yet, the film, with its blend of historical drama and creative liberties, such as the dramatized scene of cannons at the Pyramids of Giza, often flirts with the grandiose at the expense of depth.

It is true that Napolean a man whose impact was extensive –but in what way? In how many ways?

Perhaps there is a philosophical ring to this –each human being is so multifaceted as to be obscure even to themselves, let alone others. Thus, the same applies in the grandest cases of humanity, such as Napolean –how are we to know a man who couldn’t have known himself?

Even the systematic coherence of each history book written on a singular figure falls short of fully conceptualizing them.

We first abolish the idea that to “know thyself” is to do so fully –that is a direct extension of the Socratic dictum that “wisdom knows only nothing,” for the assumption that one knows themselves fully is none other than a state of haughtiness, whose power might be massive, but whose self-extinguishment is inevitable.

Especially in virtue of a lack of adequate historical context — both from the film itself and the typical movie-goer in America — we (the ethereal “audience”) are left without a genuine understanding of Napolean from Scott’s film, as it falls prey to a two-and-a-half-hour window –a frame if you will, that fits only one picture.

In a quest to delve more profound than the film’s portrayal, we turn to the penetrating insights of Friedrich Nietzsche –which is but another frame for another picture, to be fair, but one that is much more informed than Scott or his film.

As we’ll see, Napolean’s essence is found in Scott’s film –but only a fragment, as would be inevitable in any such depiction (a “narrative” by definition lacks all sides…)

The Historic Impact of Individual Decisions

In Twilight of the Idols (1888), particularly in Section 44, “What the Germans lack,” Nietzsche offers a profound reflection on the essence of genius, which provides a compelling framework for understanding Napoleon. He states, “Great men, like great ages, are explosives in which a tremendous force is stored up.”

This perspective suggests that Napoleon was not just an architect of his destiny but the culmination of a long-gathering historical and cultural force. With its deep-seated tensions and aspirations, the French Revolution set the stage for an explosive figure like Napoleon to emerge.

Nietzsche further illuminates the complex interplay between a great individual and their era. He argues in the same section, “Because Napoleon was different, the heir of a stronger, older, more ancient civilization than the one which was then perishing in France, he became the master there.”

This insight positions Napoleon as a figure who, while shaped by the Revolutionary era, also stood in stark contrast to it, drawing upon more profound, more ancient traditions of power and authority.

Moreover, Nietzsche’s assertion in Section 44 that “Great men are necessary, the age in which they appear is accidental” reframes Napoleon’s historical significance.

It suggests that while the specifics of Napoleon’s rise were products of chance, the emergence of such a transformative figure was inevitable given the historical context. Napolean was given particular cards –those which only he could play, but in a manner incidental to him. Napolean was great because of who he became –not because of who he was intrinsically.

In this same vein, each of us can become distinguished individuals — the potential for self-transcendence is perspectivally boundless, and Napolean was a figure who directly sought its horizons.

What this means for each person will differ, as we are all “dealt different cards,” — but for each of us, such an attitude of ambition is virtuous because it is intrinsically motivated by self-strengthening.

Most of us, however, lack conditions where enacting this motivation will have long-lasting historical consequences.

We may, for example, lose friends, jobs, or loved ones from our ambitious decisions, and thus change the projective trajectory of our lives (something itself that is conditioned by our historical situatedness), but that is far different than when the results affect everyone's lives — as was so in Napolean’s (and even Nietzsche’s) case.

Nietzsche’s contemplation of the consequences of great individuals and epochs, also in Section 44, brings a critical lens to Napoleon’s legacy: “The great human being is a finale; the great age — the Renaissance, for example — is a finale.” This view casts Napoleon’s reign as a period of achievements and the culmination and exhaustion of specific historical dynamics.

Finally, as elaborated in the same section, Nietzsche’s perspective on the nature of a genius’s sacrifice sheds light on Napoleon’s life journey. Nietzsche describes this sacrifice not as a conscious act of heroism but an involuntary outcome of their nature: “He does not spare himself — and this is a calamitous, involuntary fatality.”

Napoleon’s relentless pursuit of his ambitions and the eventual toll it took on him and his empire can be viewed as the inherent compulsions of his genius, an intrinsic part of his extraordinary character.

Progress and Nature in Light of Napoleon and Rousseau

Expanding our exploration of Napoleon Bonaparte through Nietzsche’s insights, we turn back to Twilight of the Idols, particularly sections 48–49 of “What the Germans lack.” Here, Nietzsche’s discourse on “progress” and the “return to nature” offers a fascinating perspective that further illuminates Napoleon’s character and historical role.

In section 48, Nietzsche conceptualizes a form of progress that is not a regression but an ascent to a higher state of nature and naturalness. He posits, “Napoleon was a piece of ‘return to nature,’ as I understand the phrase.”

This interpretation of Napoleon situates him not merely as a product of his time but as an embodiment of a primal, vigorous form of existence.

His strategic prowess and military innovations represent a reconnection with fundamental human capabilities and ingenuity. This perspective challenges the conventional view of Napoleon as a historical figure, recasting him as a symbol of humanity’s raw, unbridled power.

In juxtaposed with his view of Napoleon, Nietzsche’s critique of Rousseau highlights a significant philosophical divide. While Rousseau envisioned a return to a moralistic, idealized version of nature, Nietzsche sees Napoleon as embracing a more realistic, power-centric natural order.

This stark contrast underscores differing interpretations of ‘nature’ and their implications. In Nietzsche’s view, Rousseau’s idealism is at odds with the brutal realities of power and survival — realities that Napoleon not only understood but also mastered and utilized.

In the same section, Nietzsche reflects on the French Revolution and its underlying moral doctrines, particularly equality. He perceives this as a deviation from true justice, stating, “There is no more poisonous poison anywhere: for it seems to be preached by justice itself, whereas it is the termination of justice.”

Napoleon’s rise, seen through this lens, appears as a response to the Revolution’s ideological excesses. His pragmatic approach and establishment of a new order emerged as a counterbalance to the ideological extremities that preceded him.

Section 49 brings Goethe into the conversation. Nietzsche regards Goethe as a pivotal figure in European history, representing an attempt to transcend the eighteenth century through a reconnection with the naturalness of the Renaissance.

Goethe’s pursuit of totality and wholeness, his synthesis of various human faculties into a cohesive vision, mirrors Napoleon’s efforts in unifying diverse aspects of governance, law, and military strategy. Goethe’s realism and holistic approach resonate with Napoleon’s practical command and vision for Europe.

Finally, Nietzsche’s Dionysian ideal of the human being — strong, educated, skillful, and self-controlled — echoes in the figure of Napoleon. This ideal transcends traditional moral boundaries, embodying a life-affirming strength and freedom.

Napoleon, in his multifaceted leadership and command, can be seen as a precursor to this Dionysian archetype, a figure who, in many ways, embodied the strength and freedom Nietzsche admired.

Napoleon’s Restlessness for Power and Oratory Ineptitude

In Daybreak (Section 245), Nietzsche observes, “Napoleon was greatly mortified at the fact that he could not speak well… but his thirst for power… led him to speak even worse than he might have done.” This reflection unravels a critical aspect of Napoleon’s character — strategically manipulating perceived weaknesses.

Far from being a mere oversight, his rhetorical style, or lack thereof, becomes a deliberate display of power, a tactic to assert dominance. While capturing the bravado, Scott’s film scarcely touches upon Napoleon’s subtler power-wielding strategies.

Nietzsche’s examination of hero-worship in Daybreak (Section 298) is particularly illuminating when considering the mythos surrounding Napoleon: “The fanatic of an ideal… knows what he denies as well as he knows himself… He, therefore, wishes to make his return impossible by the manner of his negation.”

Here, Nietzsche unveils the paradox of Napoleon’s admirers and detractors, shaped by the same enthusiasm: glorification or vilification. This fanaticism, which Scott’s film sometimes borders on, glosses over the intricacies of Napoleon’s character, reducing him to a larger-than-life figure devoid of the nuanced human element.

Furthermore, Nietzsche’s commentary on the flight from oneself in Daybreak (Section 549) offers a poignant lens to view Napoleon’s relentless ambition: “Those sufferers from intellectual spasms… who, in everything that they do, resemble runaway horses… how are they able to bear up!

They would fain attain to something ‘beyond themselves.’” This metaphor of a runaway horse vividly encapsulates Napoleon’s restless spirit, driven to transcend his limitations and circumstances, a theme largely unexplored in the cinematic rendition.

The Utility of Conventions for the Will to Power

In Human, All Too Human (Section 164), Nietzsche critiques the cult of genius, a trap Napoleon himself might have fallen into: “It is a dangerous sign when a man is assailed by awe of himself… the consequences that slowly result are: the feeling of irresponsibility, of exceptional rights…”

Napoleon’s self-perception as a man of destiny aligns eerily with Nietzsche’s caution against the intoxication of self-deification. While fleetingly touched upon in the film, this aspect requires deeper exploration to understand Napoleon’s internal conflicts and contradictions.

Continuing in Human, All Too Human (Section 472), Nietzsche addresses the interplay of religion and government, relevant to Napoleon’s era: “As long as the state… knows itself appointed as guardian… religion quietens the heart of the individual…”

This analysis offers a backdrop to Napoleon’s Concordat with the Church, a strategic move to stabilize his regime. Such political maneuvers, reflective of Nietzsche’s insights into the utility of religion as a tool of statecraft, add layers to Napoleon’s character that the film only superficially addresses.

Nietzsche’s analysis of the dynamic between the individual and the state, as expounded in Human, All Too Human (Section 472), offers a profound understanding of Napoleon’s political machinations. Nietzsche posits, “Religion and government… the unknowledgeable will think they see the hand of God and patiently submit to instructions from above.”

This observation echoes Napoleon’s tactical use of religious symbolism to consolidate power.

His coronation as emperor, where he famously took the crown from Pope Pius VII to crown himself, can be interpreted as an assertion of supreme authority — a melding of divine right and personal ambition. In portraying these grand events, Scott’s film often misses the subtlety of such actions — the calculated interplay of religion and politics, a game of perception and influence that Nietzsche so keenly discerns.

Furthermore, Nietzsche’s concept of ‘flight from oneself’ in Daybreak (Section 549) can be a prism to view Napoleon’s ceaseless campaigns and relentless drive. Nietzsche questions, “And should the desire for performing great deeds be at bottom nothing but a flight from ourselves?”

This introspection casts Napoleon’s conquests in a different light — not just as quests for power but potentially as escapades to escape inner turmoil or inadequacy.

This psychological depth, the internal struggle against one’s demons, presents a character complexity often overshadowed by the grand narrative of military triumphs and political prowess in mainstream portrayals.

Moreover, as discussed in Daybreak (Section 298), Nietzsche’s critique of hero-worship is crucial in understanding Napoleon’s cultural and historical impact. Nietzsche warns of the idealization of figures like Napoleon: “The idealist of a person… travesties that which he can just perceive into something ‘beautiful.’”

This tendency to romanticize and deify historical figures can lead to a distorted understanding of their true nature and actions.

It’s a critique that could be leveled against both the followers of Napoleon in his time and against modern representations of him, including in film.

The nuanced understanding of Napoleon’s character — as a man of remarkable achievements and profound flaws — gets lost in the shadow of the mythic hero figure that history and culture often construct.

In Human, All Too Human (Section 164), Nietzsche further elaborates on the peril of self-deification in genius, a path Napoleon might have read: “It is, in any event, a dangerous sign when a man… comes to regard himself as something supra-human.”

Napoleon’s self-conception as a man of destiny and his subsequent actions can be seen as embodying Nietzsche’s cautionary words about the pitfalls of genius succumbing to its self-created myth.

The fall of Napoleon, his eventual exile and demise, can be interpreted through this Nietzschean perspective as the inevitable outcome of a man who, believing in his infallibility, reaches too fast.

On the “Cult of Genius”

In Human, All Too Human (Section 164), Nietzsche discusses the consequences of the cult of genius and its impact on those deemed ‘geniuses.’

He writes, “It is questionable whether the superstitious belief in genius… is beneficial to the genius himself if it takes root in him.”

This insight is particularly relevant to Napoleon, who, throughout his career, seemed to embody and perhaps even believe in his mythic status. His bold military strategies and political reforms were often underpinned by a sense of destiny, a belief in his unique place in history.

Nietzsche’s critique warns about the dangers of such self-deification, suggesting that it might lead to a loss of critical self-reflection and, ultimately, to downfall.

This aspect of Napoleon’s psyche, where he grapples with the mantle of ‘genius’ and its isolating grandeur, is a rich vein often left unmined in popular portrayals.

Furthermore, Nietzsche’s Daybreak (Section 549) provides a lens through which to view the inner turmoil of figures like Napoleon. Nietzsche speaks of those “who… resemble runaway horses… and derive only a transient joy and an ardent passion from their works.”

This metaphor can be applied to Napoleon’s restless pursuit of military and political achievements, which brought him transient glory but perhaps also a sense of unfulfillment or escapism.

His life, viewed through this Nietzschean perspective, becomes a narrative of conquest and a constant flight from inner dissatisfaction, a relentless striving to outpace personal demons and doubts.

Additionally, Nietzsche’s contemplation on the relationship between religion and government in Human, All Too Human (Section 472) provides insights into Napoleon’s use of religious and state institutions.

Nietzsche observes that governments often preserve religion to maintain public order and legitimize their authority.

Napoleon’s management of religious affairs, particularly his concordat with the Catholic Church and his manipulation of religious sentiments for political ends, aligns with this Nietzschean view. It shows a leader not just in command of armies but also adept in controlling the narrative, shaping public opinion, and using every tool at his disposal to consolidate his rule.

In the broader context of Nietzsche’s philosophy, Napoleon’s life and actions can also be interpreted through the lens of the ‘will to power,’ a central concept in Nietzsche’s thought.

This concept, often misunderstood, is about more than just the crude pursuit of power.

It involves the drive to assert and extend one’s influence, to shape one’s environment according to one’s values and vision. Napoleon’s relentless expansion of his empire, comprehensive reforms in law and administration, and eventual downfall can be seen as manifestations of this primal drive.