On Schopenhauer, Sympathy, and the Unasked-for Gift of Life
“If children were brought into the world by an act of pure reason alone, would the human race continue to exist? Would not a man rather have so much sympathy with the coming generation as to spare it the burden of existence, or at any rate not take it upon himself to impose that burden upon it in cold blood?”
― Arthur Schopenhauer, Studies in Pessimism: The Essays
Arthur Schopenhauer, that delightful black cloud over the 19th century, once asked a question too few parents – or politicians-or pro-natalists – dare entertain: If children were brought into the world by an act of pure reason alone, would the human race continue to exist?
The answer, of course, is no. Not if reason were allowed to have the steering wheel. Not if we truly grasped what existence entails: a lifelong hostage situation punctuated by moments of accidental pleasure, existential debt, and the faint scent of consumer-grade shampoo. To knowingly impose that on another, without their consent, no less, is, Schopenhauer suggests, cold-blooded. Not tragic. Not poetic. Just… callous.
And yet, we romanticise it. We shower it in clichĂ©s and bibs. We call it “a miracle” or “the greatest gift.” Gift? With what return policy? And no, a suicide hotline is not customer service.
This isn’t a call to extinction. (Though frankly, who’d notice?) It’s a call to lucidity. To question the reflex to replicate. To wonder, in quiet moments, whether “family planning” is really planning, or just the failure to look past our own narrative instincts.
If sympathy were allowed to speak louder than instinct, Schopenhauer asks, might we choose to spare the next generation from the exquisite burden of becoming? It’s not misanthropy. It’s mercy.
But mercy doesn’t sell nappies.
Philosophics 