The Solitude of the Autodidact

Finding 'The Real' in a World of Dead Links

History must never be reduced to a mere accumulation of the signified, nor a repository of reference links. I have always held this to be true; yet, looking at history today, I see only dead artifacts rampant, bereft of the pulse of life. In an era where the number of people who do not know this living history—and have no desire to know it—is swelling, it is only natural that humanity loses its bearings. Furthermore, the opportunities to experience history in its raw, visceral state have been lost for far longer than we imagine. In such a climate, no matter how earnestly those with a conscience may advocate for the importance of history, it seems to me that for humanity, it is already too late. It is an immutable law of this world: those who do not learn from history are destined to perish.

Let us begin with a single inquiry. If you were to gaze earnestly at the ground beneath your own feet, what would you see?

The density and depth of your answer are the very measure of your intellect, and indeed, the possibility of your future. However, now that people have so thoroughly lost the capacity for contemplation and thought, the act of filling the spirit through questioning one’s origins has become difficult in the extreme; it is no longer rooted in reality. In this void, the “universals” believed in until yesterday have vanished in the blink of an eye, rapidly exposing themselves as nothing more than hollow falsehoods. This phenomenon lies at the very base of the end of civilization.

Call it the end of the world or the end of civilization; the name matters little. But in the singularity of this modern era, where eight billion people wander in delusion, we must reignite a history that possesses life and vitality. The living history I envision does not begin with a thoughtless, modern gaze at the flow of society or economics of a past era. It begins, rather, with a radical observation of people. Historical views that discuss society and economics invariably fail to see the human; their eyes are captivated solely by systems. Yet, history is not a system. It is only by looking at the human being that history becomes visible. Tragically, modern people have lost the very faculty to see the human, and thus, this fundamental truth has become incomprehensible to them.

Therefore, you must seek out a historical figure worthy of your respect—it does not matter who—and engage in the discipline of articulating their existence from a vantage point that draws closer to their life than anyone else. Ideally, one should begin by visiting the sites of their achievements or places with which they had a deep connection; thus, I recommend starting with a figure found in the region where you reside. The accumulation of this method becomes the power to truly understand history.

Then, everyone will realize: What, exactly, was the history we thought we knew, or the history taught in schools for university exams? The inquiry into true history begins only when one attains this realization. Personally, I believe it is best to arrive at this awareness as early as possible. The more time remains in one’s life, the deeper the depths one can reach through that inquiring mind. After all, in the present day, where a system designed solely to waste people’s time is perfectly ensnared around us, introspection itself has become extremely difficult. The older one gets, the more the brain becomes contaminated, rendering it uncontrollable.

In a sense, the theme here is the search for true history. With this foundation laid, I will continue to write, closely following the life of the intriguing figure introduced in yesterday’s article. Everyone should realize that history is condensed within him.