Pretend to be dumb, that's the only way to reach old age.

“Pretend to be dumb, that's the only way to reach old age.” — Friedrich Dürrenmatt

Thus spoke Friedrich Dürrenmatt, the Swiss playwright and philosopher whose words gleam with irony and depth. In this statement, he cloaks a bitter truth beneath the veil of jest. His warning is not a call to ignorance, but to wisdom disguised as humility. For in a world ruled by pride and power, those who see too much and speak too plainly are often devoured by it. To “pretend to be dumb” is, therefore, not to surrender one’s intellect, but to shield it — to wear the mask of simplicity so that one may live long enough to understand the deeper game of life.

Dürrenmatt lived through an age of upheaval — wars, tyrannies, and ideological storms that punished those who thought freely. He saw that truth, though sacred, is dangerous in the mouths of the honest. The wise who reveal too much truth too soon, or too directly, become targets of envy or wrath. Hence his irony: to survive among the arrogant and the violent, one must sometimes feign ignorance, just as Odysseus, cunning among kings, survived not by force but by disguise and restraint. It is not stupidity he praises, but the art of concealment — the ability to know when to speak, and when to remain silent.

The ancients knew this truth well. Consider Socrates, who called himself the wisest man in Athens precisely because he knew that he knew nothing. This humility, whether real or strategic, allowed him to reveal the folly of others without declaring himself above them. Yet even so, his pretense of ignorance could not protect him forever; his insight threatened the pride of those in power, and he was condemned to drink the hemlock. Dürrenmatt might have looked upon Socrates and whispered, “He was too honest to grow old.” For in this world, the outspoken mind often burns bright — and briefly.

To “pretend to be dumb” is not cowardice, but self-preservation in a world that fears truth. The fool, after all, has always been the only one allowed to tell the king the truth. The wise must often wear the fool’s hat to speak safely, for society loves innocence but distrusts insight. Dürrenmatt, through irony, reminds us that wisdom survives through cunning. One who truly understands the nature of human vanity learns that it is better to appear harmless than to provoke the powerful with brilliance. The river that bends around the rock reaches the sea; the one that crashes headlong against it shatters.

History offers countless examples of those who wore the mask of simplicity to endure. Galileo, when threatened by the Inquisition, whispered that the earth still moved even as he publicly recanted. His feigned submission preserved his life — and his ideas endured. Lao Tzu, weary of a world drunk on ambition, retreated into obscurity, leaving behind a book of timeless wisdom. Both men “pretended to be dumb,” not in ignorance but in patience. They lived long enough for their truths to outlast the ignorance that condemned them.

Yet Dürrenmatt’s saying also hides a touch of sorrow. It speaks to the cost of wisdom in an unwise world. To survive, the brilliant must sometimes dull their own light. The true sage learns not to argue with every fool, nor to battle every tyranny head-on, but to wait, to endure, to let time vindicate them. The freedom of old age, he suggests, is the reward of those who have mastered restraint — those who have learned that silence can be louder than speech.

Practical counsel for the seeker:

• Do not display all your knowledge; wisdom shines brightest when it is subtle.

• Choose your battles carefully; not every truth must be spoken to every ear.

• Cultivate patience and humility — they are the armor of the wise in a noisy world.

• Remember: to live long is not to hide forever, but to speak when the moment is ripe, when the world is ready to listen.

For as Friedrich Dürrenmatt teaches, longevity belongs not to the loud, but to the discerning — those who can see the truth, bear it in silence, and wait for its time. The fool rushes to be right; the wise live to see righteousness unfold. Thus, to pretend to be dumb is, in truth, to play the greatest act of intelligence: to survive long enough to watch ignorance destroy itself.