Megan Mook

When we encounter both the man and philosophies of Friedrich Nietzsche, we do so under the echoes of a vast array of misinterpretations, pledges from a mass of ideologies that claim his support (anti-Semites and philo-Semites alike), most of which are still being clarified and debated today.  However, even in these attempts at clarification, there is an alluring temptation to approach this ambiguous figure with self-assurance, presupposing a familiarity with such formidable and attention deserving concepts as the Ubermench, the will to power, and the eternal recurrence of the same.    Hence, even after Walter Kauffman began his project of re-translating Nietzsche’s texts in the early 1950’s (ridding them of literal errors as well illuminating various shades of nuance), the full comport of his philosophies is still becoming known. This paper will thereby aim to dissolve the crudest of our misconceptions and at the same time elucidate some of his more complex movements of thought.  Through contextualizing his thought in other influential philosophy, I hope to enrich our conceptions of him as a thinker, as well the era that bore him.  Finally, this paper will examine Nietzsche’s own views of decadence, relating them to the more overarching conceptions of and within his philosophies.

Nietzsche willing admitted the profound influences that both Schopenhauer and Wagner had on him, both of whom he later declared as ultimately disloyal to life. One may turn to his texts to find supports for his split with both of these men, but of the two he dedicates much more commentary to Wagner, whom he once admired not only

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“The sad truth is that we  remain necessarily strangers to ourselves . . . the axiom ‘each man is farthest away from himself’ will hold us for all eternity.  Of ourselves, we are not ‘knowers’”

as a musician but as a friend. The rift that developed between their philosophies is the jumping board from which Nietzsche’s  most profound concepts soar.   Here, I’m choosing to outline some basic dimensions of Schopenhauer’s thought so that we may see how their flows reached Nietzsche’s own thought.  As for Wagner, we will not here take the time to consider his music separately, but rather will incorporate him into our later discussion of Nietzsche’s philosophy, specifically in terms of decadence.      

What most struck Nietzsche was Schopenhauer’s move away from the reason that characterized the seventeenth century to a subjective or relativist philosophy.  As a post Kantian thinker, Schopenhauer begins from the premise that we live in a phenomenal world and that the absolute cannot be grasped by rational measure, thus his statement ‘the world is my idea,’ from which follows his work The World as Will and Idea. In searching for the significance of this idea, Schopenhauer’s retort is resounding and definitive: will. Present in everything: man, animals, plants and crystals, will is the innermost nature of all; it is also its whole.  Everything is at the pleasure of will; it commands all, is the motivation for all, from our brains to our sexual organs.  Thus Schopenhauer’s vision of the world, where he saw the world as responding to this unmotivated, unevaluated life-urge, was always at variance with itself. Man’s consciousness similarly fell under this life-urge and was seen as governed by this distinct force, namely will.  We of course recognize the import of this philosophy as seen later in the work of Freud.  In addition, Schopenhauer can also be said to have anticipated the Darwinian concepts of evolution. If the world is ultimately will, and will is life, then like life, the world is always becoming; this constant becoming is of course coupled with destruction; a constant

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“It is terrible to die of thirst in the ocean.  Do you have to salt your truth so heavily that it does not even quench your thirst any more?”

becoming governs this causeless life-urge.  Thus we see how Schopenhauer removed a definitive aim from becoming (or more broadly life) and rendered movement onward, but not upward. It was this aspect of his philosophy, this nihilism, which attracted Nietzsche.

            Tangled in his own concept of will, Schopenhauer sought a way out for he said that “So long as our consciousness is filled by our will, so long as we are given up to the throng of desires with their constant hopes and fears, so long as we are the subjects of willing, we can never have happiness or peace” (Masur 49) He accepted two alternatives, one temporary (art) and the other permanent (religious asceticism).   Widely remembered as a philosopher of art, Schopenhauer’s ideas, although highly romantic, still remain an evocative interpretation of the role of art in man’s life.   It is in art that we are freed from the constant suffering of will, and  the pleasure that we are always seeking comes unsolicited. However, truly great art can be said to do more than suspend suffering; it brings more than a peace which is only the response to want. Of similarly romantic strains are Schopenhauer’s exaltations of music, which he conceived not as the copy of ideas, but the enactment of will itself:  “The composer reveals the inner nature of the world and expresses the deepest wisdom in a language which his reason does not understand . . . Music, therefore, if regarded as an expression of the world, is in the highest degree of a universal language” (Masur 50). Nietzsche was immensely attracted to Schopenhauer’s claims about music, as was Wagner.  The divine status to which Schopenhauer and subsequently Nietzsche attributed to music accounted for part of the grandeur of Nietzsche’s break with Wagner. 

However, even for Schopenhauer the universal language of music, as beautiful

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“Whoever does not know how to find his ideal lives more frivolously and imprudently than the man without an ideal”

 

as it may be, merely delivered him temporary reprieve in whose wake one was still confronted with will.  In response, he declared that no true peace could come from

outside of morality. His teachings that follow clearly resemble popular culture interpretations of Buddhism, yet in fact they differ significantly, the ways in which we will not here discuss.  On Schopenhauer’s path to ethical awakening, first man beings to realize that life consists of  vain struggling in the face of constant passing away. He then comes to understand all mankind as suffering, through which he experience the virtue of compassion.  The suffering can only be overcome once man has disavowed his nature through asceticism. It is through the negation of the self that man may find salvation from will, which leaves only nothingness.  Freed from his ties to the world, nothing further will plague man, and thus he will not be subject to the will, which is himself, the world and life itself. Sensing destructive danger for human life, Schopenhauer’s glorification of such virtues as compassion, self-denial and self-sacrifice colored Nietzsche’s horizon with a red flare.  He distinctly saw Schopenhauer as having turned away from life, and out of fear for the state of humanity, Nietzsche fired back, spouting provocative bullets directly at morality.     

            Nietzsche believed that it was precisely morality, exemplified in Schopenhauer by asceticism, that is responsible for man’s failure in reaching his highest potential. Asceticism, claims Nietzsche in The Genealogy of Morals, is an attempt to use energy to block the very sources of life energy.

Here the eye looks enviously and malevolently on all biological growth and on its principle expressions, beauty and joy, while it gazes with delight on all that is misshapen or stunted . . . We are face to face with a deliberate split, which gloats on its own discomfiture and grows more self-assured and triumphant the more its biological energy decreases (GM, 254).

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           “Rule as a riddle –‘if the bond shan’t burst – bite upon it first’”

 

Here the emphasis on biological strength clearly illustrates the influence of Darwinian thought, but let us be wary of hastily proposing Nietzsche as an evolutionist advocate who saw asceticism only as a ‘gratuitous sacrifice.’  Nietzsche, instead, understood responses such as asceticism as misdirected efforts in maximizing our beings, efforts that have been necessary, but through which we must break away if we are to realize our highest capacities.   He admired Schopenhauer for his honesty in confronting human existence, namely his ability to accept nothingness; however, Nietzsche did not seek to escape ourselves, to hide from our fears. In The Birth of Tragedy, he evokes Greek Tragedy as a means of affirming the subtle beauty of life, the joy, that exists in and along side the cruelty and suffering. Here again we see how firmly Nietzsche was rooted in his time as he too turned to the Greeks for example, searching for means with which to rejuvenated the spirit.

            How then does Nietzsche resolve Schopenhauer’s nihilism, for admonishing asceticism and seeking to affirm the beauty of life is not enough to constitute a sufficient break from the tutorial influences of Schopenhauer.  Nietzsche himself criticizes Schopenhauer for his nihilism; yet have we not always been told that it is this same Nietzsche who himself is the champion philosopher of nihilism?  Traditionally, nihilism has been used to describe the notion that the real is that which we have access to – only what is perceptible to our senses, that is only beings that one can experience oneself, constitute the real. This leads to a rejection of traditional values, for they posit the real outside of experience.  This philosophical move is referred to as positivism, and this is a very different nihilism than the one to which Nietzsche refers. For Nietzsche, nihilism is not a specific viewpoint put forward by someone; rather it is a historical

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“The thought of suicide is a powerful comfort: it helps one through many a dreadful night’”

 

given that he was the first to recognize.  It is the event in Western culture, of long

duration, wherein the truth of being as a whole transformed, the end of which, the nihilism, only reflects the truth that this historical change has provided. Hence his infamous statement, “God is Dead.”  Nietzsche did not kill God, rather he observed European society and thought, and perceived that culture had killed God along while back.

             Although Nietzsche’s nihilism is the documentation of a historical trend, we still have not established what in fact differentiates it from Schopenhauer’s?  The essential difference is that Nietzsche’s nihilism does not leave one with a vast nothingness to which we must surrender. Rather it engenders freedom, a positive opportunity.  “The fact that earlier aims now disappear and former values are devalued is no longer experienced as sheer annihilation and deplored as wasteful and wrong, but is rather greeted as a liberation, touted as an irrevocable gain and perceived as fulfillment” (Heidegger 850). In turn, nihilism takes on more than the destruction of all previous values; it calls for a new valuation – a revaluation.  Revaluation points to the disappearance of the very place for values [the transcendent], not merely the disappearance of such former values.

            Here, before we begin to examine The Twilight of the Idols for a better understanding of Nietzsche’s views of decadence, in order to dispel any ill-founded biases, let us first indulge in summarizing some of Nietzsche’s most notorious concepts which resulted from his notions of revaluation. Since value can no longer be drawn from above, value must therefore be drawn from beings.  And the basic character of beings as a whole is power.  It alone determines all things and does not recognize value outside of itself.  More specifically, the basic character of beings is will to power, “Every being, insofar as it is, and is as it is, is ‘will to power’” (Heidegger 852).   Will to power is

 

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“Today the man of knowledge might well feel like God became animal”

 

unique in that in order for power to maintain itself, it must be ever increasing in power;

it must be ever becoming.  “That which is opposed to becoming, the same or the identical, strictly speaking, is not” (Delueze 858). The new valuation of power, the essence of becoming, that which is being, necessarily tolerates no end outside of whole being. 

Here the question arises of what is whole being – for we certainly know that Nietzsche did not conceive of us as the embodiment of whole being.  Whole being then is something that we have not yet reached, but something that we are free to pursue as a result of the destruction of transcendent values. What then are we actively pursuing through our endless becoming, what then are we reaching towards in our efforts to realize a fuller potential?  The Overman.  The Overman (Ubermench) over takes man as we know him, meaning that it leaves the man of traditional values, of traditional weakness, behind.  He is as superior to men today as men are to apes. The Overman posits all values to the empowerment of power – it is justified to the extent that it serves to nurture and enhance the will to power. 

From Nietzsche’s point of view, the Overman is not meant to be a mere amplification of prior man, but the most unequivocally singular form of human existence that, as absolute will to power, is brought to power in every man . . . and thereby grants him membership to being as a whole (Heidegger 854).

Nietzsche gave no physical description of the Overman, the blond beast. And indeed there exists a pathetic irony when one considers the dissonance between the reality of the frail and sickly philosopher, and his conceptions of strength and power as

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“Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And when you look into an abyss, the abyss also looks at you”

embodied in his vision of the Overman.   However, the rift between the two is not as significant as the challenge that it presented Nietzsche to pursue his voyage. Nietzsche was well aware of his visionary gifts, as was he aware of his inability of fulfilling them himself. “I have been blessed by Providence with an outstanding comprehension of the truth such as rarely been granted to any man . . . in this matter I have reason for humility in only one respect: it is that I have not had the strength to be myself what I understood” (Masur 84).   For us, the fact that Nietzsche did not become his own ideal is relatively inconsequential.  For him, it meant that the he continued to suffer, and as a result he continued to push further and further into the unknown.

Throughout most of his life, Nietzsche was plagued by intense physical sufferings.  Subject to constant digestive problems, migraine headaches that would last for days, partial blindness and vomiting blood, he experienced sickness on an intensely personal level, and he thus understood the perspective value of health that sickness provides.  Philosophically, this is equally as true for Nietzsche.  Just as he denounced decadence, he also acknowledged his indebtedness to it, and to Wagner as well. Without decadence one would not understand the opportunity for self-consciousness that health avails.

Born in 1844 in a small Prussian town, Nietzsche was the son of a Protestant Pastor, who died when Nietzsche was still just a boy.  He attended academically distinguished schools throughout and, at the University of Basel at age twenty-four, his impressive studies earned him a doctorate without an examination.  He stayed at the University of Basel but taught only briefly,  retiring on a meager pension when he was forced to leave due to the illnesses which so impacted his life.

Until Nietzsche went to college where he was exposed to demysticizing theories of Christianity, he held strong religious convictions, Christian at that, which he had since he was a child [when his peers referred to him as The Pastor]. When in 1865

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“Whatever is done from love always occurs beyond good and evil”

Nietzsche came home for Easter from the University of Bonn, he made his mother cry when he refused communion. This refusal, however, did not mark an annihilating break from spirituality as much as a transformation into a new set of beliefs.  

What were some of the reasons that Nietzsche turned against Christianity, just as he turned against his two other noteworthy influences, Schopenhauer and Wagner?  Christian morality as Nietzsche interpreted it, with its emphasis on humility and servitude,  forces us to fight against our instincts, against life as life.  Such a force leads only to decline and eventually decay; Nietzsche declared such a movement away from life to be the exact formula of decadence.  He never succeeded in escaping decadence, in fact, as noted in “Five Faces of Modernity,” decadence is the central theme of Nietzsche’s philosophy. 

‘Nothing has preoccupied me more profoundly than the problem of decadence – I had reasons.  “Good and evil” is merely a variation of that problem.  Once one has developed a keen eye for the symptoms of decline, one understands morality, too – one understands what is hiding under its most sacred names and value formulas: impoverished life, the will to the end, the great weariness. Morality negates life’. (Calinescu    179).   

Morality, the instinct of decadence, says “’Perish!’ It is a condemnation pronounced by the condemned” (Twilight 490). More specifically, the key distinction of decadence is that the condemned choose to perish. No one condemns the condemned but themselves, and in choosing condemnation, in choosing morality, they overtly renounce the will to live.  Of utmost importance is that this self-chosen decrease in vitality is not the cause of decadence, but its effect. 

            This is the most harmful and dangerous mystification of decadence, the mistake

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Jesus said to his Jews: ’The law was for servants – love God as I love him, as his son.  What are morals to  us sons of God?’”

of confusing effect for the cause, as in the case of religion. Every religion, every morality, claims Nietzsche, is founded on a system of do’s and don’ts that claim happiness as their effect.  ‘In my mouth,’ retorts Nietzsche ‘

this formula is changed into its opposite – first example of my ‘revaluation of all values’: a well-turned-out human being, a ‘happy one,’ must perform certain actions and shrinks instinctively form other actions . . . In a formula, his virtue is the effect of his happiness (Twilight 493).

Following, for example, is that we are not destroyed by luxury, as the church claims, but that we are prey to luxury precisely because we are already degenerate, already decadent, and thus starving for stronger and more frequent stimulation.  Decadence imitates truth - that is its danger.  It presents its effects as its cause, it presents weakness as strength, as easily recognizable in Christianity. “Decadence is dangerous,” says Calinescu “because it always disguises itself as its opposite” (Calinescu 180). 

            Another symptom of decadence, in which Nietzsche himself fully participates, is the dialectic. It thus follows that he declared that he possessed “ ‘a subtler sense of smell for the signs of ascent and decline than any other human being before me; I am the teacher par excellence for this – I know both, I am both’” (Calinescu 180).  How can Nietzsche simultaneously shout the dangers of decadence, and himself dwell in decadence - for in fact he notes the indebtedness that he feels to his “dialectician’s clarity” ? The important thing to remember about Nietzsche’s approach to decadence is that neither truth nor error, fiction or lie has any value in and of itself.  Whether or not they promote or hinder life is the only thing that attributes value to such positions.  This may help to explain the many contradictions that are inherent in Nietzsche’s texts.  Some of them appear as generalities that are meant to jar us out of our complicity.

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“What a time experiences as evil is usually an untimely echo of what was formally experienced as good – the atavism of a more ancient ideal”

Others exists because, Nietzsche asks, what import does a ‘truth’ or ‘lie’ actually have?  And still, contradictions appear because for one reevaluating a system from within a system, they are inevitable.  Nietzsche himself was subject to the decadence of modernity, prisoner to a time in which he clearly did not belong.  Hence we understand that, “One chooses dialectic only when one has no other means.  One knows that one arouses mistrust with it, that it is not very persuasive. . . It can only be self-defense for those who no longer have other weapons” (Twilight 476).  It is Nietzsche’s grandiose project, the transvaluation of all values,  that accounts for the “feverishly dialectical quality of his thought” (Calinescu 180). 

It is therefore seen as a matter of perspective; in fact Nietzsche referred to his philosophy as “perspectivism.”  Thus, decadence is not something to be fought, in so far as decadence, decline, is a natural part of life.  However, one must secure the healthy parts of the organism from the sickness which is decadence – here we are not speaking physiologically (where decay is as natural growth), but psychologically.  One can be weak without being decadent, to be decadent one must will weakness.  “Decadence, then, appears as a form of psychological, moral or aesthetic self-deception, as a result of which weakness becomes a task, as Nietzsche puts it” (Calinescu 183).  The whole of the difference lies between the one who can realize that truth is a fiction (a creation of life which helps achieve its purpose, its power), and the decadent who paints fiction as truth.  “When we treat illusion as a reality, when we endow it with the “moral” prestige of truth, we blind ourselves to its nature and became the slaves of a lifeless dogma” (Calinescuv186).

By 1878, Nietzsche became certain that Richard Wagner refused to recognize a difference between the truth as a fiction and the decadent who declares fiction as truth. Nietzsche no longer saw truth of any kind in Wagner’s music, as he once had, but only

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“In the end one loves one’s desire and not what is desired”

a shallow, if cleverly veiled illusion that Wagner, and his mass of followers alike, mistook for truth.   By the time Nietzsche encountered Wagner’s music for the first time, a full ten years before he turned on him, Nietzsche was already immersed in Schopenhauer and his powerful notions of music. Again, Schopenhauer understood music not as a reflection of life, but as life itself, as pure will. In “Die Meistersinger” and “Tristan und Isolde” Nietzsche likewise felt that he was directly encountering reality itself.

The young Nietzsche went out of his way to become introduced to Wagner and in no time, the two became intimate friends.  A frequent guest of the Wagners at their villa in Switzerland,  “the older man seemed to offer everything that had been missing from [Nietzsche’s] life: a father, a god, and eventually a place to worship – the new theatre being planned for Bayreuth” (Pierpont 84). It was during the period when Nietzsche frequented the villa in Switzerland that he wrote and completed his first book The Birth of Tragedy (1872). In the work, he offers a return to Greek Tragedy as an insight into his redefinition of the creative impulse of art, specifically music.  In music, Nietzsche saw the power of life flowing through the individual with the simultaneous power to unite the finite self in the face of our tragedy.  “His description, part sensual rapture and part spiritual consolation, was exactly parallel to his description of Wagner,” which he passionately addresses in the final sections of the book (Pierpont 85).

In light of the power and subsequent expectations that Nietzsche entrusted to Wagner’s music, a disappointment seems almost inevitable, especially from under the scrutinizing eyes of a critic such as Nietzsche.  Wagner’s notorious pettiness, pretension and anti-Semitism made it all the more foreseeable. However, Nietzsche’s attack on Wagner far surpasses any personal disappointment or incompatibility.   In Wagner, Nietzsche saw the embodiment of the decadence of that epitomized modernity.

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“Not that you lied to me, but that I no longer believe you, has shaken me”

 

The decline of modernity was directly influenced by the decadence of the romantics, as Nietzsche was one of the first to point out.  Romantic decadence, as refuted by Goethe (here we recall his famous dictum “Classic is healthy, romantic is sick”), helped Nietzsche to attribute the illness of romanticism.  Not only did Goethe label the romantic age as sick, but he also represented, for Nietzsche, the strong and healthy, everything that is not decadent. What Nietzsche saw in Goethe, he came to decide, was what he found to be lacking in his youthful idols, Schopenhauer and Wagner, and in fact Goethe, as a historical personality, is the closest approximation of the Overman that Nietzsche left us.  Nietzsche saw both Goethe as person and the nineteenth century as striving for: “universality in understanding and in welcoming, letting everything come close to oneself, an audacious realism, a reverence for everything factual.  How is it that the result is no Goethe, but a nihilistic sigh, an utter bewilderment, an instinct of weariness. . .?” (Twilight 555).

What is it about decadence,  its nihilism and instinctive weariness, that is distinct to modernity, for Nietzsche saw modernity as the highest point of decadence?  The morality of the most decadent religion, Christianity, is not peculiar to the nineteenth century.  In fact, it was within the previous century, the age of reason, that the frayed edges of Christianity formally began to unwind. However, Nietzsche astutely noted that the nineteenth century inherited not so much a set of Christian symbols, but a ressentiment, an hostility to life (Calinescu 192).  This hostility to life, then, was not confined to Christian symbols, but became infused with all that was modern. Through this infusion, this ressentiment was able to appear as its very opposite; in Wagner’s latter music, Nietzsche claims to have recognized this hostility that mimicked truth.

Indeed Nietzsche was one of the first thinkers to have unveiled modernity’s dependence on Christianity.  Despite modernity’s (as well as the preceding decades)      

“Objections, digressions, gay mistrust, the delight in mockery are signs of health: everything unconditional belongs to pathology”

crusade against Christianity, the notions “progress” which so color modernity, still

revert back to the Christian conception of time, wherein the real is always in an utopian future.  Gasset characterizes “the modern ‘doctrine of culture’ [as] nothing but ‘a Christianity without God’” (Calinescu 193).  Thus modernity is still searching for something beyond; modernity is decadent as it ascribes to life meanings other than those of life itself. 

As already established, the advent of modernity did not murder God, rather the age of reason, a reason which Socrates was the first to betray through a veil of truth, had already killed him.  In Twilight of the Idols, Nietzsche concisely documents the stages in which the ‘true world’ became obscured, the true world being that in which our life giving instincts reign freely and joyously in the face of tragedy.  In fact, Twilight of the Idols is the work in which he explicitly aims at demythologizing our weak and yet trusted idols.  In so doing, Nietzsche essentially announces the dawn of a new set of values, values that accurately reflect life. What follows is “the History of an Error,” directly quoted in full, where Nietzsche traces the development of our illusions, and eventually our refusal of them. The paper then explores some of Nietzsche’s views of decadence as they relate to prominent fin-de-siècle themes, such as l’art  pour l'art, spirituality and Darwinism, all as seen within Twilight of the Idols.

How the “True World” Finally Became a Fable

            The History of an Error

1.  The true World – attainable for the sage, the pious the virtuous man; he lives in it,   he is it. (The oldest form of the idea, relatively senile, simple, and persuasive.  A circumlocution for the sentence, “I, Plato, am the truth).”

2.      The true world – unattainable for now, but promised for the sage, the pious,

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“Many a peacock hides his peacock tail from all eyes – and that he calls pride”

 

the virtuous man (“for the sinner who repents”). (Progress of the idea: it becomes more subtle, insidious, incomprehensible – it becomes female, it becomes Christian.

            3.  The true world – unattainable, indemonstrable, unpromisable; but the very thought of it, a consolation, an obligation, an imperative.  (At bottom, the old sun, but seen through mist and skepticism.  The idea has become elusive, pale, Nordic, Kantian.)

            4. The true world – unattainable?  At any rate, unattained.  And being unattained, also unknown.  Consequently, not consoling, redeeming, or obligating: how could something unknown obligate us?  (Gray morning.  The first yawn of reason. The cockcrow of positivism.)

            5. The “true’’ world - an idea which is no longer food for anything, not even obligating – an idea which has become superfluous – consequently, a refuted idea: let us abolish it! (Bright day; breakfast, return of bon sens and cheerfulness; Plato’s embarrassed blush; pandemonium of all free spirits.)

            6. The true world – we have abolished.  What world has remained?  The apparent one perhaps? But no! With the true world we have also abolished the apparent one. (Noon; moment of briefest shadow; end of the longest error; high point of humanity; INCIPIT ZARATHRUSTRA [Zarathustra begins].)  (Twilight 485,6). 

L’art pour l’art:

Or in Nietzsche’s words: “The devil take morality!”

Nietzsche saw the acclaimed art for art’s sake movement of the turn of the century as an essentially empty phrase.  The fight against purpose in art, to Nietzsche, was essentially a rebellion against the moralizing tendency in art; thence his exclamation:: “the devil take morality!” But is it acceptable to deny art purpose namely because of the fear of morality?  Nietzsche saw this denial as a mere passionate and ineffective cry.  What does art do for us, Nietzsche (as the psychologist) asks?  “does it not praise? 

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“It was subtle of God to learn Greek when he wished to become an author – and not to learn it better”

 

glorify?  choose? prefer? With all of this it strengthens or weakens certain validations” (Twilight 529).  Each of these questions posed by art are not incidental side effects, argues Nietzsche. They point to a tendency in the artist whose basic instinct aims not merely at art, but at the sense of art – the sense of a life.  “Art is the great stimulus of life: how could one understand it as purposeless, as aimless, as l’art pour l’art?” (Twilight 529).

However, what happens when the basic instinct of the artist aims at an ‘ugly’ side of life -does it thereby mean that art spoils life for us? In essence, this is what Schopenhauer describes when he says that art offers “liberation from the will,” for will is of course life.  However, Nietzsche suggests that we appeal to the artists themselves, asking what does the tragic artist show us?  Is not the tragic artist communicating without fear in the face of all that is ugly and questionable in life? The tragic artist therefore affirms life in the face of its tragedy.  “Courage and freedom of feeling before a powerful enemy, before a sublime calamity, before a problem that arouses dread – this triumphant state is what the tragic artist chooses, what he glorifies” (Twilight 530).  Since for Nietzsche art is the great stimulus for life, even tragic art, we can not understand it, we must not understand it as purposeless, unless we too will decline. 

Spirituality

Thus art’s purpose is to stimulate life; however, we must be careful not to conceive of life as similarly having a purpose, a teleos. Life’s only goal is to power, to continue becoming – to live. To trace being back to will or to acts of responsibility is to deprive becoming of its innocence, says Nietzsche. Similarly, “It is absurd to wish to devolve one’s essence on an end. We have invented the concept of an end.  In reality, there is no

end” (Twilight 499). Up until this point, we’ve done away with God, morality, transcendence and now purpose. Finally the question arises, what, if any, is Nietzsche’s

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“The sense of the tragic  gains and wanes with sensuality”

 

concept of spirituality?  Is spirituality possible without the fore mentioned?

Yes, Nietzsche not only affirms spirituality, but he actually tells us what we must do to learn how to be spiritual. The three lessons which Nietzsche commissions us to learn are how to see, speak and write.

The first preliminary schooling for spirituality is learning how to see, that is how to accustom the eye to calmness and acceptance.  One must learn not to react, not to will, “to be able to suspend decision. All unspirituality, all vulgar commonness, depend on the inability to resist a stimulus: one must react . . .” (Twilight 511).   We also need to learn to think, an essential craft that Nietzsche did not see as being taught in even the universities.   He believed that we must learn to think like we learn to dance, through a technique; but we also need to understand thinking as a kind of dancing.  To be spiritual, one must be able to dance with one’s feet and concepts alike. One must also be able to dance with the pen. Heidegger was later to pick up on this idea of linking thought, as a craft, to the written word and thus to the hand.

Interestingly, even with the necessary destruction of morality, the passions can play a spiritual role in life. Passions themselves are not bad – in fact, nothing is bad in itself.  Any destructive tendencies of passion are merely the effect of decadence, yet the important thing is that one does not willing fall prey to the destructive spell of passion.  “All passions have a phase when they are merely disastrous, when they drag down their victim with the weight of stupidity – and a later, very much later phase when they wed the spirit, when they ‘spiritualize’ themselves” (Twilight 486). Spirituality, in fact, plays a substantial role in Nietzsche’s philosophy as a whole, as one of the essential components of the Overman, spirituality as such must be one of our goals.  

 Darwin

On first consideration, one might assume that Nietzsche is unequivocally pro-Darwin.

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“Whoever is a teacher through and through takes all things seriously only in relation to his students – even himself”

However, given a closer glance, Nietzsche actually views ‘evolution’ quite differently from

Darwin.  Instead of a struggle for existence, Nietzsche sees an existence that is characterized by richness, abundance, even absurd squandering.  There is of course a struggle for existence, says Nietzsche, but this is the exception, not the norm. Any struggle is for power, for power is continuously struggling to overcome itself, in order to keep becoming, in order to exist as such. However, when there is such an exceptional  struggle for existence, Nietzsche, interestingly, sees it as the opposite as the Darwinian school which favors the strong and fortunate, the fittest of the fit.  Rather, Nietzsche saw the weak (the vast majority) as victorious, again and again, over and against the strong.

Darwin forgot the spirit (that is English!); the weak have more spirit.  One must need spirit to acquire spirit; one looses it when one no longer needs it.  Whoever has strength dispenses with spirit . . . it will be noted that by ‘spirit’ I mean care, patience, cunning, simulation, great self-control, and everything that is mimicry (the latter includes a great deal of so-called virtue). (Twilight 523).

This illustrates Nietzsche’s praise of the Jewish, who assimilated ‘virtues’ such as the ones above and who, in so doing, survived as a race and people through a reversal of values wherein humility, patience, servitude became admirable for their adversaries, the  Christians.  Here it should be noted that Nietzsche was not, despite his post-humus association with Nazism, anti-Semitic. He became furious when the anti-Semitic press took him for a supporter of prejudice against “ ‘the strongest, toughest, and purest race now living in Europe.’” In Beyond Good and Evil he wrote that, instead of expelling the Jews from Germany “ ‘it might be useful and fair to expel the anti-Semitic screamers from the country’” (Pierpont 88).

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“An incarnation of dissonance – and what else is man?”

How then did Nietzsche’s philosophy became the stage for Hitler’s intense anti-Semitism?  After Nietzsche’s mother took control of him when he was declared insane in 1895, all of his estate – papers, books and unpublished writings – fell into the hands of his sister (that “ ‘vindictive anti-Semitic goose’”).  She held back certain works, re-edited others, and published an array of scattered notes under the title The Will to Power which was taken up as Nazi source book of sorts.  Indeed, it was Nietzsche’s sister Elizabeth who is to blame for the massive misinterpretation of Nietzsche’s work by the Nazis who claimed his support; incidentally, “she would have been proud to bear [the weight of the blame]” (Pierpont 88).

            Indeed his sister Elizabeth bears immense responsibility for many of the ill- founded readings of Nietzsche’s text.  However, Nietzsche himself consciously wrote in such a way as to challenge the reader.  His strong inclinations toward psychology pushed him to always push his readers – only when one needs to be strong will one become stronger.  His witty word play, as well as his memorable aphorisms, examples of which appear at the bottom of each page, make quoting him out of context tempting.  Of course, his many contradictions also lend themselves to easily misconstrued interpretations.  

            Any view of Nietzsche as a ruthless, heartless man who dismissed the good of people in the name of strength is also terribly misconstrued.  Strength is the thing that gives value to goodness, for then the goodness is freely chosen.  As a man, Nietzsche felt that pity was always a major problem throughout his life.  Hence we see why he made such an attack against it in his philosophy; he must have felt that it was holding back something vital in himself.  Similarly, Nietzsche “laments ‘a soft spot that would have made any magnanimous Greek burst into laughter.’  In fact, Nietzsche confessed to feeling a terror at the idea of compassion – a terror of being swamped by the suffering of the world” (Pierpont 89).   In 1889, Nietzsche collapsed with his arms wrapped around the neck of a horse whom he was frantically trying to save from execution. He withheld ten years until his eventual death in 1900.