1. The Will to Truth, which is to tempt us to many a hazardous enterprise, the famous Truthfulness of which all philosophers have hitherto spoken with respect, what questions has this Will to Truth not laid before us! What strange, perplexing, questionable questions! It is already a long story; yet it seems as if it were hardly commenced. Is it any wonder if we at last grow distrustful, lose patience, and turn impatiently away? That this Sphinx teaches us at last to ask questions ourselves? WHO is it really that puts questions to us here? WHAT really is this "Will to Truth" in us? In fact we made a long halt at the question as to the origin of this Will—until at last we came to an absolute standstill before a yet more fundamental question. We inquired about the VALUE of this Will. Granted that we want the truth: WHY NOT RATHER untruth? And uncertainty? Even ignorance? The problem of the value of truth presented itself before us—or was it we who presented ourselves before the problem? Which of us is the Oedipus here? Which the Sphinx? It would seem to be a rendezvous of questions and notes of interrogation. And could it be believed that it at last seems to us as if the problem had never been propounded before, as if we were the first to discern it, get a sight of it, and RISK RAISING it? For there is risk in raising it, perhaps there is no greater risk.
1. The Will to Truth will tempt us into many dangerous ventures. It is the famous Truthfulness that all philosophers have spoken of with respect until now. What questions has this Will to Truth not put before us! What strange, puzzling, troubling questions! The story is already long, yet it seems hardly to have begun. Is it any wonder if we finally grow distrustful, lose patience, and turn away impatiently? Is it any wonder if this Sphinx finally teaches us to ask questions ourselves? WHO is really asking us questions here? WHAT really is this "Will to Truth" in us? In fact, we spent a long time asking where this Will came from. Then we finally came to a complete stop before an even more basic question. We asked about the VALUE of this Will. Granted that we want truth: WHY NOT RATHER untruth? And uncertainty? Even ignorance? The problem of truth's value appeared before us. Or was it we who appeared before the problem? Which of us is Oedipus here? Which is the Sphinx? This would seem to be a meeting of questions and question marks. And who would believe how the problem finally seems to us? As if no one had ever raised it before. As if we were the first to recognize it, catch sight of it, and RISK RAISING it. For there is a risk in raising it. Perhaps there is no greater risk.
2. "HOW COULD anything originate out of its opposite? For example, truth out of error? or the Will to Truth out of the will to deception? or the generous deed out of selfishness? or the pure sun-bright vision of the wise man out of covetousness? Such genesis is impossible; whoever dreams of it is a fool, nay, worse than a fool; things of the highest value must have a different origin, an origin of THEIR own—in this transitory, seductive, illusory, paltry world, in this turmoil of delusion and cupidity, they cannot have their source. But rather in the lap of Being, in the intransitory, in the concealed God, in the 'Thing-in-itself—THERE must be their source, and nowhere else!"—This mode of reasoning discloses the typical prejudice by which metaphysicians of all times can be recognized, this mode of valuation is at the back of all their logical procedure; through this "belief" of theirs, they exert themselves for their "knowledge," for something that is in the end solemnly christened "the Truth." The fundamental belief of metaphysicians is THE BELIEF IN ANTITHESES OF VALUES. It never occurred even to the wariest of them to doubt here on the very threshold (where doubt, however, was most necessary); though they had made a solemn vow, "DE OMNIBUS DUBITANDUM." For it may be doubted, firstly, whether antitheses exist at all; and secondly, whether the popular valuations and antitheses of value upon which metaphysicians have set their seal, are not perhaps merely superficial estimates, merely provisional perspectives, besides being probably made from some corner, perhaps from below—"frog perspectives," as it were, to borrow an expression current among painters. In spite of all the value which may belong to the true, the positive, and the unselfish, it might be possible that a higher and more fundamental value for life generally should be assigned to pretence, to the will to delusion, to selfishness, and cupidity. It might even be possible that WHAT constitutes the value of those good and respected things, consists precisely in their being insidiously related, knotted, and crocheted to these evil and apparently opposed things—perhaps even in being essentially identical with them. Perhaps! But who wishes to concern himself with such dangerous "Perhapses"! For that investigation one must await the advent of a new order of philosophers, such as will have other tastes and inclinations, the reverse of those hitherto prevalent—philosophers of the dangerous "Perhaps" in every sense of the term. And to speak in all seriousness, I see such new philosophers beginning to appear.
2. "HOW COULD anything come from its opposite? For example, truth from error? Or the Will to Truth from the will to deceive? Or a generous deed from selfishness? Or the wise man's pure, sun-bright vision from greed? Such an origin is impossible. Anyone who dreams of it is a fool, indeed, worse than a fool. Things of the highest value must have a different origin, an origin of THEIR own. They cannot come from this fleeting, seductive, illusory, petty world, from this turmoil of delusion and greed. Instead, their source must lie in the lap of Being, in what never passes away, in the hidden God. In the 'Thing-in-itself,' THERE must be their source, and nowhere else!" This reasoning reveals the typical prejudice that marks metaphysicians of all times. This way of assigning value underlies all their logical reasoning. Their "belief" drives their efforts toward "knowledge," toward something finally and solemnly christened "the Truth." The fundamental belief of metaphysicians is THE BELIEF IN OPPOSITE VALUES. Even the most cautious metaphysicians never thought to doubt this belief at the very outset, where doubt was most necessary. Yet they had solemnly vowed, "EVERYTHING MUST BE DOUBTED." For we may doubt, first, whether opposites exist at all. Second, we may doubt the popular judgments and oppositions of value that metaphysicians have endorsed. Perhaps these are merely superficial judgments, merely provisional perspectives. They are also probably views from some corner, perhaps from below. They are "frog perspectives," so to speak, to borrow an expression used by painters. Despite whatever value truth, affirmation, and unselfishness may have, pretense, the will to delusion, selfishness, and greed might have greater value. Their value for life in general might be higher and more fundamental. Perhaps the value of those good and respected things comes precisely from their hidden, tangled interweaving with these evil, apparently opposite things. Perhaps those good and respected things are even essentially identical with these evil things. Perhaps! But who wants to concern themselves with such dangerous "Perhapses"! For that investigation, we must await the arrival of a new kind of philosopher. These philosophers will have different tastes and inclinations, the reverse of those that have prevailed until now. They will be philosophers of the dangerous "Perhaps" in every sense of the term. And, speaking in all seriousness, I see such new philosophers beginning to appear.
3. Having kept a sharp eye on philosophers, and having read between their lines long enough, I now say to myself that the greater part of conscious thinking must be counted among the instinctive functions, and it is so even in the case of philosophical thinking; one has here to learn anew, as one learned anew about heredity and "innateness." As little as the act of birth comes into consideration in the whole process and procedure of heredity, just as little is "being-conscious" OPPOSED to the instinctive in any decisive sense; the greater part of the conscious thinking of a philosopher is secretly influenced by his instincts, and forced into definite channels. And behind all logic and its seeming sovereignty of movement, there are valuations, or to speak more plainly, physiological demands, for the maintenance of a definite mode of life For example, that the certain is worth more than the uncertain, that illusion is less valuable than "truth" such valuations, in spite of their regulative importance for US, might notwithstanding be only superficial valuations, special kinds of niaiserie, such as may be necessary for the maintenance of beings such as ourselves. Supposing, in effect, that man is not just the "measure of things."
3. I have watched philosophers closely and read between their lines long enough. I now tell myself that most conscious thinking must be counted among our instinctive functions. This holds even for philosophical thinking. We must rethink this, just as we had to rethink heredity and "innateness." The act of birth matters little to the whole process of heredity. Just as little is "being-conscious" OPPOSED to instinct in any decisive sense. Most of a philosopher’s conscious thinking is secretly influenced by his instincts and forced into specific paths. Behind all logic and its seemingly independent movement lie value judgments. More plainly, these are physiological demands for maintaining a particular way of life. For example, we judge that certainty is worth more than uncertainty, and that illusion is worth less than "truth". Despite their importance in guiding US, such judgments might still be merely superficial. They might be particular kinds of foolishness, such as may be necessary to sustain beings like ourselves. Assuming, of course, that man is not simply the "measure of things."
4. The falseness of an opinion is not for us any objection to it: it is here, perhaps, that our new language sounds most strangely. The question is, how far an opinion is life-furthering, life-preserving, species-preserving, perhaps species-rearing, and we are fundamentally inclined to maintain that the falsest opinions (to which the synthetic judgments a priori belong), are the most indispensable to us, that without a recognition of logical fictions, without a comparison of reality with the purely IMAGINED world of the absolute and immutable, without a constant counterfeiting of the world by means of numbers, man could not live—that the renunciation of false opinions would be a renunciation of life, a negation of life. TO RECOGNISE UNTRUTH AS A CONDITION OF LIFE; that is certainly to impugn the traditional ideas of value in a dangerous manner, and a philosophy which ventures to do so, has thereby alone placed itself beyond good and evil.
4. For us, an opinion’s falseness is no objection to it. Perhaps this is where our new language sounds strangest. The question is how far an opinion supports life, preserves life, preserves the species, or perhaps develops the species. We are fundamentally inclined to argue that the falsest opinions are the ones we need most. These include synthetic judgments a priori. Without accepting logical fictions, human beings could not live. Nor could we live without comparing reality to the purely IMAGINED world of the absolute and unchanging. Nor could we live without constantly falsifying the world through numbers. Giving up false opinions would mean giving up life, denying life. TO RECOGNIZE UNTRUTH AS A CONDITION OF LIFE: this certainly challenges traditional ideas of value in a dangerous way. A philosophy that dares to do so has, by that act alone, placed itself beyond good and evil.
5. That which causes philosophers to be regarded half-distrustfully and half-mockingly, is not the oft-repeated discovery how innocent they are—how often and easily they make mistakes and lose their way, in short, how childish and childlike they are,—but that there is not enough honest dealing with them, whereas they all raise a loud and virtuous outcry when the problem of truthfulness is even hinted at in the remotest manner. They all pose as though their real opinions had been discovered and attained through the self-evolving of a cold, pure, divinely indifferent dialectic (in contrast to all sorts of mystics, who, fairer and foolisher, talk of "inspiration"), whereas, in fact, a prejudiced proposition, idea, or "suggestion," which is generally their heart's desire abstracted and refined, is defended by them with arguments sought out after the event. They are all advocates who do not wish to be regarded as such, generally astute defenders, also, of their prejudices, which they dub "truths,"—and VERY far from having the conscience which bravely admits this to itself, very far from having the good taste of the courage which goes so far as to let this be understood, perhaps to warn friend or foe, or in cheerful confidence and self-ridicule. The spectacle of the Tartuffery of old Kant, equally stiff and decent, with which he entices us into the dialectic by-ways that lead (more correctly mislead) to his "categorical imperative"—makes us fastidious ones smile, we who find no small amusement in spying out the subtle tricks of old moralists and ethical preachers. Or, still more so, the hocus-pocus in mathematical form, by means of which Spinoza has, as it were, clad his philosophy in mail and mask—in fact, the "love of HIS wisdom," to translate the term fairly and squarely—in order thereby to strike terror at once into the heart of the assailant who should dare to cast a glance on that invincible maiden, that Pallas Athene:—how much of personal timidity and vulnerability does this masquerade of a sickly recluse betray!
5. Philosophers are viewed with a mixture of distrust and mockery. But not because people keep discovering how innocent philosophers are. They make mistakes and lose their way so often and so easily. In short, they are childish and childlike. The real reason is their lack of honesty. Yet they all protest loudly and virtuously at even the slightest hint that their truthfulness might be questioned. They all pretend their actual opinions emerged from the workings of cold, pure, divinely indifferent reasoning. In contrast, mystics of all kinds are more honest and more foolish when they speak of "inspiration". In fact, philosophers start with a biased claim, idea, or "suggestion". Usually, this is their heart's desire, made abstract and refined. Then they defend it with arguments found after the fact. They are all advocates who do not want to be seen as advocates. Generally, they are also shrewd defenders of their prejudices, which they call "truths". They are VERY far from having the conscience to admit this honestly to themselves. They are equally far from the good taste and courage to let others see it. They might do so to warn friends or enemies, or out of cheerful confidence and self-mockery. Consider old Kant's Tartuffery, his stiff yet respectable show of piety. With it, he lures us down the side paths of reasoning toward his "categorical imperative". More accurately, he misleads us. The spectacle makes those of us with discriminating tastes smile. We take considerable pleasure in spotting the subtle tricks of old moralists and preachers of ethics. Even more amusing is Spinoza's hocus-pocus in mathematical form. With it, he has, so to speak, dressed his philosophy in armor and a mask. In fact, to translate the term plainly and honestly, his philosophy is the "love of HIS wisdom". His purpose is to terrify any attacker who dares even to glance at that invincible maiden, that Pallas Athene. How much personal timidity and vulnerability this sickly recluse's masquerade reveals!
6. It has gradually become clear to me what every great philosophy up till now has consisted of—namely, the confession of its originator, and a species of involuntary and unconscious auto-biography; and moreover that the moral (or immoral) purpose in every philosophy has constituted the true vital germ out of which the entire plant has always grown. Indeed, to understand how the abstrusest metaphysical assertions of a philosopher have been arrived at, it is always well (and wise) to first ask oneself: "What morality do they (or does he) aim at?" Accordingly, I do not believe that an "impulse to knowledge" is the father of philosophy; but that another impulse, here as elsewhere, has only made use of knowledge (and mistaken knowledge!) as an instrument. But whoever considers the fundamental impulses of man with a view to determining how far they may have here acted as INSPIRING GENII (or as demons and cobolds), will find that they have all practiced philosophy at one time or another, and that each one of them would have been only too glad to look upon itself as the ultimate end of existence and the legitimate LORD over all the other impulses. For every impulse is imperious, and as SUCH, attempts to philosophize. To be sure, in the case of scholars, in the case of really scientific men, it may be otherwise—"better," if you will; there there may really be such a thing as an "impulse to knowledge," some kind of small, independent clock-work, which, when well wound up, works away industriously to that end, WITHOUT the rest of the scholarly impulses taking any material part therein. The actual "interests" of the scholar, therefore, are generally in quite another direction—in the family, perhaps, or in money-making, or in politics; it is, in fact, almost indifferent at what point of research his little machine is placed, and whether the hopeful young worker becomes a good philologist, a mushroom specialist, or a chemist; he is not CHARACTERISED by becoming this or that. In the philosopher, on the contrary, there is absolutely nothing impersonal; and above all, his morality furnishes a decided and decisive testimony as to WHO HE IS,—that is to say, in what order the deepest impulses of his nature stand to each other.
6. I have gradually come to see what every great philosophy so far has been: its creator’s confession. Each has also been a kind of unintended, unconscious autobiography. Moreover, every philosophy’s moral (or immoral) aim has been the living seed from which the whole plant has grown. To understand how a philosopher reached even the most obscure metaphysical claims, it is always useful (and wise) to ask first: "What morality are these claims (or their author) aiming at?" So I do not believe that an "impulse to knowledge" gives birth to philosophy. Rather, here as elsewhere, another impulse has merely used knowledge (and mistaken knowledge!) as a tool. But consider humanity’s basic impulses and ask how far they may have acted here as INSPIRING GENII (or as demons and cobolds). You will find that all these impulses have practiced philosophy at one time or another. Each would have been only too glad to see itself as existence’s ultimate purpose. Each would also have gladly claimed to be the rightful LORD over all the other impulses. For every impulse seeks to rule and, as SUCH, tries to philosophize. Of course, scholars, those who are genuinely scientific, may be different. Their case may be "better," if you like. Among scholars, there may really be an "impulse to knowledge," a kind of small, independent clockwork mechanism. Once properly wound, this mechanism works steadily toward knowledge, WITHOUT the scholar’s other impulses playing any significant part. The scholar’s actual "interests," then, generally lie elsewhere, perhaps in family life, making money, or politics. In fact, it hardly matters what area of research the scholar’s little machine is set to work on. Nor does it matter whether the promising young researcher becomes a good philologist, a mushroom specialist, or a chemist. Becoming one or another does not tell us what CHARACTERISES him. In the philosopher, by contrast, absolutely nothing is impersonal. Above all, his morality gives clear and decisive evidence of WHO HE IS. His morality reveals how the deepest impulses of his nature rank in relation to one another.
7. How malicious philosophers can be! I know of nothing more stinging than the joke Epicurus took the liberty of making on Plato and the Platonists; he called them Dionysiokolakes. In its original sense, and on the face of it, the word signifies "Flatterers of Dionysius"—consequently, tyrants' accessories and lick-spittles; besides this, however, it is as much as to say, "They are all ACTORS, there is nothing genuine about them" (for Dionysiokolax was a popular name for an actor). And the latter is really the malignant reproach that Epicurus cast upon Plato: he was annoyed by the grandiose manner, the mise en scene style of which Plato and his scholars were masters—of which Epicurus was not a master! He, the old school-teacher of Samos, who sat concealed in his little garden at Athens, and wrote three hundred books, perhaps out of rage and ambitious envy of Plato, who knows! Greece took a hundred years to find out who the garden-god Epicurus really was. Did she ever find out?
7. How malicious philosophers can be! I know of nothing more cutting than the joke Epicurus dared to make about Plato and the Platonists. He called them Dionysiokolakes. In its original, obvious sense, the word means "Flatterers of Dionysius", so accomplices and bootlickers of tyrants. But it also means, "They are all ACTORS, there is nothing genuine about them" (Dionysiokolax was a common name for an actor). And this second meaning was the truly malicious accusation Epicurus hurled at Plato. Epicurus resented the grand style and theatrical staging that Plato and his students had mastered. Epicurus himself had not mastered that style! He was the old schoolteacher from Samos, hidden away in his little garden in Athens, writing three hundred books. Perhaps he wrote them out of rage and ambitious envy of Plato. Who knows! Greece took a hundred years to discover who the garden god Epicurus really was. Did Greece ever find out?
8. There is a point in every philosophy at which the "conviction" of the philosopher appears on the scene; or, to put it in the words of an ancient mystery:
8. Every philosophy reaches a point where the philosopher's "conviction" enters the scene. Or, in the words of an ancient mystery:
Adventavit asinus, Pulcher et fortissimus.
The donkey has arrived, handsome and very strong.
9. You desire to LIVE "according to Nature"? Oh, you noble Stoics, what fraud of words! Imagine to yourselves a being like Nature, boundlessly extravagant, boundlessly indifferent, without purpose or consideration, without pity or justice, at once fruitful and barren and uncertain: imagine to yourselves INDIFFERENCE as a power—how COULD you live in accordance with such indifference? To live—is not that just endeavouring to be otherwise than this Nature? Is not living valuing, preferring, being unjust, being limited, endeavouring to be different? And granted that your imperative, "living according to Nature," means actually the same as "living according to life"—how could you do DIFFERENTLY? Why should you make a principle out of what you yourselves are, and must be? In reality, however, it is quite otherwise with you: while you pretend to read with rapture the canon of your law in Nature, you want something quite the contrary, you extraordinary stage-players and self-deluders! In your pride you wish to dictate your morals and ideals to Nature, to Nature herself, and to incorporate them therein; you insist that it shall be Nature "according to the Stoa," and would like everything to be made after your own image, as a vast, eternal glorification and generalism of Stoicism! With all your love for truth, you have forced yourselves so long, so persistently, and with such hypnotic rigidity to see Nature FALSELY, that is to say, Stoically, that you are no longer able to see it otherwise—and to crown all, some unfathomable superciliousness gives you the Bedlamite hope that BECAUSE you are able to tyrannize over yourselves—Stoicism is self-tyranny—Nature will also allow herself to be tyrannized over: is not the Stoic a PART of Nature?... But this is an old and everlasting story: what happened in old times with the Stoics still happens today, as soon as ever a philosophy begins to believe in itself. It always creates the world in its own image; it cannot do otherwise; philosophy is this tyrannical impulse itself, the most spiritual Will to Power, the will to "creation of the world," the will to the causa prima.
9. You want to LIVE "according to Nature"? Oh, you noble Stoics, what a fraud your words are! Imagine a being like Nature: endlessly wasteful, endlessly indifferent, without purpose or concern, without pity or justice. At once fruitful, barren, and unpredictable. Imagine INDIFFERENCE as a power. How COULD you live according to such indifference? Doesn't living mean trying to be different from this Nature? Doesn't living mean valuing, preferring, being unjust, being limited, trying to be different? And suppose your command, "living according to Nature," really means the same as "living according to life." How could you do OTHERWISE? Why make a principle out of what you yourselves are and must be? But in reality, you are doing something quite different. You pretend to read the rules of your law in Nature with delight. Yet you want the exact opposite, you extraordinary actors and self-deceivers! In your pride, you want to dictate your morals and ideals to Nature herself and make them part of her. You insist that Nature must be Nature "according to the Stoa." You want everything made in your own image, as a vast, eternal celebration and universal extension of Stoicism! Despite all your love of truth, you have forced yourselves to see Nature FALSELY, meaning Stoically. You have done so for so long, so persistently, and with such hypnotic rigidity that you cannot see Nature otherwise. And to crown it all, some unfathomable arrogance gives you a madman's hope. BECAUSE you can tyrannize over yourselves, you hope Nature will also let you tyrannize over her. Stoicism is self-tyranny, after all. Isn't the Stoic a PART of Nature?... But this is an old, endlessly repeated story. What happened long ago with the Stoics still happens today whenever a philosophy begins to believe in itself. A philosophy always creates the world in its own image. It cannot do otherwise. Philosophy is this tyrannical impulse itself, the most spiritual Will to Power. It is the will to the "creation of the world," the will to the causa prima.
10. The eagerness and subtlety, I should even say craftiness, with which the problem of "the real and the apparent world" is dealt with at present throughout Europe, furnishes food for thought and attention; and he who hears only a "Will to Truth" in the background, and nothing else, cannot certainly boast of the sharpest ears. In rare and isolated cases, it may really have happened that such a Will to Truth—a certain extravagant and adventurous pluck, a metaphysician's ambition of the forlorn hope—has participated therein: that which in the end always prefers a handful of "certainty" to a whole cartload of beautiful possibilities; there may even be puritanical fanatics of conscience, who prefer to put their last trust in a sure nothing, rather than in an uncertain something. But that is Nihilism, and the sign of a despairing, mortally wearied soul, notwithstanding the courageous bearing such a virtue may display. It seems, however, to be otherwise with stronger and livelier thinkers who are still eager for life. In that they side AGAINST appearance, and speak superciliously of "perspective," in that they rank the credibility of their own bodies about as low as the credibility of the ocular evidence that "the earth stands still," and thus, apparently, allowing with complacency their securest possession to escape (for what does one at present believe in more firmly than in one's body?),—who knows if they are not really trying to win back something which was formerly an even securer possession, something of the old domain of the faith of former times, perhaps the "immortal soul," perhaps "the old God," in short, ideas by which they could live better, that is to say, more vigorously and more joyously, than by "modern ideas"? There is DISTRUST of these modern ideas in this mode of looking at things, a disbelief in all that has been constructed yesterday and today; there is perhaps some slight admixture of satiety and scorn, which can no longer endure the BRIC-A-BRAC of ideas of the most varied origin, such as so-called Positivism at present throws on the market; a disgust of the more refined taste at the village-fair motleyness and patchiness of all these reality-philosophasters, in whom there is nothing either new or true, except this motleyness. Therein it seems to me that we should agree with those skeptical anti-realists and knowledge-microscopists of the present day; their instinct, which repels them from MODERN reality, is unrefuted... what do their retrograde by-paths concern us! The main thing about them is NOT that they wish to go "back," but that they wish to get AWAY therefrom. A little MORE strength, swing, courage, and artistic power, and they would be OFF—and not back!
10. Across Europe today, thinkers approach the problem of "the real and the apparent world" with eagerness and subtlety, even craftiness. Their approach deserves thought and attention. Anyone who hears only a "Will to Truth" behind it certainly cannot claim to have the sharpest ears. In rare, isolated cases, such a Will to Truth may really have played a part. It is a kind of extravagant, adventurous courage, a metaphysician's ambition to pursue a hopeless cause. In the end, it always prefers a handful of "certainty" to a whole cartload of beautiful possibilities. There may even be puritanical fanatics of conscience who would rather place their final trust in a certain nothing than an uncertain something. But that is Nihilism, the sign of a despairing soul, weary to the point of death. The courageous face such a virtue may present does not change that. Yet things seem different with stronger, livelier thinkers who still have an appetite for life. They side AGAINST appearance and speak of "perspective" with contempt. They consider their own bodies about as believable as the visual evidence that "the earth stands still." In doing so, they apparently let their most certain possession slip away, quite contentedly. For what do people today believe in more firmly than their bodies? Who knows whether these thinkers are really trying to recover something that was once an even more certain possession? Perhaps they want something from the old realm of faith, perhaps the "immortal soul," perhaps "the old God." In short, perhaps they want ideas that let them live better, more vigorously and joyfully, than "modern ideas" do. This outlook expresses DISTRUST of modern ideas, disbelief in everything constructed yesterday and today. Perhaps there is also a touch of weariness and scorn. Perhaps these thinkers can no longer tolerate the BRIC-A-BRAC of ideas from every imaginable source that so-called Positivism now markets. Perhaps their more refined taste recoils from the village-fair jumble and patchwork offered by all these second-rate philosophers of reality. Nothing about these philosophers is either new or true except that very jumble. Here, it seems to me, we should agree with today's skeptical anti-realists and microscopic examiners of knowledge. Their instinct, which drives them away from MODERN reality, remains unrefuted... Why should their backward-leading side paths concern us! The main thing is NOT that they want to go "back," but that they want to get AWAY from modern reality. A little MORE strength, momentum, courage, and artistic power, and they would be OFF, not back!
11. It seems to me that there is everywhere an attempt at present to divert attention from the actual influence which Kant exercised on German philosophy, and especially to ignore prudently the value which he set upon himself. Kant was first and foremost proud of his Table of Categories; with it in his hand he said: "This is the most difficult thing that could ever be undertaken on behalf of metaphysics." Let us only understand this "could be"! He was proud of having DISCOVERED a new faculty in man, the faculty of synthetic judgment a priori. Granting that he deceived himself in this matter; the development and rapid flourishing of German philosophy depended nevertheless on his pride, and on the eager rivalry of the younger generation to discover if possible something—at all events "new faculties"—of which to be still prouder!—But let us reflect for a moment—it is high time to do so. "How are synthetic judgments a priori POSSIBLE?" Kant asks himself—and what is really his answer? "BY MEANS OF A MEANS (faculty)"—but unfortunately not in five words, but so circumstantially, imposingly, and with such display of German profundity and verbal flourishes, that one altogether loses sight of the comical niaiserie allemande involved in such an answer. People were beside themselves with delight over this new faculty, and the jubilation reached its climax when Kant further discovered a moral faculty in man—for at that time Germans were still moral, not yet dabbling in the "Politics of hard fact." Then came the honeymoon of German philosophy. All the young theologians of the Tubingen institution went immediately into the groves—all seeking for "faculties." And what did they not find—in that innocent, rich, and still youthful period of the German spirit, to which Romanticism, the malicious fairy, piped and sang, when one could not yet distinguish between "finding" and "inventing"! Above all a faculty for the "transcendental"; Schelling christened it, intellectual intuition, and thereby gratified the most earnest longings of the naturally pious-inclined Germans. One can do no greater wrong to the whole of this exuberant and eccentric movement (which was really youthfulness, notwithstanding that it disguised itself so boldly, in hoary and senile conceptions), than to take it seriously, or even treat it with moral indignation. Enough, however—the world grew older, and the dream vanished. A time came when people rubbed their foreheads, and they still rub them today. People had been dreaming, and first and foremost—old Kant. "By means of a means (faculty)"—he had said, or at least meant to say. But, is that—an answer? An explanation? Or is it not rather merely a repetition of the question? How does opium induce sleep? "By means of a means (faculty)," namely the virtus dormitiva, replies the doctor in Moliere,
11. It seems to me that people everywhere now try to distract us from Kant’s actual influence on German philosophy. Above all, they carefully avoid discussing how highly he valued himself. Kant was proudest of his Table of Categories. Holding it in his hand, he said: "This is the most difficult thing that could ever be undertaken for metaphysics." We need only grasp the force of that "could be"! He was proud of having DISCOVERED a new human faculty: the capacity for synthetic judgment a priori. Granted, he deceived himself about this. Still, German philosophy developed and flourished rapidly because of his pride. The younger generation eagerly competed to discover something they could be even prouder of, at least "new faculties"! But let us stop and think for a moment. It is high time we did. "How are synthetic judgments a priori POSSIBLE?" Kant asks himself. And what is his actual answer? "BY MEANS OF A MEANS (faculty)". Unfortunately, he does not give this brief answer plainly. Instead, he surrounds it with elaborate explanations, imposing displays of German profundity, and verbal flourishes. The result is that we completely overlook the comical German foolishness in such an answer. People were beside themselves with delight at this new faculty. Their joy peaked when Kant also discovered a moral faculty in human beings. For Germans were still moral then, not yet dabbling in the "Politics of hard fact." Then came German philosophy’s honeymoon. All the young theologians at the Tubingen institution immediately went into the groves, all searching for "faculties." And what didn’t they find in that innocent, rich, still youthful period of the German spirit! Romanticism, that malicious fairy, played and sang for it. People could not yet tell the difference between "finding" and "inventing"! Above all, they found a faculty for the "transcendental". Schelling named it intellectual intuition. In doing so, he satisfied the deepest longings of the Germans, with their natural inclination toward piety. Nothing could do greater injustice to this whole exuberant, eccentric movement than taking it seriously, or even expressing moral outrage. The movement was really youthful, despite boldly disguising itself in ancient, senile ideas. Enough, though. The world grew older, and the dream vanished. A time came when people rubbed their foreheads, and they still rub them today. People had been dreaming, and old Kant most of all. "By means of a means (faculty)", he had said, or at least meant to say. But is that an answer? An explanation? Or does it merely repeat the question? How does opium induce sleep? "By means of a means (faculty)", namely the virtus dormitiva, replies the doctor in Moliere,
Quia est in eo virtus dormitiva, Cujus est natura sensus assoupire.
Because it has a sleep-inducing power, A power whose nature is to put the senses to sleep.
But such replies belong to the realm of comedy, and it is high time to replace the Kantian question, "How are synthetic judgments a PRIORI possible?" by another question, "Why is belief in such judgments necessary?"—in effect, it is high time that we should understand that such judgments must be believed to be true, for the sake of the preservation of creatures like ourselves; though they still might naturally be false judgments! Or, more plainly spoken, and roughly and readily—synthetic judgments a priori should not "be possible" at all; we have no right to them; in our mouths they are nothing but false judgments. Only, of course, the belief in their truth is necessary, as plausible belief and ocular evidence belonging to the perspective view of life. And finally, to call to mind the enormous influence which "German philosophy"—I hope you understand its right to inverted commas (goosefeet)?—has exercised throughout the whole of Europe, there is no doubt that a certain VIRTUS DORMITIVA had a share in it; thanks to German philosophy, it was a delight to the noble idlers, the virtuous, the mystics, the artiste, the three-fourths Christians, and the political obscurantists of all nations, to find an antidote to the still overwhelming sensualism which overflowed from the last century into this, in short—"sensus assoupire."...
But such answers belong in comedy. It is high time to replace Kant’s question, "How are synthetic judgments a PRIORI possible?" with another question: "Why is belief in such judgments necessary?" In fact, it is high time we understood that creatures like ourselves must believe these judgments are true to survive. Yet these judgments might, of course, be false! Or, to put it more plainly and bluntly, synthetic judgments a priori should not "be possible" at all. We have no right to them. When we make them, they are nothing but false judgments. Yet belief in their truth is necessary, as a plausible belief and apparent visual certainty within life’s perspective. Finally, consider the enormous influence that "German philosophy" has had throughout Europe. I hope you understand why it deserves those quotation marks (goose feet)? There is no doubt that a certain VIRTUS DORMITIVA, a sleep-inducing power, played a part in that influence. Thanks to German philosophy, noble idlers, the virtuous, mystics, artists, three-quarter Christians, and political obscurantists of all nations were delighted. They had found an antidote to the still overwhelming sensualism that had spilled over from the previous century into this one. In short, "sensus assoupire," putting the senses to sleep....
12. As regards materialistic atomism, it is one of the best-refuted theories that have been advanced, and in Europe there is now perhaps no one in the learned world so unscholarly as to attach serious signification to it, except for convenient everyday use (as an abbreviation of the means of expression)—thanks chiefly to the Pole Boscovich: he and the Pole Copernicus have hitherto been the greatest and most successful opponents of ocular evidence. For while Copernicus has persuaded us to believe, contrary to all the senses, that the earth does NOT stand fast, Boscovich has taught us to abjure the belief in the last thing that "stood fast" of the earth—the belief in "substance," in "matter," in the earth-residuum, and particle-atom: it is the greatest triumph over the senses that has hitherto been gained on earth. One must, however, go still further, and also declare war, relentless war to the knife, against the "atomistic requirements" which still lead a dangerous after-life in places where no one suspects them, like the more celebrated "metaphysical requirements": one must also above all give the finishing stroke to that other and more portentous atomism which Christianity has taught best and longest, the SOUL-ATOMISM. Let it be permitted to designate by this expression the belief which regards the soul as something indestructible, eternal, indivisible, as a monad, as an atomon: this belief ought to be expelled from science! Between ourselves, it is not at all necessary to get rid of "the soul" thereby, and thus renounce one of the oldest and most venerated hypotheses—as happens frequently to the clumsiness of naturalists, who can hardly touch on the soul without immediately losing it. But the way is open for new acceptations and refinements of the soul-hypothesis; and such conceptions as "mortal soul," and "soul of subjective multiplicity," and "soul as social structure of the instincts and passions," want henceforth to have legitimate rights in science. In that the NEW psychologist is about to put an end to the superstitions which have hitherto flourished with almost tropical luxuriance around the idea of the soul, he is really, as it were, thrusting himself into a new desert and a new distrust—it is possible that the older psychologists had a merrier and more comfortable time of it; eventually, however, he finds that precisely thereby he is also condemned to INVENT—and, who knows? perhaps to DISCOVER the new.
12. Materialistic atomism is one of the most thoroughly refuted theories ever proposed. Perhaps no scholar in Europe today is so unscholarly as to take it seriously. Scholars may still use it for everyday convenience (as a shorthand way of speaking). We owe this chiefly to the Pole Boscovich. He and the Pole Copernicus have so far been the greatest and most successful opponents of what our eyes tell us. Copernicus persuaded us to believe, against all our senses, that the earth does NOT stand still. Boscovich taught us to abandon belief in the last thing about the earth that "stood fast". This was the belief in "substance," in "matter," in the earth’s ultimate residue, the particle-atom. This is the greatest triumph over the senses ever achieved on earth. But we must go further. We must also wage relentless war, a fight to the death, against "atomistic requirements". These still linger dangerously where no one suspects them, like the better-known "metaphysical requirements". Above all, we must finish off another, more ominous atomism, the SOUL-ATOMISM that Christianity has taught best and longest. Let this term name the belief that the soul is indestructible, eternal, and indivisible, a monad, an atomon. This belief must be driven out of science! Between ourselves, doing so does not require us to get rid of "the soul". Nor must we give up one of the oldest and most revered hypotheses. Natural scientists often do just that through sheer clumsiness. They can hardly touch the soul without immediately losing it. But the way is open to new interpretations and refinements of the soul-hypothesis. Ideas such as "mortal soul," "soul of subjective multiplicity," and "soul as social structure of the instincts and passions," now demand legitimate standing in science. The NEW psychologist is about to end the superstitions that have flourished around the soul with almost tropical abundance. In doing so, he is, so to speak, plunging into a new desert and a new distrust. Perhaps the older psychologists had a happier and more comfortable time. Eventually, however, he finds that this very step also condemns him to INVENT. And who knows? Perhaps also to DISCOVER something new.
13. Psychologists should bethink themselves before putting down the instinct of self-preservation as the cardinal instinct of an organic being. A living thing seeks above all to DISCHARGE its strength—life itself is WILL TO POWER; self-preservation is only one of the indirect and most frequent RESULTS thereof. In short, here, as everywhere else, let us beware of SUPERFLUOUS teleological principles!—one of which is the instinct of self-preservation (we owe it to Spinoza's inconsistency). It is thus, in effect, that method ordains, which must be essentially economy of principles.
13. Psychologists should think twice before calling self-preservation the fundamental instinct of a living being. A living thing seeks above all to DISCHARGE its strength. Life itself is WILL TO POWER. Self-preservation is only one of the indirect and most frequent RESULTS of this will. In short, here as everywhere else, let us beware of SUPERFLUOUS principles that explain things by their supposed purposes! The instinct of self-preservation is one such principle (we owe it to Spinoza's inconsistency). Sound method demands this caution, since method must essentially use as few principles as possible.
14. It is perhaps just dawning on five or six minds that natural philosophy is only a world-exposition and world-arrangement (according to us, if I may say so!) and NOT a world-explanation; but in so far as it is based on belief in the senses, it is regarded as more, and for a long time to come must be regarded as more—namely, as an explanation. It has eyes and fingers of its own, it has ocular evidence and palpableness of its own: this operates fascinatingly, persuasively, and CONVINCINGLY upon an age with fundamentally plebeian tastes—in fact, it follows instinctively the canon of truth of eternal popular sensualism. What is clear, what is "explained"? Only that which can be seen and felt—one must pursue every problem thus far. Obversely, however, the charm of the Platonic mode of thought, which was an ARISTOCRATIC mode, consisted precisely in RESISTANCE to obvious sense-evidence—perhaps among men who enjoyed even stronger and more fastidious senses than our contemporaries, but who knew how to find a higher triumph in remaining masters of them: and this by means of pale, cold, grey conceptional networks which they threw over the motley whirl of the senses—the mob of the senses, as Plato said. In this overcoming of the world, and interpreting of the world in the manner of Plato, there was an ENJOYMENT different from that which the physicists of today offer us—and likewise the Darwinists and anti-teleologists among the physiological workers, with their principle of the "smallest possible effort," and the greatest possible blunder. "Where there is nothing more to see or to grasp, there is also nothing more for men to do"—that is certainly an imperative different from the Platonic one, but it may notwithstanding be the right imperative for a hardy, laborious race of machinists and bridge-builders of the future, who have nothing but ROUGH work to perform.
14. Perhaps five or six minds are just beginning to realize something about natural philosophy. It merely presents and organizes the world (according to us, if I may put it that way!). It does NOT explain the world. But because natural philosophy rests on faith in the senses, people see it as more, namely, as an explanation. And for a long time to come, they must continue to see it that way. Natural philosophy has eyes and fingers of its own, its own visible evidence and things one can touch. All this fascinates, persuades, and CONVINCES an age whose tastes are fundamentally those of the common crowd. In fact, natural philosophy instinctively follows the age-old popular rule that the senses determine truth. What is clear, what is "explained"? Only what can be seen and felt. Every problem must be pursued to that point. By contrast, the appeal of Plato's way of thinking lay precisely in RESISTANCE to obvious sensory evidence. His was an ARISTOCRATIC way of thinking. Perhaps those who thought this way had even stronger and more refined senses than people today. Yet they knew how to find a greater triumph in remaining masters of their senses. They did so through pale, cold, gray webs of concepts. They cast these webs over the colorful whirl of the senses, the mob of the senses, as Plato said. This overcoming and interpreting of the world in Plato's manner offered a different kind of ENJOYMENT from what today's physicists offer. The same contrast applies to Darwinists and to physiologists who reject explanations based on purpose. They offer the principle of the "smallest possible effort," along with the greatest possible blunder. "Where there is nothing more to see or to grasp, there is also nothing more for men to do". That is certainly a different command from Plato's. Yet it may still be the right command for a tough, hardworking race of future machinists and bridge-builders. They will have nothing but ROUGH work to do.
15. To study physiology with a clear conscience, one must insist on the fact that the sense-organs are not phenomena in the sense of the idealistic philosophy; as such they certainly could not be causes! Sensualism, therefore, at least as regulative hypothesis, if not as heuristic principle. What? And others say even that the external world is the work of our organs? But then our body, as a part of this external world, would be the work of our organs! But then our organs themselves would be the work of our organs! It seems to me that this is a complete REDUCTIO AD ABSURDUM, if the conception CAUSA SUI is something fundamentally absurd. Consequently, the external world is NOT the work of our organs—?
15. To study physiology with a clear conscience, we must insist that our sense organs are not mere appearances, as idealist philosophy claims. If our sense organs were mere appearances, they certainly could not be causes! So we must accept sensualism, at least as a guiding hypothesis, if not as a principle for discovery. What? And some even say that the external world is the work of our organs? But then our body, as part of the external world, would be the work of our organs! But then our organs themselves would be the work of our organs! This seems to me a complete REDUCTIO AD ABSURDUM, if the concept of CAUSA SUI (self-causation) is fundamentally absurd. So the external world is NOT the work of our organs?
16. There are still harmless self-observers who believe that there are "immediate certainties"; for instance, "I think," or as the superstition of Schopenhauer puts it, "I will"; as though cognition here got hold of its object purely and simply as "the thing in itself," without any falsification taking place either on the part of the subject or the object. I would repeat it, however, a hundred times, that "immediate certainty," as well as "absolute knowledge" and the "thing in itself," involve a CONTRADICTIO IN ADJECTO; we really ought to free ourselves from the misleading significance of words! The people on their part may think that cognition is knowing all about things, but the philosopher must say to himself: "When I analyze the process that is expressed in the sentence, 'I think,' I find a whole series of daring assertions, the argumentative proof of which would be difficult, perhaps impossible: for instance, that it is I who think, that there must necessarily be something that thinks, that thinking is an activity and operation on the part of a being who is thought of as a cause, that there is an 'ego,' and finally, that it is already determined what is to be designated by thinking—that I KNOW what thinking is. For if I had not already decided within myself what it is, by what standard could I determine whether that which is just happening is not perhaps 'willing' or 'feeling'? In short, the assertion 'I think,' assumes that I COMPARE my state at the present moment with other states of myself which I know, in order to determine what it is; on account of this retrospective connection with further 'knowledge,' it has, at any rate, no immediate certainty for me."—In place of the "immediate certainty" in which the people may believe in the special case, the philosopher thus finds a series of metaphysical questions presented to him, veritable conscience questions of the intellect, to wit: "Whence did I get the notion of 'thinking'? Why do I believe in cause and effect? What gives me the right to speak of an 'ego,' and even of an 'ego' as cause, and finally of an 'ego' as cause of thought?" He who ventures to answer these metaphysical questions at once by an appeal to a sort of INTUITIVE perception, like the person who says, "I think, and know that this, at least, is true, actual, and certain"—will encounter a smile and two notes of interrogation in a philosopher nowadays. "Sir," the philosopher will perhaps give him to understand, "it is improbable that you are not mistaken, but why should it be the truth?"
16. There are still harmless observers of themselves who believe in "immediate certainties". For instance, "I think," or, as Schopenhauer's superstition puts it, "I will". They act as though knowledge here grasped its object purely and simply as "the thing in itself". They assume no distortion occurs on either the subject's or the object's side. But I would repeat a hundred times that "immediate certainty", "absolute knowledge", and the "thing in itself" contain a CONTRADICTION IN TERMS. We really ought to free ourselves from the misleading meanings of words! Ordinary people may think that knowledge means knowing everything about things. But the philosopher must say to himself: "When I analyze the process expressed by 'I think,' I find a whole series of bold claims. Proving these claims through argument would be difficult, perhaps impossible. For instance, that it is I who think, and that there must necessarily be something that thinks. That thinking is an activity performed by a being understood as its cause. That there is an 'ego'. And finally, that what counts as thinking has already been settled, that I KNOW what thinking is. For if I had not already decided what thinking is, what standard could I use? How could I tell whether what is happening now might instead be 'willing' or 'feeling'? In short, the claim 'I think,' assumes that I COMPARE my present state with other states of myself that I know. I make this comparison to determine what my present state is. Because the claim looks back to other 'knowledge,' it has, at any rate, no immediate certainty for me." Instead of the "immediate certainty" that ordinary people may believe in here, the philosopher finds a series of metaphysical questions. These are genuine questions of intellectual conscience: "Where did I get the idea of 'thinking'? Why do I believe in cause and effect? What gives me the right to speak of an 'ego'? Or even of an 'ego' as a cause, and finally of an 'ego' as the cause of thought?" Someone may venture to answer these metaphysical questions at once by appealing to a kind of INTUITIVE perception. Such a person might say, "I think, and know that this, at least, is true, real, and certain". Nowadays, a philosopher will meet that person with a smile and two question marks. "Sir," the philosopher will perhaps suggest, "it is unlikely that you are not mistaken. But why should it be the truth?"
17. With regard to the superstitions of logicians, I shall never tire of emphasizing a small, terse fact, which is unwillingly recognized by these credulous minds—namely, that a thought comes when "it" wishes, and not when "I" wish; so that it is a PERVERSION of the facts of the case to say that the subject "I" is the condition of the predicate "think." ONE thinks; but that this "one" is precisely the famous old "ego," is, to put it mildly, only a supposition, an assertion, and assuredly not an "immediate certainty." After all, one has even gone too far with this "one thinks"—even the "one" contains an INTERPRETATION of the process, and does not belong to the process itself. One infers here according to the usual grammatical formula—"To think is an activity; every activity requires an agency that is active; consequently"... It was pretty much on the same lines that the older atomism sought, besides the operating "power," the material particle wherein it resides and out of which it operates—the atom. More rigorous minds, however, learnt at last to get along without this "earth-residuum," and perhaps some day we shall accustom ourselves, even from the logician's point of view, to get along without the little "one" (to which the worthy old "ego" has refined itself).
17. As for the superstitions of logicians, I will never tire of stressing one small, simple fact. These gullible minds are reluctant to admit it: a thought comes when "it" wishes, not when "I" wish. So it is a PERVERSION of the facts to say that the subject "I" is the condition for the predicate "think." ONE thinks. But to put it mildly, identifying this "one" with the famous old "ego" is only an assumption, an assertion. It is certainly not an "immediate certainty." In fact, even saying "one thinks" goes too far. Even the "one" contains an INTERPRETATION of the process and is not part of the process itself. The reasoning follows the usual grammatical formula: "Thinking is an activity. Every activity requires an agent that acts. Therefore"... Older atomism reasoned in much the same way. Besides the operating "power," it sought a material particle in which that power resides and from which it acts: the atom. More rigorous minds, however, eventually learned to do without this "earth-residuum." And perhaps someday, even from the logician's perspective, we will learn to do without the little "one." (The worthy old "ego" has been refined into this "one.")
18. It is certainly not the least charm of a theory that it is refutable; it is precisely thereby that it attracts the more subtle minds. It seems that the hundred-times-refuted theory of the "free will" owes its persistence to this charm alone; some one is always appearing who feels himself strong enough to refute it.
18. Certainly, one of a theory’s chief charms is that it can be refuted. That is precisely what attracts subtler minds. The theory of "free will" has been refuted a hundred times, yet seems to survive on this charm alone. Someone always comes along who feels strong enough to refute the theory.
19. Philosophers are accustomed to speak of the will as though it were the best-known thing in the world; indeed, Schopenhauer has given us to understand that the will alone is really known to us, absolutely and completely known, without deduction or addition. But it again and again seems to me that in this case Schopenhauer also only did what philosophers are in the habit of doing—he seems to have adopted a POPULAR PREJUDICE and exaggerated it. Willing seems to me to be above all something COMPLICATED, something that is a unity only in name—and it is precisely in a name that popular prejudice lurks, which has got the mastery over the inadequate precautions of philosophers in all ages. So let us for once be more cautious, let us be "unphilosophical": let us say that in all willing there is firstly a plurality of sensations, namely, the sensation of the condition "AWAY FROM WHICH we go," the sensation of the condition "TOWARDS WHICH we go," the sensation of this "FROM" and "TOWARDS" itself, and then besides, an accompanying muscular sensation, which, even without our putting in motion "arms and legs," commences its action by force of habit, directly we "will" anything. Therefore, just as sensations (and indeed many kinds of sensations) are to be recognized as ingredients of the will, so, in the second place, thinking is also to be recognized; in every act of the will there is a ruling thought;—and let us not imagine it possible to sever this thought from the "willing," as if the will would then remain over! In the third place, the will is not only a complex of sensation and thinking, but it is above all an EMOTION, and in fact the emotion of the command. That which is termed "freedom of the will" is essentially the emotion of supremacy in respect to him who must obey: "I am free, 'he' must obey"—this consciousness is inherent in every will; and equally so the straining of the attention, the straight look which fixes itself exclusively on one thing, the unconditional judgment that "this and nothing else is necessary now," the inward certainty that obedience will be rendered—and whatever else pertains to the position of the commander. A man who WILLS commands something within himself which renders obedience, or which he believes renders obedience. But now let us notice what is the strangest thing about the will,—this affair so extremely complex, for which the people have only one name. Inasmuch as in the given circumstances we are at the same time the commanding AND the obeying parties, and as the obeying party we know the sensations of constraint, impulsion, pressure, resistance, and motion, which usually commence immediately after the act of will; inasmuch as, on the other hand, we are accustomed to disregard this duality, and to deceive ourselves about it by means of the synthetic term "I": a whole series of erroneous conclusions, and consequently of false judgments about the will itself, has become attached to the act of willing—to such a degree that he who wills believes firmly that willing SUFFICES for action. Since in the majority of cases there has only been exercise of will when the effect of the command—consequently obedience, and therefore action—was to be EXPECTED, the APPEARANCE has translated itself into the sentiment, as if there were a NECESSITY OF EFFECT; in a word, he who wills believes with a fair amount of certainty that will and action are somehow one; he ascribes the success, the carrying out of the willing, to the will itself, and thereby enjoys an increase of the sensation of power which accompanies all success. "Freedom of Will"—that is the expression for the complex state of delight of the person exercising volition, who commands and at the same time identifies himself with the executor of the order—who, as such, enjoys also the triumph over obstacles, but thinks within himself that it was really his own will that overcame them. In this way the person exercising volition adds the feelings of delight of his successful executive instruments, the useful "underwills" or under-souls—indeed, our body is but a social structure composed of many souls—to his feelings of delight as commander. L'EFFET C'EST MOI. what happens here is what happens in every well-constructed and happy commonwealth, namely, that the governing class identifies itself with the successes of the commonwealth. In all willing it is absolutely a question of commanding and obeying, on the basis, as already said, of a social structure composed of many "souls", on which account a philosopher should claim the right to include willing-as-such within the sphere of morals—regarded as the doctrine of the relations of supremacy under which the phenomenon of "life" manifests itself.
19. Philosophers usually speak of the will as though it were the best-known thing in the world. Indeed, Schopenhauer tells us that the will alone is truly known to us, absolutely and completely, without inference or addition. But again and again, it seems to me that Schopenhauer has merely done what philosophers usually do. He seems to have adopted a POPULAR PREJUDICE and exaggerated it. Willing seems to me, above all, something COMPLICATED, something unified only by its name. And popular prejudice hides precisely in that name. Throughout history, this prejudice has overcome philosophers’ inadequate precautions. So let us be more cautious for once. Let us be "unphilosophical". Let us say, first, that every act of willing contains several sensations. We sense the condition "AWAY FROM WHICH we go" and the condition "TOWARDS WHICH we go". We also sense this "FROM" and "TOWARDS" itself. In addition, there is an accompanying muscular sensation. Through habit, this sensation begins as soon as we "will" anything, even without moving our "arms and legs". So sensations, and indeed many kinds of sensations, must be recognized as ingredients of the will. Second, thinking must also be recognized as an ingredient. Every act of willing contains a ruling thought. Let us not imagine we could separate this thought from "willing", as though the will would then remain! Third, the will is not merely a combination of sensation and thought. Above all, it is an EMOTION, specifically the emotion of commanding. What we call "freedom of the will" is essentially the feeling of superiority over someone who must obey. "I am free, 'he' must obey": this awareness belongs to every act of willing. So do intense attention and a direct gaze fixed exclusively on one thing. So does the unconditional judgment that "this and nothing else is necessary now". There is also the inward certainty that obedience will follow, along with everything else involved in being a commander. A person who WILLS commands something within themselves that obeys, or that they believe obeys. But now consider the strangest thing about the will, this extremely complex affair for which people have only one name. In these circumstances, we are both the commanding AND the obeying parties. As the obeying party, we know the sensations of constraint, compulsion, pressure, resistance, and movement. These sensations usually begin immediately after the act of willing. Yet we habitually ignore this division and deceive ourselves about it through the unifying term "I". Because of this, a whole series of mistaken conclusions has become attached to the act of willing. These conclusions have produced false judgments about the will itself. The error goes so far that the person willing firmly believes willing SUFFICES for action. In most cases, we have exercised the will only when the command’s effect was to be EXPECTED. That effect is obedience, and therefore action. So the APPEARANCE has become a feeling, as if the effect MUST NECESSARILY FOLLOW. In short, the person willing believes with considerable certainty that willing and acting are somehow one. They credit the will itself with the success, with carrying out what was willed. As a result, they enjoy an increased feeling of power, the feeling that accompanies all success. "Freedom of Will" names the complex state of delight experienced by someone who wills. This person commands while also identifying with whoever carries out the order. In that role, they also enjoy the triumph over obstacles. But they think to themselves that their own will really overcame those obstacles. In this way, they add their successful instruments’ delight to their own delight as commander. These instruments are the useful "underwills" or subordinate souls. Indeed, our body is nothing but a social structure made up of many souls. L'EFFET C'EST MOI. The effect is me. What happens here also happens in every well-organized and happy commonwealth. The ruling class identifies itself with the commonwealth’s successes. All willing is entirely a matter of commanding and obeying. As already noted, this rests on a social structure made up of many "souls". For this reason, a philosopher should claim the right to place willing itself within the realm of morality. Morality here means the study of the relations of dominance through which the phenomenon of "life" expresses itself.
20. That the separate philosophical ideas are not anything optional or autonomously evolving, but grow up in connection and relationship with each other, that, however suddenly and arbitrarily they seem to appear in the history of thought, they nevertheless belong just as much to a system as the collective members of the fauna of a Continent—is betrayed in the end by the circumstance: how unfailingly the most diverse philosophers always fill in again a definite fundamental scheme of POSSIBLE philosophies. Under an invisible spell, they always revolve once more in the same orbit, however independent of each other they may feel themselves with their critical or systematic wills, something within them leads them, something impels them in definite order the one after the other—to wit, the innate methodology and relationship of their ideas. Their thinking is, in fact, far less a discovery than a re-recognizing, a remembering, a return and a home-coming to a far-off, ancient common-household of the soul, out of which those ideas formerly grew: philosophizing is so far a kind of atavism of the highest order. The wonderful family resemblance of all Indian, Greek, and German philosophizing is easily enough explained. In fact, where there is affinity of language, owing to the common philosophy of grammar—I mean owing to the unconscious domination and guidance of similar grammatical functions—it cannot but be that everything is prepared at the outset for a similar development and succession of philosophical systems, just as the way seems barred against certain other possibilities of world-interpretation. It is highly probable that philosophers within the domain of the Ural-Altaic languages (where the conception of the subject is least developed) look otherwise "into the world," and will be found on paths of thought different from those of the Indo-Germans and Mussulmans, the spell of certain grammatical functions is ultimately also the spell of PHYSIOLOGICAL valuations and racial conditions.—So much by way of rejecting Locke's superficiality with regard to the origin of ideas.
20. Individual philosophical ideas are not arbitrary, nor do they develop independently. Instead, they grow in connection with one another. However suddenly and arbitrarily these ideas seem to appear in the history of thought, they still belong to a system. They belong together just as much as the animal species of a continent do. One fact ultimately reveals this connection: the most diverse philosophers unfailingly fill out the same basic framework of POSSIBLE philosophies. As if under an invisible spell, these philosophers keep returning to the same orbit. They may feel independent of one another in their efforts to criticize or build systems. Yet something within them guides and drives them, one after another, in a definite order. That force is the built-in method and relationships of their ideas. Their thinking is really far less a discovery than a recognition, a remembering. It is a return, a homecoming to a distant, ancient household of the soul, where those ideas once grew. To that extent, philosophizing is a kind of ancestral reversion of the highest order. The remarkable family resemblance among all Indian, Greek, and German philosophy is easy enough to explain. Where languages are related, they share a philosophy of grammar. By this I mean the unconscious rule and guidance of similar grammatical functions. Because of this shared grammar, everything is inevitably prepared from the outset for philosophical systems to develop in similar sequences. At the same time, the way seems blocked to certain other possible interpretations of the world. Philosophers working within the Ural-Altaic languages, where the concept of the subject is least developed, very probably look differently "into the world." They will very probably follow different paths of thought from those of the Indo-Germans and Mussulmans. The spell of certain grammatical functions is ultimately also the spell of PHYSIOLOGICAL value judgments and racial conditions. So much for Locke's superficial account of the origin of ideas.
21. The CAUSA SUI is the best self-contradiction that has yet been conceived, it is a sort of logical violation and unnaturalness; but the extravagant pride of man has managed to entangle itself profoundly and frightfully with this very folly. The desire for "freedom of will" in the superlative, metaphysical sense, such as still holds sway, unfortunately, in the minds of the half-educated, the desire to bear the entire and ultimate responsibility for one's actions oneself, and to absolve God, the world, ancestors, chance, and society therefrom, involves nothing less than to be precisely this CAUSA SUI, and, with more than Munchausen daring, to pull oneself up into existence by the hair, out of the slough of nothingness. If any one should find out in this manner the crass stupidity of the celebrated conception of "free will" and put it out of his head altogether, I beg of him to carry his "enlightenment" a step further, and also put out of his head the contrary of this monstrous conception of "free will": I mean "non-free will," which is tantamount to a misuse of cause and effect. One should not wrongly MATERIALISE "cause" and "effect," as the natural philosophers do (and whoever like them naturalize in thinking at present), according to the prevailing mechanical doltishness which makes the cause press and push until it "effects" its end; one should use "cause" and "effect" only as pure CONCEPTIONS, that is to say, as conventional fictions for the purpose of designation and mutual understanding,—NOT for explanation. In "being-in-itself" there is nothing of "casual-connection," of "necessity," or of "psychological non-freedom"; there the effect does NOT follow the cause, there "law" does not obtain. It is WE alone who have devised cause, sequence, reciprocity, relativity, constraint, number, law, freedom, motive, and purpose; and when we interpret and intermix this symbol-world, as "being-in-itself," with things, we act once more as we have always acted—MYTHOLOGICALLY. The "non-free will" is mythology; in real life it is only a question of STRONG and WEAK wills.—It is almost always a symptom of what is lacking in himself, when a thinker, in every "causal-connection" and "psychological necessity," manifests something of compulsion, indigence, obsequiousness, oppression, and non-freedom; it is suspicious to have such feelings—the person betrays himself. And in general, if I have observed correctly, the "non-freedom of the will" is regarded as a problem from two entirely opposite standpoints, but always in a profoundly PERSONAL manner: some will not give up their "responsibility," their belief in THEMSELVES, the personal right to THEIR merits, at any price (the vain races belong to this class); others on the contrary, do not wish to be answerable for anything, or blamed for anything, and owing to an inward self-contempt, seek to GET OUT OF THE BUSINESS, no matter how. The latter, when they write books, are in the habit at present of taking the side of criminals; a sort of socialistic sympathy is their favourite disguise. And as a matter of fact, the fatalism of the weak-willed embellishes itself surprisingly when it can pose as "la religion de la souffrance humaine"; that is ITS "good taste."
21. The CAUSA SUI, or cause of itself, is the finest self-contradiction anyone has yet imagined. It is a kind of logical violation, something unnatural. Yet human pride, in its extravagance, has become deeply and terribly entangled in this very nonsense. People desire "freedom of will" in its most extreme, metaphysical sense. Unfortunately, this desire still rules the minds of the half-educated. They want to take complete and ultimate responsibility for their own actions. They want to free God, the world, their ancestors, chance, and society from all responsibility. This desire amounts to nothing less than being precisely this CAUSA SUI. It means pulling oneself by the hair out of the swamp of nothingness and into existence, with even greater daring than Munchausen. Suppose someone recognizes, through this argument, the gross stupidity of the celebrated idea of "free will" and abandons it altogether. I ask that person to take their "enlightenment" one step further. They should also abandon the opposite of this monstrous idea of "free will". I mean "non-free will", which amounts to misusing cause and effect. We should not wrongly MATERIALISE "cause" and "effect", as natural philosophers do. So does everyone who now models their thinking on the natural sciences. They follow the prevailing mechanical stupidity: the cause presses and pushes until it "effects" its result. We should use "cause" and "effect" only as pure CONCEPTIONS. These are conventional fictions for naming things and understanding one another, NOT for explaining things. In "being-in-itself", reality as it is in itself, there is no "causal connection", no "necessity", and no "psychological unfreedom". There, the effect does NOT follow the cause. There, "law" does not apply. WE alone have invented cause, sequence, reciprocity, relativity, constraint, number, law, freedom, motive, and purpose. When we read this world of symbols into things and confuse it with "being-in-itself", we act as we always have: MYTHOLOGICALLY. The "non-free will" is mythology. In real life, the question is only one of STRONG and WEAK wills. A thinker may reveal feelings of compulsion, neediness, servility, oppression, and unfreedom in every "causal connection" and "psychological necessity". Almost always, these feelings reveal something lacking in the thinker himself. Such feelings are suspicious. The person gives himself away. And generally, if I have observed correctly, people approach the "unfreedom of the will" from two completely opposite positions. Yet their approach is always deeply PERSONAL. Some will not surrender their "responsibility", their belief in THEMSELVES, or their personal right to THEIR merits at any price. Vain races belong to this group. Others, by contrast, want neither to answer for anything nor to be blamed for anything. Out of an inner contempt for themselves, they seek to GET OUT OF THE BUSINESS, by whatever means. When these latter people write books today, they habitually side with criminals. A kind of socialist sympathy is their favorite disguise. In fact, the fatalism of the weak-willed makes itself surprisingly attractive when it can pose as "la religion de la souffrance humaine". That is, "the religion of human suffering". That is ITS "good taste."
22. Let me be pardoned, as an old philologist who cannot desist from the mischief of putting his finger on bad modes of interpretation, but "Nature's conformity to law," of which you physicists talk so proudly, as though—why, it exists only owing to your interpretation and bad "philology." It is no matter of fact, no "text," but rather just a naively humanitarian adjustment and perversion of meaning, with which you make abundant concessions to the democratic instincts of the modern soul! "Everywhere equality before the law—Nature is not different in that respect, nor better than we": a fine instance of secret motive, in which the vulgar antagonism to everything privileged and autocratic—likewise a second and more refined atheism—is once more disguised. "Ni dieu, ni maitre"—that, also, is what you want; and therefore "Cheers for natural law!"—is it not so? But, as has been said, that is interpretation, not text; and somebody might come along, who, with opposite intentions and modes of interpretation, could read out of the same "Nature," and with regard to the same phenomena, just the tyrannically inconsiderate and relentless enforcement of the claims of power—an interpreter who should so place the unexceptionalness and unconditionalness of all "Will to Power" before your eyes, that almost every word, and the word "tyranny" itself, would eventually seem unsuitable, or like a weakening and softening metaphor—as being too human; and who should, nevertheless, end by asserting the same about this world as you do, namely, that it has a "necessary" and "calculable" course, NOT, however, because laws obtain in it, but because they are absolutely LACKING, and every power effects its ultimate consequences every moment. Granted that this also is only interpretation—and you will be eager enough to make this objection?—well, so much the better.
22. Forgive an old philologist who cannot resist the mischief of pointing out bad interpretations. But you physicists speak so proudly of "Nature's conformity to law," as though... Why, it exists only through your interpretation and bad "philology." It is not a fact, not a "text." Rather, it is merely a naively humanitarian distortion of meaning, tailored to human wishes. Through this distortion, you make generous concessions to the democratic instincts of the modern soul! "Equality before the law everywhere. Nature is no different in that respect, and no better than we are." What a fine example of a hidden motive! Here, vulgar hostility toward everything privileged and autocratic once again disguises itself. So does a second, more refined atheism. "Ni dieu, ni maitre" (neither God nor master) is what you want too. And therefore, "Cheers for natural law!" Isn't that right? But, as I have said, that is interpretation, not text. Someone else might approach the same "Nature" and the same phenomena with opposite intentions and methods of interpretation. Such an interpreter could read them as power ruthlessly and relentlessly enforcing its claims, with tyrannical disregard for everything else. This interpreter could show you that all "Will to Power" operates without exception or condition. Almost every word, even "tyranny" itself, would eventually seem inadequate, or seem like a metaphor that weakens and softens. Such words would be too human. Yet this interpreter could still end by making the same claim about the world that you make. Namely, that the world follows a "necessary" and "calculable" course. NOT, however, because laws govern it, but because laws are absolutely LACKING. Instead, every power carries its effects to their furthest consequences at every moment. Granted, this too is only interpretation. And you will be eager enough to raise that objection, won't you? Well, so much the better.
23. All psychology hitherto has run aground on moral prejudices and timidities, it has not dared to launch out into the depths. In so far as it is allowable to recognize in that which has hitherto been written, evidence of that which has hitherto been kept silent, it seems as if nobody had yet harboured the notion of psychology as the Morphology and DEVELOPMENT-DOCTRINE OF THE WILL TO POWER, as I conceive of it. The power of moral prejudices has penetrated deeply into the most intellectual world, the world apparently most indifferent and unprejudiced, and has obviously operated in an injurious, obstructive, blinding, and distorting manner. A proper physio-psychology has to contend with unconscious antagonism in the heart of the investigator, it has "the heart" against it even a doctrine of the reciprocal conditionalness of the "good" and the "bad" impulses, causes (as refined immorality) distress and aversion in a still strong and manly conscience—still more so, a doctrine of the derivation of all good impulses from bad ones. If, however, a person should regard even the emotions of hatred, envy, covetousness, and imperiousness as life-conditioning emotions, as factors which must be present, fundamentally and essentially, in the general economy of life (which must, therefore, be further developed if life is to be further developed), he will suffer from such a view of things as from sea-sickness. And yet this hypothesis is far from being the strangest and most painful in this immense and almost new domain of dangerous knowledge, and there are in fact a hundred good reasons why every one should keep away from it who CAN do so! On the other hand, if one has once drifted hither with one's bark, well! very good! now let us set our teeth firmly! let us open our eyes and keep our hand fast on the helm! We sail away right OVER morality, we crush out, we destroy perhaps the remains of our own morality by daring to make our voyage thither—but what do WE matter. Never yet did a PROFOUNDER world of insight reveal itself to daring travelers and adventurers, and the psychologist who thus "makes a sacrifice"—it is not the sacrifizio dell' intelletto, on the contrary!—will at least be entitled to demand in return that psychology shall once more be recognized as the queen of the sciences, for whose service and equipment the other sciences exist. For psychology is once more the path to the fundamental problems.
23. All psychology so far has run aground on moral prejudices and fears. It has not dared to venture into the depths. Perhaps what has been written allows us to recognize what has been left unsaid. If so, nobody seems to have considered psychology as I conceive it: the study of the forms and DEVELOPMENT OF THE WILL TO POWER. Moral prejudices have deeply penetrated even the most intellectual world, the world that seems most detached and unbiased. Their influence has clearly been harmful, obstructing, blinding, and distorting inquiry. A proper physio-psychology must struggle against unconscious resistance in the investigator's own heart. It has "the heart" against it. Even the theory that "good" and "bad" impulses depend on each other causes distress and aversion in a still-strong, manly conscience. Such a conscience sees the theory as a subtle form of immorality. A theory that all good impulses come from bad ones causes even greater distress and aversion. But suppose someone sees even hatred, envy, greed, and the urge to dominate as emotions necessary for life. Suppose these emotions are fundamentally essential to the overall workings of life. They must therefore develop further if life itself is to develop further. Anyone who takes this view will suffer from it as if from seasickness. Yet this hypothesis is far from the strangest or most painful in this vast, almost unexplored realm of dangerous knowledge. Indeed, there are a hundred good reasons for anyone who CAN avoid this realm to stay away! On the other hand, suppose you have already drifted here in your boat. Well! Very good! Now let us grit our teeth! Let us open our eyes and keep a firm grip on the helm! We sail straight OVER morality. By daring to sail here, we crush and perhaps destroy what remains of our own morality. But what do WE matter? Never before has a DEEPER world of insight opened up to daring travelers and adventurers. The psychologist who thus "makes a sacrifice" does not sacrifice the intellect (the sacrifizio dell' intelletto). Quite the opposite! In return, that psychologist will at least have the right to make a demand. Psychology must once again be recognized as the queen of the sciences. The other sciences exist to serve and equip psychology. For psychology is once again the path to the fundamental problems.