186. The moral sentiment in Europe at present is perhaps as subtle, belated, diverse, sensitive, and refined, as the "Science of Morals" belonging thereto is recent, initial, awkward, and coarse-fingered:—an interesting contrast, which sometimes becomes incarnate and obvious in the very person of a moralist. Indeed, the expression, "Science of Morals" is, in respect to what is designated thereby, far too presumptuous and counter to GOOD taste,—which is always a foretaste of more modest expressions. One ought to avow with the utmost fairness WHAT is still necessary here for a long time, WHAT is alone proper for the present: namely, the collection of material, the comprehensive survey and classification of an immense domain of delicate sentiments of worth, and distinctions of worth, which live, grow, propagate, and perish—and perhaps attempts to give a clear idea of the recurring and more common forms of these living crystallizations—as preparation for a THEORY OF TYPES of morality. To be sure, people have not hitherto been so modest. All the philosophers, with a pedantic and ridiculous seriousness, demanded of themselves something very much higher, more pretentious, and ceremonious, when they concerned themselves with morality as a science: they wanted to GIVE A BASIC to morality—and every philosopher hitherto has believed that he has given it a basis; morality itself, however, has been regarded as something "given." How far from their awkward pride was the seemingly insignificant problem—left in dust and decay—of a description of forms of morality, notwithstanding that the finest hands and senses could hardly be fine enough for it! It was precisely owing to moral philosophers' knowing the moral facts imperfectly, in an arbitrary epitome, or an accidental abridgement—perhaps as the morality of their environment, their position, their church, their Zeitgeist, their climate and zone—it was precisely because they were badly instructed with regard to nations, eras, and past ages, and were by no means eager to know about these matters, that they did not even come in sight of the real problems of morals—problems which only disclose themselves by a comparison of MANY kinds of morality. In every "Science of Morals" hitherto, strange as it may sound, the problem of morality itself has been OMITTED: there has been no suspicion that there was anything problematic there! That which philosophers called "giving a basis to morality," and endeavoured to realize, has, when seen in a right light, proved merely a learned form of good FAITH in prevailing morality, a new means of its EXPRESSION, consequently just a matter-of-fact within the sphere of a definite morality, yea, in its ultimate motive, a sort of denial that it is LAWFUL for this morality to be called in question—and in any case the reverse of the testing, analyzing, doubting, and vivisecting of this very faith. Hear, for instance, with what innocence—almost worthy of honour—Schopenhauer represents his own task, and draw your conclusions concerning the scientificness of a "Science" whose latest master still talks in the strain of children and old wives: "The principle," he says (page 136 of the Grundprobleme der Ethik), [Footnote: Pages 54-55 of Schopenhauer's Basis of Morality, translated by Arthur B. Bullock, M.A. (1903).] "the axiom about the purport of which all moralists are PRACTICALLY agreed: neminem laede, immo omnes quantum potes juva—is REALLY the proposition which all moral teachers strive to establish, ... the REAL basis of ethics which has been sought, like the philosopher's stone, for centuries."—The difficulty of establishing the proposition referred to may indeed be great—it is well known that Schopenhauer also was unsuccessful in his efforts; and whoever has thoroughly realized how absurdly false and sentimental this proposition is, in a world whose essence is Will to Power, may be reminded that Schopenhauer, although a pessimist, ACTUALLY—played the flute... daily after dinner: one may read about the matter in his biography. A question by the way: a pessimist, a repudiator of God and of the world, who MAKES A HALT at morality—who assents to morality, and plays the flute to laede-neminem morals, what? Is that really—a pessimist?
186. Moral feeling in Europe today is perhaps as subtle, late in developing, varied, sensitive, and refined as its "Science of Morals" is new, immature, clumsy, and crude. This is an interesting contrast, sometimes embodied and plainly visible in a moralist himself. Indeed, "Science of Morals" is far too grand a name for what it describes, and offends GOOD taste. Good taste always anticipates more modest language. We should admit, with complete honesty, WHAT will still be needed here for a long time. We should acknowledge WHAT alone is appropriate for now: collecting material, broadly surveying and classifying a vast field of delicate feelings and distinctions of value. These feelings and distinctions live, grow, reproduce, and die. Perhaps we might also try to describe clearly the recurring, more common forms of these living crystallizations. This would prepare the way for a THEORY OF TYPES of morality. Of course, people have not been so modest until now. Whenever philosophers treated morality as a science, all demanded something much higher, more ambitious, and more solemn of themselves. They did so with a pedantic and ridiculous seriousness. They wanted to GIVE MORALITY A FOUNDATION, and every philosopher so far has believed he had provided one. Yet morality itself was treated as something "given." Their clumsy pride kept them far from the seemingly insignificant task of describing different forms of morality. That task lay neglected, gathering dust, although even the finest hands and senses could hardly be fine enough for it! Moral philosophers knew moral facts only imperfectly, through some arbitrary summary or accidental selection. Perhaps they knew only the morality of their surroundings, their social position, their church, their Zeitgeist, their climate and region. They were poorly informed about nations, eras, and past ages, and were by no means eager to learn. Precisely because of this ignorance, they never even glimpsed the real problems of morality. Those problems reveal themselves only through a comparison of MANY kinds of morality. Strange as it may sound, every "Science of Morals" so far has OMITTED the problem of morality itself. No one even suspected that morality might be a problem! Philosophers called their project "giving morality a foundation." Properly understood, however, their efforts amounted only to a scholarly expression of good FAITH in the prevailing morality. Their project was a new means of EXPRESSING that morality. Consequently, it was simply another fact within one particular morality. Indeed, its deepest motive was a kind of denial that anyone had the RIGHT to question that morality. In any case, it was the opposite of testing, analyzing, doubting, and dissecting that very faith. Listen, for example, to the innocence, almost deserving of respect, with which Schopenhauer describes his own task. Then judge how scientific a "Science" can be when its latest master still talks like children and old wives. "The principle," he says (page 136 of the Grundprobleme der Ethik), [Footnote: Pages 54-55 of Schopenhauer's Basis of Morality, translated by Arthur B. Bullock, M.A. (1903).] "the axiom whose meaning PRACTICALLY all moralists agree on is this: neminem laede, immo omnes quantum potes juva (harm no one, but help everyone as much as you can). This is REALLY the proposition that all moral teachers try to establish, ... the REAL foundation of ethics. For centuries, people have searched for this foundation as they searched for the philosopher's stone." Establishing that proposition may indeed be very difficult. As everyone knows, Schopenhauer also failed in his attempt. But consider anyone who fully recognizes how absurdly false and sentimental this proposition is in a world whose essence is Will to Power. Such a person may recall that Schopenhauer, although a pessimist, ACTUALLY played the flute every day after dinner. You can read about it in his biography. A question in passing: here is a pessimist who rejects God and the world, but STOPS SHORT at morality. He accepts morality and plays the flute to the tune of harm-no-one morals. What? Is that really a pessimist?
187. Apart from the value of such assertions as "there is a categorical imperative in us," one can always ask: What does such an assertion indicate about him who makes it? There are systems of morals which are meant to justify their author in the eyes of other people; other systems of morals are meant to tranquilize him, and make him self-satisfied; with other systems he wants to crucify and humble himself, with others he wishes to take revenge, with others to conceal himself, with others to glorify himself and gave superiority and distinction,—this system of morals helps its author to forget, that system makes him, or something of him, forgotten, many a moralist would like to exercise power and creative arbitrariness over mankind, many another, perhaps, Kant especially, gives us to understand by his morals that "what is estimable in me, is that I know how to obey—and with you it SHALL not be otherwise than with me!" In short, systems of morals are only a SIGN-LANGUAGE OF THE EMOTIONS.
187. Whatever the value of claims like "there is a categorical imperative in us," we can always ask another question: What does such a claim reveal about the person making it? Some moral systems aim to justify their author in other people's eyes. Others aim to soothe him and make him satisfied with himself. With some systems, he wants to crucify and humble himself. With others, he wants revenge, or to hide himself, or to glorify himself and gain superiority and distinction. One moral system helps its author forget. Another makes others forget him, or something about him. Many a moralist would like to exercise power over humanity and shape it according to his own whims. Many another, perhaps Kant especially, uses his morality to tell us: "What deserves respect in me is that I know how to obey. And you SHALL be no different from me!" In short, moral systems are only a SIGN-LANGUAGE OF THE EMOTIONS.
188. In contrast to laisser-aller, every system of morals is a sort of tyranny against "nature" and also against "reason", that is, however, no objection, unless one should again decree by some system of morals, that all kinds of tyranny and unreasonableness are unlawful What is essential and invaluable in every system of morals, is that it is a long constraint. In order to understand Stoicism, or Port Royal, or Puritanism, one should remember the constraint under which every language has attained to strength and freedom—the metrical constraint, the tyranny of rhyme and rhythm. How much trouble have the poets and orators of every nation given themselves!—not excepting some of the prose writers of today, in whose ear dwells an inexorable conscientiousness—"for the sake of a folly," as utilitarian bunglers say, and thereby deem themselves wise—"from submission to arbitrary laws," as the anarchists say, and thereby fancy themselves "free," even free-spirited. The singular fact remains, however, that everything of the nature of freedom, elegance, boldness, dance, and masterly certainty, which exists or has existed, whether it be in thought itself, or in administration, or in speaking and persuading, in art just as in conduct, has only developed by means of the tyranny of such arbitrary law, and in all seriousness, it is not at all improbable that precisely this is "nature" and "natural"—and not laisser-aller! Every artist knows how different from the state of letting himself go, is his "most natural" condition, the free arranging, locating, disposing, and constructing in the moments of "inspiration"—and how strictly and delicately he then obeys a thousand laws, which, by their very rigidness and precision, defy all formulation by means of ideas (even the most stable idea has, in comparison therewith, something floating, manifold, and ambiguous in it). The essential thing "in heaven and in earth" is, apparently (to repeat it once more), that there should be long OBEDIENCE in the same direction, there thereby results, and has always resulted in the long run, something which has made life worth living; for instance, virtue, art, music, dancing, reason, spirituality—anything whatever that is transfiguring, refined, foolish, or divine. The long bondage of the spirit, the distrustful constraint in the communicability of ideas, the discipline which the thinker imposed on himself to think in accordance with the rules of a church or a court, or conformable to Aristotelian premises, the persistent spiritual will to interpret everything that happened according to a Christian scheme, and in every occurrence to rediscover and justify the Christian God:—all this violence, arbitrariness, severity, dreadfulness, and unreasonableness, has proved itself the disciplinary means whereby the European spirit has attained its strength, its remorseless curiosity and subtle mobility; granted also that much irrecoverable strength and spirit had to be stifled, suffocated, and spoilt in the process (for here, as everywhere, "nature" shows herself as she is, in all her extravagant and INDIFFERENT magnificence, which is shocking, but nevertheless noble). That for centuries European thinkers only thought in order to prove something—nowadays, on the contrary, we are suspicious of every thinker who "wishes to prove something"—that it was always settled beforehand what WAS TO BE the result of their strictest thinking, as it was perhaps in the Asiatic astrology of former times, or as it is still at the present day in the innocent, Christian-moral explanation of immediate personal events "for the glory of God," or "for the good of the soul":—this tyranny, this arbitrariness, this severe and magnificent stupidity, has EDUCATED the spirit; slavery, both in the coarser and the finer sense, is apparently an indispensable means even of spiritual education and discipline. One may look at every system of morals in this light: it is "nature" therein which teaches to hate the laisser-aller, the too great freedom, and implants the need for limited horizons, for immediate duties—it teaches the NARROWING OF PERSPECTIVES, and thus, in a certain sense, that stupidity is a condition of life and development. "Thou must obey some one, and for a long time; OTHERWISE thou wilt come to grief, and lose all respect for thyself"—this seems to me to be the moral imperative of nature, which is certainly neither "categorical," as old Kant wished (consequently the "otherwise"), nor does it address itself to the individual (what does nature care for the individual!), but to nations, races, ages, and ranks; above all, however, to the animal "man" generally, to MANKIND.
188. Unlike letting things take their course, every moral system is a kind of tyranny against "nature" and also against "reason". But that is no objection, unless some moral system again decrees that all tyranny and unreasonableness are forbidden. What is essential and invaluable in every moral system is prolonged constraint. To understand Stoicism, Port Royal, or Puritanism, remember the constraints through which every language gained strength and freedom. These were the constraints of meter, the tyranny of rhyme and rhythm. How much trouble the poets and speakers of every nation have taken! Some prose writers today are no exception, with their ears guided by a relentless sense of duty. "For the sake of something foolish," say the utilitarian bunglers, thinking themselves wise for saying so. "In obedience to arbitrary laws," say the anarchists, imagining themselves "free", even free spirits. Yet one remarkable fact remains. Everything resembling freedom, elegance, boldness, dance, and confident mastery has developed only through the tyranny of such arbitrary laws. This applies to everything that exists or has existed in thought, government, speech and persuasion, art, and conduct. And, quite seriously, it is not at all unlikely that precisely this is "nature" and "natural", rather than letting things go! Every artist knows that his "most natural" state differs greatly from simply letting himself go. In moments of "inspiration", he freely arranges, positions, orders, and constructs. Yet he knows how strictly and delicately he then obeys a thousand laws. These laws are so rigid and precise that they resist any formulation in concepts. Even the most stable concept seems shifting, varied, and ambiguous beside them. Apparently, the essential thing "in heaven and on earth" is, to repeat it once more, prolonged OBEDIENCE in one direction. In the long run, such obedience produces, and always has produced, something that makes life worth living. Examples include virtue, art, music, dancing, reason, and spirituality. They include anything that transforms and elevates life, anything refined, foolish, or divine. Consider the spirit's long captivity, and the distrustful restrictions on communicating ideas. Consider the discipline thinkers imposed on themselves by following the rules of a church or court, or accepting Aristotelian premises. Consider the persistent spiritual determination to interpret everything that happened through a Christian framework. Every event had to reveal and justify the Christian God anew. All this violence, arbitrariness, severity, horror, and unreasonableness has served as a means of discipline. Through this discipline, the European spirit gained its strength, its relentless curiosity, and its subtle flexibility. Admittedly, much strength and spirit also had to be stifled, suffocated, and ruined beyond recovery in the process. Here, as everywhere, "nature" reveals herself in all her extravagant and INDIFFERENT magnificence, shocking but nevertheless noble. For centuries, European thinkers thought only to prove something. Today, by contrast, we distrust every thinker who "wants to prove something". The result of their most rigorous thinking was always settled beforehand: what the outcome WAS TO BE. Perhaps the same was true of ancient Asian astrology. It remains true today of the innocent Christian moral interpretation of events in one's immediate personal life. Such events happen "for the glory of God", or "for the good of the soul". This tyranny, this arbitrariness, this severe and magnificent stupidity, has EDUCATED the spirit. Slavery, in both its cruder and subtler forms, apparently remains indispensable even to spiritual education and discipline. Every moral system can be viewed in this light. Through morality, "nature" teaches hatred of letting things go and of excessive freedom. Nature instills the need for limited horizons and immediate duties. Nature teaches the NARROWING OF PERSPECTIVES and thus, in a certain sense, that stupidity is necessary for life and development. "You must obey someone, and for a long time. OTHERWISE you will come to grief and lose all respect for yourself." This seems to me to be nature's moral command. It is certainly not "categorical", as old Kant wanted it to be (hence the "otherwise"). Nor is the command addressed to the individual (what does nature care about the individual!). Instead, nature addresses nations, races, ages, and social ranks. Above all, however, nature addresses the animal "man" in general, MANKIND.
189. Industrious races find it a great hardship to be idle: it was a master stroke of ENGLISH instinct to hallow and begloom Sunday to such an extent that the Englishman unconsciously hankers for his week—and work-day again:—as a kind of cleverly devised, cleverly intercalated FAST, such as is also frequently found in the ancient world (although, as is appropriate in southern nations, not precisely with respect to work). Many kinds of fasts are necessary; and wherever powerful influences and habits prevail, legislators have to see that intercalary days are appointed, on which such impulses are fettered, and learn to hunger anew. Viewed from a higher standpoint, whole generations and epochs, when they show themselves infected with any moral fanaticism, seem like those intercalated periods of restraint and fasting, during which an impulse learns to humble and submit itself—at the same time also to PURIFY and SHARPEN itself; certain philosophical sects likewise admit of a similar interpretation (for instance, the Stoa, in the midst of Hellenic culture, with the atmosphere rank and overcharged with Aphrodisiacal odours).—Here also is a hint for the explanation of the paradox, why it was precisely in the most Christian period of European history, and in general only under the pressure of Christian sentiments, that the sexual impulse sublimated into love (amour-passion).
189. Hardworking peoples find idleness a great hardship. It was a masterstroke of ENGLISH instinct to make Sunday so holy and gloomy. The Englishman unconsciously longs for his working week to begin again. Sunday thus becomes a cleverly designed FAST, cleverly inserted into the calendar. Such fasts were also common in the ancient world (though, fittingly for southern nations, not specifically fasts from work). Many kinds of fasts are necessary. Wherever powerful drives and habits dominate, lawmakers must set aside days when these impulses are restrained and learn to hunger again. From a higher standpoint, whole generations and ages infected with any moral fanaticism seem like such periods of restraint and fasting. During these periods, an impulse learns humility and submission. At the same time, the impulse also learns to PURIFY and SHARPEN itself. Certain philosophical schools can also be understood this way. Take the Stoa, for instance, amid Hellenic culture, where the air was heavy and foul with Aphrodisiacal scents. Here, too, is a clue to explaining a paradox. The sexual impulse was transformed into love (amour-passion) precisely during the most Christian period of European history. Indeed, this transformation occurred in general only under the pressure of Christian feelings.
190. There is something in the morality of Plato which does not really belong to Plato, but which only appears in his philosophy, one might say, in spite of him: namely, Socratism, for which he himself was too noble. "No one desires to injure himself, hence all evil is done unwittingly. The evil man inflicts injury on himself; he would not do so, however, if he knew that evil is evil. The evil man, therefore, is only evil through error; if one free him from error one will necessarily make him—good."—This mode of reasoning savours of the POPULACE, who perceive only the unpleasant consequences of evil-doing, and practically judge that "it is STUPID to do wrong"; while they accept "good" as identical with "useful and pleasant," without further thought. As regards every system of utilitarianism, one may at once assume that it has the same origin, and follow the scent: one will seldom err.—Plato did all he could to interpret something refined and noble into the tenets of his teacher, and above all to interpret himself into them—he, the most daring of all interpreters, who lifted the entire Socrates out of the street, as a popular theme and song, to exhibit him in endless and impossible modifications—namely, in all his own disguises and multiplicities. In jest, and in Homeric language as well, what is the Platonic Socrates, if not—[Greek words inserted here.]
190. Something in Plato’s morality does not really belong to Plato. One might say it appears in his philosophy despite him: namely, Socratism, for which he himself was too noble. "No one wants to harm himself, so all evil is done unknowingly. The evil man harms himself. But he would not harm himself if he knew that evil is evil. The evil man, therefore, is evil only because he is mistaken. If you free him from his error, you will necessarily make him good." This reasoning has the flavor of the POPULACE. They see only the unpleasant consequences of wrongdoing and judge, in practice, that "it is STUPID to do wrong". Meanwhile, they accept "good" as identical with "useful and pleasant," without further thought. With every system of utilitarianism, you may immediately assume the same origin and follow the scent. You will seldom be wrong. Plato did everything he could to read something refined and noble into his teacher’s teachings. Above all, he tried to read himself into them. He was the boldest of all interpreters. He took Socrates out of the street, like a popular theme and song, and presented him in endless, impossible variations. These were all Plato’s own disguises and many forms. To put it jokingly, and in Homer’s language too, what is the Platonic Socrates, if not [Greek words inserted here.]
191. The old theological problem of "Faith" and "Knowledge," or more plainly, of instinct and reason—the question whether, in respect to the valuation of things, instinct deserves more authority than rationality, which wants to appreciate and act according to motives, according to a "Why," that is to say, in conformity to purpose and utility—it is always the old moral problem that first appeared in the person of Socrates, and had divided men's minds long before Christianity. Socrates himself, following, of course, the taste of his talent—that of a surpassing dialectician—took first the side of reason; and, in fact, what did he do all his life but laugh at the awkward incapacity of the noble Athenians, who were men of instinct, like all noble men, and could never give satisfactory answers concerning the motives of their actions? In the end, however, though silently and secretly, he laughed also at himself: with his finer conscience and introspection, he found in himself the same difficulty and incapacity. "But why"—he said to himself—"should one on that account separate oneself from the instincts! One must set them right, and the reason ALSO—one must follow the instincts, but at the same time persuade the reason to support them with good arguments." This was the real FALSENESS of that great and mysterious ironist; he brought his conscience up to the point that he was satisfied with a kind of self-outwitting: in fact, he perceived the irrationality in the moral judgment.—Plato, more innocent in such matters, and without the craftiness of the plebeian, wished to prove to himself, at the expenditure of all his strength—the greatest strength a philosopher had ever expended—that reason and instinct lead spontaneously to one goal, to the good, to "God"; and since Plato, all theologians and philosophers have followed the same path—which means that in matters of morality, instinct (or as Christians call it, "Faith," or as I call it, "the herd") has hitherto triumphed. Unless one should make an exception in the case of Descartes, the father of rationalism (and consequently the grandfather of the Revolution), who recognized only the authority of reason: but reason is only a tool, and Descartes was superficial.
191. The old theological problem of "Faith" and "Knowledge" is, more plainly, the problem of instinct and reason. When judging the value of things, should instinct have more authority than reason? Reason wants to judge and act on motives, on a "Why," in keeping with purpose and usefulness. This is the same old moral problem that first appeared in Socrates and divided people's minds long before Christianity. Socrates himself first sided with reason, naturally following the bent of his talent as an outstanding master of argument. And what did he do all his life but laugh at the clumsy helplessness of the noble Athenians? Like all noble men, they were men of instinct. They could never give satisfactory answers about the motives behind their actions. In the end, however, he also laughed at himself, though silently and secretly. His more sensitive conscience and self-examination revealed the same difficulty and helplessness in himself. "But why," he said to himself, "should that make anyone turn away from the instincts? We must put the instincts right, and reason ALSO. We must follow the instincts, but also persuade reason to support them with good arguments." This was the real FALSENESS of that great and mysterious ironist. He trained his conscience to be satisfied with a kind of self-deception. In fact, he recognized the irrationality of moral judgment. Plato was more innocent in such matters and lacked the commoner's cunning. He wanted to prove to himself that reason and instinct naturally lead to one goal, to the good, to "God". He devoted all his strength to this proof, the greatest strength any philosopher had ever spent. Since Plato, all theologians and philosophers have followed the same path. In moral matters, this means that instinct has triumphed so far. Christians call instinct "Faith," while I call it "the herd". Perhaps we should make an exception for Descartes, the father of rationalism (and consequently the grandfather of the Revolution). He recognized only the authority of reason. But reason is only a tool, and Descartes was superficial.
192. Whoever has followed the history of a single science, finds in its development a clue to the understanding of the oldest and commonest processes of all "knowledge and cognizance": there, as here, the premature hypotheses, the fictions, the good stupid will to "belief," and the lack of distrust and patience are first developed—our senses learn late, and never learn completely, to be subtle, reliable, and cautious organs of knowledge. Our eyes find it easier on a given occasion to produce a picture already often produced, than to seize upon the divergence and novelty of an impression: the latter requires more force, more "morality." It is difficult and painful for the ear to listen to anything new; we hear strange music badly. When we hear another language spoken, we involuntarily attempt to form the sounds into words with which we are more familiar and conversant—it was thus, for example, that the Germans modified the spoken word ARCUBALISTA into ARMBRUST (cross-bow). Our senses are also hostile and averse to the new; and generally, even in the "simplest" processes of sensation, the emotions DOMINATE—such as fear, love, hatred, and the passive emotion of indolence.—As little as a reader nowadays reads all the single words (not to speak of syllables) of a page—he rather takes about five out of every twenty words at random, and "guesses" the probably appropriate sense to them—just as little do we see a tree correctly and completely in respect to its leaves, branches, colour, and shape; we find it so much easier to fancy the chance of a tree. Even in the midst of the most remarkable experiences, we still do just the same; we fabricate the greater part of the experience, and can hardly be made to contemplate any event, EXCEPT as "inventors" thereof. All this goes to prove that from our fundamental nature and from remote ages we have been—ACCUSTOMED TO LYING. Or, to express it more politely and hypocritically, in short, more pleasantly—one is much more of an artist than one is aware of.—In an animated conversation, I often see the face of the person with whom I am speaking so clearly and sharply defined before me, according to the thought he expresses, or which I believe to be evoked in his mind, that the degree of distinctness far exceeds the STRENGTH of my visual faculty—the delicacy of the play of the muscles and of the expression of the eyes MUST therefore be imagined by me. Probably the person put on quite a different expression, or none at all.
192. Anyone who has followed the history of a single science finds a clue in its development. The clue helps explain the oldest and most common processes of all "knowledge and understanding". In science, as in those processes, premature hypotheses and fictions come first. So do the good, stupid will to "belief" and the lack of distrust and patience. Our senses learn late to become subtle, reliable, and cautious tools of knowledge, and they never learn completely. On any given occasion, our eyes find it easier to reproduce a familiar picture than to notice something different and new. Noticing the new impression takes more effort, more "morality." Listening to anything new is difficult and painful for the ear. We hear unfamiliar music poorly. When we hear another language, we involuntarily try to turn its sounds into words we know better. For example, the Germans changed the spoken word ARCUBALISTA into ARMBRUST (crossbow) in just this way. Our senses, too, are hostile to the new and resist it. And generally, even in the "simplest" processes of sensation, emotions DOMINATE. These include fear, love, hatred, and the passive emotion of laziness. A reader today does not read every word on a page, let alone every syllable. Instead, he picks about five words out of every twenty at random and "guesses" their likely meaning. Just as little do we see a tree accurately and completely, with all its leaves, branches, color, and shape. We find it much easier to imagine an approximate tree. Even during the most remarkable experiences, we still do exactly the same thing. We invent most of the experience. We can hardly be brought to view any event EXCEPT as its "inventors". All this shows that, by our basic nature and since the distant past, we have been ACCUSTOMED TO LYING. Or, to put it more politely and hypocritically, in short, more pleasantly: we are much more artistic than we realize. During a lively conversation, I often see the other person's face with extraordinary clarity and sharpness. The face appears to reflect the thought he expresses, or the thought I believe has arisen in his mind. That clarity far exceeds the STRENGTH of my eyesight. I MUST therefore be imagining the subtle movements of his muscles and the expression in his eyes. He probably wore quite a different expression, or none at all.
193. Quidquid luce fuit, tenebris agit: but also contrariwise. What we experience in dreams, provided we experience it often, pertains at last just as much to the general belongings of our soul as anything "actually" experienced; by virtue thereof we are richer or poorer, we have a requirement more or less, and finally, in broad daylight, and even in the brightest moments of our waking life, we are ruled to some extent by the nature of our dreams. Supposing that someone has often flown in his dreams, and that at last, as soon as he dreams, he is conscious of the power and art of flying as his privilege and his peculiarly enviable happiness; such a person, who believes that on the slightest impulse, he can actualize all sorts of curves and angles, who knows the sensation of a certain divine levity, an "upwards" without effort or constraint, a "downwards" without descending or lowering—without TROUBLE!—how could the man with such dream-experiences and dream-habits fail to find "happiness" differently coloured and defined, even in his waking hours! How could he fail—to long DIFFERENTLY for happiness? "Flight," such as is described by poets, must, when compared with his own "flying," be far too earthly, muscular, violent, far too "troublesome" for him.
193. What happens in the light plays out in the dark, but the reverse is also true. What we experience in dreams, if we experience it often, eventually becomes part of our soul’s possessions. It belongs there just as much as anything "actually" experienced. These dream experiences make us richer or poorer, leaving us with one more need or one less. Finally, even in broad daylight, even in our brightest waking moments, the nature of our dreams governs us to some extent. Suppose someone has often flown in his dreams. Eventually, whenever he dreams, he recognizes the power and skill of flying as his privilege and his uniquely enviable happiness. He believes the slightest impulse lets him trace all sorts of curves and angles. He knows the feeling of a certain divine lightness, an "upwards" without effort or constraint. He knows a "downwards" without descending or sinking, without TROUBLE! How could someone with such dream experiences and habits not find "happiness" differently colored and defined, even while awake! How could he fail to long DIFFERENTLY for happiness? Compared with his own "flying," the "Flight" poets describe must seem far too earthly, muscular, and violent. It must seem far too "troublesome" to him.
194. The difference among men does not manifest itself only in the difference of their lists of desirable things—in their regarding different good things as worth striving for, and being disagreed as to the greater or less value, the order of rank, of the commonly recognized desirable things:—it manifests itself much more in what they regard as actually HAVING and POSSESSING a desirable thing. As regards a woman, for instance, the control over her body and her sexual gratification serves as an amply sufficient sign of ownership and possession to the more modest man; another with a more suspicious and ambitious thirst for possession, sees the "questionableness," the mere apparentness of such ownership, and wishes to have finer tests in order to know especially whether the woman not only gives herself to him, but also gives up for his sake what she has or would like to have—only THEN does he look upon her as "possessed." A third, however, has not even here got to the limit of his distrust and his desire for possession: he asks himself whether the woman, when she gives up everything for him, does not perhaps do so for a phantom of him; he wishes first to be thoroughly, indeed, profoundly well known; in order to be loved at all he ventures to let himself be found out. Only then does he feel the beloved one fully in his possession, when she no longer deceives herself about him, when she loves him just as much for the sake of his devilry and concealed insatiability, as for his goodness, patience, and spirituality. One man would like to possess a nation, and he finds all the higher arts of Cagliostro and Catalina suitable for his purpose. Another, with a more refined thirst for possession, says to himself: "One may not deceive where one desires to possess"—he is irritated and impatient at the idea that a mask of him should rule in the hearts of the people: "I must, therefore, MAKE myself known, and first of all learn to know myself!" Among helpful and charitable people, one almost always finds the awkward craftiness which first gets up suitably him who has to be helped, as though, for instance, he should "merit" help, seek just THEIR help, and would show himself deeply grateful, attached, and subservient to them for all help. With these conceits, they take control of the needy as a property, just as in general they are charitable and helpful out of a desire for property. One finds them jealous when they are crossed or forestalled in their charity. Parents involuntarily make something like themselves out of their children—they call that "education"; no mother doubts at the bottom of her heart that the child she has borne is thereby her property, no father hesitates about his right to HIS OWN ideas and notions of worth. Indeed, in former times fathers deemed it right to use their discretion concerning the life or death of the newly born (as among the ancient Germans). And like the father, so also do the teacher, the class, the priest, and the prince still see in every new individual an unobjectionable opportunity for a new possession. The consequence is...
194. Differences among men show themselves in more than their lists of desirable things. Men consider different good things worth pursuing. They also disagree about the relative value and ranking of things generally considered desirable. But their differences show themselves much more in what they consider actually HAVING and POSSESSING something desirable. Take a woman, for instance. For the more modest man, control over her body and her sexual pleasure sufficiently prove ownership and possession. Another man has a more suspicious and ambitious thirst for possession. He sees the "uncertainty" of such ownership, how it may be only apparent. He wants subtler tests. Above all, he wants to know whether the woman does more than give herself to him. Does she also give up, for his sake, what she has or would like to have? Only THEN does he consider her "possessed." A third man, however, has still not reached the limits of his distrust and desire for possession. He wonders whether the woman who gives up everything for him might be doing so for an illusion of him. First, he wants to be known thoroughly, indeed, profoundly. To be loved at all, he dares to let himself be seen for what he is. Only when his beloved no longer deceives herself about him does he feel he fully possesses her. She must love him as much for his devilry and hidden insatiability as for his goodness, patience, and spirituality. One man would like to possess a nation. He finds all the advanced arts of Cagliostro and Catalina suitable for his purpose. Another, with a more refined thirst for possession, tells himself: "One must not deceive those one wishes to possess". The idea that a mask of himself should rule in people's hearts makes him irritated and impatient. "So I must MAKE myself known, and first learn to know myself!" Among helpful and charitable people, one almost always finds a clumsy cunning. They first dress up the person needing help to suit their purposes. They imagine, for instance, that he should "deserve" help and seek THEIR help in particular. They imagine he would show deep gratitude, attachment, and obedience in return for all their help. Through these notions, they take control of the needy as property. Indeed, their charity and helpfulness generally spring from a desire for property. They become jealous when someone interferes with their charity or helps before they can. Parents involuntarily turn their children into something like themselves. They call that "education". Deep down, no mother doubts that the child she has borne is therefore her property. No father questions his right to impose HIS OWN ideas and values. Indeed, fathers once considered themselves entitled to decide whether a newborn should live or die, as among the ancient Germans. And teachers, social classes, priests, and princes still follow the father's example. They see every new individual as an unquestionable opportunity to acquire a new possession. The consequence is...
195. The Jews—a people "born for slavery," as Tacitus and the whole ancient world say of them; "the chosen people among the nations," as they themselves say and believe—the Jews performed the miracle of the inversion of valuations, by means of which life on earth obtained a new and dangerous charm for a couple of millenniums. Their prophets fused into one the expressions "rich," "godless," "wicked," "violent," "sensual," and for the first time coined the word "world" as a term of reproach. In this inversion of valuations (in which is also included the use of the word "poor" as synonymous with "saint" and "friend") the significance of the Jewish people is to be found; it is with THEM that the SLAVE-INSURRECTION IN MORALS commences.
195. The Jews are a people "born for slavery," as Tacitus and the whole ancient world say of them. They are "the chosen people among the nations," as they themselves say and believe. The Jews worked a miracle by turning values upside down. Through this reversal, life on earth gained a new and dangerous appeal for a couple of thousand years. Their prophets merged the terms "rich," "godless," "wicked," "violent," and "sensual" into a single idea. They also became the first to use the word "world" as a term of contempt. This reversal of values also included using the word "poor" to mean "saint" and "friend". The significance of the Jewish people lies in this reversal. It is with THEM that the SLAVE-INSURRECTION IN MORALS begins.
196. It is to be INFERRED that there are countless dark bodies near the sun—such as we shall never see. Among ourselves, this is an allegory; and the psychologist of morals reads the whole star-writing merely as an allegorical and symbolic language in which much may be unexpressed.
196. We must INFER that countless dark bodies exist near the sun, bodies we will never see. Among ourselves, this is an allegory. And the psychologist of morals reads the entire writing of the stars only as an allegorical and symbolic language. In this language, much may remain unexpressed.
197. The beast of prey and the man of prey (for instance, Caesar Borgia) are fundamentally misunderstood, "nature" is misunderstood, so long as one seeks a "morbidness" in the constitution of these healthiest of all tropical monsters and growths, or even an innate "hell" in them—as almost all moralists have done hitherto. Does it not seem that there is a hatred of the virgin forest and of the tropics among moralists? And that the "tropical man" must be discredited at all costs, whether as disease and deterioration of mankind, or as his own hell and self-torture? And why? In favour of the "temperate zones"? In favour of the temperate men? The "moral"? The mediocre?—This for the chapter: "Morals as Timidity."
197. Predatory beasts and predatory men are fundamentally misunderstood (Caesar Borgia is one example). So is "nature". This misunderstanding persists as long as people look for "sickness" in the makeup of these healthiest of all tropical monsters and growths. Or even for an inborn "hell" within them, as almost all moralists have done until now. Doesn't it seem that moralists hate the untouched forest and the tropics? And that the "tropical man" must be discredited at all costs? Either as a disease and a decline in humanity, or as his own hell and self-torment? And why? For the benefit of the "temperate zones"? For the benefit of temperate men? The "moral"? The mediocre? This belongs in the chapter: "Morality as Timidity."
198. All the systems of morals which address themselves with a view to their "happiness," as it is called—what else are they but suggestions for behaviour adapted to the degree of DANGER from themselves in which the individuals live; recipes for their passions, their good and bad propensities, insofar as such have the Will to Power and would like to play the master; small and great expediencies and elaborations, permeated with the musty odour of old family medicines and old-wife wisdom; all of them grotesque and absurd in their form—because they address themselves to "all," because they generalize where generalization is not authorized; all of them speaking unconditionally, and taking themselves unconditionally; all of them flavoured not merely with one grain of salt, but rather endurable only, and sometimes even seductive, when they are over-spiced and begin to smell dangerously, especially of "the other world." That is all of little value when estimated intellectually, and is far from being "science," much less "wisdom"; but, repeated once more, and three times repeated, it is expediency, expediency, expediency, mixed with stupidity, stupidity, stupidity—whether it be the indifference and statuesque coldness towards the heated folly of the emotions, which the Stoics advised and fostered; or the no-more-laughing and no-more-weeping of Spinoza, the destruction of the emotions by their analysis and vivisection, which he recommended so naively; or the lowering of the emotions to an innocent mean at which they may be satisfied, the Aristotelianism of morals; or even morality as the enjoyment of the emotions in a voluntary attenuation and spiritualization by the symbolism of art, perhaps as music, or as love of God, and of mankind for God's sake—for in religion the passions are once more enfranchised, provided that...; or, finally, even the complaisant and wanton surrender to the emotions, as has been taught by Hafis and Goethe, the bold letting-go of the reins, the spiritual and corporeal licentia morum in the exceptional cases of wise old codgers and drunkards, with whom it "no longer has much danger."—This also for the chapter: "Morals as Timidity."
198. All moral systems that aim at people's "happiness," as it is called, offer what, exactly? Nothing but rules for behavior suited to the degree of DANGER people pose to themselves. They offer recipes for managing people's passions and their good and bad tendencies. These recipes apply insofar as those passions and tendencies have the Will to Power and want to rule. These systems are little and large practical fixes and refinements, steeped in the musty smell of old family remedies and old wives' wisdom. All are grotesque and absurd in form because they address "all," generalizing where no generalization is justified. All speak without qualification and regard themselves as valid without qualification. All are flavored with not just one grain of salt. Rather, they become tolerable, and sometimes even seductive, only when overspiced and beginning to smell dangerous, especially of "the other world." Intellectually, all this has little value. It is far from "science," much less "wisdom." But let me repeat it, and repeat it three times: expediency, expediency, expediency, mixed with stupidity, stupidity, stupidity. This applies to the indifference and statue-like coldness toward the heated madness of emotions that the Stoics recommended and cultivated. It also applies to Spinoza's refusal to laugh or weep anymore. He so naively recommended destroying emotions by analyzing and dissecting them alive. Or consider reducing emotions to a harmless middle level where they can be satisfied: the Aristotelianism of morals. Or even morality as the enjoyment of emotions voluntarily toned down and spiritualized through the symbolism of art. Perhaps through music, or through love of God, and of humanity for God's sake. For religion sets the passions free once again, provided that... Or, finally, consider the indulgent and unrestrained surrender to emotions taught by Hafis and Goethe: boldly letting go of the reins. This is spiritual and bodily licentia morum, or freedom from moral restraint, in exceptional cases. These are wise old codgers and drunkards for whom such freedom "no longer has much danger." This, too, belongs in the chapter: "Morals as Timidity."
199. Inasmuch as in all ages, as long as mankind has existed, there have also been human herds (family alliances, communities, tribes, peoples, states, churches), and always a great number who obey in proportion to the small number who command—in view, therefore, of the fact that obedience has been most practiced and fostered among mankind hitherto, one may reasonably suppose that, generally speaking, the need thereof is now innate in every one, as a kind of FORMAL CONSCIENCE which gives the command "Thou shalt unconditionally do something, unconditionally refrain from something", in short, "Thou shalt". This need tries to satisfy itself and to fill its form with a content, according to its strength, impatience, and eagerness, it at once seizes as an omnivorous appetite with little selection, and accepts whatever is shouted into its ear by all sorts of commanders—parents, teachers, laws, class prejudices, or public opinion. The extraordinary limitation of human development, the hesitation, protractedness, frequent retrogression, and turning thereof, is attributable to the fact that the herd-instinct of obedience is transmitted best, and at the cost of the art of command. If one imagine this instinct increasing to its greatest extent, commanders and independent individuals will finally be lacking altogether, or they will suffer inwardly from a bad conscience, and will have to impose a deception on themselves in the first place in order to be able to command just as if they also were only obeying. This condition of things actually exists in Europe at present—I call it the moral hypocrisy of the commanding class. They know no other way of protecting themselves from their bad conscience than by playing the role of executors of older and higher orders (of predecessors, of the constitution, of justice, of the law, or of God himself), or they even justify themselves by maxims from the current opinions of the herd, as "first servants of their people," or "instruments of the public weal". On the other hand, the gregarious European man nowadays assumes an air as if he were the only kind of man that is allowable, he glorifies his qualities, such as public spirit, kindness, deference, industry, temperance, modesty, indulgence, sympathy, by virtue of which he is gentle, endurable, and useful to the herd, as the peculiarly human virtues. In cases, however, where it is believed that the leader and bell-wether cannot be dispensed with, attempt after attempt is made nowadays to replace commanders by the summing together of clever gregarious men all representative constitutions, for example, are of this origin. In spite of all, what a blessing, what a deliverance from a weight becoming unendurable, is the appearance of an absolute ruler for these gregarious Europeans—of this fact the effect of the appearance of Napoleon was the last great proof the history of the influence of Napoleon is almost the history of the higher happiness to which the entire century has attained in its worthiest individuals and periods.
199. As long as humanity has existed, there have always been human herds (family alliances, communities, tribes, peoples, states, churches). Those who obey have always greatly outnumbered those who command. Obedience has therefore been practiced and encouraged more than anything else throughout human history. So we may reasonably suppose that the need to obey is now generally inborn in everyone. It acts as a kind of FORMAL CONSCIENCE, commanding: "You must unconditionally do something, unconditionally refrain from something". In short: "You must". This need seeks satisfaction by finding something to fill its empty form. Depending on its strength, impatience, and eagerness, it immediately grabs whatever commands it hears, like an appetite that devours almost anything. It accepts whatever all kinds of authorities shout into its ear: parents, teachers, laws, class prejudices, or public opinion. Human development has been extraordinarily limited, hesitant, slow, and marked by frequent setbacks and changes of direction. The reason is that the herd instinct of obedience is passed down most successfully, at the expense of commanding. Imagine this instinct growing to its fullest extent. Eventually, there would be no commanders or independent individuals left. Or they would suffer from a guilty conscience. To command at all, they would first have to deceive themselves into believing that they, too, were merely obeying. This situation actually exists in Europe today. I call it the moral hypocrisy of the commanding class. These rulers know only one way to protect themselves from their guilty consciences. They pretend to carry out older and higher commands. These come from predecessors, the constitution, justice, the law, or God himself. Or rulers justify themselves with slogans drawn from the herd's current opinions. They call themselves the "first servants of their people," or "instruments of the public good". Meanwhile, today's European herd member acts as though his were the only permissible kind of human being. He glorifies his own qualities: public spirit, kindness, deference, hard work, moderation, modesty, tolerance, and sympathy. These qualities make him gentle, bearable, and useful to the herd. Yet he celebrates them as the distinctively human virtues. But wherever people believe they cannot do without a leader to guide the herd, they keep trying to replace commanders. They do so by bringing clever herd members together. All representative constitutions, for example, have this origin. Despite everything, the arrival of an absolute ruler is a blessing for these European herd members. It frees them from a burden that is becoming unbearable. Napoleon's arrival provided the last great proof of this. The history of Napoleon's influence is almost the history of the century's highest happiness, in its worthiest individuals and periods.
200. The man of an age of dissolution which mixes the races with one another, who has the inheritance of a diversified descent in his body—that is to say, contrary, and often not only contrary, instincts and standards of value, which struggle with one another and are seldom at peace—such a man of late culture and broken lights, will, on an average, be a weak man. His fundamental desire is that the war which is IN HIM should come to an end; happiness appears to him in the character of a soothing medicine and mode of thought (for instance, Epicurean or Christian); it is above all things the happiness of repose, of undisturbedness, of repletion, of final unity—it is the "Sabbath of Sabbaths," to use the expression of the holy rhetorician, St. Augustine, who was himself such a man.—Should, however, the contrariety and conflict in such natures operate as an ADDITIONAL incentive and stimulus to life—and if, on the other hand, in addition to their powerful and irreconcilable instincts, they have also inherited and indoctrinated into them a proper mastery and subtlety for carrying on the conflict with themselves (that is to say, the faculty of self-control and self-deception), there then arise those marvelously incomprehensible and inexplicable beings, those enigmatical men, predestined for conquering and circumventing others, the finest examples of which are Alcibiades and Caesar (with whom I should like to associate the FIRST of Europeans according to my taste, the Hohenstaufen, Frederick the Second), and among artists, perhaps Leonardo da Vinci. They appear precisely in the same periods when that weaker type, with its longing for repose, comes to the front; the two types are complementary to each other, and spring from the same causes.
200. In an age of dissolution, when races mix, a man carries the inheritance of varied ancestry in his body. He inherits conflicting instincts and standards of value, often more than merely conflicting, that struggle and are seldom at peace. Such a man, shaped by a late-stage culture and fragmented insights, will on average be weak. His deepest desire is for the war IN HIM to end. Happiness seems to him like a soothing medicine and way of thinking, for instance, Epicurean or Christian. Above all, he seeks the happiness of rest, of being undisturbed, of fullness, of final unity. It is the "Sabbath of Sabbaths," to use the phrase of that holy rhetorician, St. Augustine. St. Augustine was himself such a man. But suppose the opposition and conflict within such people provide an ADDITIONAL incentive and stimulus to life. Suppose, too, that alongside their powerful, irreconcilable instincts, they have inherited and been trained in another skill. This is the mastery and subtlety needed to carry on their inner conflict, namely, self-control and self-deception. Under these conditions, those wonderfully incomprehensible and inexplicable beings emerge: those enigmatic men destined to conquer and outmaneuver others. The finest examples are Alcibiades and Caesar. Alongside them I would place the FIRST of Europeans, to my taste: the Hohenstaufen, Frederick the Second. Among artists, perhaps Leonardo da Vinci belongs here. These men emerge in precisely the same periods when the weaker type, longing for rest, comes to prominence. The two types complement each other and arise from the same causes.
201. As long as the utility which determines moral estimates is only gregarious utility, as long as the preservation of the community is only kept in view, and the immoral is sought precisely and exclusively in what seems dangerous to the maintenance of the community, there can be no "morality of love to one's neighbour." Granted even that there is already a little constant exercise of consideration, sympathy, fairness, gentleness, and mutual assistance, granted that even in this condition of society all those instincts are already active which are latterly distinguished by honourable names as "virtues," and eventually almost coincide with the conception "morality": in that period they do not as yet belong to the domain of moral valuations—they are still ULTRA-MORAL. A sympathetic action, for instance, is neither called good nor bad, moral nor immoral, in the best period of the Romans; and should it be praised, a sort of resentful disdain is compatible with this praise, even at the best, directly the sympathetic action is compared with one which contributes to the welfare of the whole, to the RES PUBLICA. After all, "love to our neighbour" is always a secondary matter, partly conventional and arbitrarily manifested in relation to our FEAR OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. After the fabric of society seems on the whole established and secured against external dangers, it is this fear of our neighbour which again creates new perspectives of moral valuation. Certain strong and dangerous instincts, such as the love of enterprise, foolhardiness, revengefulness, astuteness, rapacity, and love of power, which up till then had not only to be honoured from the point of view of general utility—under other names, of course, than those here given—but had to be fostered and cultivated (because they were perpetually required in the common danger against the common enemies), are now felt in their dangerousness to be doubly strong—when the outlets for them are lacking—and are gradually branded as immoral and given over to calumny. The contrary instincts and inclinations now attain to moral honour, the gregarious instinct gradually draws its conclusions. How much or how little dangerousness to the community or to equality is contained in an opinion, a condition, an emotion, a disposition, or an endowment—that is now the moral perspective, here again fear is the mother of morals. It is by the loftiest and strongest instincts, when they break out passionately and carry the individual far above and beyond the average, and the low level of the gregarious conscience, that the self-reliance of the community is destroyed, its belief in itself, its backbone, as it were, breaks, consequently these very instincts will be most branded and defamed. The lofty independent spirituality, the will to stand alone, and even the cogent reason, are felt to be dangers, everything that elevates the individual above the herd, and is a source of fear to the neighbour, is henceforth called EVIL, the tolerant, unassuming, self-adapting, self-equalizing disposition, the MEDIOCRITY of desires, attains to moral distinction and honour. Finally, under very peaceful circumstances, there is always less opportunity and necessity for training the feelings to severity and rigour, and now every form of severity, even in justice, begins to disturb the conscience, a lofty and rigorous nobleness and self-responsibility almost offends, and awakens distrust, "the lamb," and still more "the sheep," wins respect. There is a point of diseased mellowness and effeminacy in the history of society, at which society itself takes the part of him who injures it, the part of the CRIMINAL, and does so, in fact, seriously and honestly. To punish, appears to it to be somehow unfair—it is certain that the idea of "punishment" and "the obligation to punish" are then painful and alarming to people. "Is it not sufficient if the criminal be rendered HARMLESS? Why should we still punish? Punishment itself is terrible!"—with these questions gregarious morality, the morality of fear, draws its ultimate conclusion. If one could at all do away with danger, the cause of fear, one would have done away with this morality at the same time, it would no longer be necessary, it WOULD NOT CONSIDER ITSELF any longer necessary!—Whoever examines the conscience of the present-day European, will always elicit the same imperative from its thousand moral folds and hidden recesses, the imperative of the timidity of the herd "we wish that some time or other there may be NOTHING MORE TO FEAR!" Some time or other—the will and the way THERETO is nowadays called "progress" all over Europe.
201. As long as moral judgments depend only on usefulness to the herd, only the community’s survival matters. Only what seems dangerous to that survival is considered immoral. Under these conditions, there can be no "morality of love for one's neighbour." Granted, people may already show some regular consideration, sympathy, fairness, gentleness, and willingness to help one another. Granted, all the instincts later honoured as "virtues" may already be active in this society. Eventually, these instincts almost become synonymous with "morality." But at this stage, they are not yet subject to moral judgment. They are still ULTRA-MORAL. For example, during the finest period of the Romans, a sympathetic act is called neither good nor bad, moral nor immoral. Even when praised, such an act can still be regarded with a kind of resentful contempt. This happens as soon as it is compared with an act benefiting the whole, the RES PUBLICA. After all, "love for our neighbour" is always secondary to our FEAR OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. Such love is partly conventional and expressed selectively, according to no fixed principle. Once society seems generally established and secure against outside dangers, fear of our neighbour creates new perspectives for moral judgment. Certain strong and dangerous instincts had previously been honoured because they served the community. These include adventurousness, recklessness, vengefulness, cunning, greed, and the love of power. Of course, they were honoured under different names. These instincts also had to be encouraged and cultivated. They were constantly needed when everyone faced the same dangers and enemies. Now, without outlets, these instincts seem doubly dangerous. Gradually, they are branded immoral and subjected to slander. The opposite instincts and tendencies now receive moral honour. The herd instinct gradually draws its conclusions. How much danger does an opinion, a condition, an emotion, a disposition, or a talent pose to the community or equality? That is now the basis of moral judgment. Here again, fear is the mother of morality. The highest and strongest instincts destroy the community’s confidence when they erupt passionately. They carry the individual far above and beyond the average and the low level of the herd’s conscience. The community loses its belief in itself. Its backbone breaks, so to speak. Consequently, these very instincts receive the harshest condemnation and slander. A lofty, independent spirit, the will to stand alone, and even compelling reason are felt to be dangers. Everything that raises the individual above the herd and frightens the neighbour is now called EVIL. A tolerant, unassuming disposition that adapts to others and makes itself their equal gains moral distinction and honour. So does MEDIOCRITY in desires. Finally, in very peaceful conditions, there is less and less opportunity or need to train people’s feelings toward severity and firmness. Now every kind of severity, even in justice, begins to trouble the conscience. A lofty, uncompromising nobility and personal responsibility almost give offence and arouse distrust. "The lamb," and still more "the sheep," wins respect. Society’s history reaches a point of unhealthy softness and effeminacy. At this point, society itself sides with the person who harms it, with the CRIMINAL. And society does so seriously and sincerely. Punishment seems somehow unfair. Certainly, the ideas of "punishment" and "the duty to punish" now cause people pain and alarm. "Isn't it enough to make the criminal HARMLESS? Why should we still punish? Punishment itself is terrible!" With these questions, herd morality, the morality of fear, draws its final conclusion. If danger, the cause of fear, could be eliminated altogether, this morality would disappear along with it. It would no longer be necessary. It WOULD NO LONGER CONSIDER ITSELF necessary! Anyone examining the conscience of today’s European will always draw the same command from its thousand moral folds and hidden recesses. It is the command of the timid herd: "we wish that someday there may be NOTHING MORE TO FEAR!" Someday. Throughout Europe today, the will and the path TO THAT END are called "progress."
202. Let us at once say again what we have already said a hundred times, for people's ears nowadays are unwilling to hear such truths—OUR truths. We know well enough how offensive it sounds when any one plainly, and without metaphor, counts man among the animals, but it will be accounted to us almost a CRIME, that it is precisely in respect to men of "modern ideas" that we have constantly applied the terms "herd," "herd-instincts," and such like expressions. What avail is it? We cannot do otherwise, for it is precisely here that our new insight is. We have found that in all the principal moral judgments, Europe has become unanimous, including likewise the countries where European influence prevails in Europe people evidently KNOW what Socrates thought he did not know, and what the famous serpent of old once promised to teach—they "know" today what is good and evil. It must then sound hard and be distasteful to the ear, when we always insist that that which here thinks it knows, that which here glorifies itself with praise and blame, and calls itself good, is the instinct of the herding human animal, the instinct which has come and is ever coming more and more to the front, to preponderance and supremacy over other instincts, according to the increasing physiological approximation and resemblance of which it is the symptom. MORALITY IN EUROPE AT PRESENT IS HERDING-ANIMAL MORALITY, and therefore, as we understand the matter, only one kind of human morality, beside which, before which, and after which many other moralities, and above all HIGHER moralities, are or should be possible. Against such a "possibility," against such a "should be," however, this morality defends itself with all its strength, it says obstinately and inexorably "I am morality itself and nothing else is morality!" Indeed, with the help of a religion which has humoured and flattered the sublimest desires of the herding-animal, things have reached such a point that we always find a more visible expression of this morality even in political and social arrangements: the DEMOCRATIC movement is the inheritance of the Christian movement. That its TEMPO, however, is much too slow and sleepy for the more impatient ones, for those who are sick and distracted by the herding-instinct, is indicated by the increasingly furious howling, and always less disguised teeth-gnashing of the anarchist dogs, who are now roving through the highways of European culture. Apparently in opposition to the peacefully industrious democrats and Revolution-ideologues, and still more so to the awkward philosophasters and fraternity-visionaries who call themselves Socialists and want a "free society," those are really at one with them all in their thorough and instinctive hostility to every form of society other than that of the AUTONOMOUS herd (to the extent even of repudiating the notions "master" and "servant"—ni dieu ni maitre, says a socialist formula); at one in their tenacious opposition to every special claim, every special right and privilege (this means ultimately opposition to EVERY right, for when all are equal, no one needs "rights" any longer); at one in their distrust of punitive justice (as though it were a violation of the weak, unfair to the NECESSARY consequences of all former society); but equally at one in their religion of sympathy, in their compassion for all that feels, lives, and suffers (down to the very animals, up even to "God"—the extravagance of "sympathy for God" belongs to a democratic age); altogether at one in the cry and impatience of their sympathy, in their deadly hatred of suffering generally, in their almost feminine incapacity for witnessing it or ALLOWING it; at one in their involuntary beglooming and heart-softening, under the spell of which Europe seems to be threatened with a new Buddhism; at one in their belief in the morality of MUTUAL sympathy, as though it were morality in itself, the climax, the ATTAINED climax of mankind, the sole hope of the future, the consolation of the present, the great discharge from all the obligations of the past; altogether at one in their belief in the community as the DELIVERER, in the herd, and therefore in "themselves."
202. Let us repeat at once what we have already said a hundred times. People today are unwilling to hear such truths, OUR truths. We know well enough how offensive it sounds to count human beings among the animals, plainly and without metaphor. But people will consider something else almost a CRIME. We have repeatedly applied terms like "herd," "herd-instincts," and similar expressions precisely to people with "modern ideas." What good does protesting do? We cannot do otherwise, because our new insight lies precisely here. We have found that Europe agrees on all the main moral judgments. The same holds for countries where European influence prevails. People in Europe evidently KNOW what Socrates thought he did not know. They know what the famous serpent of old once promised to teach. Today they "know" what is good and evil. So our repeated insistence must sound harsh and unpleasant. What claims to know here, praises and condemns, and calls itself good is the instinct of the human herd animal. This instinct has increasingly come to the forefront and continues to gain power and supremacy over other instincts. Its rise reflects the growing physiological similarity and likeness among human beings. MORALITY IN EUROPE TODAY IS HERD-ANIMAL MORALITY. As we understand it, this is therefore only one kind of human morality. Many other moralities, and above all HIGHER moralities, are or should be possible alongside it, before it, and after it. But this morality defends itself with all its strength against such a "possibility," against such a "should be." It stubbornly and relentlessly declares, "I am morality itself and nothing else is morality!" Indeed, religion has catered to and flattered the herd animal's loftiest desires. With religion's help, this morality has become increasingly visible even in political and social institutions. The DEMOCRATIC movement is the heir of the Christian movement. But its PACE is much too slow and sluggish for the more impatient. These are people whom the herd instinct makes sick and frantic. We hear their impatience in the increasingly furious howling and ever less concealed teeth-gnashing of the anarchist dogs. These dogs now roam the roads of European culture. They seem opposed to the peacefully hardworking democrats and the ideologues of revolution. They seem still more opposed to the clumsy would-be philosophers and dreamers of brotherhood. These call themselves Socialists and want a "free society." Yet the anarchists really agree with all these groups in their deep, instinctive hostility to every other form of society. They accept only the AUTONOMOUS herd. They go so far as to reject the ideas of "master" and "servant." A socialist slogan says, ni dieu ni maitre, neither god nor master. They all firmly oppose every special claim, every special right and privilege. Ultimately, this means opposing EVERY right, because when everyone is equal, no one needs "rights" anymore. They all distrust justice that punishes. They treat punishment as though it violated the weak and wronged the NECESSARY products of all earlier societies. But they also share a religion of sympathy. They feel compassion for everything that feels, lives, and suffers. Their compassion reaches down to the animals and up even to "God." The extravagance of "sympathy for God" belongs to a democratic age. They are wholly united in their clamorous, impatient sympathy and their deadly hatred of suffering in general. They share an almost feminine inability to witness suffering or ALLOW it. They share an involuntary gloom and softening of the heart. Under this spell, Europe seems threatened by a new Buddhism. They all believe in the morality of MUTUAL sympathy, as though it were morality itself. They regard it as humanity's peak, a peak already REACHED. They see it as the future's only hope, the present's comfort, and the great release from every obligation to the past. They are wholly united in their belief in the community as the SAVIOR, in the herd, and therefore in "themselves."
203. We, who hold a different belief—we, who regard the democratic movement, not only as a degenerating form of political organization, but as equivalent to a degenerating, a waning type of man, as involving his mediocrising and depreciation: where have WE to fix our hopes? In NEW PHILOSOPHERS—there is no other alternative: in minds strong and original enough to initiate opposite estimates of value, to transvalue and invert "eternal valuations"; in forerunners, in men of the future, who in the present shall fix the constraints and fasten the knots which will compel millenniums to take NEW paths. To teach man the future of humanity as his WILL, as depending on human will, and to make preparation for vast hazardous enterprises and collective attempts in rearing and educating, in order thereby to put an end to the frightful rule of folly and chance which has hitherto gone by the name of "history" (the folly of the "greatest number" is only its last form)—for that purpose a new type of philosopher and commander will some time or other be needed, at the very idea of which everything that has existed in the way of occult, terrible, and benevolent beings might look pale and dwarfed. The image of such leaders hovers before OUR eyes:—is it lawful for me to say it aloud, ye free spirits? The conditions which one would partly have to create and partly utilize for their genesis; the presumptive methods and tests by virtue of which a soul should grow up to such an elevation and power as to feel a CONSTRAINT to these tasks; a transvaluation of values, under the new pressure and hammer of which a conscience should be steeled and a heart transformed into brass, so as to bear the weight of such responsibility; and on the other hand the necessity for such leaders, the dreadful danger that they might be lacking, or miscarry and degenerate:—these are OUR real anxieties and glooms, ye know it well, ye free spirits! these are the heavy distant thoughts and storms which sweep across the heaven of OUR life. There are few pains so grievous as to have seen, divined, or experienced how an exceptional man has missed his way and deteriorated; but he who has the rare eye for the universal danger of "man" himself DETERIORATING, he who like us has recognized the extraordinary fortuitousness which has hitherto played its game in respect to the future of mankind—a game in which neither the hand, nor even a "finger of God" has participated!—he who divines the fate that is hidden under the idiotic unwariness and blind confidence of "modern ideas," and still more under the whole of Christo-European morality—suffers from an anguish with which no other is to be compared. He sees at a glance all that could still BE MADE OUT OF MAN through a favourable accumulation and augmentation of human powers and arrangements; he knows with all the knowledge of his conviction how unexhausted man still is for the greatest possibilities, and how often in the past the type man has stood in presence of mysterious decisions and new paths:—he knows still better from his painfulest recollections on what wretched obstacles promising developments of the highest rank have hitherto usually gone to pieces, broken down, sunk, and become contemptible. The UNIVERSAL DEGENERACY OF MANKIND to the level of the "man of the future"—as idealized by the socialistic fools and shallow-pates—this degeneracy and dwarfing of man to an absolutely gregarious animal (or as they call it, to a man of "free society"), this brutalizing of man into a pigmy with equal rights and claims, is undoubtedly POSSIBLE! He who has thought out this possibility to its ultimate conclusion knows ANOTHER loathing unknown to the rest of mankind—and perhaps also a new MISSION!
203. We hold a different belief. We see the democratic movement not only as a declining form of political organization. We also see it as the expression of a declining, weakening human type, making humanity mediocre and less valuable. Where must WE place our hopes? In NEW PHILOSOPHERS. There is no other choice. We need minds strong and original enough to introduce opposing standards of value, to reassess and overturn "eternal valuations". We need pioneers, people of the future. In the present, they will set limits and tie knots that will force millennia onto NEW paths. Humanity must learn to see its future as its WILL, as something that depends on human will. Preparations must be made for vast, dangerous undertakings and collective experiments in breeding and education. The aim is to end the terrifying rule of foolishness and chance that has so far been called "history". The foolishness of the "greatest number" is only its latest form. For this purpose, a new type of philosopher and commander will sooner or later be needed. The very idea of such a figure might make all past mysterious, terrible, and benevolent beings seem pale and small. The image of such leaders hovers before OUR eyes. May I say this aloud, you free spirits? Some conditions for their emergence would have to be created, while others would have to be used. We must consider the likely methods and tests through which a soul could reach such heights and power. Such a soul would feel a CONSTRAINT to undertake these tasks. We must consider a revaluation of values, whose new pressure and hammer would harden a conscience and turn a heart to brass. Such a conscience and heart would then be able to bear the weight of this responsibility. On the other hand, we must consider the need for such leaders. We must consider the terrible danger that they might never appear, or might fail and decline. These are OUR real anxieties and dark concerns. You know this well, you free spirits! These are the heavy, distant thoughts and storms that sweep across the sky of OUR life. Few pains are as deep as seeing, sensing, or experiencing how an exceptional person has lost his way and declined. But someone with a rare eye sees the danger of "man" himself DETERIORATING. Like us, he recognizes the extraordinary role chance has played so far in humanity's future. Neither the hand nor even a "finger of God" has taken part in this game! He senses the fate hidden beneath the idiotic carelessness and blind confidence of "modern ideas". Still more, he senses that fate beneath the whole of Christo-European morality. He suffers an anguish beyond comparison. At a glance, he sees all that could still BE MADE OUT OF MAN. Human powers and institutions would need to be favorably brought together and strengthened. He knows, with complete conviction, how far humanity remains from exhausting its greatest possibilities. He knows how often the human type has faced mysterious decisions and new paths. From his most painful memories, he knows something else even better. Again and again, developments of the highest promise have shattered against miserable obstacles, collapsed, sunk, and become contemptible. The UNIVERSAL DEGENERACY OF MANKIND could reduce humanity to the "man of the future", as idealized by socialist fools and empty heads. Humanity could decline and shrink into an animal that lives entirely by the herd. Or, as they call it, a person of "free society". Humanity could be brutalized into a stunted creature with equal rights and claims. This is undoubtedly POSSIBLE! Anyone who has thought this possibility through to its final conclusion knows ANOTHER disgust, unknown to the rest of humanity. And perhaps also a new MISSION!