Just enumerate in order the particular tendencies and virtues of the philosopher—his tendency to doubt, his tendency to deny, his tendency to wait to be "ephectic" , his tendency to analyse, search, explore, dare, his tendency to compare and to equalise, his will to be neutral and objective, his will for everything which is " sine ira et studio ": has it yet been realised that for quite a lengthy period these tendencies went counter to the first claims of morality and conscience?
Has it been yet appreciated that a philosopher, in the event of his arriving at self-consciousness, must needs feel himself an incarnate "nitimur in vetitum,"  —and consequently guard himself against "his own sensations," against self-consciousness?
It is, I repeat, just the same with all good things, on which we now pride ourselves; even judged by the standard of the ancient Greeks, our whole modern life, in so far as it is not weakness, but power and the consciousness of power, appears pure " Hybris " and godlessness: for the things which are the very reverse of those which we honour to-day, have had for a long time conscience on their side, and God as their guardian.
We heal ourselves afterwards: being ill is instructive, we doubt it not, even more instructive than being well—inoculators of disease seem to us to-day even more necessary than any medicine-men and "saviours.
All good things were once bad things; from every original sin has grown an original virtue. Marriage, for example, seemed for a long time a sin against the rights of the community; a man formerly paid a fine for the insolence of claiming one woman to himself to this phase belongs, for instance, the jus primae noctis to-day still in Cambodia the privilege of the priest, that guardian of the "good old customs".
The soft, benevolent, yielding, sympathetic feelings—eventually valued so highly that they almost became "intrinsic values," were for a very long time actually despised by their possessors: gentleness was then a subject for shame, just as hardness is now compare Beyond Good and Evil, Aph.
Law was long a vetitum, a blasphemy, an innovation; it was introduced with force like a force, to which men only submitted with a sense of personal shame. Every tiny step forward in the world was formerly made at the cost of mental and physical torture.
Nowadays the whole of this point of view—"that not only stepping forward, nay, stepping at all, movement, change, all needed their countless martyrs," rings in our ears quite strangely. I have put it forward in the Dawn of Day, Aph.
But that pride is the reason why it is now almost impossible for us to feel in sympathy with those immense periods of the 'Morality of Custom,' which lie at the beginning of the 'world's history,' constituting as they do the real decisive historical principle which has fixed the character of humanity; those periods, I repeat, when throughout the world suffering passed for virtue, cruelty for virtue, deceit for virtue, revenge for virtue, repudiation of the reason for virtue; and when, conversely, well-being passed current for danger, the desire for knowledge for danger, pity for danger, peace for danger, being pitied for shame, work for shame, madness for divinity, and change for immorality and incarnate corruption!
There is in the same book, Aph. Contemplation first appeared on earth in a disguised shape, in an ambiguous form, with an evil heart and often with an uneasy head: there is no doubt about it. The inactive, brooding, unwarlike element in the instincts of contemplative men long invested them with a cloud of suspicion: the only way to combat this was to excite a definite fear.
And the old Brahmans, for example, knew to a nicety how to do this! The oldest philosophers were well versed in giving to their very existence and appearance, meaning, firmness, background, by reason whereof men learnt to fear them; considered more precisely, they did this from an even more fundamental need, the need of inspiring in themselves fear and self-reverence.
For they found even in their own souls all the valuations turned against themselves; they had to fight down every kind of suspicion and antagonism against "the philosophic element in themselves.
I remember the famous story of the King Vicvamitra , who, as the result of a thousand years of self-martyrdom, reached such a consciousness of power and such a confidence in himself that he undertook to build a new heaven: the sinister symbol of the oldest and newest history of philosophy in the whole world.
Let us compress the facts into a short formula. The philosophic spirit had, in order to be possible to any extent at all, to masquerade and disguise itself as one of the previously fixed types of the contemplative man, to disguise itself as priest, wizard, soothsayer, as a religious man generally: the ascetic ideal has for a long time served the philosopher as a superficial form, as a condition which enabled him to exist.
To be able to be a philosopher he had to exemplify the ideal; to exemplify it, he was bound to believe in it. The peculiarly etherealised abstraction of philosophers, with their negation of the world, their enmity to life, their disbelief in the senses, which has been maintained up to the most recent time, and has almost thereby come to be accepted as the ideal philosophic attitude—this abstraction is the result of those enforced conditions under which philosophy came into existence, and continued to exist; inasmuch as for quite a very long time philosophy would have been absolutely impossible in the world without an ascetic cloak and dress, without an ascetic self-misunderstanding.
Expressed plainly and palpably, the ascetic priest has taken the repulsive and sinister form of the caterpillar, beneath which and behind which alone philosophy could live and slink about. Has all that really changed? Has that flamboyant and dangerous winged creature, that "spirit" which that caterpillar concealed within itself, has it, I say, thanks to a sunnier, warmer, lighter world, really and finally flung off its hood and escaped into the light?
And now, after we have caught sight of the ascetic priest, let us tackle our problem. What is the meaning of the ascetic ideal? It now first becomes serious—vitally serious. We are now confronted with the real representatives of the serious. In that ideal the ascetic priest finds not only his faith, but also his will, his power, his interest. His right to existence stands and falls with that ideal. What wonder that we here run up against a terrible opponent on the supposition, of course, that we are the opponents of that ideal , an opponent fighting for his life against those who repudiate that ideal!
On the other hand, it is from the outset improbable that such a biased attitude towards our problem will do him any particular good; the ascetic priest himself will scarcely prove the happiest champion of his own ideal on the same principle on which a woman usually fails when she wishes to champion "woman" —let alone proving the most objective critic and judge of the controversy now raised.
We shall therefore—so much is already obvious—rather have actually to help him to defend himself properly against ourselves, than we shall have to fear being too well beaten by him. The ascetic treats life as a maze, in which one must walk backwards till one comes to the place where it starts; or he treats it as an error which one may, nay must, refute by action: for he demands that he should be followed; he enforces, where he can, his valuation of existence.
What does this mean? Such a monstrous valuation is not an exceptional case, or a curiosity recorded in human history: it is one of the most general and persistent facts that there are.
The reading from the vantage of a distant star of the capital letters of our earthly life, would perchance lead to the conclusion that the earth was the especially ascetic planet, a den of discontented, arrogant, and repulsive creatures, who never got rid of a deep disgust of themselves, of the world, of all life, and did themselves as much hurt as possible out of pleasure in hurting—presumably their one and only pleasure.
Let us consider how regularly, how universally, how practically at every single period the ascetic priest puts in his appearance: he belongs to no particular race; he thrives everywhere; he grows out of all classes. Not that he perhaps bred this valuation by heredity and propagated it—the contrary is the case.
For an ascetic life is a self-contradiction: here rules resentment without parallel, the resentment of an insatiate instinct and ambition, that would be master, not over some element in life, but over life itself, over life's deepest, strongest, innermost conditions; here is an attempt made to utilise power to dam the sources of power; here does the green eye of jealousy turn even against physiological well-being, especially against the expression of such well-being, beauty, joy, while a sense of pleasure is experienced and sought in abortion, in decay, in pain, in misfortune, in ugliness, in voluntary punishment, in the exercising, flagellation, and sacrifice of the self.
All this is in the highest degree paradoxical: we are here confronted with a rift that wills itself to be a rift, which enjoys itself in this very suffering, and even becomes more and more certain of itself, more and more triumphant, in proportion as its own presupposition, physiological vitality, decreases. Crux, nux, lux—it has all these three in one. On that which has been felt with the greatest certainty to be true, to be real; it will look for error in those very places where the life instinct fixes truth with the greatest positiveness.
It will, for instance, after the example of the ascetics of the Vedanta Philosophy , reduce matter to an illusion, and similarly treat pain, multiplicity, the whole logical contrast of "Subject" and "Object"—errors, nothing but errors! To renounce the belief in one's own ego, to deny to one's self one's own "reality"—what a triumph! By the bye, even in the Kantian idea of "the intelligible character of things" there remains a trace of that schism, so dear to the heart of the ascetic, that schism which likes to turn reason against reason; in fact, "intelligible character" means in Kant a kind of quality in things of which the intellect comprehends so much, that for it, the intellect, it is absolutely incomprehensible.
After all, let us, in our character of knowers, not be ungrateful towards such determined reversals of the ordinary perspectives and values, with which the mind had for too long raged against itself with an apparently futile sacrilege! But let us, forsooth, my philosophic colleagues, henceforward guard ourselves more carefully against this mythology of dangerous ancient ideas, which has set up a "pure, will-less, painless, timeless subject of knowledge"; let us guard ourselves from the tentacles of such contradictory ideas as "pure reason," "absolute spirituality," "knowledge-in-itself":—in these theories an eye that cannot be thought of is required to think, an eye which ex hypothesi has no direction at all, an eye in which the active and interpreting functions are cramped, are absent; those functions, I say, by means of which "abstract" seeing first became seeing something; in these theories consequently the absurd and the nonsensical is always demanded of the eye.
There is only a seeing from a perspective, only a "knowing" from a perspective, and the more emotions we express over a thing, the more eyes, different eyes, we train on the same thing, the more complete will be our "idea" of that thing, our "objectivity.
But let us turn back. It can only be an apparent contradiction; it must be a kind of provisional expression, an explanation, a formula, an adjustment, a psychological misunderstanding of something, whose real nature could not be understood for a long time, and whose real essence could not be described; a mere word jammed into an old gap of human knowledge. To put briefly the facts against its being real: the ascetic ideal springs from the prophylactic and self-preservative instincts which mark a decadent life, which seeks by every means in its power to maintain its position and fight for its existence; it points to a partial physiological depression and exhaustion, against which the most profound and intact life-instincts fight ceaselessly with new weapons and discoveries.
The ascetic ideal is such a weapon: its position is consequently exactly the reverse of that which the worshippers of the ideal imagine—life struggles in it and through it with death and against death; the ascetic ideal is a dodge for the preservation of life. An important fact is brought out in the extent to which, as history teaches, this ideal could rule and exercise power over man, especially in all those places where the civilisation and taming of man was completed: that fact is, the diseased state of man up to the present, at any rate, of the man who has been tamed, the physiological struggle of man with death more precisely, with the disgust with life, with exhaustion, with the wish for the "end".
You understand me already: this ascetic priest, this apparent enemy of life, this denier—he actually belongs to the really great conservative and affirmative forces of life.
What does it come from, this diseased state? For man is more diseased, more uncertain, more changeable, more unstable than any other animal, there is no doubt of it—he is the diseased animal: what does it spring from?
Certainly he has also dared, innovated, braved more, challenged fate more than all the other animals put together; he, the great experimenter with himself, the unsatisfied, the insatiate, who struggles for the supreme mastery with beast, Nature, and gods, he, the as yet ever uncompelled, the ever future, who finds no more any rest from his own aggressive strength, goaded inexorably on by the spur of the future dug into the flesh of the present:—how should not so brave and rich an animal also be the most endangered, the animal with the longest and deepest sickness among all sick animals?
His "nay," which he utters to life, brings to light as though by magic an abundance of graceful "yeas"; even when he wounds himself, this master of destruction, of self-destruction, it is subsequently the wound itself that forces him to live.
The more normal is this sickliness in man—and we cannot dispute this normality—the higher honour should be paid to the rare cases of psychical and physical powerfulness, the windfalls of humanity, and the more strictly should the sound be guarded from that worst of air, the air of the sick-room. Is that done? The sick are the greatest danger for the healthy; it is not from the strongest that harm comes to the strong, but from the weakest.
Is that known? Broadly considered, it is not for a minute the fear of man, whose diminution should be wished for; for this fear forces the strong to be strong, to be at times terrible—it preserves in its integrity the sound type of man. What is to be feared, what does work with a fatality found in no other fate, is not the great fear of, but the great nausea with, man; and equally so the great pity for man.
To restore the original order of things, according to Nietzsche's account, would mean liberating the animal part of man that is noble and strong. Here we run aground on the shoals of a schizoid subjectivity, where the strong and the weak are no longer separable, and the parables of genealogical method fail to describe reality. Causation in the matter of the inversion of morals thus passes from the human subject to the instances of religion, history, and society.
The problematic subjectivity of this quintessential figure of modernity's inversion of moral values thereby repeats, as if in a puzzle, the structure of the initial analytical error. In the figure of the Thiermensch, the animal simultaneously represents the strong and the weak, and in this way would reproduce the initial analytical error of Nietzsche's genealogy. Whether we speak of the cause, origin, or subject of the inversion of moral values, each is equally affected by the initial error that identifies Judeo-Christian morality as the source of the inversion, and as a result, the historical, religious, and social configurations of inverted values are cut loose from the propositional order of the genealogical method.
In other words, what is thrown into doubt most concretely by the hypothesis that Nietzsche's genealogical method suffers from an initial error is the notion that the original form of strength is natural and animal, while the rationalized creatures of modernity are avatars of what was originally unnatural and weak.
In the figure of the Thiermensch, the natural — conceived as the order in which values originate — has instead come to represent both the force that undermines the "whole man" and the primal surging force Kraft of nature.
Thus the modern subject is schizoid, by virtue of the fact that no original order may be sought in the sense of a chronological or directional unfolding. It is in fact the chronological quality of modernity, and the difference that opposes it to the time of the original, natural order of things, that now is in doubt. The nature of the post-modern, according to Frederick Jameson's well-known theory, is to reinscribe the pre-modern within the heart of modern space.
The retrospective "reversal" of Nietzsche's description of Judeo-Christian morality as a type of Sklaven-Moral would produce an effect of exactly this type. Indeed, the presence of Christian fundamentalism within the ideological structure of post-industrial, free-market capitalism produces such an effect in its own right.
It is, however, the particular privilege of both Christian fundamentalism and globalized free-market capitalism to define themselves as avatars of a primordial origin or a state of nature which can neither be surpassed nor questioned. The alliance between religion and free-market capitalism is, in a phrase, the unsurpassable horizon of our time.
Paradoxically, however, and on the mode of an error, the Nietzschean definition of modernity troubles the unalloyed victory of this unsurpassable and eternally-returning origin. For if Nietzsche's genealogy of morals suffers from an original analytical flaw, so too might the genealogy of political morals that dominates the thought of the contemporary conservative consensus.
Nietzsche's schizoid subject the Thiermensch defines a modernity that the conservative genealogy of political morals would reject. The necessity of identifying the source of the inversion of morals as the welfare state means that the political genealogy of morals at the heart of globalized free-market capitalism relies on a dialectical movement of return to an original un-inverted state of nature.
The post-modern reifies modernity's inverted moment without changing it, rejecting it on the basis that it is incoherent. Modernity is a uniquely negative instance i. The elemental genealogical presupposition advanced by fundamentalist Christianity is that the weak have been unduly protected by the intervention of the welfare state.
In order for life to return, for growth to occur, and for the subjugation of man to end, the uncontrolled strength and power of the free market must be unleashed. However, the relationship of analogy between the Nietzschean genealogical maneuver and the Reaganite political economy suggests that a flaw inherent in the first will be present in the second, as well.
Indeed, if the analogy holds true, the Nietzschean genealogy of good and evil is necessarily troubled by a primordial analytical flaw. For if Christianity or even Judaism were truly the source of the inversion of values Sklaven-Moral , then the religious fundamentalism aligned with the Reaganite political genealogy would be the opposite of Christianity. Meanwhile, if Nietzsche was wrong, and Christianity was not the source of the inversion of values, then the Reaganite genealogy of political morals will suffer from the same analytical flaw as Nietzsche's genealogy.
Indeed, if the political doxa of the Reaganite genealogy of morals retrospectively disconfirms Nietzsche's analysis of Christianity by demonstrating that Christianity can be marshaled to the cause of promoting the strong at the expense of the weak, then by deduction, it would appear that the genealogical method is unable to answer the question of whether weakness or strength is evil, because as a method, genealogy has failed to identify the original cause of the inversion of good and evil.
I was very taken by it and from that moment on I became very interested in Nietzsche. What did you particularly like about him? I had actually become interested in philosophy from reading Sartre as a high school student in French classes.
Preface[ edit ] Nietzsche's treatise outlines his thoughts "on the origin of our moral prejudices" previously given brief expression in his Human, All Too Human Nietzsche decided that "a critique of moral values" was needed, that "the value of these values themselves must be called into question". This inversion of values develops out of the ressentiment of the powerful by the weak.
Nietzsche rebukes the "English psychologists" for lacking historical sense. They seek to do moral genealogy by explaining altruism in terms of the utility of altruistic actions, which is subsequently forgotten as such actions become the norm. But the judgment "good", according to Nietzsche, originates not with the beneficiaries of altruistic actions. Rather, the good themselves the powerful coined the term "good". Further, Nietzsche sees it as psychologically absurd that altruism derives from a utility that is forgotten: if it is useful, what is the incentive to forget it?
Such meaningless value-judgment gains currency From the aristocratic mode of valuation another mode of valuation branches off, which develops into its opposite: the priestly mode. Nietzsche proposes that longstanding confrontation between the priestly caste and the warrior caste fuels this splitting of meaning.
The priests, and all those who feel disenfranchised and powerless in a situation of subjugation and physical impotence e. To the noble life, justice is immediate, real, and good, necessarily requiring enemies. In contrast, slave morality believes, through " ressentiment " and the self-deception that the weak are actually the wronged meek deprived of the power to act with immediacy, that justice is a deferred event, an imagined revenge which will eventually win everlasting life for the weak and vanquish the strong.
In the First Treatise, Nietzsche introduces one of his most controversial images, the "blond beast". He had previously employed this expression to represent the lion, an image that is central to his philosophy and made its first appearance in Thus Spoke Zarathustra.
Beyond the metaphorical lion, Nietzsche expressively associates the "blond beast" with the pre-Aryan race of Celts and Gaels which he states were all fair skinned and fair-haired and constituted the collective aristocracy of the time. Thus, he associates the "good, noble, pure, as originally a blond person in contrast to dark-skinned, dark-haired native inhabitants" the embodiment of the "bad".
Here he introduces the concept of the original blond beasts as the "master race" which has lost its dominance over humanity but not necessarily, permanently.Away with this shameful soddenness of sentiment! It is the partnership between information cyberlords, industrial cyberlords, and finance capitalists which is the at the core of the third wave of globalization. The ascetic ideal, we may thus surmise, means very little in itself, other than as a compensation for humanity's need to have some goal or other. He had always done so, of course, in a certain sense, but it was not till quite the end, that he did so in an ascetic sense.
The first step in breaking up monopolies may be competition. He may be contacted via email at rverzola phil. Responses to this second wave have ranged from communist-led armed struggles, to elite-led protectionist regimes. The best example of a technology that is at the leading edge of the third wave of globalization is the Internet. An example is the attempt by the British philosopher Bernard Williams to vindicate the value of truthfulness using lines of argument derived from genealogy in his book Truth and Truthfulness Because of the way these economies are so closely interconnected, they are better seen as a single emerging global information economy.
We shall therefore—so much is already obvious—rather have actually to help him to defend himself properly against ourselves, than we shall have to fear being too well beaten by him.
In the personal computer arena, for example, the most significant challenger to the absolute monopoly of Microsoft Windows is the freely-available Linux operating system, which is covered by the GPL. What a show of big words and attitudes, what an art of "righteous" calumniation! To illustrate this capacity for super-exploitation unleashed by third wave technologies: imagine a corporation which can afford to automate its international financial transactions so that its computers could do a round-the-clock, unattended scan of the global financial markets for opportunities, make decisions automatically, and conclude a financial transaction within one second or a buy-then-sell transaction pair within two seconds, and execute such transactions 24 hours a day, days a year.
Some authors -- Chakravarthi Raghavan, for example -- have called this phase a process of "recolonization", a return of colonial privileges for global corporations.
What we face here is really a new personification of greed, one that has freed itself of distracting human feelings like love, compassion, charity, guild, fear and other emotions, leaving only pure greed, unencumbered and free to pursue singlemindedly the one and only thing that motivates it: profit. Every artist knows the harm done by sexual intercourse on occasions of great mental strain and preparation; as far as the strongest artists and those with the surest instincts are concerned, this is not necessarily a case of experience—hard experience—but it is simply their "maternal" instinct which, in order to benefit the growing work, disposes recklessly beyond all its normal stocks and supplies of the vigour of its animal life; the greater power then absorbs the lesser. This opening aphorism confronts us with the multiplicity of meanings that the ascetic ideal has for different groups: a artists, b philosophers, c women, d physiological casualties, e priests, and f saints.
An important fact is brought out in the extent to which, as history teaches, this ideal could rule and exercise power over man, especially in all those places where the civilisation and taming of man was completed: that fact is, the diseased state of man up to the present, at any rate, of the man who has been tamed, the physiological struggle of man with death more precisely, with the disgust with life, with exhaustion, with the wish for the "end". Judeo-Christian religion would have adopted the inversion of morals only in order to discard it as a sort of ruse, in its moment of ultimate triumph. On few subjects does Schopenhauer speak with such certainty as on the working of aesthetic contemplation: he says of it that it simply counteracts sexual interest, like lupulin and camphor; he never gets tired of glorifying this escape from the "Life-will" as the great advantage and utility of the aesthetic state. This inversion of values develops out of the ressentiment of the powerful by the weak. The inactive, brooding, unwarlike element in the instincts of contemplative men long invested them with a cloud of suspicion: the only way to combat this was to excite a definite fear.