Archive for the ‘Nietzsche’ Category

Why Am I Destiny?

November 19, 2007

I know my fate. One day there will be associated with my name the recollection of something frightful—of a crisis like no other before on earth, of the profoundest collision of conscience, of a decision evoked against everything that until then had been believed in, demanded, sanctified. I am not a man I am dynamite. And with all there is nothing in me of a founder of a religion—religions are affairs of the rabble, I have need of washing my hands after contact with religious people…I do not want believers’ I think I am too malicious to be believe in myself, I never speak to masses…I have a terrible fear I shall one day be pronounced holy: one will guess why I bring out this book before beforehand; it is intended to prevent people from making mischief with me…I do not want to be a saint, rather even a buffoon…Perhaps I am a buffoon.


And nonetheless, or rather not nonetheless—for there has hitherto been nothing more mendacious than saints—the truth speaks out of me.—But my truth is dreadful: for hitherto the lie has been called truth.—Revaluation of all values: this is my formula for an act of supreme coming-to-oneself on the part of mankind which in me has become fles and genius. It is my fate to have to be the first decent human being, to know myself in opposition to the mendaciousness of millennia… I am the first to discover the truth, in that I was the first to sense—smell—the lie as lie. My genius is in my nostrils…I contradict as has never been contradicted and am nonetheless the opposite of a negative spirit.


I am a bringer of good tidings such as there has never been, I know tasks from such a height that any conception of them has hitherto been lacking; only after me is it possible to hope again. With all that I am necessarily a man of fatality. For when truth steps into battle with the lie of millennia we shall have convulsions, an earthquake spasm, a transposition of valley and mountain such as never been dreamed of. The concept politics, has then become completely absorbed into a war of spirits, all the ower-structures of the old society have been blown into the air—they one and all reposed on the lie: Only after me will there be grand politics on earth.



Does one want a formula for a destiny that has become man? It stands in my Zarathustra.

  –and he who wants to be a creator in good and evil has first to be a destroyer and break values. Thus the greatest evil belongs with the greatest good: this, however, is the creative good. I am by far the most terrible human being there has ever been; this does not mean I shall not be the most beneficent. I know joy in destruction to a degree corresponding to my strength for destruction—in both I obey my Dionysian nature, which does not know how to separate No-doing from Yes-saying. I am the first immoralist: I am therewith the destroyer par excellence.

 我們既然生而為人,就要真正當個人,這個不二法門是什麼呢?且聽蘇魯支法師言:   想要創造善惡價值觀,必先破除舊價值觀。   惡跟善環環相扣,欲創造善者不可無氣魄。   我是古今第一可怕的人物,反之,我也可能是最具悲憫的人物。摧枯拉朽,其樂無窮。猶如英雄豪傑,力足以撼動山河,既然知道真理正義在於我身,就毫不怯懦猶豫。我猶如一代「背德」思想家,將舊觀念摧毀破除無餘。                   

 3  I have not been asked, as I should have been asked, what the name Zarathustra means in precisely my mouth, in the mouth of the first immoralist: for what constitutes the tremendous uniqueness of that Persian in history is the precisely the opposite of this. Zarathustra was the first to see in the struggle between good and evil the actual wheel in the working of things: the translation of morality into the realm of metaphysics, as force, cause, end-in-itself, is his work.  


 But this question is itself at bottom its own answer. Zarathustra created this most fateful of errors, morality: consequently he must also be the first recognize it. Not only has he had longer and greater experience here than any other thinker—is the whole of history is indeed the experimental refutation of the proposition of so-called “moral world-order’


What is more important is that Zarathustra is more truthful than any other thinker. His teaching, and his alone, upholds truthfulness as the supreme virtue—that is to say, the opposite of the cowardice of ‘idealist’, who take flight in face of reality; Zarathustra has more courage in him than all other thinkers put together. To tell the truth and to shoot well with arrows : that is Persian virtue. –Have I been understood? The self-overcoming of morality through truthfulness, the self-overing of the moralist into his opposite—into me—that is what the name Zarathustra means in mouth.


     4At bottom my expression immoralist involves two denials. I deny first a type of man who has hitherto counted as the highest, the good, the benevolent, beneficient; I deny secondly a kind of morality which has come to accepted and to dominate as morality in itself—decadence morality, in more palpable terms Christian morality. The second contradiction might be seen as the decisive one, since the over-valuation of goodness and benevolence by and large already counts with me as a consequence of decadence, as a symptom of weakness, as incompatible with ascending and affirmative: denial and destruction is a condition of affirmation. 


I deal first of all with the psychology of the good man. In order to assess what a type of man is worth one has to compute how much his preservation costs—one has to know the conditions of his existence. The condition for the existence of the good is the lie–:expressed differently, the desire not to see at any price what is the fundamental constitution of reality, that is to say not such as to call forth benevolent instincts at all times, even less such as to permit at all times an interference by short-sighted good-natured hands. To regret states of distress in general as an objection, as something that must be abolished, is the niaiseri par excellence, in a general sense a real disaster in its consequences, a fatality of stupidity—almost as stupid as would be the will to abolish bad weather—perhaps from pity to the poor. 


 In the general economy of the whole the fearfulnesses of reality( in the affects, in the desires, in the will to power) are to an incalculable degree more necessary than any form of petty happiness, so called’ goodness’; since the latter is conditioned by falsity of instinct one must even be cautious about granting it a place at all.   


 I shall have a grand occasion of demonstrating the measurelessly uncanny consequences for the whole of history of optimism, that offspring of the hominess optimi.  Zarathustra, the first to grasp that optimism is just as decadent as pessimism  and perhaps more harmful, says: good men never tell the truth. The good taught you false shores and false securities; you were born and kept in the lies of the good. Everything has been distorted and twisted down to its very bottom through the good.  


  Fortunately the world has not been constructed for the satisfaction of instincts such as would permit merely good-natured herd animals to find their narrow happiness in it; to demand that everything should become ‘ beautiful soul’—or , as Mr. Herbert Spencer wants, altruistic, would mean to deprive existence of its great character, would mean to castrate mankind and to reduce it to a paltry Chinadom—And this has been attempted! …Precisely this has been called morality..  


In this sense Zarathustra calls the good now ‘ the ultimate men’, now the ‘beginning of the end’; above all he feels them to be most harmful species of man, because they preserve their existence as much at the expense of truth as at the expense of the future. 

因此,蘇魯支有時稱這些善人為「人的終結者」,有時稱「末代族群」。尤其是,他認為這些善人真是傷天害理,表面上是拯救人類,事實上,犧牲了人生真相,也剝奪了人的未來。 善人無法創造,他們只是人的終結者。誰創造新天地、新價值,誰就受其迫害。善人犧牲未來,整個人類的未來!善人總是人終結者。世界曾受到許多傷害,其中善人為害最大!     

   5Zarathustra, the first psychologist of the good, is—consequently—a friend of the wicked. When a decadence-species of man has risen to the rank of the highest species of man, this can happen only at the expense of its antithetical species, the species of man strong and certain of life. When the herd-animal is resplendent in the glow of the highest virtue, the exceptional man must be devalued to the wicked. When mendaciousness at any price appropriates the word ‘truth’ for its perspective, what is actually veracious must be discovered bearing the worst names.      蘇魯支這位善人的首位心理分析師,隨後也同流合污。當頹廢的族群盤踞高位,積極向上的人,雖然堅強自信,也難於施展抱負。當綿羊族群沐浴在善行的榮光照耀中,鶴立雞群的人必然被貶抑為邪惡。當謊言強行篡奪「真理」的寶座,真正的「真話」只有在假語村言中尋覓。   Zarathurstra here leaves no doubt: he says that it was knowledge of precisely the good, the ‘best’ , which made him feel horror at man in general; it was out of this repugnance that the wings grew which ‘ carried him to distant futures’ –he does not dissemble that it is precisely in relation to the good that his type of man, a relatively superhuman type, is superhuman, that the good and just would call hims superman a devil…   對此,蘇魯支瞭然於胸。他說,正因為他太瞭解這些善人的顛倒是非,他對俗眾感到不寒而慄。積鬱莫伸,他只好響往振翅高飛,遙遠未來的超人。他也不諱言,他的超人,儘管高瞻遠矚,將會被這些所謂善人、正義之士,醜詆為「惡魔」。    目睹你們這些位居高堂之士,竟然醜詆我的超人為惡魔,不禁令我鄙夷之餘,心中暗笑。   超人的鴻圖大志,磊落情懷,你們萎瑣的心思何能識得?    It is at this point and nowhere else that one must make a start if one is to understand what Zarathustra’s intentions are: the species of man he delineates delineates  reality as it is: he is strong enough for it—he is not estranged from or entranced by it, he is reality itself, he still has all that is fearful and questionable in reality in him, only thus can man possess greatness…    就在此刻此地,蘇魯支的意圖展露無餘:他所創造的超人才是宏觀真正宇宙。他足夠堅強自創新世界。他並沒有疏離世界,也不是沾沾自喜,因為他已自成一世界。他的世界恢宏廣闊,令人肅然起敬。憑此胸襟人才夠得上「偉大」!           6  But there is also another sense in which I have chosen for myself the word immoralist as a mark of distinct and badge of honor; I am proud to possess this word which sets me off against the whole of humanity. No one has yet felt Christian morality as beneath him: that requires a height, a farsightedness, a hitherto altogether unheard-of psychological profundity and abysmalness.   但是我選用「背德思想家」這字眼尚有另一意義,就是表示尊崇。我很自負此字眼落在我身上,因為我有「自反而縮雖千萬人吾往矣」的氣概。直至目前都還沒有人發現,基督教道德觀配不上我們。我們人類需要更高瞻遠矚,博大精深的人生觀。直至現在,所有思想家都繞著基督教道德觀頂禮膜拜。在我之前,有誰膽敢闖入基督教聖堂,將污染世間的惡臭謊言找出來源?誰膽敢懷疑聖堂是真是假?在我之前,有那位哲學家是心理學家,而不是賣弄「理想」的高級騙子?從我開始,才真正有心理學。打前鋒的難免頭破血流,這畢竟是我的命運。我自知危險所在,因為我也是第一位嚮往超人,藐視俗眾,睥睨一切。            

Why Am I So Clever?

November 19, 2007


Why I Am So Clever

By Nietzsche

Ecce Home

   Why do I know a few more things? Why am I so clever altogether? I have never reflected on questions that are none—I have not squandered myself.—I have ,for example, no experience of actual religious difficulties. I am entirely at a loss to know to what extent I ought to have felt ‘sinful’. I likewise lack a reliable criterion of a pang of conscience: from what one hears of it, a pang of conscience does not seem to me anything respectable…



  I should not like to leave an act in the lurch afterwards, I would as a matter of principle prefer to leave the evil outcome, the consequences, out of the question of values. When the outcome is evil one can easily lose the true eye for one has done: a pang of conscience seems to me a kind of ‘evil eye’. To honor to oneself something that went wrong all the more because it went wrong—that rather would accord with my morality.—‘God’, ‘immortality of the soul’ ‘redemption’, ‘the Beyond’, all of them concepts to which I have given no attention and no time, not even as a child—perhaps I was never childish enough for it?


   I have absolutely no knowledge of atheism as an outcome of reasoning, still less as an event: with me it is obviously by instinct. I am too inquisitive, too questionable, too high spirited to rest content with a crude answer. God is a crude answer, a piece of indelicacy against us thinkers—fundamentally even a crude prohibition to us: you shall not think! …I am interested in quite a different way in a question upon which the ‘salvation of mankind’ depends far more than it does upon any kind of quaint curiosity of the theologians; the question nutriment.


  One can for convenience’ sake formulate it thus: ‘ how to nourish yourself so as to attain your maximum of strength, of virtue in the Renaissance style, of moraline-free virtue?’—My experiences here are as bad as they possibly could be; I am astonished that I heard this question so late, that I learned ‘reason’ from these experiences so late.

Only the perfect worthlessness of our German education—‘idealism’—can to some extent explain to me why on precisely this point I was backward to the point of holiness.


  The ‘education’ which from the first teaches one to lose sight of realities so as to hunt after altogether problematic, so-called ‘ideal’ objectives, ‘classical education’ for example—as if it were not from the first an utterly fruitless undertaking to try to unite ‘classical’ and German’ in one concept! It is, moreover, mirth-provoking—just think of a ‘classically education’ Leipziger!


  Until my very maturest years I did in fact eat badly—in the language of morals ‘ impersonally’, ‘selflessly’, ‘altruistically’, for the salvation of cooks and other fellow Christians. With the aid of Leipzig cookery, for example, which accomplished my earliest study of Schopenhauer, I very earnestly denied my ‘will to live’. To ruin one’s stomach so as to receive inadequate nutriment—the aforesaid cookery seems to me to solve the problem wonderfully well.



Why Am I So Wise?

November 19, 2007

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Why I Am So Wise


The fortunateness of my existence, its uniqueness perhaps, lies in its fatality: to express it in the form of a riddle, as my father I have already died, as my mother I still live and grow old. This twofold origin, as it were from the highest and the lowest rung of the ladder of life, at once decadent and beginning—this if anything explains that neutrality, that freedom from party in relation to the total problem of life which perhaps distinguishes me.





I have a subtler sense for signs of ascent and decline than any man has ever had, I am the teacher par excellence in this matter—I know both, I am both.—My father died at the age of thirty-six; he was delicate, lovable and morbid, like a being destined to pay this world only a passing—a gracious reminder of life rather than life itself. In the same year in which his life declined mine too declined: in the thirty-sixth year of my life I arrived at the lowest point of my vitality—I still lived, but without being able to see three places in front of me.




At that time—it was 1879—I relinquished my Basel professorship, lived through the summer like a shadow in St.Moritze and the following winter, the most sunless of my life, as a shadow in Naumburg. This was my minimum: “ The Wanderer and his Shadow” came to existence during the course of it. I undoubtedly knew all about shadows in those days….




In the following winter, the first winter I spent in Genoa, that sweetening and spiritualization which is virtually inseparable from an extreme poverty of blood and muscle produced ‘ Daybreak’ . The perfect brightness and cheerfulness, even exuberance of spirit reflected in the said work is in my case compatible not only with the profoundest physiological weakness, but even with an extremity of pain.







In the midst of the torments which attended an uninterrupted three-day headache accompanied by the laborious vomiting of phlegm—I possessed a dialectical clarity par excellence and thought my way very cold-bloodedly through things for which when I am in better health I am not enough of a climber, not refined, not cold enough.




My readers perhaps know the extent to which I regard dialectics as a symptom of decadence, for example in the most famous case of all: in the case of Socrates.—All morbid disturbances of the intellect, even that semi-stupefaction consequent on fever, have remained to this day totally unfamiliar things to me, on their nature and frequency I had first to instruct myself by scholarly methods. My blood flows slowly. No one has ever been able to diagnose fever in me. A doctor who treated me for some time as a nervous case said at last: “ No! there is nothing wrong with your nerves, it is only I who am nervous.”




Any kind of local degeneration absolutely undemonstrable; or organically originating stomach ailment, though there does exist, as a consequence of general exhaustion, a profound weakness of the gastric system. Conditions of the eyes, sometimes approaching dangerously close to blindness, also only consequence, not causal; so that with every increase in vitality eyesight has also again improved.  Convalescence means with me a long, all too long succession of years—it also unfortunately means relapse, deterioration, periods of a kind of decadence. I spelled it out forwards and backwards.




Even that filigree art of grasping and comprehending in general, that finger for nuances, that psychology of ‘ looking around the corner’ and whatever else characterizes me was learned only then, is the actual gift of that time in which everything in me became more subtle, observation itself together with all the organs of observation.





To look from a morbid perspective towards healthier concepts and values, and again conversely to look down from the abundance and certainty of rich life into the secret labor of the instinct of decadence—that is what I have practiced most, it has been my own particular field of experience, in this if in anything I am a master. I now have the skill and knowledge to invert perspectives: first reason why a ‘ revaluation of values’ is perhaps possible at all to me alone.





   Setting aside the fact that I am a decadent, I also its antithesis. My proof of this is, among other things, that in combating my sick conditions I always instinctively chose the right means: while the decadent as such always chooses the means harmful to him. As summa summarum I was healthy, as corner, as speciality I was decadent. That energy for absolute isolation and detachment from my accustomed circumstances, the way I compelled myself no longer to let myself be cared for, served, doctored—this betrayed an unconditional certainty of instinct as to what at that time was needful above all else.




   I took myself in hand, I myself made myself healthy again: the precondition for this—every physiologist will admit it—is that one is fundamentally healthy. A being who is typically morbid cannot become healthy, still less can he make himself healthy; conversely, for one who is typically healthy being sick can even be an energetic stimulant to life, to more life.





   Thus in fact does that long period of sickness seem to me now; I discovered life as it were anew, myself included, I tasted all good and even petty things in a way that others could not easily taste them—I made out of my will to health, to life, my philosophy….For pay heed to this: it was in the years of my lowest vitality that I ceased to be a pessimist: the instinct for self-vitality that I ceased to be a pessimist: the instinct for self-recovery forbade to me a philosophy of indigence and discouragement…

  因此,對那段生病的漫長時期,我的心得是:我重新恢復生命的原來面貌; 我品嚐到生命的崇高及卑微,這是別人無法輕易做到的。  我靠自己意志力得到健康,生命和自己的哲學。請注意:就在我精力最低潮的時候,我不再是悲觀主義者。我自我復健的本能使我無法接受貧瘠洩氣的悲觀哲學。


     And in what does one really recognize that someone has turned out well! In that a human being who has turned out well does our senses good: that he is carved out of wood at once hard, delicate and sweet-smelling. He has a taste only for what is beneficial to him; his pleasure, his joy ceases where the measure of what is beneficial is overstepped. He divines cures for injuries, he employs ill chances to his own advantage; what does not kill him makes him stronger. Out of everything he sees, hears, experiences he instinctively collects together his sum: he is a principle of selection, he rejects much.




  He is always in his company, whether he traffics with books, people or landscapes: he does honor when he chooses, when he admits, when he trusts. He reacts slowly to every kind of stimulus, with that slowness which a protracted caution and a willed pride have bred in him—he tests an approaching stimulus, he is far from going out to meet it. He believes in neither ‘ misfortune’ nor in ‘guilt’ “ he knows how to forget—he is strong enough for everything to have to turn out for the best for him. Very well, I am the opposite of a decadent: for I have just described myself.




 The twofold succession of experiences, this accessibility to me of apparently separate worlds, is repeated in my nature in every respect—I am a Doppelganger, I have a ‘second’ face in addition to the first one. And perhaps also a third…Even by virtue of my descent I am permitted to look beyond all merely locally, merely nationally conditioned perspectives, it costs me no effort to be a ‘good European’.



   On the other hand I am perhaps more German than present-day Germans, mere Reich Germans, are still capable of being—I the last anti-political German. And yet my ancestors were Polish noblemen: I have preserved from them much racial instinct, who knows? Ultimately even the liberum veto. When I consider how often I am addressed as a Pole and by Poles themselves, how rarely I am taken for a German, it might appear that German has only been sprinkled on to me.




  I have never understood the art of arousing enmity towards myself—this too I owe to my incomparable father—even when it seemed to me very worthwhile to do so. However unchristian it may seem, I am not even inimical towards myself, one may turn my life this way and that, one will only rarely, at bottom only once, discover signs that anyone has borne ill will towards me—perhaps, however, somewhat too many signs of good will..