Wednesday, January 09, 2008

The Nietzschean Odyssey: The Genealogy of Morals

We've come towards the final works of Mr. Nietzsche, and so by this point we are aware of the trends and ideas that define his work. From here on there aren't many completely new concepts, mostly reworked and sometimes more refined ways of putting the old ideas into a new perspective. With this we enter into The Genealogy of Morals, perhaps Nietzsche's most "formal" work. American philosophers seem to have the tendency of considering it his most important work for that reason, as America is the stronghold of an Analytic tradition that looks for formality. Of course, that means in reality they get Nietzsche roughly backwards for the most part, so we'll ignore them.

So, what's here? As already mentioned, this is Nietzsche's attempt to do a more formalized description of the sources of morality and moral emotions, his favorite subjects. He's looking for what he will see as an honest explanation of what morals are, and he intends to do this through the fields of history and psychology. Of course, he also has an ulterior motive: "Suppose there lurked in the "good man" a symptom of retrogression, such as a danger, a temptation, a poison, a narcotic, by means of which the present battened on the future...So that morality would really be the danger of dangers!" Morality, as has been stated so many times, is the threat. But now we can find out specifically why that is the case in a much clearer and less aphoristic or metaphorical manner than before.

First Nietzsche goes into the history of value, which for him means the creation of value. There is "good" and its antithesis, be it "bad" or "evil." The antithesis between good and bad sounds considerably less dangerous, less absolute, more subjective than good and evil, and this is the case in reality. The difference comes in who creates the language. Those who defined action in terms of good and bad were the aristocratic classes, the true creators. For them reality what essentially what they found it to be, and they saw within themselves the power of naming and thereby claiming life as one's own. Good is what I make it, and bad is what I don't like. Good and evil, however, is the creation of the subclasses (the "herd"). They needed something more absolute, something which was outside themselves, something which could be held responsible.

Why the subclasses in fact needed the antithesis of good and evil is not put explicitly until the end, but suffice to say it will be answered. For now we will note that it is, of course, the good/evil distinction that triumphed, in the West through Christianity. Now, with the second essay of this book, we will come to hear about what makes up the essence of the particular emotions and expressions associated with the herd morality. It is, in short, controlled by simple motives of things such as fear, revenge, vindictiveness, debts, etc. We can expand upon an analogy that Nietzsche frequents by calling the motives poisonous. Instead of strong, creative energies bringing about values and lifestyles, the herd morality is reactive, weak, and angry. It is mob as a being supporting itself at the expense of any individuals. Justice is exacting revenge through power over another, worship of a God is fear and the feeling of owing something...new phrasing, but really it's stuff Nietzsche has said several times (and in fact I don't think in any other work has he quoted his own prior works as much) so you can probably follow if you've read Nietzsche before.

The last essay claims to be about "aesthetic ideals," but in reality the subject is the aestheticism of one particular ideal: that of the aesthetic priest. That is to say, aestheticism of the no-sayer, the life denier, the patron of the sick of conscience as opposed to, for example, the aestheticism of philosophers, who properly speaking just need breathing room to think. The aesthetic priest is revealed here as the ultimate enemy of Nietzsche: he is the one who rallies the sick, the weak, in short the herd, and gets them to support mediocrity and non-creative contentment as the rule. How does he do this? By taking the sickness, the existential suffering of the herd and redirecting it. For this, in a way, is the reason good and evil are needed: they give a purpose to the suffering that people feel (Nietzsche remarks more than once that it is not the existence of suffering that is a problem, but the seeming lack of explanation of suffering). The aesthetic priest takes the need to blame and places it on the people themselves through the concept of sin. They are at fault, and so must do penance. This is Christianity: a debt owed due to our own fault, a debt that is the cause of our suffering, and that offers the opportunity for the ultimate goal of the common man, the mere end of suffering (salvation).

Why does Nietzsche hate this so much? There is a sentence in this work, which on its own completely summarizes Nietzsche's goal and purpose in his work and life:

...humanity as a mass sacrificed to the prosperity of the one stronger species of Man—that would be a progress.

The herd morality, the common morality, the morality of the weak man, this merely wants an end to pain. It cares not about living life, about creating anything. It is stagnant. The life of the aristocratic man, however, that is creative. It brings forth new life and new meaning. It creates value. It lives, in short. Nietzsche feels that only through the aristocratic path, the yes-saying, life affirming path, can mankind ever become better: as Zarathustra says, "Man must be overcome." And the creator, the Übermensch, is the one who will do this. The Übermensch (who, I will note, is not actually mentioned or even referred to specifically in this work) would never settle for mere contentment, but will take pain as a part of pleasure, will accept it all on the path to creation. And that is the way, for Nietzsche.

We're hitting the home stretch here. I may be getting the rest of Nietzsche's earlier works soon, so I might be able to write about them. Next, however, are the works of 1888: Twilight of the Idols, The Antichrist, Ecce Homo, Nietzsche Contra Wagner, and The Case of Wagner. They are all short works, I could potentially do them day after day. However, tomorrow I am returning to campus to begin a new semester (and starting an independent study of - guess who - Nietzsche! Yay!), and so how that turns out is uncertain. As for the future, I hope this semester to be able to read a book or large portion of a book at least every weekend, and so I should be able to do this at least somewhat regularly (i.e. more often than once a month). I'm looking at Plato, Kafka, and Dostoevsky right now. Here's hoping.

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