24 posts tagged “nietzsche”
Bored at work, I'm doing some reading on my buddy, Nietzsche. It's been a while since I've actually been able to read something thought provoking. Today I actually found something interesting.
First, I found this great quote:
There is in general good reason to suppose that in several respects the gods could all benefit from instruction by us human beings. We humans are -- more humane. Beyond Good and Evil, aph. 295 (1886)
Second, I'm pretty familiar with Nietzsche's philosophy, but every now and then I'll read something and my reaction is, "Wow, now I actually get it." This happened with the following two paragraphs.
With the PARABLE OF THE MADMAN, Nietzsche has established that Christian morality is dead and we ourselves are responsible. There are no higher worlds, no morality derived from God or Nature because "God is dead." There are no natural rights and the idea of progress is a sham. All the old values and truths have lost their vitality and validity. Such an opinion is called nihilism. There are no moral values. Nietzsche said man could rise above nihilism. How could this be done? Well, first, one had to recognize the nihilism produced by everyday life. One had to become a nihilist. One could then rise above and go beyond nihilism by creating new values: man could then become his own master and be true to himself rather than to another. "Du sollst werden, der du bist." Man can overcome uniformity and mediocrity, he can overcome socialism, democracy, trade unionism, progress, enlightenment and all the other ills so consistent with western civilization.
According to Nietzsche, man could be saved by a new type of man, the "Übermensch," the Superman. These are the men who will not be held back by the hogwash of modern-mediocre-industrial-scientific-bourgeois-Christian civilization. The superman creates his own morality based on human instincts, drive and will. He affirms his existence not by saying, with the Christian, "thou shalt not." No. Against the Mosaic law, the new man shouts, "I will." The new man dares to be himself and as himself, traditional, Christian ideals of good and evil have no meaning and he recognizes them as such. His "will to power" means, for Nietzsche, that he has gone "beyond good and evil." The enhancement of the will to power brings supreme enjoyment. The Superman casts off all established values and because he is now free of all restraints, rules and codes of behavior imposed by civilization, he creates his own values. He lives his own life as one who takes, wants, strives, creates, struggles, seeks and dominates. He knows life as it is given to him is without meaning -- but he lives it laughingly, instinctively, fully, dangerously.
So I finished Robert Solomon's Living with Nietzsche a few weeks ago. I haven't digested the book completely because there is just so much to dig into and remember. However, over the past day or so, I've been going over certain passages that I've outlined. I’ve been trying to find the main difference between Aristotle’s virtue ethics and Nietzsche virtue ethics in an attempt to understand what makes Nietzsche's take on virtue ethics unique.
Aristotle is essentially the face of virtue ethics; when one wants to understand virtue ethics, one goes straight to Aristotle. This is mainly because Aristotle actually gives us an extensive list of virtues, whereas Nietzsche does not, not to mention, Nietzsche and his philosophical hammer have a bad reputation. Most people think of Nietzsche as this philosopher that destroys people’s beliefs and as an immoralist that taints the youth’s minds. But it’s important to note that Nietzsche called himself an “immoralist” only because he rejected the morality of his day, namely absolute Christian morality and Kant’s abstract principles, not because he advocated unethical behavior.
Aristotle defines a virtue as the "means between the extremes." To this day, this criterion is used as the basis of our virtuous behavior. We all pretty much agree that between two extremes, the middle is the best place to be. Take my post on pride, for example. I think pride and humility must have a balance. In other words, the best place between the two is the middle. Nietzsche took a different take on things. At the heart of all of his virtues is this since of overflowing or abundance. So, I think the main difference between the virtue ethics of Aristotle and Nietzsche is that Aristotle is focused on having the right amount of something (the virtue), whereas Nietzsche wants no limits. The right amount is an overabundance of the virtue. To illustrate this difference, let’s take the virtue we call courage.
Both Aristotle and Nietzsche consider courage to be their main virtue, but their concepts and applications of the virtue are extremely different. Aristotle sees courage as a function of fear, having just the right amount of fear. Thus, courage resides between recklessness (not having any fear) and cowardice (having too much fear). This is the type of courage that would do one good in the battlefield. Nietzsche, on the other hand, is more concerned with a concept of courage that can be applied to, as Solomon says, “one’s convictions or one’s willingness to go on in the face of pain and illness.”
This is how Solomon describes Nietzsche concept of courage:
For Nietzsche, it seems that having courage means not so much overcoming fear (the standard account) or even having “just the right amount” of fear (the overly quantitative Aristotelian account.) Rather, as in so many of his conceptions of virtue, Nietzsche’s model (or metaphor) is “overflowing.” In the case of courage, I would suggest, it is overflowing with a sense of mission, even duty (but emphatically not in the Kantian sense.) It is a sense of something-to-be-done no matter what (within the bounds of the appropriate context), in the face of obstacles to be overcome, no matter what (within bounds).
Nietzsche’s courage isn’t a function of fear. It’s a function of one’s abundance of determination to complete a grueling task or to say “Yes!” to life, despite all the pain and suffering and the reality of the Absurd. It’s a type of existential courage, one that can be applied directly to your life and not just the battlefield. So, in the end, courage isn’t about having the right amount of fear. It’s about having determination that overwhelms fear. As Solomon puts it, “courage, in other words, is not overcoming fear. It is an overflowing of determination, constituted by an overwhelming and yet skillfully directed cascading of emotion.”
Personally, I find Nietzsche’s take on virtue ethics to be refreshing. Virtuous behavior should be about overflowing action based on one's enthusiasm and style, not some type of restraint. In particular, Nietzsche's concept of courage is more positive, more the way I think courage should be. More on Nietzsche’s virtues later.
A friend and I were talking about the seven deadly sins the other day. As a nonbeliever, he even found the bad element in these "sins" to be valid. Needless to say, he was surprised when I said, "Um, I don't think pride is a bad thing."
Pride is all too often associated with stubbornness, arrogance, and conceitedness. If we are talking this type of pride, then I agree with my friend: Pride is not a good thing. But, for me, and for my good buddy Nietzsche, pride means something completely different and need not be associated with the above terms.
I think pride primarily deals with one's sense of self-worth, the feeling that one means something in this world, that in a group of people, one has something to add or bring to the table. This is the healthy, life enhancing type of pride that I think we all need, to some extent. This sense of pride can be perverted, but this reason is not enough to call pride a vice. In its healthy form, pride is very much a virtue.
- Leopold Stokowski
- Friedrich Nietzsche
- Ludwig van Beethoven
- Unknown author
There is one particular song that really sums up the cacophony of my existence, or at least what I think about my existence. The song is called Adagio for Strings by Samuel Barber. It was written in 1938, during the time of the Great Depression, which explain its tone. The song is extremely emotional. The sounds of the cellos vibrate throughout the soul, and the high pitched violins pierce the depths of one's heart, as if trying to kill you with the sound of the most absurd and horrific emotions. The song sounds so sad; yet, even with its tone of suffering and pain, the song still spurs on hope and beauty: the strings continue to play, creating beauty within the morbid abyss of the most heartfelt chords.
For me, this song, through sound, describes parts of my philosophy. It's what the never ending reality of the absurd sounds like. It also sounds like the perpetual suffering of humanity. It is often said that life is suffering; in fact, this is what the Buddha tells us. While I do not see suffering as life, I do realize the immense amounts of suffering that we have to see and experience. To me, this song is what suffering sounds like.
When I listen to this song, I can't help but think about God. I can't help but think about Nietzsche's infamous assertion that "God is dead." It's almost as if this song is what the withering of my faith sounded like, with the gut wrenching climax being the ultimate destruction of my faith. What is quite odd, is that I've actually dreamed a scene to this music. There I am in a purely white room, with no corners or dimensions. And there he is, though I can't describe him or see him cleraly. He is holding me, trying to convince me to keep believing in him, but I tell him I can't. "There must be something more to him," I say in my mind. He hears my thoughts and replies, "Then it is up to you to find it." He lets me go right at the climax of the song, though I cry for him to hold on to me and keep me close to him. It's so hard to let him go.
What is interesting, is that it wasn't hard for me to let him go. I think what is the basis of this dream is Nietzsche's scene of the madman, who realizes that the death of God is quite a cataclysmic event. And, for me, that is what this song demonstrates. For me, reading that scene was an important event for my outlook on life.
I find it amazing that I can find so much meaning in this song. It's like my philosophy in sound. It's a beautiful song. Ignore what I've said above and figure out what it means for you. Turn the lights off and turn up the volume. Enjoy.
Through my reading and my discussions with other people, I've learned that the typical view of rationality is that it is objective (indifferent), dispassionate (emotionless), and founded upon logical and sound arguments. This view sees the emotions as irrational. Without really "choosing" to subscribe to this type of thought, I found myself (still do, at least to some extent) advocating this type of thought. My mom (women in general? Hehe) is extremely emotional, in part because of her health and the medicine that she takes. When she sees a problem, she uses her emotions to find a solution. When she comes to me with her problems, I basically tell her that she needs to calm down and look at the situation from an objective (as if this was possible) and logical (rational) perspective. Usually, I figure out a solution for her and everything is cool.
But now, after noticing this battle between rationality and the emotions, I can't help but feel that the emotions should play some factor in making a decision. After all, the emotions are funademantls to us as human beings. (What would life be without emotion?) To some extent, perhaps the emotions provide us with a rationality from which we base our decisions on. There is a sense in which the emotions can prevent us from thinking clearly and believing in things that we probably shouldn't. But there is also a sense in which the emotions help us lead passionate lives and make the right choices. If so, it would seem that the emotions are the most important thing to understand, not rationality. Because if you understand the former, you'll understand the latter.
In my earlier study, I argued that I did not see any conflict (much less a “paradox”) between Nietzsche’s fatalistic and self-making themes but rather an excellent example of his “perspectivism.” Fatalism and self-making represent two complementary perspectives on ourselves and on human life. On the one hand, there is our familiar view of ourselves as (more or less) autonomous beings, deliberating, making choices, acting on our desires, sometimes reflecting on and weighing our desires, sometimes conscientiously denying our desires (or refusing to be motivated by them). It is from this perspective that we normally hold people (and ourselves) responsible for their (our) actions and declare them (and ourselves) to be the “authors” of their (our) actions. On the other hand, we cannot but recognize that we are all “thrown into” our circumstances, born with (or without) certain talents and abilities to varying degrees and with or without dispositions to certain physical liabilities and limitations. We are all products (“victims” some would say) of our upbringing, our families, our culture. Even without bringing in such spooky words as “fatalism,” we recognize in ourselves and in others the heavy baggage of our backgrounds and the fact that our choices and our socalled autonomy are both quite limited. We take up one or the other of these perspectives, often sequentially, even simultaneously, but I do not see this as a problem or a “paradox.” It is rather just “the human condition.” We see ourselves as both free and constrained, which is not quite (yet) to say “fated.”
-Robert Solomon
There is a level of biological determinism that can't be refuted. So much of who one is is determined by one's biology. Let's go with an obvious example (I stole it from Mithrandir): one's sexuality. I didn't choose to be straight, did I? I'm genetically predisposed to be attracted to females. So much for choosing my sexuality. Consider one's physical state. The children who have inherited genetic disorders and handicaps didn't choose to be this way. If given the option, I'm pretty sure they would've picked a different life. What about one's talents and abilities? Most of those are innate. And we can't forget the impact of one's culture, environment, parents, and friends on who one is. But I think you get the point: we don't freely choose who we are as much as we would like to think. Perhaps we don't get to choose who we are at all. As Mithrandir pointed out in this blog post, the existentialist's maxim --"existence precedes essence"-- becomes invalid in light of determinism. It would seem that one's essence is already determined.
Nietzsche subscribed to a level of determinism, but at the same time believed that we create ourselves (something I'll talk about in a later blog post). There is a sense of this that permeates throughout his works: the strong were born strong, and the weak were born weak. It's almost as if some of us are predisposed to lean towards religion or what have you. Which leads me to this: For those of us who are nonbelievers, did we choose not to believe? It's an interesting question. I'd like to think I did, but I'm not sure.
My mom tells this story about me that I think may illustrate the "interesting" bit of this question. One day, when I was very young, my mom was trying to teach me the color of the apple in her hand, which was red. Every time she would say "red", I would say "blue." So, maybe I was just a dumb baby and was saying the wrong word when I actually meant the color red, but I'm not so sure now. Maybe my natural abilities/talents consist of insubordination and skepticism. I know one of my talents now is being skeptical. Perhaps I was born with this talent? I've always been skeptical of religion, even when I was a "Christian." Maybe it was only a matter of time before I stopped believing. Maybe who I am is a nonbeliever. I don't know.
What I do know is that there is a level of each individual that has been defined for he or she against his or her "free" will. Can you change this fundamental "you?" I don't know, though I'd like to think so. What one does have the free will to do, however, is to choose to create one's self in line with one's talents and abilities.
Gratitude, I want to suggest, is not only the best answer to the tragedies of life. It is the best approach to life itself. This is not to say, as I keep insisting, an excuse for quietism or resignation. It is no reason to see ourselves simply as passive recipients and not as active participants full of responsibilities. On the contrary, as Kant and Nietzsche among many others insisted, being born with talents and having opportunities imposes a heavy duty on us, to exercise those talents and make good use of those opportunities. It is also odd and unfortunate that we take the blessings of life for granted — or insist that we deserve them — but then take special offense at the bad things in life, as if we could not possibly deserve those. The proper recognition of tragedy and the tragic sense of life is not shaking one’s fist at the gods or the universe “in scorn and defiance” but rather, as Kierkegaard writes in a religious context, “going down one one’s knees” and giving thanks. Whether or not there is a God or there are gods to be thanked, however, seems not the issue to me. It is the importance and the significance of being thankful, to whomever or whatever, for life itself.
-Robert Solomon, in Spirituality for the Skeptic
So, I graduate tomorrow (Saturday). Yay me! I have a year of graduate school left, but graduating with my undergraduate is pretty cool (I guess). As part of graduation weekend, my parents made me attend the baccalaureate service tonight. I didn''t really want to go. Singing hymns, reading scripture, and listening to a sermon--not my cup of tea. Nevertheless, seeing how my graduation seems to be more of a thing for my parents, I went ahead and attended.
The service was interesting. As a nonbeliever, I somewhat felt out of place: what they were doing (singing hymns, reading scripture) aren't things I find any meaning in whatsoever. Part of me enjoyed the community that the service brought, but the other part of me just thought of Nietzsche's herd concept. But these things didn't bother me as much as they annoyed me. What bothered me what was the bishop said in his sermon.
His sermon was about the ABC's of life. A stands for attitude. Basically, we should have the right attitude throughout life. Cool, I can agree with that. C stood for committment, committment to one's self and others. Cool, I dig it. What bothered me was B--belief. He said it was extremely important that one have belief in God. Naturally, I started asking questions in my mind: "Why does one need God? What type of person needs God? How does belief in God help me in my search for truth?" Most importantly, "Why is belief *so* important?"
It isn't. It isn't if you find the highest level of value in yourself. It isn't if you don't believe in the fear doctrines of heaven and hell. It isn't if you see that you are both the problem and solution to everything. It isn't if you have confidence in yourself and your abilities. It isn't if you reject a degrading concept of human beings. Most importantly though, it isn't if you are strong. Strong in the sense that you realize that living life means positively dealing with uncertainty, fear, cosmic nothingness, and maintaining the highest level of responsibility for one's actions.
If only we were stronger...
Lately I've been thinking about one's motives behind love. Do we love and help people because we are seeking payment or because we genuinely wish to love and help someone? More specifically, do Christians love because they want to receive payment in this life and/or the next? Maybe their love isn't as "selfless" as they might think.
It is a common belief that if one obeys God and his commandments, then one will be received in his kingdom. This make sense, especially if sin is defined as disobedience towards God. So, basically, it is in the Christian's best interest to follow God and his commandments. Check. One of Jesus' main commandments is love your neighbor as yourself. Fair enough, good commandment. Check. It is also a common belief that Christian love is supposed to expect nothing in return. Check. See the potential problem? Love that is supposed to not expect anything in return suddenly becomes a love that wants to be rewarded because it is in your best interest to obey God's commandment so that you will get rewarded. Thus, you only love because God commands it, and because of your obedience, you expect to be rewarded.
Undoubtedly, as lightandstorm told me today in a conversation, Christians try to prevent this from happening, though they are still tempted to love in this way. This is a main reason why it is written that thieves and tax collectors (probably go by other names in the Bible) will enter the kingdom before "good" people do. In other words, if you think you are a "good" person because of your works, your motives aren't in the right place. As a Christian, you shouldn't love in order to get a seat in the sky--a reward. Question is, how many Christians love because they are simply expecting a reward? Evidently, Nietzsche was surrounded by such love.
More importantly, though, how many of us (all of humanity regardless of creed) love in order to receive a reward? There is virtue in loving unconditionally and helping people selfless, I'm just wondering how many of us actually do.