prompted by the instinct of preservation, or, more exactly, by the
desire for pleasure and the avoidance of pain on the part of the
individual; thus prompted, but not evil. "To cause pain _per se_" does
not exist, except in the brains of philosophers, neither does "to give
pleasure _per se_" (pity in Schopenhauer's meaning). In the social
condition _before_ the State we kill the creature, be it ape or man,
who tries to take from us the fruit of a tree when we are hungry and
approach the tree, as we should still do with animals in inhospitable
countries. The evil actions which now most rouse our indignation, are
based upon the error that he who causes them has a free will, that he
had the option, therefore, of not doing us this injury. This belief in
option arouses hatred, desire for revenge, spite, and the deterioration
of the whole imagination, while we are much less angry with an animal
because we consider it irresponsible. To do injury, not from the
instinct of preservation, but as _requital,_ is the consequence of a
false judgment and therefore equally innocent. The individual can in
the condition which lies before the State, act sternly and cruelly
towards other creatures for the purpose of _terrifying,_ to establish
his existence firmly by such terrifying proofs of his power. Thus
act the violent, the mighty, the original founders of States, who
subdue the weaker to themselves. They have the right to do so, such
as the State still takes for itself; or rather, there is no right
that can hinder this. The ground for all-morality can only be made
ready when a stronger individual or a collective individual, for
instance society or the State, subdues the single individuals,.draws
them out of their singleness, and forms them into an association..
_Compulsion_ precedes morality, indeed morality itself is compulsion
for a time, to which one submits for the avoidance of pain. Later on
it becomes custom,--later still, free obedience, and finally almost
instinct,--then, like everything long accustomed and natural, it is
connected with pleasure--and is henceforth called _virtue_.
100.
SHAME.--Shame exists everywhere where there is a "mystery"; this,
however, is a religious idea, which was widely extended in the older
times of human civilisation. Everywhere were found bounded domains
to which access was forbidden by divine right, except under certain
conditions ; at first locally, as, for example, certain spots that
ought not to be trodden by the feet of the uninitiated, in the
neighbourhood of which these latter experienced horror and fear.
This feeling was a good deal carried over into other relations, for
instance, the sex relations, which, as a privilege and _ἃδoυτον_ of
riper years, had to be withheld from the knowledge of the young for
their advantage, relations for the protection and sanctification of
which many gods were invented and were set up as guardians in the
nuptial chamber. (In Turkish this room is on this account called harem,
"sanctuary," and is distinguished with the same name, therefore, that
is used for the entrance courts of the mosques.) Thus the kingdom is as
a centre from which radiate power and glory, to the subjects a mystery
full of secrecy and shame, of which many after-effects may still be
felt among nations which otherwise do not by any means belong to the
bashful type. Similarly, the whole world of inner conditions, the
so-called "soul," is still a mystery for all who are not philosophers,
after it has been looked upon for endless ages as of divine origin and
as worthy of divine intercourse; according to this it is an _ἃδoυτον_
and arouses shame.
101.
JUDGE NOT.--In considering earlier periods, care must be taken not
to fall into unjust abuse. The injustice in slavery, the cruelty in
the suppression of persons and nations, is not to be measured by our
standard. For the instinct of justice was not then so far developed.
Who dares to reproach the Genevese Calvin with the burning of the
physician Servet? It was an action following and resulting from his
convictions, and in the same way the Inquisition had a good right;
only the ruling views were false, and produced a result which seems
hard to us because those views have now grown strange to us. Besides,
what is the burning of a single individual compared with eternal
pains of hell for almost all! And yet this idea was universal at that
time, without essentially injuring by its dreadfulness the conception
of a God. With us, too, political sectarians are hardly and cruelly
treated, but because one is accustomed to believe in the necessity of
the State, the cruelty is not so deeply felt here as it is where we
repudiate the views. Cruelty to animals in children and Italians is
due to ignorance, _i.e._ the animal, through the interests of Church
teaching, has been placed too far behind man. Much that is dreadful and
inhuman in history, much that one hardly likes to believe, is mitigated
by the reflection that the one who commands and the one who carries
out are different persons,--the former does not behold the right and
therefore does not experience the strong impression on the imagination;
the latter obeys a superior and therefore feels no responsibility. Most
princes and military heads, through lack of imagination, easily appear
hard and cruel without really being so. _Egoism is not evil,_ because
the idea of the "neighbour"--the word is of Christian origin and does
not represent the truth--is very weak in us; and we feel ourselves
almost as free and irresponsible towards him as towards plants and
stones. We have yet to _learn_ that others suffer, and this can never
be completely learnt.
102.
"MAN ALWAYS ACTS RIGHTLY."--We do not complain of nature as immoral
because it sends a thunderstorm and makes us wet,--why do we call those
who injure us immoral? Because in the latter case we take for granted
a free will functioning voluntarily; in the former we see necessity.
But this distinction is an error. Thus we do not call even intentional
injury immoral in all circumstances; for instance, we kill a fly
unhesitatingly and intentionally, only because its buzzing annoys us;
we punish a criminal intentionally and hurt him in order to protect
ourselves and society. In the first case it is the individual who, in
order to preserve himself, or even to protect himself from worry, does
intentional injury; in the second case it is the State. All morals
allow intentional injury _in the case of necessity,_ that is, when
it is a matter of _self-preservation_! But these two points of view
suffice to explain all evil actions committed by men against men, we
are desirous of obtaining pleasure or avoiding pain; in any case it is
always a question of self-preservation. Socrates and Plato are right:
whatever man does he always does well, that is, he does that which
seems to him good (useful) according to the degree of his intellect,
the particular standard of his reasonableness.
103.
THE HARMLESSNESS OF MALICE.--The aim of malice is _not_ the suffering
of others in itself, but our own enjoyment; for instance, as the
feeling of revenge, or stronger nervous excitement. All teasing,
even, shows the pleasure it gives to exercise our power on others and
bring it to an enjoyable feeling of preponderance. Is it _immoral_ to
taste pleasure at the expense of another's pain? Is malicious joy[3]
devilish, as Schopenhauer says? We give ourselves pleasure in nature
by breaking off twigs, loosening stones, fighting with wild animals,
and do this in order to become thereby conscious of our strength. Is
the knowledge, therefore, that another suffers through us, the same
thing concerning which we otherwise feel irresponsible, supposed to
make us immoral? But if we did not know this we would not thereby have
the enjoyment of our own superiority, which can only _manifest_ itself
by the suffering of others, for instance in teasing. All pleasure
_per se_ is neither good nor evil; whence should come the decision
that in order to have pleasure ourselves we may not cause displeasure
to others? From the point of view of usefulness alone, that is, out
of consideration for the _consequences,_ for _possible_ displeasure,
when the injured one or the replacing State gives the expectation of
resentment and revenge: this only can have been the original reason
for denying ourselves such actions. _Pity_ aims just as little at
the pleasure of others as malice at the pain of others _per se._ For
it contains at least two (perhaps many more) elements of a personal
pleasure, and is so far self-gratification; in the first place as the
pleasure of emotion, which is the kind of pity that exists in tragedy,
and then, when it impels to action, as the pleasure of satisfaction
in the exercise of power. If, besides this, a suffering person is
very dear to us, we lift a sorrow from ourselves by the exercise of
sympathetic actions. Except by a few philosophers, pity has always been
placed very low in the scale of moral feelings, and rightly so.
104.
SELF-DEFENCE.--If self-defence is allowed to pass as moral, then almost
all manifestations of the so-called immoral egoism must also stand;
men injure, rob, or kill in order to preserve or defend themselves,
to prevent personal injury; they lie where cunning and dissimulation
are the right means of self-preservation. _Intentional injury,_ when
our existence or safety (preservation of our comfort) is concerned, is
conceded to be moral; the State itself injures, according to this point
of view, when it punishes. In unintentional injury, of course, there
can be nothing immoral, that is ruled by chance. Is there, then, a kind
of intentional injury where our existence or the preservation of our
comfort is _not_ concerned? Is there an injuring out of pure _malice,_
for instance in cruelty? If one does not know how much an action hurts,
it is no deed of malice; thus the child is not malicious towards the
animal, not evil; he examines and destroys it like a toy. But _do_ we
ever know entirely how an action hurts another? As far as our nervous
system extends we protect ourselves from pain; if it extended farther,
to our fellow-men, namely, we should do no one an injury (except in
such cases as we injure ourselves, where we cut ourselves for the
sake of cure, tire and exert ourselves for the sake of health). We
_conclude_ by analogy that something hurts somebody, and through memory
and the strength of imagination we may suffer from it ourselves. But
still what a difference there is between toothache and the pain (pity)
that the sight of toothache calls forth! Therefore, in injury out of
so-called malice the _degree_ of pain produced is always unknown to
us; but inasmuch as there is _pleasure_ in the action (the feeling of
one's own power, one's own strong excitement), the action is committed,
in order to preserve the comfort of the individual, and is regarded,
therefore, from a similar point of view as defence and falsehood in
necessity. No life without pleasure; the struggle for pleasure is the
struggle for life. Whether the individual so fights this fight that
men call him good, or so that they call him evil, is determined by the
measure and the constitution of his _intellect._
105.
RECOMPENSING JUSTICE.--Whoever has completely comprehended the doctrine
of absolute irresponsibility can no longer include the so-called
punishing and recompensing justice in the idea of justice, should this
consist of giving to each man his due. For he who is punished does
not deserve the punishment, he is only used as a means of henceforth
warning away from certain actions; equally so, he who is rewarded
does not merit this reward, he could not act otherwise than he did.
Therefore the reward is meant only as an encouragement to him and
others, to provide a motive for subsequent actions; words of praise are
flung to the runners on the course, not to the one who has reached
the goal. Neither punishment nor reward is anything that comes to one
as _one's own;_ they are given from motives of usefulness, without one
having a right to claim them. Hence we must say, "The wise man gives
no reward because the deed has been well done," just as we have said,
"The wise man does not punish because evil has been committed, but in
order that evil shall not be committed." If punishment and reward no
longer existed, then the strongest motives which deter men from certain
actions and impel them to certain other actions, would also no longer
exist; the needs of mankind require their continuance; and inasmuch as
punishment and reward, blame and praise, work most sensibly on vanity,
the same need requires the continuance of vanity.
106.
AT THE WATERFALL.--In looking at a water-fall we imagine that there is
freedom of will and fancy in the countless turnings, twistings, and
breakings of the waves; but everything is compulsory, every movement
can be mathematically calculated. So it is also with human actions;
one would have to be able to calculate every single action beforehand
if one were all-knowing; equally so all progress of knowledge, every
error, all malice. The one who acts certainly labours under the
illusion of voluntariness; if the world's wheel were to stand still
for a moment and an all-knowing, calculating reason were there to make
use of this pause, it could foretell the future of every creature to
the remotest times, and mark out every track upon which that wheel
would continue to roll. The delusion of the acting agent about himself,
the supposition of a free will, belongs to this mechanism which still
remains to be calculated.
107.
IRRESPONSIBILITY AND INNOCENCE.--The complete irresponsibility of
man for his actions and his nature is the bitterest drop which he
who understands must swallow if he was accustomed to see the patent
of nobility of his humanity in responsibility and duty. All his
valuations, distinctions, disinclinations, are thereby deprived of
value and become false,--his deepest feeling for the sufferer and
the hero was based on an error; he may no longer either praise or
blame, for it is absurd to praise and blame nature and necessity. In
the same way as he loves a fine work of art, but does not praise it,
because it can do nothing for itself; in the same way as he regards
plants, so must he regard his own actions and those of mankind. He can
admire strength, beauty, abundance, in themselves; but must find no
merit therein,--the chemical progress and the strife of the elements,
the torments of the sick person who thirsts after recovery, are all
equally as little merits as those struggles of the soul and states of
distress in which we are torn hither and thither by different impulses
until we finally decide for the strongest--as we say (but in reality
it is the strongest motive which decides for us). All these motives,
however, whatever fine names we may give them, have all grown out of
the same root, in which we believe the evil poisons to be situated;
between good and evil actions there is no difference of species, but
at most of degree. Good actions are sublimated evil ones; evil actions
are vulgarised and stupefied good ones. The single longing of the
individual for self-gratification (together with the fear of losing it)
satisfies itself in all circumstances: man may act as he can, that is
as he must, be it in deeds of vanity, revenge, pleasure, usefulness,
malice, cunning; be it in deeds of sacrifice, of pity, of knowledge.
The degrees of the power of judgment determine whither any one lets
himself be drawn through this longing; to every society, to every
individual, a scale of possessions is continually present, according to
which he determines his actions and judges those of others. But this
standard changes constantly; many actions are called evil and are only
stupid, because the degree of intelligence which decided for them was
very low. In a certain sense, even, _all_ actions are still stupid;
for the highest degree of human intelligence which can now be attained
will assuredly be yet surpassed, and then, in a retrospect, all our
actions and judgments will appear as limited and hasty as the actions
and judgments of primitive wild peoples now appear limited and hasty to
us. To recognise all this may be deeply painful, but consolation comes
after; such pains are the pangs of birth. The butterfly wants to break
through its chrysalis: it rends and tears it, and is then blinded and
confused by the unaccustomed light, the kingdom of liberty. In such
people as are _capable_ of such sadness--and how few are!--the first
experiment made is to see whether _mankind can change itself_ from a
_moral_ into a _wise_ mankind. The sun of a new gospel throws its rays
upon the highest point in the soul of each single individual, then
the mists gather thicker than ever, and the brightest light and the
dreariest shadow lie side by side. Everything is necessity--so says the
new knowledge, and this knowledge itself is necessity. Everything is
innocence, and knowledge is the road to insight into this innocence.
Are pleasure, egoism, vanity _necessary_ for the production of the
moral phenomena and their highest result, the sense for truth and
justice in knowledge; were error and the confusion of the imagination
the only means through which mankind could raise itself gradually to
this degree of self-enlightenment and self-liberation--who would dare
to undervalue these means? Who would dare to be sad if he perceived the
goal to which those roads led? Everything in the domain of morality
has evolved, is changeable, unstable, everything is dissolved, it is
true; but _everything is also streaming towards one goal._ Even if
the inherited habit of erroneous valuation, love and hatred, continue
to reign in us, yet under the influence of growing knowledge it will
become weaker; a new habit, that of comprehension, of not loving, not
hating, of overlooking, is gradually implanting itself in us upon the
same ground, and in thousands of years will perhaps be powerful enough
to give humanity the strength to produce wise, innocent (consciously
innocent) men, as it now produces unwise, guilt-conscious men,--_that
is the necessary preliminary step, not its opposite._
[Footnote 1: Dr. Paul Rée.--J.M.K.]
[Footnote 2: Dr. Paul Rée.--J.M.K.]
[Footnote 3: This is the untranslatable word _Schadenfreude,_ which
means joy at the misfortune of others.--J.M.K.]
THIRD DIVISION.
THE RELIGIOUS LIFE.
108.
THE DOUBLE FIGHT AGAINST EVIL.--When misfortune overtakes us we can
either pass over I it so lightly that its cause is removed, or so
that the result which it has on our temperament is altered, through a
changing, therefore, of the evil into a good, the utility of which is
perhaps not visible until later on. Religion and art (also metaphysical
philosophy) work upon the changing of the temperament, partly through
the changing of our judgment on events (for instance, with the help
of the phrase "whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth"), partly through
the awakening of a pleasure in pain, in emotion generally (whence
the tragic art takes its starting-point). The more a man is inclined
to twist and arrange meanings the less he will grasp the causes of
evil and disperse them; the momentary mitigation and influence of
a narcotic, as for example in toothache, suffices him even in more
serious sufferings. The more the dominion of creeds and all arts
dispense with narcotics, the more strictly men attend to the actual
removing of the evil, which is certainly bad for writers of tragedy;
for the material for tragedy is growing scarcer because the domain of
pitiless, inexorable fate is growing ever narrower,--but worse still
for the priests, for they have hitherto lived on the narcotisation of
human woes.
109.
SORROW IS KNOWLEDGE.--How greatly we should like to exchange the
false assertions of the priests, that there is a god who desires good
from us, a guardian and witness of every action, every moment, every
thought, who loves us and seeks our welfare in all misfortune,--how
greatly we would like to exchange these ideas for truths which would be
just as healing, pacifying and beneficial as those errors! But there
are no such truths; at most philosophy can oppose to them metaphysical
appearances (at bottom also untruths). The tragedy consists in the fact
that we cannot _believe_ those dogmas of religion and metaphysics,
if we have strict methods of truth in heart and brain: on the other
hand, mankind has, through development, become so delicate, irritable
and suffering, that it has need of the highest means of healing and
consolation; whence also the danger arises that man would bleed to
death from recognised truth, or, more correctly, from discovered error.
Byron has expressed this in the immortal lines:--
Sorrow is knowledge: they who know the most
Must mourn the deepest o'er the fatal truth,
The Tree of Knowledge is not that of Life.
For such troubles there is no better help than to recall the stately
levity of Horace, at least for the worst hours and eclipses of the
soul, and to say with him:
... quid æternis minorem
consiliis animum fatigas?
cur non sub alta vel platano vel hac
pinu jacentes.[1]
But assuredly frivolity or melancholy of every degree is better than
a romantic retrospection and desertion of the flag, an approach to
Christianity in any form; for according to the present condition of
knowledge it is absolutely impossible to approach it without hopelessly
soiling our _intellectual conscience_ and giving ourselves away to
ourselves and others. Those pains may be unpleasant enough, but we
cannot become leaders and educators of mankind without pain; and woe
to him who would wish to attempt this and no longer have that clear
conscience!
110.