Paul Raimond Daniels’s Nietzsche and The Birth of Tragedy is an engaging, instructive, and clearly written study of Nietzsche’s first book. It is a particularly fine achievement given the difficulties, in terms of both style and content, that Nietzsche’s text presents to the reader. Daniels’s aim is to present BT as an ideal introduction to Nietzsche’s philosophy, and, in light of its problematizing of the relation between art and truth, to argue that BT is crucial for evaluating the aims, (...) successes, and shortcomings of Nietzsche’s later philosophy. Furthermore, Daniels presents an “affirmative” interpretation, arguing that BT champions a life-affirming worldview that finds its highest expression in... (shrink)

AN ATTEMPT AT SELF- CRITICISM. I. Whatever may lie at the bottom of this doubt- ful book must be a question of the first rank and attractiveness, ...

In _The Smile of Tragedy_, Daniel Ahern examines Nietzsche’s attitude toward what he called “the tragic age of the Greeks,” showing it to be the foundation not only for his attack upon the birth of philosophy during the Socratic era but also for his overall critique of Western culture. Through an interpretation of “Dionysian pessimism,” Ahern clarifies the ways in which Nietzsche sees ethics and aesthetics as inseparable and how their theoretical separation is at the root of Western (...) nihilism. Ahern explains why Nietzsche, in creating this precursor to a new aesthetics, rejects Aristotle’s medicinal interpretation of tragic art and concentrates on Apollinian cruelty as a form of intoxication without which there can be no art. Ahern shows that Nietzsche saw the human body as the vessel through which virtue and art are possible, as the path to an interpretation of “selflessness,” as the means to determining an order of rank among human beings, and as the site where ethics and aesthetics coincide. (shrink)

Skillful, sophisticated translations of two of Nietzsche's essential works about the conflict between the moral and aesthetic approaches to life, the impact of Christianity on human values, the meaning of science, the contrast between the Apollonian and Dionysian spirits, and other themes central to his thinking.

Boldly contesting recent scholarship, Sallis argues that The Birth of Tragedy is a rethinking of art at the limit of metaphysics. His close reading focuses on the complexity of the Apollinian/Dionysian dyad and on the crossing of these basic art impulses in tragedy. "Sallis effectively calls into question some commonly accepted and simplistic ideas about Nietzsche's early thinking and its debt to Schopenhauer, and proposes alternatives that are worth considering."--Richard Schacht, Times Literary Supplement.

Classic, influential study of Greek tragedy.

In this essay I look at The Birth of Tragedy in order to explore two related issues. First, beginning with Nietzsche’s own later critical look back at the book, I argue that in lamenting both the influence of Schopenhauer, and the inclusion of an extended discussion of contemporary German culture, Nietzsche underplayed the interdependence of these elements and his analysis of tragedy and its significance in the book. Second, I argue that to understand Nietzsche's Schopenhauerian concept of tragedy we (...) may begin from the perspective of the term's common usage, attending to phenomena often labelled tragic, and glimpsing what holds sway just beneath their surfaces. Ultimately, although Nietzsche's expressed understanding of tragedy in these early years drew heavily on Schopenhauerian pessimism, it nevertheless exceeded that influence. (shrink)

Friedrich Nietzsche’s The Birth of Tragedy1 is by many measures both his most accessible and his most difficult work. As Michael Tanner notes, [W]hat marks off [The Birth of Tragedy] as sharply different from everything he wrote afterwards is its initially conventional mode of presentation, that of academic essay. He had no notions at this stage of writing a disruptive work from within the establishment—as so often in his dealings with his contemporaries, he showed himself to be strikingly (...) naïve about what the impact of his work would be.2 Yet beneath that façade of straight-forward academic essay resides a complex work requiring an in-depth understanding of philosophy, cultural... (shrink)

Nietzsche's philosophy - at once revolutionary, erudite and deep - reaches into all spheres of the arts. Well into a second century of influence, the profundity of his ideas and the complexity of his writings still determine Nietzsche's power to engage his readers. His first book, "The Birth of Tragedy", presents us with a lively inquiry into the existential meaning of Greek tragedy. We are confronted with the idea that the awful truth of our existence can be revealed through (...) tragic art, whereby our relationship to the world transfigures from pessimistic despair into sublime elation and affirmation. It is a landmark text in his oeuvre and remains an important book both for newcomers to Nietzsche and those wishing to enrich their appreciation of his mature writings. "Nietzsche and The Birth of Tragedy" provides a clear account of the text and explores the philosophical, literary and historical influences bearing upon it. Each chapter examines part of the text, explaining the ideas presented and assessing relevant scholarly points of interpretation. The book will be an invaluable guide to readers in Philosophy, Literary Studies and Classics coming to "The Birth of Tragedy" for the first time. (shrink)

Introduction -- Context -- Overview of themes -- Reading the text -- Reception and influence.

The Birth of Tragedy is one of the seminal philosophical works of the modern period. Nietzsche's discussion of the nature of culture, of the conditions under which it can flourish and of those under which it will decline, his analysis of the sources of discontent with the modern world, his criticism of rationalism and of traditional morality, his aesthetic theories and his conception of the 'Dionysiac' have had a profound influence on the philosophy, literature, music, and politics of the (...) twentieth century. This edition presents a new translation by Ronald Speirs and an introduction by Raymond Geuss that sets the work in its historical and philosophical context. The volume also includes two essays on related topics that Nietzsche wrote during the same period, and that throw further light on the themes treated in the main text. (shrink)

There are numerous traces of Nietzsche's influence in Wang Guowei's "On the Dream of the Red Chamber" even though there is not a single mention of Nietzsche's name in that seminal essay. Nietzschean thought looms large where Wang openly disagrees with or quietly departs from the views of Schopenhauer and, to a lesser extent, those of Kant and Aristotle. His questioning of Schopenhauer's "no-life-ism" harks back to Nietzsche's challenge to Schopenhauer's life-negating ethics. His portrayal of Bao Yu reveals three distinctive (...) character traits of the Nietzschean overman. In particular, the praise of Bao Yu's rebellious character reveals Wang's preference for the iconoclastic Nietzschean overman over the passive Schopenhauerian saint. A strong influence of Nietzsche's views of tragedy may also be observed in Wang's discussion of the tragic form. His modification of Aristotle's catharsis seems to have been made in the spirit of Nietzsche's criticism of its "pathological discharge." His stress on the ultimate salvational function of the Dream strongly reminds us of what Nietzsche has said about the life-saving role of the Dionysian tragedy in the Birth. Finally, in his conditional endorsement of "live-life-ism" we can see a thinly disguised repudiation of the extreme Darwinian tendency he mistakenly reads into Nietzsche's works. It should not be surprising that there are so many echoes of Nietzschean thought in "On the Dream." While writing this essay Wang was deeply occupied with the study of Nietzsche's aesthetic and ethical theories through comparisons with Schopenhauer's. If this influence of Nietzsche can be established on the basis of the evidence given above, there is then a need to reassess Nietzschean thought as a catalyst more important than hitherto thought for the rethinking of traditional Chinese literary and cultural traditions--a broad twentieth-century critical and intellectual trend initiated by none other than Wang's "On the Dream.". (shrink)

Two representative and important works in one volume by one of the greatest German philosophers. The Birth of Tragedy (1872) was Nietzsche's first book. Its youthful faults were exposed by Nietzsche in the brilliant "Attempt at a Self-Criticism" which he added to the new edition of 1886. But the book, whatever its excesses, remains one of the most relevant statements on tragedy ever penned. It exploded the conception of Greek culture that was prevalent down through the Victorian era, and (...) it sounded themes developed in the twentieth century by classicists, existentialists, psychoanalysts, and others. The Case of Wagner (1888) was one Nietzsche's last books, and his wittiest. In attitude and style it is diametrically opposed to The Birth of Tragedy. Both works transcend their ostensible subjects and deal with art and culture, as well as the problems of the modern age generally. Each book in itself gives us an inadequate idea of its author; together, they furnish a striking image of Nietzsche's thought. The distinguished translations by Walter Kaufmann superbly reflect in English Nietzsche's idiom and the vitality of his style. Professor Kaufmann has also furnished running footnote commentaries, relevant passages from Nietzsche's correspondence, a bibliography, and, for the first time in any edition, an extensive index to each book. (shrink)

Nietzsche's The Birth of Tragedy, andearly 20th century Russians' interpretationsand embellishments of it, informed Losev'stheories of music and myth and his studies ofthe religions of Apollo and Dionysus. Hiscomplex musical aesthetic includes the ideathat music is the expression of a fundamentallyDionysian reality structured by Apollonianelements. In The Dialectic of Myth, heargued that myth is a dialectical necessity(not just a necessity), attacked the secularmythologies of the Enlightenment and Marxism,and upheld ``Christian mythology'' (his term). In The Mythologies of the Greeks andRomans, (...) he traced the religions of Zeus,Apollo, and Dionysus from paleolithic Crete tothe end of the Roman Empire. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Journal of the History of Philosophy 42.2 (2004) 227-229 [Access article in PDF] Philip Pothen. Nietzsche and the Fate of Art. Aldershot, England: Ashgate, 2002. Pp. x + 235. Paper, $29.95. Most scholarship argues that Nietzsche grants art a position of vital importance for culture, history, and philosophy. Philip Pothen seeks to challenge this general view of Nietzsche [End Page 227] while at the same time raising new questions (...) about Nietzsche's thoughts on art and how Nietzsche's views on art relate to his philosophical concerns. He does not locate Nietzsche's "deep suspicion and at times hostility" (1) toward art in a specific period of Nietzsche's thought, but instead traces it from the notebooks of the 1870s through Nietzsche's so-called "positivist period" to the very end of his productive life. The result is an honest attempt to recognize Nietzsche's ambivalent and at times hostile attitude toward that which is often times unquestionably admired.Although the Birth of Tragedy is the central text for most scholarship about Nietzsche's thoughts on art, this scholarship does not generally look to contemporaneous unpublished private writings. By conducting a close reading of Nietzsche's first published work in juxtaposition with selections from the Nachlass, Pothen shows that even as early as the 1870s, Nietzsche was developing some of the major themes of his subsequent writings on art. Nietzsche had begun to make decisive breaks with conceptual presuppositions inherited from Schopenhauer and the Kantian philosophical framework as well as from Wagner.Nietzsche's earlier belief in a rebirth of the Dionysian through works of genius such as Wagner's was severely criticized by Nietzsche himself in his 1886 Preface to the Birth of Tragedy. The second chapter of this book looks at Nietzsche's criticism of the concept of "genius" and the recognition of the "death of art" in modern artists such as Wagner. Pothen shows that Nietzsche gives a highly naturalistic account of genius, criticizing traditional notions that elevate the genius to a higher status than the merely talented artist.According to Pothen, the decadence of modern art, the deception of the artist, and the "end of art" suggests a type of "sickness" for Nietzsche. Art "represents a suppression of the instincts of becoming" (56). Pothen claims the future of art and its possible "death" are much more severe for Nietzsche than, for instance, Hegel. The challenging conclusion is that Nietzsche, not Hegel, properly announces the "death of art" in modernity.What, however, of the "monological work of art" that Nietzsche first formulates in the Gay Science? By considering the fourth part of Thus Spoke Zarathustra as a decisive conclusion and not an inferior appendage, Pothen argues that this work "for All and None" illustrates "a radical and perhaps impossible orientation" (9) that the godless artist must take up according to Nietzsche. It is a creative position "in favor of solitude [Einsamkeit], forgetting [vergessen] and inner strength" (74).Chapter four of Pothen's book addresses the concept of the "will to power." Pothen argues that it is a "metaphysical principle" of explanation that nevertheless undermines certain other metaphysical concepts such as a unified "subject" as well as traditional aesthetic concepts such as artistic autonomy. Pothen challenges Heidegger's claim that art is the "highest expression" of the will to power for Nietzsche while utilizing Heidegger's insights into art to highlight and question previous themes in the book such as the reduction of art to physiology (117-32).Chapter five concentrates on Nietzsche's analysis of the psychology of production and his critique of the Kantian themes of "disinterestedness" and the "judgment of taste." The book ends with a look at Nietzsche's final productive year of 1888. In works such as The Case of Wagner, Nietzsche, Pothen suggests, holds decadent works such as Wagner's as representative of all art produced "in the time of the death of God and the revaluation of all values" (169). For Nietzsche, modernity's inability to understand its own time might "herald the death or the end of this art of works... (shrink)

In The Birth of Tragedy, Nietzsche employs the dichotomy of Apollonian and Dionysian to explain artistic phenomena. The film Joker shows the origin story of the Joker, a comic-book supervillain. This paper offers a reading of Joker through Nietzsche’s ideas from The Birth of Tragedy. By doing so, it aims to achieve three things: first, to demonstrate the relevance of Nietzsche’s aesthetic theory in analyzing culture; second, to reveal the political dimension of Nietzsche’s thought in The Birth (...) of Tragedy; and third, to shed light on the ominous implications of Joker’s popularity. (shrink)

Published posthumously in 1908, Ecce Homo was written in 1888 and completed just a few weeks before Nietzsche's complete mental collapse.

This chapter contains sections titled: Saying No Will‐to‐Life: Affirmation and Denial A Summary of Schopenhauer's Argument for the Denial of the Will Nietzsche's Projects The Schopenhauerian Basis to Nietzsche's Pessimism Diagnosing Nihilism Diagnosing Asceticism The Appeal of Nietzsche's Values Notes References Further Reading.

China's encounter with Western cultures since the late Qing was generally viewed as a one-side “borrowing” and a radical “break” from traditional culture. “Westernization” became the dominant characteristic of the descriptions and interpretations of modern Chinese culture. Although Wang's work on comparative Chinese and Western philosophical studies has received much attention, there has been little attention given to the problem of Western influences, the domination of which, when appraising Wang's thought has persisted for a long time and has caused many (...) misunderstandings regarding his literary-aesthetic and philosophical thinking. Using the hermeneutical lens of Kierkegaard and especially Heidegger to look through to help correct our vision of interpreting Wang in light of his own culture, we propose that there is a specific Chinese sensibility crucial for understanding his use of Schopenhauer and Nietzsche, a sensibility that has been ignored by those who later sought to reconstruct and evaluate his earlier studies. We use the idea of “tragedy” heuristically to show the connections and differences between Wang Guowei and Schopenhauer and propose how renjian jingshen played an important role in Wang's cultural “borrowing” from Schopenhauer. Such a conclusion is contrary to the common understanding of Wang as a devoted follower of Schopenhauer's “pessimistic” philosophy. (shrink)

The article attempts to reveal the mutual relations between: the figure of the Greek god Dionysus, inseparable companion of the philosopher throughout his work, and, in contrast, the somewhat mysterious figure of the overman, who burst like a meteor in the first pages of the book “Thus Spoke Zarathustra”. Genetically linked not only to Greek mythology but also to Schopenhauer’s will, Nietzsche’s Dionysus already in “The Birth of Tragedy” appears on the other side of good and evil and sanctions (...) the supremacy of aesthetic values over moral values; in the middle stage of Nietzsche's work Dionysianism leads the philosopher to the idea of the eternal recurrence; finally, in the third stage Dionysus is drawn into a war with Christianity and is polemically sharpened in the formula “Dionysus Versus the Crucified”. At different stages of Nietzsche’s work almost all of his major philosophical ideas – except one – either derived directly from Dionysianism or were aligned with it. The image of the overman at the moment of its appearance was so out of the general picture of the philosopher's doctrine, that in the course of time he had to “correct” it. The overman loses his most outstanding, but, as it turned out, superfluous features in “Twilight of Idols”, “The Anti-Christian”, and “Ecce Homo”. Having lost interest in the idea of the overman, Nietzsche tries in his last works to structure and complete his philosophical doctrine, returning to Dionysus. By analysing his later works, the author hopes to draw the attention of researchers to these attempts of the philosopher. (shrink)

The third and fourth parts sketch aspects and difficulties of such a philosophy. Part III is concerned with the overcoming of the metaphysical negativity inherent in the conception of phenomena as appearances. Nietzsche's use of the Dionysian "mask" in his later thought is examined with respect to precisely such an overcoming. The affirmative relation of mask and masked and the problem of philosophical unmasking as affirmation arise as elements unique to the latest phase of Nietzsche's thought and are discussed in (...) analyses of several of the Dionysus Dithyrambs as well as texts from Beyond Good and Evil and Twilight of the Idols. Part IV explores the philosophical affirmation contained within the exhibition of the mask as mask through unmasking. ;The appendices contain extended discussions of particular textual problems as well as translations of selected fragments--hitherto untranslated or only partially translated--from Nietzsche's notebooks in the last productive decade of his life. ;The following study is an attempt to arrive at an understanding of Nietzsche's thought in terms that are internal to that thought itself. The concept of "affirmation" was chosen as an appropriate one because of its central place in Nietzsche's description of his own thought in opposition to the nihilistic movement of previous philosophy. ;The first part of the dissertation is a detailed discussion of Schopenhauer's philosophy, a philosophy which culminates in the question of the "affirmation or negation of the will to life." In our exposition we are able to see not merely the connection of Schopenhauerian pessimism and philosophical nihilism, as understood by Nietzsche, but, as significantly, the way in which the philosophical tradition is positively present in this philosophy. The constructive nature of knowledge, the negative source of activity, the "identity" of art all lead to the final truth of the "nothing." The relation of Schopenhauer's apparently willful and arbitrary conceptions to the history of philosophy is emphasized throughout this first part which, despite this historical interest, attempts to arrive at an immanent understanding of this philosophy. ;The second part concerns itself with the Birth of Tragedy, but is as much an elaboration, extension and application of certain aspects of this book to other elements of Nietzsche's thought as it is an analysis of the book. The Birth of Tragedy's ambiguous connection with Schopenhauer is first discussed, particularly as concerns the central theme of "tragic affirmation" as affirmation of the totality. The ontological obscurities of the divine pair Apollo-Dionysus are discussed, and the "spirit of music" that generates tragedy, the Dionysian spirit of affirmation, is contrasted with the Platonic daimon of Eros. The problem of Dionysos mousikos as Dionysos philosophos emerges in this part. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Economy, Society, Tragedy: Moral Reflections in an Age of Crisis and Austerity LOUIS A. RUPRECHT JR. Precisely their tragedies prove that the Greeks were not pessimists... In this sense, I have the right to understand myself as the first tragic philosopher—that is to say, the most extreme antithesis and antipode of a pessimistic philosopher. —Nietzsche, Ecce Homo, “The Birth of Tragedy” Orgiastic religion leads most readily to song (...) and music; ritualistic religion inclines toward the pictorial arts; religions enjoining love favor the development of poetry and music. In all of this, the one important fact for us is the significance of the marked rejection of all distinctively aesthetic devices by those religions which are rational, in our special sense. —Max Weber, The Sociology of Religion tragedy and society The title of this review essay is taken from Max Weber’s posthumous magnum opus, Economy and Society,1 an ambitious and wide-ranging comparative sociological analysis of economic orders, social orders and the normative structures that both emerge from and lend meaning to the intersecting economic, political and religious spheres in which complex human arion 28.2 fall 2020 Kathryn A. Kozaitis, Indebted: An Ethnography of Despair and Resilience in Greece’s Second City (New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 2021), 248 pages. This book is the fifteenth in Oxford’s important series, “Issues of Globalization: Case Studies in Contemporary Anthropology,” edited by Carla Freeman and Li Zhang. 138 economy, society, tragedy societies take shape. To Weber’s grand and capacious sociological categories, economy and society, I have added a third literary and philosophical term: tragedy. Now, to be sure, Weber thought a great deal about tragedy,2 and was drawn to tragic themes in many of his most salient and influential sociological studies. One need think only of his account of the bureaucratic “routinization” of prophetic charisma in The Sociology of Religion,3 or his depiction of modern humanity’s self-imposed “iron cage” in the rousing final pages of The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism,4 a text to which I will return at the end of this essay.5 But tragedy entails far more than systemic collapse or self-inflicted disaster. In this essay, I want to explore some of the implications of combining close attention to the lived experience of concrete individuals to the highly theoretical, systems-level analysis inspired by such Weberian categories. Put another way, how may Cultural Anthropology, and more specifically Ethnography, deepen such a globally-oriented Sociology? Here, I intend to supplement Weber’s sociological dyad, economy and society, with a conception of tragedy drawn from the cognate social sciences of Comparative Religion and Cultural Anthropology; I will be using Attic Greek tragedy as a benchmark. More specifically, I wish to highlight some of the ways in which the first book-length ethnographic study of the Greek economic crisis may add vital nuance to Weber’s more theoretical, world-systems approach. That book is Kathryn Kozaitis’s Indebted: An Ethnography of Despair and Resilience in Greece’s Second City, an ethnographic study of the lived reality of Greeks experiencing the double -whammy of a sovereign debt crisis and externally imposed austerity regimes in the Greek city of Thessaloniki; the book is the fifteenth to appear inOxford’s “Issues of Globalization: Case Studies in Contemporary Anthropology” series, edited by Carla Freeman and Li Zhang. As Kozaitis demonstrates with sensitivity and eloquence, by zeroing in on the people, rather than the economic policies or the social and administrative structures, Louis A. Ruprecht Jr. 139 certain normative categories and ethical stances become more relevant, many of them implicated in ancient Greek tragedy, and drama more broadly. tragic crises appropriately to a work of cultural ethnography, Kozaitis links the personal to her profession; further still, she weaves her own personal story into the story of the people to whom she is attempting to give voice. This, she notes, constitutes “the auto-ethnography in this ethnography” (4–6). How, then, did this professor of Cultural Anthropology, based in the United States, find her way to Greece’s “second city”? The path was circuitous, and its destination unclear for quite some time. That Kozaitis’s personal... (shrink)

Both for Kant and for Nietzsche, aesthetics must not be considered as a systematic science based merely on logical premises but rather as a set of intuitively attained artistic ideas that constitute or reconstitute the sensible perceptions and supersensible representations into a new whole. Kantian and Nietzschean aesthetics are both aiming to see beyond the forms of objects to provide explanations for the nobility and sublimity of human art and life. We can safely say that Kant and Nietzsche (...) used the dualities of the beautiful/sublime and Apollonian/Dionysian to advocate their general philosophical worldview, and that the initial formation (in Observations and The Birth of Tragedy) and final dissolution (in the Critique of Judgment and Zarathustra and other later works) of these dualities are determined by the gradually established telos of their philosophical endeavor. Therefore, by observing the evolution of these so-called dualities, Kaplama gathers important clues as to how Kant’s and Nietzsche’s aesthetics transformed into different ways to affirm human art and life. On the one hand, Kaplama argues, the Dionysian came to be the heart and soul of Nietzschean aesthetics and ethics, and the Apollonian (or the formal drive of individuation) was reduced into a mere aesthetic criterion. On the other, Kant treats the sublime (which is originally an idea-producing feeling and/or judgment) as a mere appendix to his Critique of Judgment and aesthetic theory teleologically reducing it into its possible moral consequences. This is why Schopenhauer calls the sublime “by far the most excellent thing in the Critique of Judgment” which touches on the real problem of aesthetics very closely but does not provide a real solution for it. Kant’s forced teleological move is to make his theory of aesthetic judgment stand as a ‘reaffirmation’ of the earlier ethical justification he believed to have accomplished in the first two Critiques and the Groundwork where he defends an affirmation of human life through a teleological morality centered on the principle of free-will. In contrast, Nietzsche’s aesthetics (particularly the Dionysian) guides his ethics and metaphysics again through defining an ideal human nature without which ethos would be static and meaningless, lacking the ability to move and change and represent the tragic pathos of human life. (shrink)

Nietzsche writes that the 'real task' of The Birth of Tragedy is to 'solve the puzzle of Wagner's relation to Greek tragedy'. The 'puzzle', I suggest, is the intermingling in his art and writings of earlier socialist optimism with later Schopenhauerian pessimism. According to the former the function of the 'rebirth of Greek tragedy' in the 'collective artwork' is to 'collect', and so create, community. According to the second the function of the artwork is to intimate a realm 'beyond' (...) this world of pain and death. The audacity of The Birth is that it attempts to show that Wagner can have his cake and eat it: the 'Dionysian', musical, element provides a 'metaphysical comfort', while the 'Apollonian', verbal, element draws a 'veil of oblivion' over the metaphysical, thereby allowing the artwork to solidify community. Contrary to the standard Anglophone view, this perspective on The Birth shows that Nietzsche's intimate association with Wagner during the period of its creation lies at the heart of its philosophical content. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Nietzsche’s Critiques: The Kantian Foundations of His ThoughtDaniel SchumanR. Kevin Hill. Nietzsche’s Critiques: The Kantian Foundations of His Thought. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2003. Pp. xvi + 242. Cloth, $45.00.This important book presents a broad and systematic study of Kant's influence on Nietzsche. Hill contends that Nietzsche, throughout the course of his philosophical career, wrestled with fundamental ideas presented in all three of Kant's Critiques. In the preliminary chapter, (...) Hill chronicles Nietzsche's familiarity with Kant by briefly examining the nineteenth century interpretations of Kant that Nietzsche was known to have read, namely those of Kuno Fisher, Friedrich Lange, and Schopenhauer. Hill also details Nietzsche's references to Kant throughout the published and unpublished writings, even providing a table that lists the number of references to Kant in five-year increments from 1865 through 1889 (19). Whether or not one agrees with the arguments in the remainder of the book, this first chapter stands alone as a useful historical introduction and reference guide for anyone interested in Kant and Nietzsche in light of early Neo-Kantianism.Chapters 2 and 3 focus upon Nietzsche's early encounter with the Critique of Judgment. Hill offers an interpretation of the third Critique that focuses on the centrality of reflective judgment in that text. The author shows how both aesthetic and teleological judgments are reflective, as opposed to determinative, in the sense that they exemplify ways that the subject is driven to interpret or conceive of the world, e.g., "as if" it were designed (70). He argues that Kant's conception of reflective judgmenthad a significant influence upon Nietzsche's early views on teleology and aesthetics. Hill also proposes that Nietzsche's early published and unpublished writings, including the Birth of Tragedy, are more indebted to Kant's metaphysics and conception of the supersensible, than they are to Schopenhauer's metaphysics of the will. Though Nietzsche retained a conception of the noumenal, Hill argues that he rejected Schopenhauerian determinative judgments about noumena in favor of Kantian reflective judgments similar to those in the third Critique (94).Chapters 4, 5, and 6 of this book deal with Kant's influence on Nietzsche's mature critiques of metaphysics and epistemology. Hill contends that Nietzsche's naturalism and empiricism were a response to, and outgrowth of, a variety of specific metaphysical and epistemological claims made in the first Critique. For example, by focusing on space and time, he compares Kant's transcendental idealism with Nietzsche's naturalism. Hill shows that Nietzsche generally accepted Kant's contention that the spacio-temporal structure of the phenomenal or natural world is "mind-dependent" (127). However, he also proposes that because Nietzsche had access to more advanced empirical theories, he eventually came to the conclusion that Kant's rigid a priori, Euclidian characterization of the phenomenal stands as a "falsified" interpretation of nature (132, 191). Hill contends that while Nietzsche [End Page 503] accepts that nature is a product of the mind, he was also committed to the idea that there may be better or more accurate ways of characterizing nature. In this section of the book, Hill could have done more to clarify how, for Nietzsche, nature is both dependent upon the mind (what Hill labels "panpsychism"), yet still somehow "transcends us" (138). Nonetheless, one does gain from these chapters an appreciation of the influence that Kant's theoretical philosophy had on Nietzsche.The final chapter investigates the ways that the three essays of the Genealogy of Morals confront various aspects of Kant's practical philosophy (Hill does provide evidence that Nietzsche read the second Critique prior to writing the Genealogy [202]). Hill claims Nietzscheian genealogy is employed as an attack upon various aspects of Kant's rational conception of morality, including his dependence upon moral intuition (202, 205, 206). He also details Nietzsche's reaction against Kant's dependence upon the noumenal as the foundation for moral freedom and responsibility (219, 222-29). Nonetheless, Hill finds points of agreement between Kant and Nietzsche on morality. For instance, he argues that Kant and Nietzsche share somewhat similar conceptions of moral agency in the sense that Nietzsche "agrees with Kant's characterization... (shrink)

The Nietzschean critiques of Schopenhauer’s metaphysical and ethical pessimism are well known. For Nietzsche, Schopenhauer’s pessimistic metaphysics necessarily leads to a nihilation of reality that gives rise to a mode of passive ethical quietism. To correct these perceived weaknesses, Nietzsche famously endeavors to develop a new “pessimism of strength” that, he argues, will promote a more vital and positive sense of natural moral value and ethical activity. The aim of this paper is to interrogate Nietzsche’s claim that Schopenhauer’s metaphysics necessarily (...) leads to a nihilation of natural value and ethical quietism. To these ends, I will examine the nature of Schopenhauer’s pessimism, its metaphysical foundations and ethical applications, and show how Philipp Mainländer, a hitherto understudied inheritor of this pessimism, saw in it not a gateway to moral nihilism, but an inversion of moral naturalism which called for radical acts of ethical, social, and political engagement. By translating and interpreting key passages from Mainländer two-volume Die Philosophie der Erlösung, this paper shows how Mainländer’s ethics and politics help us to understand the ethical consequences of Schopenhauer’s metaphysical pessimism in a new light, not as a precursor to nihilism and quietism, as Nietzsche claims, but as a foundation for revolutionary ethical and socio-political activity. (shrink)

The 1886/87 prefaces for the new editions of The Birth of Tragedy, the first volume of Human, All Too Human, Daybreak, and The Gay Science, as well the preface for the first edition of the second volume of Human, All Too Human, are Nietzsche’s starting point for elaborating and developing his late conception of illness and health. To arrive at a more detailed interpretation of the health process that Nietzsche describes, it is necessary to establish an intertextual reading of (...) the prefaces and the aphorism GS 370 from the perspective of a psychophysiological analysis. Nietzsche classifies his interpretation of illness under the term “romanticism,” which he sees embodied by the figures of Schopenhauer and Wagner and which he considers to be the most extreme case of illness – while his conception of health is classified under the term “tragic pessimism.” Nietzsche applies the meaning of romanticism and tragic pessimism until the end of his work, transforming both concepts into categories from which he defines the nature of the human being. (shrink)

continent. 2.2 (2012): 66–75 ~*~ We’re Doomed. Pessimism is the night-side of thought, a melodrama of the futility of the brain, a poetry written in the graveyard of philosophy. Pessimism is a lyrical failure of philosophical thinking, each attempt at clear and coherent thought, sullen and submerged in the hidden joy of its own futility. The closest pessimism comes to philosophical argument is the droll and laconic “We’ll never make it,” or simply: “We’re doomed.” Every effort doomed to failure, every (...) project doomed to incompletion, every life doomed to be unlived, every thought doomed to be unthought. Pessimism is the lowest form of philosophy, frequently disparaged and dismissed, merely the symptom of a bad attitude. No one ever needs pessimism, in the way that one needs optimism to inspire one to great heights and to pick oneself up, in the way one needs constructive criticism, advice and feedback, inspirational books or a pat on the back. No one needs pessimism, though I like to imagine the idea of a pessimist activism. No one needs pessimism, and yet everyone—without exception—has, at some point in their lives, had to confront pessimism, if not as a philosophy then as a grievance—against one’s self or others, against one’s surroundings or one’s life, against the state of things or the world in general. There is little redemption for pessimism, and no consolation prize. Ultimately, pessimism is weary of everything and of itself. Pessimism is the philosophical form of disenchantment—disenchantment as chanting, a chant, a mantra, a solitary, monophonic voice rendered insignificant by the intimate immensity surrounding it. In pessimism, the first axiom is a long, low, funereal sigh. ~*~ We’re Still Doomed. No one has time for pessimism. After all, there are only so many hours in a day. Whatever our temperament, happy or sad, engaged or disengaged, we know pessimism when we hear it. The pessimist is usually understood as the complainer, forever pointing out what is wrong with the world without ever once offering a solution. But more often than not pessimists are the quietest of philosophers, submerging their own sighs within the lethargy of discontent. What little sound it makes is of interest to no one—“I’ve heard it all before,” “tell me something I don’t know,” sound and fury, signifying nothing. In raising problems without solutions, in posing questions without answers, in retreating to the hermetic, cavernous abode of complaint, pessimism is guilty of that most inexcusable of Occidental crimes—the crime of not pretending it’s for real. Pessimism fails to live up to the most basic tenet of philosophy—the “as if.” Think as if it will be helpful, act as if it will make a difference, speak as if there is something to say, live as if you are not, in fact, being lived by some murmuring non-entity both shadowy and muddied. Had it more self-assurance and better social skills, pessimism would turn its disenchantment into a religion, possibly calling itself The Great Refusal. But there is a negation in pessimism that refuses even such a Refusal, an awareness that, from the start, it has already failed, and that the culmination of all that is, is that all is for naught. Pessimism tries very hard to present itself in the low, sustained tones of a Requiem Mass, or the tectonic rumbling of Tibetan chant. But it frequently lets loose dissonant notes at once plaintive and pathetic. Often, its voice cracks, its weighty words abruptly reduced to mere shards of guttural sound. ~*~ Maybe It’s Not So Bad, After All. If we know pessimism when we hear it, this is because we’ve heard it all before—and we didn’t need to hear it in the first place. Life is hard enough. What you need is a change of attitude, a new outlook, a shift in perspective... a cup of coffee. If we have no ears for pessimism, this is because it is always reducible to something as reliably mutable as a voice. If pessimism is so frequently disparaged, it is because it brings everyone down, determined as it is to view each day as a bad day, if only by virtue of the fact that it is not yet a bad day. For pessimism the world is brimming with negative possibility, the collision of a bad mood with an impassive world. In fact, pessimism is the result of a confusion between the world and a statement about the world, a confusion that also prevents it from fully entering the hallowed halls of philosophy. If pessimism is so often dismissed, this is because it is often impossible to separate a “bad mood” from a philosophical proposition (and do not all philosophies stem from a bad mood?) The very term “pessimism” suggests a school of thought, a movement, even a community. But pessimism always has a membership of one—maybe two. Ideally, of course, it would have a membership of none, with only a scribbled, illegible note left behind by someone long forgotten. But this seems unrealistic, though one can always hope. ~*~ Anatomy of Pessimism. Though it may locate itself at the margins of philosophy, pessimism is as much subject to philosophical analysis as any other form of thought. Pessimism’s lyricism of failure gives it the structure of music. What time is to the music of sorrow, reason is to a philosophy of the worst. Pessimism’s two major keys are moral and metaphysical pessimism, its subjective and objective poles, an attitude towards the world and a claim about the world. For moral pessimism, it is better not to have been born at all; for metaphysical pessimism, this is the worst of all possible worlds. For moral pessimism the problem is the solipsism of human beings, the world made in our own image, a world-for-us. For metaphysical pessimism, the problem is the solipsism of the world, objected and projected as a world-in-itself. Both moral and metaphysical pessimism are compromised philosophically; moral pessimism by its failure to locate the human within a larger context, and metaphysical pessimism by its failure to recognize the complicity in the very claim of realism. This is how pessimism makes its music of the worst, a generalized misanthropy without the anthropos . Pessimism crystallizes around this futility—it is its amor fati , rendered as musical form. ~*~ Melancholy of Anatomy. There is a logic of pessimism that is fundamental to its suspicion of philosophical system. Pessimism involves a statement about a condition . In pessimism each statement boils down to an affirmation or a negation, just as any condition boils down to the best or the worst. With Schopenhauer, that arch-pessimist, the thinker for whom the philosopher and the curmudgeon perfectly overlap, we see a no-saying to the worst, a no-saying that secretly covets a yes-saying (through asceticism, mysticism, quietism), even if this hidden yes-saying is a horizon at the limits of comprehension. With Nietzsche comes the pronouncement of a Dionysian pessimism, a pessimism of strength or joy, a yes-saying to the worst, a yes-saying to this world as it is. And with Cioran yet another variation, futile yet lyrical, a no-saying to the worst, and a further no-saying to the possibility of any other world, in here or out there. With Cioran one approaches, but never reaches, an absolute no-saying, a studied abandonment of pessimism itself. The logic of pessimism moves through three refusals: a no-saying to the worst (refusal of the world-for-us, or Schopenhauer’s tears); a yes-saying to the worst (refusal of the world-in-itself, or Nietzsche’s laughter); and a no-saying to the for-us and the in-itself (a double refusal, or Cioran’s sleep). Crying, laughing, sleeping—what other responses are adequate to a life that is so indifferent? ~*~ Cosmic Pessimism. Both moral and metaphysical pessimism point to another kind, a pessimism that is neither subjective nor objective, neither for-us nor in-itself, and instead a pessimism of the world-without-us. We could call this a cosmic pessimism ... but this sounds too majestic, too full of wonder, too much the bitter aftertaste of the Great Beyond. Words falter. And so do ideas. And so we have a cosmic pessimism, a pessimism that is first and last a pessimism about cosmos , about the necessity and possibility of order. The contours of cosmic pessimism are a drastic scaling-up or scaling-down of the human point of view, the unhuman orientation of deep space and deep time, and all of this shadowed by an impasse, a primordial insignificance, the impossibility of ever adequately accounting for one’s relationship to thought—all that remains of pessimism is the desiderata of affects—agonistic, impassive, defiant, reclusive, filled with sorrow and flailing at that architectonic chess match called philosophy, a flailing that pessimism tries to raise to the level of an art form (though what usually results is slapstick). ~*~ Song of Futility. An ethics of futility pervades pessimism. Futility, however, is different from fatality, and different again from simple failure (though failure is never simple). Failure is a breakage within the heart of relations, a fissure between cause and effect, a fissure hastily covered over by trying and trying again. With failure, there is always plenty of blame to go around; it’s not my fault, it’s a technical difficulty, it’s a miscommunication. For the pessimist, failure is a question of “when,” not “if”—failure as a metaphysical principle. Everything withers and passes into an obscurity blacker than night, everything from the melodramatic decline of a person’s life to the banal flickering moments that constitute each day. Everything that is done undone, everything said or known destined for a kind of stellar oblivion. When scaled up in this way, failure becomes fatality. Fatality is the hermeticism of cause and effect. In fatality, everything you do, whatever you do, always leads to a certain end, and ultimately to the end—though that end, or the means to that end, remain shrouded in obscurity. Nothing you do makes a difference because everything you do makes a difference. Hence the effects of your actions are hidden from you, even as you deceive yourself into thinking that, at last, this time you will outwit the order of things. By having a goal, planning ahead, and thinking things through carefully, we attempt, in a daily Prometheanism, to turn fatality to our advantage, to gain a glimpse of an order that seems buried deeper and deeper in the fabric of the universe. But even fatality has its comforts. The chain of cause and effect may be hidden from us, but that’s just because disorder is the order we don’t yet see; it’s just complex, distributed, and requires advanced mathematics. Fatality still clings to the sufficiency of everything that exists... When fatality relinquishes even this idea, it becomes futility. Futility arises out of the grim suspicion that, behind the shroud of causality we drape over the world, there is only the indifference of what exists or doesn’t exist; whatever you do ultimately leads to no end, an irrevocable chasm between thought and world. Futility transforms the act of thinking into a zero-sum game. ~*~ Song of the Worst. At the center of pessimism lies the term pessimus , “the worst,” a term as relative as it is absolute. The worst is about as bad as it gets, “the worst” as “the best” in disguise, shrouded by the passage of time or the twists and turns of fortune. For the pessimist, “the worst” is the propensity for suffering that gradually occludes each living moment, until it eclipses it entirely, overlapping perfectly in death... which, for the pessimist, is no longer “the worst.” Pessimism is marked by an unwillingness to move beyond “the worst,” something only partially attributable to a lack in motivation. In pessimism “the worst” is the ground that gives way beneath every existent—things could be worse, and , things could be better. “The worst” invariably implies a value judgment, one made based on scant evidence and little experience; in this way, pessimism’s greatest nemesis is its moral orientation. Pessimism’s propositions have all the gravitas of a bad joke. Perhaps this is why the true optimists are the most severe pessimists—they are optimists that have run out of options. They are almost ecstatically inundated by the worst. Such an optimism is the only possible outcome of a prolonged period of suffering, physical or metaphysical, intellectual or spiritual. But does this not also describe all the trials and tribulations of each day—in short, of “life?” It seems that sooner or later we are all doomed to become optimists of this sort (the most depressing of thoughts...) ~*~ Song of Doom. Rather than serving as a cause for despair, gloom and doom are the forms of consolation for any pessimist philosophy. Neither quite affects nor quite concepts, gloom and doom transform pessimism into a mortification of philosophy. Doom is not just the sense that all things will turn out badly, but that all things inevitably come to an end, irrespective of whether or not they really do come to an end. What emerges from doom is a sense of the unhuman as an attractor, a horizon towards which the human is fatally drawn. Doom is humanity given over to unhumanity in an act of crystalline self-abnegation. Gloom is not simply the anxiety that precedes doom. Gloom is literally atmospheric, climate as much as impression, and if people are also gloomy, this is simply the by-product of an anodyne atmosphere that only incidentally involves human beings. Gloom is more climatological than psychological, the stuff of dim, hazy, overcast skies, of ruins and overgrown tombs, of a misty, lethargic fog that moves with the same languorousness as our own crouched and sullen listening to a disinterested world. In a sense, gloom is the counterpoint to doom—what futility is to the former, fatality is to the latter. Doom is marked by temporality—all things precariously drawn to their end—whereas gloom is the austerity of stillness, all things sad, static, and suspended, a meandering smoke hovering over cold lichen stones and damp fir trees. If doom is the terror of temporality and death, then gloom is the horror of a hovering stasis that is life. At times I like to imagine that this realization alone is the thread that connects the charnel ground Aghori and the graveyard poets. ~*~ Song of Spite. There is an intolerance in pessimism that knows no bounds. In pessimism spite begins by fixing on a particular object of spite—someone one hardly knows, or someone one knows too well; a spite for this person or a spite for all of humanity; a spectacular or a banal spite; a spite for a noisy neighbor, a yapping dog, a battalion of strollers, the meandering idiot walking in front of you on their smart phone, large loud celebrations, traumatic injustices anywhere in the world regurgitated as media blitz, spite for the self-absorbed and overly performative people talking way too loud at the table next to you, technical difficulties and troubleshooting, the reduction of everything to branding, spite of the refusal to admit one’s own errors, of self-help books, of people who know absolutely everything and make sure to tell you, of all people, all living beings, all things, the world, the spiteful planet, the inanity of existence... Spite is the motor of pessimism because it is so egalitarian, so expansive, it runs amok, stumbling across intuitions that can only half-heartedly be called philosophical. Spite lacks the confidence and the clarity of hatred, but it also lacks the almost cordial judgment of dislike. For the pessimist, the smallest detail can be an indication of a metaphysical futility so vast and funereal that it eclipses pessimism itself—a spite that pessimism carefully places beyond the horizon of intelligibility, like the experience of dusk, or like the phrase, “it is raining jewels and daggers.” ~*~ Song of Sleep. A paraphrase of Schopenhauer: what death is for the organism, sleep is for the individual. Pessimists sleep not because they are depressed, but because for them sleep is a form of ascetic practice. Sleep is the askesis of pessimism. If, while sleeping, we have a bad dream, we abruptly wake up, and suddenly the horrors of the night vanish. There is no reason to think that the same does not happen with the bad dream we call “life.” ~*~ Song of Sorrow. Nietzsche, commenting on pessimism, once castigated Schopenhauer for taking things too lightly. He writes: ...Schopenhauer, though a pessimist, really —played the flute. Every day, after dinner: one should read his biography on that. And incidentally: a pessimist, one who denies God and the world but comes to a stop before morality—who affirms morality and plays the flute... what? Is that really—a pessimist? We know that Schopenhauer did possess a collection of instruments, and we also know that Nietzsche himself composed music. There is no reason to think that either of them would ever banish music from the Republic of philosophy. But Nietzsche’s jibes at Schopenhauer are as much about music as they are about pessimism. For the pessimist who says no to everything and yet finds comfort in music, the no-saying of pessimism can only be a weak way of saying yes—the weightiest statement undercut by the flightiest of replies. The least that Schopenhauer could’ve done is to play the bass. I’m not a big fan of the flute, or, for that matter, wind instruments generally. But what Nietzsche forgets is the role that the flute has historically played in Greek tragedy. In tragedy, the flute ( aulos ) is not an instrument of levity and joy, but of solitude and sorrow. The Greek aulos not only expresses the grief of tragic loss, but it does so in a way that renders weeping and singing inseparable from each other. The classicist Nicole Loraux calls this the mourning voice . Set apart from the more official civic rituals of funerary mourning, the mourning voice of Greek tragedy constantly threatens to dissolve song into wailing, music into moaning, and the voice into a primordial, disarticulate anti-music. The mourning voice delineates all the forms of suffering—tears, weeping, sobbing, wailing, moaning, and the convulsions of thought reduced to an elemental unintelligibility. In the collapsed space between the voice that speaks and the voice that sings, pessimism discovers its mourning voice. Pessimism: the failure of sound and sense, the disarticulation of phone and logos . Have we rescued Schopenhauer from Nietzsche? Probably not. Perhaps Schopenhauer played the flute to remind himself of the real function of the mourning voice—sorrow, sighs, and moaning rendered indistinguishable from music, the crumbling of the human into the unhuman. Failure par excellence of pessimism. ~*~ Song of Nothing. In Buddhist thought, the First Noble Truth of existence is encapsulated in the Pali term dukkha , conventionally translated as “suffering,” “sorrow,” or “misery.” The Buddhist teachings are clear, however, that this is an objective claim, and not simply one point of view among others. Existence is suffering and sorrow—and yet this is not, the teachings tell us, a pessimistic attitude. It is likely that Schopenhauer, reading the Buddhist texts available to him, recognized some filiation with the concept of dukkha . But dukkha is a multi-faceted term. There is, certainly, dukkha in the usual sense of the suffering, strife, and loss associated with living a life. But this is, in turn, dependent on the finitude and temporality of dukkha , existence as determined by impermanence and imperfection. And this ultimately points to the way in which both suffering and finitude are grounded by the paradoxical groundlessness of dukkha as a metaphysical principle—the insubstantiality and the emptiness of all that is. Beyond what is worse to me, beyond a world ordered for the worst, there is the emptiness of dukkha as an impersonal suffering... the tears of the cosmos. In this context, it is easy to see how Schopenhauer’s pessimism attempts to compress all the aspects of dukkha into a nothingness at the core of existence, a Willlessness coursing through the Will. Though one thing for certain is that with Schopenhauer we do not find the “ever-smiling” countenance of Buddhism—or do we? The texts of the Pali Canon also contain lists of the different types of happiness—including the happiness of renunciation and the strange happiness of detachment. But Buddhism considers even the different types of happiness as part of dukkha , in this final sense of nothingness or emptiness. Perhaps Schopenhauer understood Buddhism better than he is usually given credit for. Thus the experiment of Schopenhauer’s philosophy—the point at which a Western pessimus and an Eastern dukkha overlap or exchange glances. Empty sorrow, a lyricism of indifference. The result is a strange, and ultimately untenable, nocturnal form of Buddhism. ~*~ Cioran once called music a “physics of tears.” If this is true, then perhaps metaphysics is its commentary. Or its apology. ~*~ Pessimism would be more mystical were it not for its defeatism. Mysticism is much too proactive for the pessimist, and pessimism too impassive even for the mystic. At the same time, there is something enviable about mysticism—despite its sufferings. There is a sense in which pessimists are really failed mystics. ~*~ You, the Night, and the Music. In a suggestive passage, Schopenhauer once noted that, “music is the melody to which the world is the text." Given Schopenhauer’s view on life—that life is suffering, that human life is absurd, that the nothingness before my birth is equal to the nothingness after my death—given all this, one wonders what kind of music Schopenhauer had in mind when he described music as the melody to which the world is text—was it opera, a Requiem Mass, a madrigal, or perhaps a drinking song? Or something like Eine kleine Nachtmusik , a little night music for the twilight of thought, a sullen nocturne for the night-side of logic, an era of sad wings sung by a solitary banshee. Perhaps the music Schopenhauer had in mind is music eliminated to non-music. A whisper would suffice. Perhaps a sigh of fatigue or resignation, perhaps a moan of despair or sorrow. Perhaps a sound just articulate enough that it could be heard to dissipate. ~*~ Teach me to laugh through tears. ~*~ Pessimism always falls short of being philosophical. My back aches, my knees hurt, I couldn’t sleep last night, I’m stressed-out, and I think I’m finally coming down with something. Pessimism abjures all pretenses towards system—towards the purity of analysis and the dignity of critique. We didn’t really think we could figure it out, did we? It was just passing time, taking a piss, something to do, a bold gesture put forth in all its fragility, according to rules that we have agreed to forget that we made up in the first place. Every thought marked by a shadowy incomprehension that precedes it, and a futility that undermines it. That pessimism speaks, in whatever voice, is the singing testimony to this futility and this incomprehension—take a chance and step outside, lose some sleep and say you tried... ~*~ Is there a music of pessimism? And would such a music be audible? ~*~ The impact of music on a person compels them to put their experience into words. When this fails, the result is a faltering of thought and language that is itself a kind of music. Cioran writes: “Music is everything. God himself is nothing more than an acoustic hallucination.” ~*~ If a thinker like Schopenhauer has any redeeming qualities, it is that he identified the great lie of Western culture—the preference for existence over non-existence. As he notes: “If we knocked on the graves and asked the dead whether they would like to rise again, they would shake their heads.” In Western cultures it is commonly accepted that one celebrates birth and mourns death. But there must be a mistake here. Wouldn’t it make more sense to mourn birth and celebrate death? Strange though, because the mourning of birth would, presumably, last the entirety of that person’s life, so that mourning and living would the be same thing. ~*~ To the musical idea of the harmony of the universe corresponds the philosophical principle of sufficient reason. Like the music of mourning, pessimism gives voice to the inevitable breakdown of word and song. In this way, music is the overtone of thought. ~*~ The Patron Saints of Pessimism. The patron saints of pessimism watch over suffering. Laconic and sullen, the patron saints of pessimism never seem to do a good job at protecting, interceding, or advocating for those who suffer. Perhaps they need us more than we need them. Lest we forget, there do exist patron saints of philosophy, but their stories are not happy ones. There is, for instance, the fourth century Saint Catherine of Alexandria, or Catherine of the Wheel, named after the torture device used on her. A precocious fourteen year old scholar, Catherine was subject to continual persecution. After all forms of torture failed—including the “breaking wheel”—the emperor finally settled for her decapitation, a violent yet appropriate reminder of the protector of philosophers. There are also patron saints of music and musicians, but theirs too are sad stories. In the second century, Saint Cecilia was also subject to persecution and torture. As she knelt to receive the blade that would separate her head from her body, she ardently sang a song to God. It took three attempts before she was fully decapitated, all the while she continued, perhaps miraculously, to sing. Does pessimism not deserve its own patron saints, even if they are unworthy of martyrdom? But in our search, even the most ardent nay-sayers frequently lapse into brief moments of enthusiasm—Pascal’s love of solitude, Leopardi’s love of poetry, Schopenhauer’s love of music, Nietzsche’s love of Schopenhauer, and so on. Should one then focus on individual works of pessimism? We could include Kierkegaard’s trilogy of horror— Sickness Unto Death , The Concept of Dread , and Fear and Trembling —but all these are undermined by their fabricated and unreliable authors. Besides, how can one separate the pessimist from the optimist in works like Unamuno’s The Tragic Sense of Life , Shestov’s Postetas Clavium , or Edgar Saltus’ under-read The Philosophy of Disenchantment ? Even in cases where the entire corpus of an author is pessimistic, the project always seems incomplete—witness Cioran’s trajectory, from his first book, On the Heights of Despair , to the last unpublished notebooks of acrid and taut aphorisms. And this is to say nothing of literary pessimism, from Goethe’s sorrowful Werther, to Dostoevsky’s underground man, to Pessoa’s disquiet scribbler; Baudelaire’s spleen and ennui, the mystical Satanism of Huysmans and Strindberg, the hauntologies of Mário de Sá-Carniero, Izumi Kyoka, H.P. Lovecraft, grumpy old Beckett... even the great pessimist comedians. All that remains are singular, perhaps anomalous statements of pessimism, a litany of quotes and citations crammed into fortune cookies. Patron saints are traditionally named after a locale, either a place of birth or of a mystical experience. Perhaps the better approach is to focus on the places where pessimists were forced to live out their pessimism—Schopenhauer facing an empty Berlin lecture hall, Nietzsche mute and convalescent at the home of his sister, Wittgenstein the relinquished professor and solitary gardener, Cioran grappling with Alzheimer’s in his tiny writing alcove in the Latin Quarter. ~*~ There’s a ghost that grows inside of me, damaged in the making, and there’s a hunt sprung from necessity, elliptical and drowned. Where the moving quiet of our insomnia offers up each thought, there’s a luminous field of grey inertia, and obsidian dreams burnt all the way down. ~*~ If pessimism has any pedagogical value, it is that the failure of pessimism as a philosophy is inextricably tied to the failure of pessimism as voice. I read the following, from Shestov’s The Apotheosis of Groundlessness : When a person is young he writes because it seems to him he has discovered a new almighty truth which he must make haste to impart to forlorn humankind. Later, becoming more modest, he begins to doubt his truths: and then he tries to convince himself. A few more years go by, and he knows he was mistaken all round, so there is no need to convince himself. Nevertheless he continues to write, because he is not fit for any other work, and to be accounted a superfluous person is so horrible. (shrink)

Although it can hardly be denied that BT is—as its first paragraph declares—centrally concerned to advance the science of aesthetics by coming to grips with the essence of Attic tragedy, it should not be forgotten that its author also characterizes the book (in its foreword) as being in constant conversation with Richard Wagner, and hence as a continuation of their joint struggle properly to grasp the true purpose and full value of Wagnerian opera, understood as aspiring to the status (...) of a Gesamtkunstwerk. One might say that BT is an attempt to make sense of the Wagner circle’s habit of referring to their leader as Aeschylus—to ground Nietzsche’s intuition that the work of both men embodies an enigmatic sublimity .. (shrink)

본 논문은 『비극의 탄생』을 모든 문화적 형성의 기본 문제라 할 수 있는 개체화 문제의 관점에서 재독해하고자 한다. 『비극의 탄생』의 재독해를 통해 드러날 수 있는 개체화의 가장 기본적인 사항은 개체와 개체화의 과정은 서로 구조적으로 분리되지 않는다는 점이다. 니체는 개체적 주체와 이 주체가 개체화되는 과정을 분리시키는 사고방식을 비판한다. 보다 구체적으로, 본 논문은 ‘디오뉘소스적-아폴론적’이라고 부를 수 있을 이 개체화 과정의 구조가 ‘개체를 발생시키는 개체화’와 ‘개체 속에서 지속적으로 이루어지는 개체화’의 기본적인 두 차원으로 이루어져 있음을 보여줄 것이다. 전자의 차원은 불연속성과 비가역성을 기초로 하는 상징과 비유의 (...) 메커니즘을 통해 구성되고, 후자의 차원은 직접적 긍정과 탈주체화를 특징으로 하는 변신(變身)의 과정을 중심으로 한다. 두 차원은 개체화라는 하나의 과정의 두 측면을 이룬다. (shrink)

This paper offers an interpretation of Nietzsche’s well known unpublished remark, ‘Truth is ugly. We possess art lest we perish of the truth.’ I argue that it is not helpful to construe this remark as a claim to the effect that art falsifies the truth by, for example, peddling lies or deceptions. Rather, I suggest, the remark should be taken to refer to the various ways in which art can present us with the truth in such a manner that we (...) do not perish of it. And of these ways, I argue, the most interesting is that in which art facilitates awareness of putatively ugly truths while actually abolishing their ugliness: a striking discussion of this possibility is to be found in Nietzsche’s first book, The Birth of Tragedy. I conclude that, overall, Nietzsche is best understood as a conditional cognitivist—as someone who thinks of truth as valuable, but not as valuable no matter what; and I suggest that what makes his position interesting and distinctive is the alethic pessimism that runs through his version of cognitivism. (shrink)

In relation to the overall theme of the collection in which this paper appears, namely, Nietzsche and the 'future of the human' I offer a reading of Nietzsche's "The Birth of Tragedy" to argue for the key role of art in relation to Nietzsche's project of 'overcoming the human'. It is argued that Nietzsche credits the pre-Socratic Greeks, and in particular their tragic dramas, with achieving a 'transvaluation' of the optimism/pessimism distinction and thereby promoting an overcoming of the man/nature (...) distinction. The extent to which this outlook is attained by Nietzsche in his first published work - and which aspects of it demonstrate this - is underlined in its contrast with a number of current interpretations of the work. (shrink)

Nietzsche’s Birth of Tragedy overcomes the opposition between scientific optimism and Schopenhauerian pessimism with the image of a music-making Socrates, who symbolizes the aesthetic affirmation of life. This article shows how the aesthetic ideal is an illusion whose metaphysical solace undermines itself in being recognized as such, thereby ceasing to be comforting. While I agree with recent commentaries that contest the pervasive Schopenhauerian reading of The Birth, most of these commentaries still support the view that Nietzsche wishes to (...) communicate some fundamental truth about nature or meaning in life. By contrast, I argue that he treats any such truth as a cultural fiction that emerges from the poetic staging of reality, leaving us with a contradiction of appearances deprived of any intelligible ground. (shrink)

Taking Heidegger's prominent critique of Nietzsche's treatment of Kant's notion of 'aesthetic disinterestedness' as a foil this paper argues that, contrary to the dominant interpretation, Nietzsche's text contain a positive and radical notion of 'aesthetic disinterestedness'. It is argued that Nietzsche's naturalistic notion of aesthetic disinterestedness is a key feature of his conception of art as natural life process that contests the boundaries, values and libidinal constitution of the 'human'. The ramifications of this for Heidegger's reading of Nietzche's aesthetics (...) are considered. The paper reviews Nietzsche's critical treatment of the notion of 'aesthetic disinterestedness' in both "The Birth of Tragedy" and the "Genealogy of Morality" and relates these to his overall vision of the relationship between art and life. (shrink)

Under the symbol of Dionysus, god of annihilation, metamorphosis, tragedy, Nietzsche succeeded in fusing elements of the mythological with a new philosophical world view culminating in an anti-ethic «beyond good and evil». «Dionysian Aesthetics» delves into the three periods of Nietzsche's productivity, systematically analyzing the relationships between major works and adhering closely to Nietzsche's «Werdegang». The focus for an understanding of the aesthetic is shifted from «Die Geburt der Tragödie» to the late works of the philo- sophical-Dionysus period.

This article explores the nuanced interaction early Nietzsche affords towards the thought and mission of the Christian priest in The Birth of Tragedy and its associated The Dionysiac Worldview. In terms of positive engagement, first, Nietzsche’s project of ‘justification’, central to these works, can be seen as pertaining to the project of the Christian priest, as Nietzsche understands him. Second, Nietzsche chooses to characterise and demonstrate his preferred ‘justifications’, the ‘Apollonian’ and ‘Dionysian’, by paralleling and borrowing from historical efforts (...) of theodicy formulated by the priest. Third, Nietzsche’s self-embraced project to revive a ‘Tragic’ culture, to ‘hallow’ the Dionysian, tracks the repeated historical role he attributes to the priest. Fourth, and here by way of critical engagement, Nietzsche’s analysis of the ‘Socratic’ justification, again paralleling elements from Christian theodicy, anticipates what will become Nietzsche’s mature, no longer nuanced, hostile stance towards the thought and function of the Christian priest figure. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Transvaluations: Nietzsche in France, 1872–1972 by Douglas SmithAlan D. SchriftDouglas Smith. Transvaluations: Nietzsche in France, 1872–1972. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996. Pp. xiii + 250. Cloth, $67.00.In a letter to his friend Heinrich Köselitz, Nietzsche described himself as “a battlefield more than a human being.” Douglas Smith appropriately frames his survey of Nietzsche’s reception in France with this image, noting that several significant transformations mark the first hundred (...) years of Nietzsche’s French reception. Perhaps more to the point, Smith argues that the contesting readings of Nietzsche’s works represent other conflicts, both philosophical, institutional, and political. The result is an interesting, albeit selective, narrative that seeks to tell a coherent story of the twists and turns in Nietzsche’s French reception from 1872—the year The Birth of Tragedy was published—to 1972—the year of the Nietzsche conference at Cerisy that Smith takes as the apogee of the sixties Nietzsche revival. As Smith wisely notes, Nietzsche’s works lend themselves to widely divergent readings; he also implies the same may be true of the history of his reception.Several interpretive assumptions guide Smith’s narrative; three are most central. First, the “transvalutions” of Nietzsche’s works are themselves supported by Nietzsche’s own “continual interrogation of identity—of the self, of the nation, of culture” (7). As Nietzsche continually called identity into question, the identity of his own texts were contested, and Smith shows how the political and philosophical left and right exploited Nietzsche’s reliance on metaphor to give themselves the task of constructing a coherent meaning for Nietzsche’s texts, a task discharged with progressively “closer,” more “immanent” readings of those texts. [End Page 477]Smith’s second assumption concerns the shifting privilege given to Nietzsche’s two major themes, as the century witnesses a transformation from an emphasis on will to power to eternal recurrence as the central theme. This transformation is conjoined with another, as attention to the ethical questions posed by Nietzsche’s works is replaced by questions concerning Nietzsche’s relationship to the history of metaphysics as its end or reversal. For Smith, these transformations reflect a shift from Nietzsche’s early reception—framed primarily by European political events (first the Franco-Prussian War, then the two World Wars)—to his later reception, framed primarily by French responses to German philosophy. This leads to Smith’s third and guiding assumption, namely, that Nietzsche’s French reception has throughout been a response first to Hegel and then to Heidegger.Smith’s narrative unfolds in five chapters. The first focuses on the “early reception” (1872–1929) and divides neatly into two periods: an initial period emphasizing Nietzsche’s biography (as friend of Wagner, follower of Schopenhauer), and a second period dominated by questions of national interest that move from valorization of Nietzsche’s polemics against German culture to his vilification as a reflection of Prussian militarism. The second chapter discusses Nietzsche’s reception vis-à-vis National Socialism: here we see the first tension between readings centering on eternal recurrence vs. those focused on will to power, as the French right followed the vitalist Nazi emphasis on will to power, while the left (Lefebvre, Bataille) drew greater attention to eternal recurrence.The third chapter is somewhat unexpected, as it follows the Nietzsche-Hegel connection invoked by the “left” readings’ attention to contradiction to a discussion of decolonization that focuses on Sartre, Fanon, and Lévi-Strauss before concluding with an oddly situated discussion of Foucault. While much of this chapter is quite interesting, the attempt to read the disagreements between Sartre and first Fanon and then Lévi-Strauss as, in some sense, playing out a relationship between Hegel and Nietzsche (universal/particular) seems forced at times. In addition, Foucault’s reading of singularity as a way of reading Nietzsche into Fanon both mutes the substantive differences between Fanon and Sartre and insufficiently appreciates the depth of Nietzsche’s impact on Foucault’s early work (for example, there is no discussion of the role Nietzsche plays in The Order of Things).The final two chapters focus on post-1960s reception. In the fourth chapter, Deleuze’s... (shrink)

본 논문의 목적은 쇼펜하우어와 니체의 비극에 대한 해석을 비교하는 것이다. 예술의 한 양식으로서 비극은 삶의 근본 조건에서 비롯된 끔찍함과 불안을 예술의 자양분으로 삼는다. 쇼펜하우어에서 비극은 여타의 예술과 마찬가지로 맹목적 의지에서 비롯된 고통을 잠시 저지시키는 ‘진정제’의 역할을 한다. 그에게 비극에 대한 평가 기준은 세계의 진상인 고통의 일반성과 깊이를 얼마나 객관화하고 효과적으로 재현하는가에 달려있다. 여기에 가장 합당한 비극은 인간관계에서 비롯된 고통의 일상화를 형상화한 근대의 비극이다. 비극은 고통을 대하는 최고의 지혜가 삶에 대한 체념임을 가르친다. 쇼펜하우어의 비극이해와 달리 니체에서 비극은 삶에 대한 체념의 지혜를 (...) 전달하는 예술이 아니다. 오히려 그에게 비극의 효과는 염세주의의 극복에 있다. 또한 그에게 비극은 쇼펜하우어가 분류하듯이 시문학의 일종이 아니라 음악, 정확히 말해 합창이 바탕이 되는 그리스 비극을 지칭한다. 비극의 효과적 측면에서도 니체는 쇼펜하우어와 달리 비극을 의지의 진정제가 아니라 삶의 자극제로 파악함으로써 쇼펜하우어의 의지의 형이상학을 비판하는 근거로 삼는다. (shrink)

v. 1. The birth of tragedy; or, Hellenism and pessimism.--v. 2. Early Greek philosophy & other essays.--v. 3. On the future of our educational institutions. Homer and classical philology.--v. 4-5. Thoughts out of season.--v. 6-7. Human, all-too-human.--v. 8. The case of Wagner. Nietzsche contra Wagner. Selected aphorisms.--v. 9. The dawn of day.--v. 10. The joyful wisdom.--v. 11. Thus spake Zarathustra.--v. 12. Beyond good and evil.--v. 13. The genealogy of morals. Peoples and countries.--v. 14.-15. The will to power.--v. 16.--The twilight (...) of the idols; or, How to philosophise with the hammer. The antichrist.--v. 17. Ecce homo, Nietzsche's autobiography.--v. 18. Guppy, R. Index to Nietzsche. (shrink)