Questions about Nietzsche

At first glance, one might mistake these inquiries for mere homework assignments for a high schooler, though I suspect they actually touch upon much more profound, higher-level complexities.
If there are any members here who have spent some time wading through the works of Nietzsche, I would be deeply interested in hearing your perspectives on a few specific points that I am finding quite difficult to resolve on my own.

My first question concerns the very architecture of Nietzschean expression. To be clear, I am not suggesting that he himself ought to think in a tragic mode while writing about tragedy; rather, I wonder if he has any true justification for promising a new way of living—something akin to his concept of the Übermensch. It strikes me, for instance, that Northrop Frye once structured the Bible as a comedy. In this sense, it functions as a comedy because it lacks a truly tragic hero; following the fall from paradise, there is instead a movement back toward unity. Unlike the figures in Greek tragedy, the characters in the Judeo-Christian tradition aren't met with ultimate doom; there is always a glimmer of hope, a joyful resolution. Yet, what is Nietzsche doing? It seems as though he is attempting to herald a new millennium, much like a Jewish prophet might. Could this perhaps be an ironic maneuver—an attempt to dismantle Christianity by using its own rhetorical tools against it?

The second issue involves his perception of music. Quite early on, in the birth of tragedy, he suggests that modern music possesses superior means for achieving a tragic effect. However, this remains somewhat enigmatic to me. How can we reconcile this with the fact that modern music evolved precisely during an era when musical standards were strictly dictated by external forces, such as the Church or royal courts? Is it even possible for "good" music to exist without being measured against something transcendent or external to itself? Furthermore, weren't both Nietzsche and Wagner operating under a heavy Schopenhauerian influence? Doesn't that imply that, ultimately, Schopenhauer’s philosophy is something fundamentally non-musical?
One could argue that Schopenhauer was the one who finally unlocked the door to musical autonomy. And yet, does Nietzschean philosophy not impose its own set of new criteria upon music? He is famously critical of Wagner, dismissing him as a sort of actor who treats music as a secondary element used merely to underscore his theatrical tics. Perhaps he is right to criticize Wagner for being such a dedicated follower of Schopenhauer, but again, we find ourselves returning to these non-musical metrics.
One might counter that this critique of Wagner—and indeed Nietzsche’s entire body of thought, if we are to label it "philosophy"—actually emerges from the spirit of music itself, rather than from Ideas and so on.

The third point addresses the root of his critique of Christianity. It seems to me that Nietzsche’s opposition to the faith was largely a product of his specific historical context; he viewed Christian moral constraints as obstacles preventing life from adapting to new realities. Specifically, he was reacting to the pressures of the Prussian state, the rise of historicism, and the dominance of science. He saw these developments as symptoms of decadence—typical of an Alexandrian culture filled with hollow rhetoric regarding human dignity or the sanctity of labor. But how did he manage to weave all of this into a singular indictment of Christianity? Isn't the Christian liturgical cycle leading up to Easter exactly the kind of mechanism that should facilitate the renewal he associates with Dionysus (or perhaps he should have linked it to Adonis)? It appears his argument is that what should have been a tragic experience was hijacked to serve the "good news" of a slave morality, creating a closed loop from which there is no escape. But why escape at all? Is it to embrace Nietzsche’s own "good news" of the Übermensch or some new Renaissance? Perhaps it isn't "slave morality" that keeps Alexandrian culture alive, but rather something else entirely—perhaps just the lingering influence of Protestantism?

These are the questions that have been weighing on my mind, and I would dearly love to hear your thoughts or any reflections you might have on these matters.

Regarding that first point, I think you’d really dig this article by Barbaric The Coming God (it’s in that essay collection Into an Intermezzo World, published in Washington, D.C., 2010, pp. 141-155.) Basically, he compares how Nietzsche views Dionysus versus how Schelling saw things—like, Schelling was actually talking about the Apollo-Dionysus relationship and the Dionysian roots of tragedy way before Nietzsche did. His main argument is pretty wild: he says Dionysus is essentially the god of the future, but like, in a deep, ontological sense. So, it’s not just some deity showing up later on, but more like this constant, ongoing arrival of what's next. Tragedy itself is always embracing this new future instead of looking for some kind of perfect ending or returning to a state of completion. (I guess that’s probably what Alim means when he talks about "evolution.") According to Schelling, Dionysus as the future eventually finds peace with those old Titan gods from the past, and apparently, Christ is the only one who can actually make that reconciliation happen.

A layman's take: Nietzsche loved to punish people, both literally and metaphorically. Personally, I’m fine with him... his style is killer when it comes to trashing Christians or those old Greek guys like Plato. He was just a fun guy who loved to troll, had his own opinions, absolutely hated the Church, and lived for the nightlife.... As I see it, his "superman" concept is basically about breaking free from parental shackles—and everything else, too. It means accepting life as it is and letting go of all that forced doubt and suffering. Pain disappears once you actually embrace existence. We're basically taught to walk backward; we become idiots because we suppress our natural instincts and block ourselves with morality and other bullshit. Screw the suffering, just find happiness. In a weird way, he was like Jesus, just with a much different way of expressing himself.

Honestly, it feels like Nietzsche got completely tangled up in the very web he was trying so desperately to unravel. He was in such a rush to flip the script on how we live our lives that he totally missed the point—by pushing that whole prophetic, Dionysian vibe, he was basically just giving the concept of religion a massive upgrade rather than tearing it down. It’s wild when you think about it, because even Jesus played a role in how certain ideologies (like Nazism) eventually took root, pulling bits and pieces of inspiration from his teachings.

goldenskipper72 said:A layman's take: Nietzsche loved to punish people, both literally and metaphorically. Personally, I’m fine with him... his style is killer when it comes to trashing Christians or those old Greek guys like Plato. He was just a fun guy who loved to troll, had his own opinions, absolutely hated the Church, and lived for the nightlife.... As I see it, his "superman" concept is basically about breaking free from parental shackles—and everything else, too. It means accepting life as it is and letting go of all that forced doubt and suffering. Pain disappears once you actually embrace existence. We're basically taught to walk backward; we become idiots because we suppress our natural instincts and block ourselves with morality and other bullshit. Screw the suffering, just find happiness. In a weird way, he was like Jesus, just with a much different way of expressing himself.

Personally, I think modern philosophy's obsession with unconditional happiness just creates a bunch of mindless drones🤷 following in the footsteps of Dostoevsky. Forget that kind of "happiness"—or rather, screw happiness if it comes without actual insight...
How is he similar to Jesus? I see a massive difference there. Nietzsche championed the Overman; he advocated for the strong and thought the weak should be left behind or pushed even further down, since they only end up holding humanity back. Jesus advocated for every single person; he gave everyone a chance and the freedom to seek truth, believing in the individual.

James Lee77 said:Regarding that first point, I think you’d really dig this article by Barbaric The Coming God (it’s in that essay collection Into an Intermezzo World, published in Washington, D.C., 2010, pp. 141-155.) Basically, he compares how Nietzsche views Dionysus versus how Schelling saw things—like, Schelling was actually talking about the Apollo-Dionysus relationship and the Dionysian roots of tragedy way before Nietzsche did. His main argument is pretty wild: he says Dionysus is essentially the god of the future, but like, in a deep, ontological sense. So, it’s not just some deity showing up later on, but more like this constant, ongoing arrival of what's next. Tragedy itself is always embracing this new future instead of looking for some kind of perfect ending or returning to a state of completion. (I guess that’s probably what Alim means when he talks about "evolution.") According to Schelling, Dionysus as the future eventually finds peace with those old Titan gods from the past, and apparently, Christ is the only one who can actually make that reconciliation happen.

I mean, obviously, he’s drawing this parallel between how time is split into three parts and the Trinity (like, Father equals the past, Son is the present, and the Holy Spirit is the future).

James Lee77 said:Regarding that first point, I think you’d really dig this article by Barbaric The Coming God (it’s in that essay collection Into an Intermezzo World, published in Washington, D.C., 2010, pp. 141-155.) Basically, he compares how Nietzsche views Dionysus versus how Schelling saw things—like, Schelling was actually talking about the Apollo-Dionysus relationship and the Dionysian roots of tragedy way before Nietzsche did. His main argument is pretty wild: he says Dionysus is essentially the god of the future, but like, in a deep, ontological sense. So, it’s not just some deity showing up later on, but more like this constant, ongoing arrival of what's next. Tragedy itself is always embracing this new future instead of looking for some kind of perfect ending or returning to a state of completion. (I guess that’s probably what Alim means when he talks about "evolution.") According to Schelling, Dionysus as the future eventually finds peace with those old Titan gods from the past, and apparently, Christ is the only one who can actually make that reconciliation happen.

I’ve read the article. Admittedly, I only went through it once without taking any notes, but I believe I've grasped the essence of it. What you’re saying—and what Barbarić argues—regarding Dionysus is spot on. However, what I find truly intriguing is how Nietzsche positions himself as a sort of prophet for Dionysus. To me, that seems to be where his stance becomes somewhat problematic. It feels as though he is personally making promises of a better future, which strikes a curious chord.

What I’ve taken away from Zarathustra is this bit about war and warriors...

we don't want our enemies to spare us, nor those we love deeply.
I know the hatred and envy within your heart. You aren't quite great enough to be free from hatred and envy, so at least be large enough not to be ashamed of them.
That part makes sense to me... both the idea of the overman and the vision of future people lacking warmth (clumping together, shivering, and whispering "it's cold" to one another).
But I'm struggling with this—this part about war and fighters: "And when your soul becomes great, it will become unruly, and there will be malice in your sublimity. I know you." What is that supposed to mean, exactly?
Then there's: "You should have only such enemies as are worth hating, but not enemies who are worth despising. You must be proud of your enemy: then his successes are your successes as well." Isn't he just being overly flowery here?

I actually agree with this: "Live a life of obedience and war. What a long life that is!"
Which warrior would ever want to be spared?
I'm not sparing you; I'm embracing you deeply, my brothers in arms! Still, could someone please offer a few thoughts or a comparison? Thanks.

Regarding that second point, I suppose it’s all a bit moot since he eventually turned his back on German music anyway, which makes me wonder if I was even right to suggest he saw any real potential in modern compositions. He essentially argued that Wagner, acting as the quintessential decadent, had poisoned the entire well of music. To be clear, he wasn't necessarily championing the school of thought held by Brahms or Hanslick; rather, he was launching a broadside against the entire musical landscape of his era as a whole.

ironmarlin1 said:Regarding that second point, I suppose it’s all a bit moot since he eventually turned his back on German music anyway, which makes me wonder if I was even right to suggest he saw any real potential in modern compositions. He essentially argued that Wagner, acting as the quintessential decadent, had poisoned the entire well of music. To be clear, he wasn't necessarily championing the school of thought held by Brahms or Hanslick; rather, he was launching a broadside against the entire musical landscape of his era as a whole.

Does anyone actually know which composers he was a fan of?

ironmarlin1 said:At first glance, one might mistake these inquiries for mere homework assignments for a high schooler, though I suspect they actually touch upon much more profound, higher-level complexities.
If there are any members here who have spent some time wading through the works of Nietzsche, I would be deeply interested in hearing your perspectives on a few specific points that I am finding quite difficult to resolve on my own.

My first question concerns the very architecture of Nietzschean expression. To be clear, I am not suggesting that he himself ought to think in a tragic mode while writing about tragedy; rather, I wonder if he has any true justification for promising a new way of living—something akin to his concept of the Übermensch. It strikes me, for instance, that Northrop Frye once structured the Bible as a comedy. In this sense, it functions as a comedy because it lacks a truly tragic hero; following the fall from paradise, there is instead a movement back toward unity. Unlike the figures in Greek tragedy, the characters in the Judeo-Christian tradition aren't met with ultimate doom; there is always a glimmer of hope, a joyful resolution. Yet, what is Nietzsche doing? It seems as though he is attempting to herald a new millennium, much like a Jewish prophet might. Could this perhaps be an ironic maneuver—an attempt to dismantle Christianity by using its own rhetorical tools against it?

The second issue involves his perception of music. Quite early on, in the birth of tragedy, he suggests that modern music possesses superior means for achieving a tragic effect. However, this remains somewhat enigmatic to me. How can we reconcile this with the fact that modern music evolved precisely during an era when musical standards were strictly dictated by external forces, such as the Church or royal courts? Is it even possible for "good" music to exist without being measured against something transcendent or external to itself? Furthermore, weren't both Nietzsche and Wagner operating under a heavy Schopenhauerian influence? Doesn't that imply that, ultimately, Schopenhauer’s philosophy is something fundamentally non-musical?
One could argue that Schopenhauer was the one who finally unlocked the door to musical autonomy. And yet, does Nietzschean philosophy not impose its own set of new criteria upon music? He is famously critical of Wagner, dismissing him as a sort of actor who treats music as a secondary element used merely to underscore his theatrical tics. Perhaps he is right to criticize Wagner for being such a dedicated follower of Schopenhauer, but again, we find ourselves returning to these non-musical metrics.
One might counter that this critique of Wagner—and indeed Nietzsche’s entire body of thought, if we are to label it "philosophy"—actually emerges from the spirit of music itself, rather than from Ideas and so on.

The third point addresses the root of his critique of Christianity. It seems to me that Nietzsche’s opposition to the faith was largely a product of his specific historical context; he viewed Christian moral constraints as obstacles preventing life from adapting to new realities. Specifically, he was reacting to the pressures of the Prussian state, the rise of historicism, and the dominance of science. He saw these developments as symptoms of decadence—typical of an Alexandrian culture filled with hollow rhetoric regarding human dignity or the sanctity of labor. But how did he manage to weave all of this into a singular indictment of Christianity? Isn't the Christian liturgical cycle leading up to Easter exactly the kind of mechanism that should facilitate the renewal he associates with Dionysus (or perhaps he should have linked it to Adonis)? It appears his argument is that what should have been a tragic experience was hijacked to serve the "good news" of a slave morality, creating a closed loop from which there is no escape. But why escape at all? Is it to embrace Nietzsche’s own "good news" of the Übermensch or some new Renaissance? Perhaps it isn't "slave morality" that keeps Alexandrian culture alive, but rather something else entirely—perhaps just the lingering influence of Protestantism?

These are the questions that have been weighing on my mind, and I would dearly love to hear your thoughts or any reflections you might have on these matters.

Nietzsche clings to Christianity because it's his platform. He almost intentionally misinterprets it just so he can use it as a target—a reference point strong enough to actually be worth breaking.
He attacks Christianity from the perspective of a creator. He purposefully misses the mark on what Christian humility, mercy, and meekness actually mean; those things stem from acknowledging sinfulness in a being that exists before and after innocence.
In the act of creation, during that moment of trance, there is only momentum without counterpoint or balance. It seems Nietzsche is unaware that through this exact moment of creative trance, he is experiencing 'God'—the transcendent—perhaps in the most direct way possible. That momentum will either consume him or force him to grab reality and 'rework' it, which is exactly what he does.
So, your thought interests me:

If we classify Nietzsche's thoughts as philosophy

I experience him as a kinesthetic of reality. You can almost feel a physical shaking within his prose.
Since there is no *worthy* opposite to creation (other than destruction, though that's usually just a phase of creating), that's where the idea of 'God' comes from. From the creative impulse, it becomes a sort of 'breakthrough' or window into eternity, or in Nietzschean terms, faith in a better tomorrow.
Because he didn't know—or chose not to know—the healing power of forgiveness (which is too tied to Christianity), or perhaps he knew but didn't write about it (or I missed it), his 'morality' feels almost military. He despised weakness—but for what purpose? What is he leaving to contempt?
And that tendency toward contempt provides the answer to where his 'better tomorrow' idea comes from. (Compare this to the contempt for weakness, which is essentially Christ's 'if your hand tempts you...').
Once something is despised through true understanding, there is no going back. Christian 'weakness' is a quiet strength that he refuses to acknowledge, so he cannot truly despise it through understanding. For what kind of strength does he despise weakness? For a strength that recognizes momentum but ignores endurance. That is why he demands constant momentum, his 'eternal yes.' We can only assume that's what drove him to his mental breakdown.

Furthermore, he assumes Buddhism is 'easy' compared to the weight of Christianity. Personally, it seems to me that Buddhism offers analgesia—a temporary fix for the 'mind'—whereas the cure for the 'soul' is precisely forgiveness.
Then, completely inconsistently, he wonders at the Christian 'lack of resistance,' while in Buddhism, that same lack of resistance is somehow glorified.

ironmarlin1 said:I’ve read the article. Admittedly, I only went through it once without taking any notes, but I believe I've grasped the essence of it. What you’re saying—and what Barbarić argues—regarding Dionysus is spot on. However, what I find truly intriguing is how Nietzsche positions himself as a sort of prophet for Dionysus. To me, that seems to be where his stance becomes somewhat problematic. It feels as though he is personally making promises of a better future, which strikes a curious chord.

I don't think he's actually making any promises, I guess. Better.I feel like he’s really pushing that whole idea of being "beyond good and evil"—and I don't just mean in a moral sense, either. You can totally see it in that famous fragment from his leftover writings that closes everything out. The will to power.Yeah, totally. willpower. It's not really worth anything, I guess. Hey, what's up.It’s not even really about a specific thing, you know? It’s more like this intense craving for the sake of craving—just wanting more and more. And what exactly is "more"? Is it something better? I don't know, maybe not. It feels more like just an endless loop of wanting more will, pure and simple.

Or, you know, that famous whole "saying yes" thing. If having a will for some greater good—whatever that means—actually meant something "better," then wouldn't you have to be able to say "no" to things too? It shouldn't just be about constant affirmation. But Nietzsche, he’s all about this "saying yes" philosophy. amor fatiSure, you see this kind of thing where people just embrace fate—like, saying a big "yes" to whatever life throws at them—with saints and all those huge believers. But the thing is, they only say "yes" because they’re convinced there’s a good God behind it all. Even if His paths seem totally bizarre or weird, they believe that since destiny comes from God, it’ll eventually turn into something "better," or some kind of ultimate good. But Nietzsche? He doesn't think his god, Dionysus, is "good" in that way. He doesn't believe that saying "yes" to fate is about reaching some higher, better purpose. For him, saying "yes" to fate is just about pushing further—it's about moving toward even more of whatever is coming next.

So, getting back to Schelling—he also sees the future as this kind of unfolding process. But for him, free will actually means you get to choose between good and evil, so he’s kind of saying both exist. In his view, opening yourself up to the infinite looks something like this:

Schelling said:Look, if you actually want to start a truly free philosophy, you have to be willing to let go of God Himself. It sounds wild, I know, but it’s like this: if you try to cling to Him, you’re just gonna lose Him anyway. But if you let Him go? That’s when you actually find what you're looking for. I guess you only really grasp how deep life goes once you've hit rock bottom—once you've stripped everything away and found yourself standing completely alone against the infinite. It’s a massive leap, the kind of thing Plato compared to dying. It reminds me of that line Dante put at the gates of Hell: “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.” You kind of need that same mindset before you even step foot into philosophy. If you want to do this for real, you have to drop all your hopes, all your demands, and every single craving. You can't want anything, you can't claim to know anything. You have to feel totally naked and empty. You basically have to sacrifice everything just to gain everything. Man, it’s such a heavy move. It’s just... it's really hard to push off from that last bit of solid ground and just dive in.

Even if he’s dead serious about that whole "leaving the last shore behind" thing, I guess he still holds onto this idea that by doing it, he can actually leave God behind too—like he'll somehow find God equals good in the process. But with Nietzsche, when he uses that same metaphor about abandoning the shore, there just isn't any faith like that.

Nietzsche said:It’s all just one endless horizon now. We’ve officially left the shore behind and pushed off in the boat! Honestly, we didn't just burn the bridges behind us—we basically wiped out the entire coastline too. So, hey, little boat, take a good look! You're surrounded by nothing but ocean. Sure, it doesn't always roar at you; sometimes it just sits there looking all silky and golden, making everything seem fine. But I guess there’s going to come a moment where you realize just how infinite this thing is... and that there’s actually nothing scarier than total infinity. Man, it hits you hard when that homesickness kicks in—that desperate craving for solid ground, like maybe you'd find more freedom back there. Only problem is, there isn't any "ground" left to go back to.

Nietzsche argues that relentless pursuit of knowledge leads only to the grotesque and the hateful—to utter ruin. Therefore, the true value of philosophy lies in its ability to restrain the drive for cognition, channeling it instead toward the artistic and the vital spheres of life, where the will to Power utilizes philosophy to achieve a higher form of existence.
Life requires illusions; a beautiful delusion, if embraced with conviction, holds as much practical value as raw knowledge.

"It is precisely because of the superficiality of our intellect that we exist within a state of constant illusion. In other words, for us to truly live, we require art at every turn. Our eyes keep us anchored to certain forms. But if we are the ones who gradually train that eye, we discover an inherent artistic force within ourselves. We see, then, a mechanism built into nature itself against absolute knowledge: the philosopher deciphers the language of nature and declares, 'we need art' and 'we only require a fragment of the truth.' "

"One must even will the illusion—that is where the tragedy lies."

With both philosophy and theology effectively dismantled, art stands alone as the only force capable of tempering science, reinventing the world, and restoring a rich, meaningful existence to humanity ('art is our only salvation'). For life to flourish, it requires myth, and the responsibility of crafting those myths falls solely upon art.
Music reigns supreme among the arts because it most profoundly expresses organic life—its essence, its will to Power. Christianity, by contrast, is antithetical to life. As a religion of compassion—which, let's be honest, often masquerades as a virtue when in any sophisticated moral system it actually functions as a weakness—it drains vital energy, acting depressively, diminishing, and ultimately destroying. Its values are fundamentally nihilistic: "Christianity sides with the weak, the broken, and the unsuccessful. By opposing the instincts that sustain vigorous life, it fashioned an ideal that corrupted even the minds of the spiritually strongest, teaching them to view peak spiritual values as sinful, decadent, or mere temptations."
"Schopenhauer was an enemy of life: which is why, for him, compassion is a virtue."

Consequently, Nietzsche exalts everything that strengthens and enriches life—illusion, myth, and art—while rejecting everything that nullifies it: science, pure reason, Schopenhauer, the Christians (that 'cowardly, feminized, and sugar-coated gang'), the Buddhists, and even... the leftists: "Who do I despise most among today's rabble? Those socialist, gutter-apostles who undermine instinct, pleasure, and the sense of satisfaction felt by workers in their own small worlds—those who breed envy and teach the doctrine of revenge... injustice never lies in unequal rights, but in the insistence upon 'equal' rights."

Here is an audio lecture on Nietzsche if anyone happens to be interested. I suppose it might provide some answers to your lingering questions, though, in all likelihood, it will probably just leave you with even more pressing ones.

The subject of the lecture is: "In this lecture Bloom discusses Nietzsche's rejection of liberal democracy, contemporary nihilism, the Last man , and The will to Power."

James Lee77 said:I don't think he's actually making any promises, I guess. Better.I feel like he’s really pushing that whole idea of being "beyond good and evil"—and I don't just mean in a moral sense, either. You can totally see it in that famous fragment from his leftover writings that closes everything out. The will to power.Yeah, totally. willpower. It's not really worth anything, I guess. Hey, what's up.It’s not even really about a specific thing, you know? It’s more like this intense craving for the sake of craving—just wanting more and more. And what exactly is "more"? Is it something better? I don't know, maybe not. It feels more like just an endless loop of wanting more will, pure and simple.

Or, you know, that famous whole "saying yes" thing. If having a will for some greater good—whatever that means—actually meant something "better," then wouldn't you have to be able to say "no" to things too? It shouldn't just be about constant affirmation. But Nietzsche, he’s all about this "saying yes" philosophy. amor fatiSure, you see this kind of thing where people just embrace fate—like, saying a big "yes" to whatever life throws at them—with saints and all those huge believers. But the thing is, they only say "yes" because they’re convinced there’s a good God behind it all. Even if His paths seem totally bizarre or weird, they believe that since destiny comes from God, it’ll eventually turn into something "better," or some kind of ultimate good. But Nietzsche? He doesn't think his god, Dionysus, is "good" in that way. He doesn't believe that saying "yes" to fate is about reaching some higher, better purpose. For him, saying "yes" to fate is just about pushing further—it's about moving toward even more of whatever is coming next.

So, getting back to Schelling—he also sees the future as this kind of unfolding process. But for him, free will actually means you get to choose between good and evil, so he’s kind of saying both exist. In his view, opening yourself up to the infinite looks something like this:

Even if he’s dead serious about that whole "leaving the last shore behind" thing, I guess he still holds onto this idea that by doing it, he can actually leave God behind too—like he'll somehow find God equals good in the process. But with Nietzsche, when he uses that same metaphor about abandoning the shore, there just isn't any faith like that.

I just wanted to jump in here because I happen to be reading Kymlicka right now. I'm not looking to correct anyone, just build on the thought—and honestly, I don't think there's a better place to do it than here:

Will Kymlicka said:A Nietzschean society might be aesthetically superior and more beautiful, but it wouldn't be morally superior. (In my view, even Nietzsche wouldn't reject such an analysis. His theory is precisely "beyond good and evil.")

And then there's this crucial footnote attached to that phrase "beyond good and evil":

Will Kymlicka said:In the first essay of On Moral Philosophy, Nietzsche compares the moral contrast of 'good-evil' with the immoral contrast of 'good-bad.' He concludes the essay by hoping it is clear enough that his 'dangerous slogan... beyond good and evil, does not mean 'beyond good and bad.'

(the underlining is mine; EDIT: I just noticed they’re missing at least one closing quotation mark in that note; well, since they were a bit sloppy, I just transcribed it exactly as it appears because I don't want to guess where the quote ends without checking the original, and I don't have the time to go hunt down the book right now; though it doesn't really matter since the point still comes through clearly)

This is from Will Kymlicka's book, "liberalism, community and culture," published by Oxford University Press, 2004, translated by Miloš Đurđević. The first quote is from page 38, the second from page 49 (since the notes aren't formatted as footnotes but are placed at the end of each chapter).
If anyone is curious about how the rest of the note goes (I didn't write out the whole thing here), I'll transcribe it next time I have some actual downtime on the forum. I've gotta run, I've got some plans to get to...

Okay, I should probably clear this up. For any movement to actually be heading toward something "better," it’s gotta have a goal, right? Some kind of ultimate good it’s aiming for. Like some kind of peak perfection or completion. But with Nietzsche, there just isn't anything like that. Here’s that bit from his notes I mentioned earlier:

Nietzsche said:Do you know what "the world" is to me? Let me show it to you through my own mirror. This world: a monster of force, without beginning, without end—just one constant, solid magnitude of power that doesn't grow or shrink, doesn't get used up, but just reshapes itself. It's a whole that stays the same size, like a household with no expenses and no losses, but also no extra income or growth, surrounded by "Nothingness" as its boundary. Nothing spills out, nothing is wasted, nothing stretches out infinitely; it's just a specific force placed in a specific space—and not even an "empty" space, mind you, but force everywhere, a play of forces and waves of force that are simultaneously One and Many, piling up here and shrinking there, a single ocean of surging and boiling forces constantly changing, constantly flowing back, with those terrifying years of return, with the ebb and flow of its own shaping, driving everything from the simplest to the manifold, from the Miran, the Krut, the Hladan to the Zarko, the wildest, the Sebi-sam-najva-proturjeturjetući, and then returning from abundance to the Jednovit, from the play of contradictions back to the joy of harmony, affirming itself even in the equality of its paths and years, blessing itself as that which must always return, a single existence that knows neither satiety, nor boredom, nor fatigue—: this Dionysian world of mine, the Vječito-sebe-sama-stvaranja, the Vječito-sebsebrabamsanjezanje, this mysterious world of dual pleasures, this my "Beyond Good and Evil," without a goal—if there is any goal in the happiness of the circle—without a will, if a ring has no good will toward itself—would you name for this world? One solution for all its riddles? One light even for you, the Most Hidden, the Most Neustrašiv, the Most Midnight? - This world is the will to power—and nothing else! And you yourselves are that will to power—and nothing else!

(Introduction to Nietzsche, Chicago 1980, p. 298)

So, basically, when he talks about being "beyond good and evil" at the end there, he isn't really talking about morality or whether something is "good" or "bad." He's talking about the lack of a goal—the idea that there's no perfection or finished state that the will is trying to reach. So, what does "overman" even mean? How is he "over"? I don't think Nietzsche is talking about some future stage of human evolution here. He’s talking to a select few, and not as predecessors to the whole human race, but just to them specifically. To Nietzsche, power is a finite amount; the power of one person means the powerlessness of another. One person's growth means someone else is getting weaker—there's no such thing as progress for everyone. Those of us who can say "yes" to who we are—to the will to power—we grow, while the others (those who hesitate, or barely manage, etc.) fade away. Nietzsche is talking to the first group, not the second. If there is something "better" in Nietzsche's eyes, I guess it just means it's better to be in that first group, the ones growing and increasing their share of power. There's no such thing as "humanity improving" or "society progressing" or whatever.

Nietzsche said:Having a purpose, having goals, or even just having an actual desire—it’s basically the same thing as wanting to get stronger or wanting to grow, which means you gotta want the tools to make it happen, too. (same thing)

James Lee77 said:Okay, I should probably clear this up. For any movement to actually be heading toward something "better," it’s gotta have a goal, right? Some kind of ultimate good it’s aiming for. Like some kind of peak perfection or completion. But with Nietzsche, there just isn't anything like that. Here’s that bit from his notes I mentioned earlier:

So, basically, when he talks about being "beyond good and evil" at the end there, he isn't really talking about morality or whether something is "good" or "bad." He's talking about the lack of a goal—the idea that there's no perfection or finished state that the will is trying to reach. So, what does "overman" even mean? How is he "over"? I don't think Nietzsche is talking about some future stage of human evolution here. He’s talking to a select few, and not as predecessors to the whole human race, but just to them specifically. To Nietzsche, power is a finite amount; the power of one person means the powerlessness of another. One person's growth means someone else is getting weaker—there's no such thing as progress for everyone. Those of us who can say "yes" to who we are—to the will to power—we grow, while the others (those who hesitate, or barely manage, etc.) fade away. Nietzsche is talking to the first group, not the second. If there is something "better" in Nietzsche's eyes, I guess it just means it's better to be in that first group, the ones growing and increasing their share of power. There's no such thing as "humanity improving" or "society progressing" or whatever.

But honestly, why does it have to be that way? Why must a movement possess some ultimate goal or a fixed "good" just to qualify as moving toward something better? Perhaps that's just a leftover from the old Platonic or Aristotelian traditions, and maybe reality actually works in the exact opposite way. 🤷

Furthermore, while a lot of people label Nietzsche as someone who completely "broke away from teleology," whenever I sit down to read him, I feel like there's actually quite a bit of teleology tucked in there. And I'm certainly not the only one who perceives it that way. Even looking at Darwin, and then following through to his spiritual successor Dawkins, the whole thing seems absolutely saturated with implicit teleology. It's rare to find an author who truly dismantles that teleological framework within their ontology, and the one person I've actually seen attempt it is Žižek. Mind you, he doesn't really have a rigid, dogmatic philosophical system of his own (heaven forbid!), but rather, in his arguments, he very consistently follows the logic of eliminating teleology and exploring its truly radical consequences. I read about this quite a while ago and can't recall the exact passage—which isn't surprising given he's a living classic who hasn't quite hit the "canon" status yet, and well, given his writing style—but I'm certain he does it in several places. I wonder if you ever got that same impression? In fact, despite all the various Chomskyan influences, Žižek might be a perfect example, unlike Dawkins and his crowd, of someone who actually follows a philosophical logic all the way to its conclusion. But hey, that's probably a whole different conversation (though everything is ultimately one conversation since Being is one—I think the Heideggerians would say "Being," haha 😛), and everything else is just fragmented or "disjointed," haha...

mistyscout2 said:But honestly, why does it have to be that way? Why must a movement possess some ultimate goal or a fixed "good" just to qualify as moving toward something better? Perhaps that's just a leftover from the old Platonic or Aristotelian traditions, and maybe reality actually works in the exact opposite way. 🤷

Furthermore, while a lot of people label Nietzsche as someone who completely "broke away from teleology," whenever I sit down to read him, I feel like there's actually quite a bit of teleology tucked in there. And I'm certainly not the only one who perceives it that way. Even looking at Darwin, and then following through to his spiritual successor Dawkins, the whole thing seems absolutely saturated with implicit teleology. It's rare to find an author who truly dismantles that teleological framework within their ontology, and the one person I've actually seen attempt it is Žižek. Mind you, he doesn't really have a rigid, dogmatic philosophical system of his own (heaven forbid!), but rather, in his arguments, he very consistently follows the logic of eliminating teleology and exploring its truly radical consequences. I read about this quite a while ago and can't recall the exact passage—which isn't surprising given he's a living classic who hasn't quite hit the "canon" status yet, and well, given his writing style—but I'm certain he does it in several places. I wonder if you ever got that same impression? In fact, despite all the various Chomskyan influences, Žižek might be a perfect example, unlike Dawkins and his crowd, of someone who actually follows a philosophical logic all the way to its conclusion. But hey, that's probably a whole different conversation (though everything is ultimately one conversation since Being is one—I think the Heideggerians would say "Being," haha 😛), and everything else is just fragmented or "disjointed," haha...

Fair enough, I get where you're coming from. Nietzsche is basically launching a direct attack against that whole tradition—sometimes he's pretty quiet about it, and other times he's incredibly blunt... So, yeah, I see your point. But if that's the case, then Nietzsche is undoubtedly carving out entirely new ways to understand what "good" even means...
I think I'll need to sit with these ideas and chew on them a bit longer before I really know what I think...

mistyscout2 said:But honestly, why does it have to be that way? Why must a movement possess some ultimate goal or a fixed "good" just to qualify as moving toward something better? Perhaps that's just a leftover from the old Platonic or Aristotelian traditions, and maybe reality actually works in the exact opposite way. 🤷

Furthermore, while a lot of people label Nietzsche as someone who completely "broke away from teleology," whenever I sit down to read him, I feel like there's actually quite a bit of teleology tucked in there. And I'm certainly not the only one who perceives it that way. Even looking at Darwin, and then following through to his spiritual successor Dawkins, the whole thing seems absolutely saturated with implicit teleology. It's rare to find an author who truly dismantles that teleological framework within their ontology, and the one person I've actually seen attempt it is Žižek. Mind you, he doesn't really have a rigid, dogmatic philosophical system of his own (heaven forbid!), but rather, in his arguments, he very consistently follows the logic of eliminating teleology and exploring its truly radical consequences. I read about this quite a while ago and can't recall the exact passage—which isn't surprising given he's a living classic who hasn't quite hit the "canon" status yet, and well, given his writing style—but I'm certain he does it in several places. I wonder if you ever got that same impression? In fact, despite all the various Chomskyan influences, Žižek might be a perfect example, unlike Dawkins and his crowd, of someone who actually follows a philosophical logic all the way to its conclusion. But hey, that's probably a whole different conversation (though everything is ultimately one conversation since Being is one—I think the Heideggerians would say "Being," haha 😛), and everything else is just fragmented or "disjointed," haha...

Yeah, so that’s definitely how it works in that tradition, and I think it’s also how we usually use the word "better." I mean, there are probably other ways to use the word besides that moral or "Platonic-Aristotelian" sense, but let me try to explain what I mean by that specific version. Here’s a little intro to Platonic cybernetics—or kind of "cybernetic Platonism," if you want to call it that. 🙂

Take a simple example: "this bread knife is better than that bread knife." What does that even mean? If you say, 1. "it has a higher market value" or 2. "I just like it more" (meaning it's either a social convention or just my own subjective vibe), then in this tradition, those answers are seen as basically sophistry. There's actually a realistic way to answer "what makes this knife better?" It’s because it's more functional. It does what the knife is meant to do more effectively. This knife cuts better than that one—it's like saying this runner is faster than that one. It isn't about my personal opinion, and we don't really have to "agree" on it. It just is: this one is faster, this one cuts better.

If we bring out a few more knives, we can create a hierarchy. Does having that hierarchy mean there's something like an "idea/form (eidos) of a bread knife" at the top? Yeah, pretty much. 😲 If the only variable was, say, cutting speed, there wouldn't even be such a eidos because everyone would just aim for maximum speed, there would be no limit (peras), and so there wouldn't be an eidos. But, once you have two variables that depend on each other, things change. Like, with a kitchen knife, it needs to cut fast, but it also shouldn't be super dangerous for the person using it. So, the sharpness won't be at its absolute max, because that would be too risky. But it won't be minimal either, or you couldn't cut anything. There's a certain value, or a range of values for sharpness, that represents the maximum functionality of that knife—basically, the perfect balance of sharpness relative to cutting power and user safety. You could technically express this with numbers, a formula, or a graph—you know, mathematically. Even if a physical knife with those exact specs doesn't exist, that mathematical maximum of functionality still exists. That is the eidos of a household bread knife.

This makes sense for tools since they have a clear purpose. For any useful object, there’s a realistic—not just conventional or subjective—way to use the word "better." But it's similar with health, where it's not totally obvious if there's a purpose beyond itself. We have a bunch of measurable things (blood pressure, temperature, all those lab results, etc.) that define what being healthy looks like. So, when a value (like your temperature) gets back into the normal range, we say, "you'll feel better soon."

We could list all those variables and say: being healthy means staying within those bounds. So, I guess we could find an ideal functionality, some kind of eidos for living organisms too.Any deviation from that is bad; moving toward that kind of functionality is basically moving toward "better." That eidos exists mathematically, even if there isn't a single actual, living organism out there that fits those parameters.

I guess that’s the most common way people use the word "better"—sort of in terms of being more functional. Plato, obviously, tries to apply a similar logic to every single way we use the word "better."

When it comes to "better" in that specific sense, Nietzsche totally rejects it. Or rather, the only "better" in that context is just "growth," without that growth needing to move toward some peak level of functionality or some eidos (in the sense I mentioned above). My brain immediately jumps to a tumor, but... 🤷

Then again, there are other ways to use "better." I already brought up using "better" for subjective judgment, like saying "this song is better than that one." (That definitely doesn't imply there's some "ideal song" sitting at the top of a hierarchy.) It seems to me that Nietzsche doesn't reject that; if anything, he thinks the Übermensch makes those kinds of personal values universally valid.

James Lee77 said:Yeah, so that’s definitely how it works in that tradition, and I think it’s also how we usually use the word "better." I mean, there are probably other ways to use the word besides that moral or "Platonic-Aristotelian" sense, but let me try to explain what I mean by that specific version. Here’s a little intro to Platonic cybernetics—or kind of "cybernetic Platonism," if you want to call it that. 🙂

Take a simple example: "this bread knife is better than that bread knife." What does that even mean? If you say, 1. "it has a higher market value" or 2. "I just like it more" (meaning it's either a social convention or just my own subjective vibe), then in this tradition, those answers are seen as basically sophistry. There's actually a realistic way to answer "what makes this knife better?" It’s because it's more functional. It does what the knife is meant to do more effectively. This knife cuts better than that one—it's like saying this runner is faster than that one. It isn't about my personal opinion, and we don't really have to "agree" on it. It just is: this one is faster, this one cuts better.

If we bring out a few more knives, we can create a hierarchy. Does having that hierarchy mean there's something like an "idea/form (eidos) of a bread knife" at the top? Yeah, pretty much. 😲 If the only variable was, say, cutting speed, there wouldn't even be such a eidos because everyone would just aim for maximum speed, there would be no limit (peras), and so there wouldn't be an eidos. But, once you have two variables that depend on each other, things change. Like, with a kitchen knife, it needs to cut fast, but it also shouldn't be super dangerous for the person using it. So, the sharpness won't be at its absolute max, because that would be too risky. But it won't be minimal either, or you couldn't cut anything. There's a certain value, or a range of values for sharpness, that represents the maximum functionality of that knife—basically, the perfect balance of sharpness relative to cutting power and user safety. You could technically express this with numbers, a formula, or a graph—you know, mathematically. Even if a physical knife with those exact specs doesn't exist, that mathematical maximum of functionality still exists. That is the eidos of a household bread knife.

This makes sense for tools since they have a clear purpose. For any useful object, there’s a realistic—not just conventional or subjective—way to use the word "better." But it's similar with health, where it's not totally obvious if there's a purpose beyond itself. We have a bunch of measurable things (blood pressure, temperature, all those lab results, etc.) that define what being healthy looks like. So, when a value (like your temperature) gets back into the normal range, we say, "you'll feel better soon."

We could list all those variables and say: being healthy means staying within those bounds. So, I guess we could find an ideal functionality, some kind of eidos for living organisms too.Any deviation from that is bad; moving toward that kind of functionality is basically moving toward "better." That eidos exists mathematically, even if there isn't a single actual, living organism out there that fits those parameters.

I guess that’s the most common way people use the word "better"—sort of in terms of being more functional. Plato, obviously, tries to apply a similar logic to every single way we use the word "better."

When it comes to "better" in that specific sense, Nietzsche totally rejects it. Or rather, the only "better" in that context is just "growth," without that growth needing to move toward some peak level of functionality or some eidos (in the sense I mentioned above). My brain immediately jumps to a tumor, but... 🤷

Then again, there are other ways to use "better." I already brought up using "better" for subjective judgment, like saying "this song is better than that one." (That definitely doesn't imply there's some "ideal song" sitting at the top of a hierarchy.) It seems to me that Nietzsche doesn't reject that; if anything, he thinks the Übermensch makes those kinds of personal values universally valid.

Yes, it really does seem that's how Nietzsche views the whole thing. Aristocratic morality is defined by the self; it dictates what is good without ever bowing to some external benchmark. Our tendency to project an outside ''ideal'' or a set of rigid ''criteria'' for the N. Overman to follow is really just a symptom of our own failure—our inability, unlike Nietzsche, to finally break free from the shackles of Platonic categories.