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<h1> BEYOND GOOD AND EVIL </h1>
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<h2> By Friedrich Nietzsche </h2>
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<h2> PREFACE </h2>
<p>SUPPOSING that Truth is a woman—what then? Is there not ground for
suspecting that all philosophers, in so far as they have been dogmatists,
have failed to understand women—that the terrible seriousness and
clumsy importunity with which they have usually paid their addresses to
Truth, have been unskilled and unseemly methods for winning a woman?
Certainly she has never allowed herself to be won; and at present every
kind of dogma stands with sad and discouraged mien—IF, indeed, it
stands at all! For there are scoffers who maintain that it has fallen,
that all dogma lies on the ground—nay more, that it is at its last
gasp. But to speak seriously, there are good grounds for hoping that all
dogmatizing in philosophy, whatever solemn, whatever conclusive and
decided airs it has assumed, may have been only a noble puerilism and
tyronism; and probably the time is at hand when it will be once and again
understood WHAT has actually sufficed for the basis of such imposing and
absolute philosophical edifices as the dogmatists have hitherto reared:
perhaps some popular superstition of immemorial time (such as the
soul-superstition, which, in the form of subject- and ego-superstition,
has not yet ceased doing mischief): perhaps some play upon words, a
deception on the part of grammar, or an audacious generalization of very
restricted, very personal, very human—all-too-human facts. The
philosophy of the dogmatists, it is to be hoped, was only a promise for
thousands of years afterwards, as was astrology in still earlier times, in
the service of which probably more labour, gold, acuteness, and patience
have been spent than on any actual science hitherto: we owe to it, and to
its "super-terrestrial" pretensions in Asia and Egypt, the grand style of
architecture. It seems that in order to inscribe themselves upon the heart
of humanity with everlasting claims, all great things have first to wander
about the earth as enormous and awe-inspiring caricatures: dogmatic
philosophy has been a caricature of this kind—for instance, the
Vedanta doctrine in Asia, and Platonism in Europe. Let us not be
ungrateful to it, although it must certainly be confessed that the worst,
the most tiresome, and the most dangerous of errors hitherto has been a
dogmatist error—namely, Plato's invention of Pure Spirit and the
Good in Itself. But now when it has been surmounted, when Europe, rid of
this nightmare, can again draw breath freely and at least enjoy a
healthier—sleep, we, WHOSE DUTY IS WAKEFULNESS ITSELF, are the heirs
of all the strength which the struggle against this error has fostered. It
amounted to the very inversion of truth, and the denial of the PERSPECTIVE—the
fundamental condition—of life, to speak of Spirit and the Good as
Plato spoke of them; indeed one might ask, as a physician: "How did such a
malady attack that finest product of antiquity, Plato? Had the wicked
Socrates really corrupted him? Was Socrates after all a corrupter of
youths, and deserved his hemlock?" But the struggle against Plato, or—to
speak plainer, and for the "people"—the struggle against the
ecclesiastical oppression of millenniums of Christianity (FOR CHRISTIANITY
IS PLATONISM FOR THE "PEOPLE"), produced in Europe a magnificent tension
of soul, such as had not existed anywhere previously; with such a tensely
strained bow one can now aim at the furthest goals. As a matter of fact,
the European feels this tension as a state of distress, and twice attempts
have been made in grand style to unbend the bow: once by means of
Jesuitism, and the second time by means of democratic enlightenment—which,
with the aid of liberty of the press and newspaper-reading, might, in
fact, bring it about that the spirit would not so easily find itself in
"distress"! (The Germans invented gunpowder—all credit to them! but
they again made things square—they invented printing.) But we, who
are neither Jesuits, nor democrats, nor even sufficiently Germans, we GOOD
EUROPEANS, and free, VERY free spirits—we have it still, all the
distress of spirit and all the tension of its bow! And perhaps also the
arrow, the duty, and, who knows? THE GOAL TO AIM AT....</p>
<p>Sils Maria Upper Engadine, JUNE, 1885.</p>
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