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Security 1NC

This search for a transcendently ordered world opposes the world as it exists. This produces a violent will to order that attempts to eliminate chaos but will inevitably fail, breeding ressentiment. Saurette 1996 (Paul, Prof of Political Studies @ UOttawa, “I Mistrust All Systematizers and Avoid Them: Nietzsche, Arendt, and the Crisis of the Will to Order in International Relations Theory” Millenium 25.1)According to Nietzsche, the philosophical foundation of a society is the set of ideas which give meaning to the phenomenon of human existence within a given cultural framework. As one manifestation of the Will to Power, this will to meaning fundamentally influences the social and political organisation of a particular community.5 Anything less than a profound historical interrogation of the most basic philosophical foundations of our civilization, then, misconceives the origins of values which we take to be intrinsic and natural. Nietzsche suggests, therefore, that to understand the development of our modern conception of society and politics, we must reconsider the crucial influence of the Platonic

formulation of Socratic thought. Nietzsche claims that pre-Socratic Greece based its philosophical justification of life on heroic myths

which honoured tragedy and competition. Life was understood as a contest in which both the joyful and ordered

(Apollonian) and chaotic and suffering (Dionysian) aspects of life were accepted and affirmed as inescapable aspects of human existence.6 However, this incarnation of the will to power as tragedy weakened, and became unable to sustain meaning in Greek life. Greek myths no longer instilled the self-respect and self-control that had upheld the pre-Socratic social order. 'Everywhere the instincts were in anarchy; everywhere people were but five steps from excess: the monstrum in animo was a universal danger'.7 No longer willing to accept the

tragic hardness and self-mastery of pre-Socratic myth, Greek thought yielded to decadence, a search for a ¶ new social foundation which would soften the tragedy of life, while still giving meaning to existence. In this context, Socrates' thought became paramount. In the words of Nietzsche, Socrates saw behind his aristocratic Athenians: he grasped that his case, the idiosyncrasy of his case, was no longer exceptional. The same kind of degeneration was everywhere silently preparing itself: the old Athens was coming to an end—And

Socrates understood that the world had need of him —his expedient, his cure and his personal art of self-preservation.8 Socrates realised that his search for an ultimate and eternal intellectual standard paralleled the widespread yearning for assurance and stability within society.

His expedient, his cure? An alternative will to power. An alternate foundation that promised mastery and control, not through acceptance of the tragic life, but through the disavowal of the instinctual, the contingent, the problematic. In response to the failing power of its foundational myths, Greece tried to renounce the very experience that had given rise to tragedy by retreating/escaping into the Apollonian world promised by Socratic reason. In Nietzsche's words, '[rationality was divined as a saviour.,,it was their last expedient. The fanaticism with which the whole of Greek thought throws itself at rationality betrays a state of

emergency: one was in peril, one had only one choice: either to perish, or be absurdly rational.,.,,9 Thus, Socrates codified the wider fear of instability into an intellectual framework. The Socratic Will to Truth is characterised by the attempt to understand and order life rationally by renouncing the Dionysian elements of existence and privileging an idealised Apollonian order. As life is inescapably comprised of both order and disorder,

however, the promise of control through Socratic reason is only possible by creating a 'Real World' of eternal and meaningful forms, in opposition to an 'Apparent World' of transitory physical existence. Suffering and contingency is contained within the Apparent World, disparaged, devalued, and ignored in relation to the ideal order of the Real World. Essential to the Socratic Will to Truth, then, is the fundamental contradiction between the

experience of Dionysian suffering in the Apparent World and the idealised order of the Real World. According to Nietzsche, this dichotomised

model led to the emergence of a uniquely 'modern understanding of life which could only view suffering as the result of the imperfection of the Apparent World. This outlook created a modern notion of responsibility in which the Dionysian elements of life

could be understood only as a phenomenon for which someone, or something, is to blame. Nietzsche terms this

philosophically-induced condition ressentiment and argues that it signalled a potential crisis of the Will to Truth by exposing the central contradiction of the Socratic resolution. This contradiction, however, was resolved historically through the aggressive universalisation of the Socratic ideal by Christianity. According to Nietzsche, ascetic Christianity exacerbated the Socratic

dichotomisation by employing the Apparent World as the responsible agent against which the ressentiment of life could be turned. Blame for

suffering fell on individuals within the Apparent World, precisely because they did not live up to God, the Truth, and the Real World. As Nietzsche wrote, '1 suffer: someone must be to blame for it' thinks every sickly sheep. But his shepherd, the ascetic priest tells him: 'Quite so my sheep! someone must be to blame for it: but you yourself are this someone, you alone are to blame for

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yourself,—you alone are to blame for yourself '—This is brazen and false enough: but one thing is achieved by it, the direction of ressentiment is altered." Faced with the collapse of the Socratic resolution and the prospect of meaninglessness, once again, 'one was in peril, one had only one choice: either to perish, or be absurdly rational....'12 The genius of the ascetic ideal was that it preserved the meaning of the Socratic Will to Power as Will to Truth by extrapolating ad absurdium the Socratic division through the redirection of ressentiment against the Apparent

World! Through this redirection, the Real World was transformed from a transcendental world of philosophical escape into a model towards which the Apparent World actively aspired, always blaming its contradictory experiences on its own imperfect knowledge and action. This subtle transformation of the relationship between the dichotomised worlds

creates the Will to Order as the defining characteristic of the modern Will to Truth. Unable to accept the Dionysian suffering inherent in the Apparent World, the ascetic ressentiment desperately searches for 'the hypnotic sense of nothingness, the repose of deepest sleep, in short absence of suffering".n According to the

ascetic model, however, this escape is possible only when the Apparent World perfectly duplicates the Real World. The Will to Order, then, is the aggressive need increasingly to order the Apparent World in line with the precepts of the moral Truth of the Real World. The ressentiment of the Will to Order, therefore, generates two interrelated

reactions. First, ressentiment engenders a need actively to mould the Apparent World in accordance with the dictates of the ideal, Apollonian Real World. In order to achieve this, however, the ascetic ideal also asserts that a 'truer', more complete knowledge of the Real World must be established, creating an ever-increasing Will to Truth. This self-perpetuating movement creates an interpretative structure within which everything must be understood and ordered in relation to the ascetic Truth of the Real World. As Nietzsche suggests, [t]he ascetic ideal has a goal—this goal is so universal that all other interests of human existence seem, when compared

with it, petty and narrow; it interprets epochs, nations, and men inexorably with a view to this one goal; it permits no other interpretation, no other goal; it rejects, denies, affirms and sanctions solely from the point of view of its interpretation.14 The very structure of the Will to Truth ensures that theoretical investigation must be increasingly ordered, comprehensive, more True, and closer to the perfection of the ideal. At the same time, this understanding of intellectual theory ensures that it

creates practices which attempt to impose increasing order in the Apparent World. With this critical transformation, the Will to Order becomes the fundamental philosophical principle of modernity.

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Security 1NC

Ressentiment is the primary cause of war and violence.Blin ‘1 9/11/01 Arnaud Blin ¶ Coordinateur Forum for a new World Governance a political scientist specializing in the study of conflict in particular terrorism .¶ He has studied:¶ political science at the University of Georgetown ;¶ international law and political philosophy at the Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy ;¶ the history of religions and ethics at the Harvard University .¶ “WORLD GOVERNANCE OF RESSENTIMENT” https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&ved=0CDUQFjAA&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.world-governance.org%2FIMG%2Fdoc_Blin_-_World_Governance_of_Ressentiment-2.doc&ei=-dErUebnIcnpygGc4YHQAQ&usg=AFQjCNFEH7xcCrtI-U2fiQn7qTRHCceO7A&sig2=W_hI2IgLswTAsXjPF21H_w&bvm=bv.42768644,d.aWc

History offers us an infinite array of examples of major and minor conflicts born of ressentiment. Revolutions, the key periods marking a break from the past and generating major cycles of history, are often the result of a sudden explosion of old ressentiments. Following the great revolutions of the 18th, 19th and 20th centuries and the eruption of major ideologies and virulent nationalist movements which have all, in some way, instrumentalized legitimate ressentiments, the 21st century offers us the spectacle of a worldwide political map consumed by every sort of ressentiment. To paraphrase René Descartes, we could almost say that ressentiment is the most widely shared thing in the world. It is indeed difficult to observe current affairs without perceiving the ressentiments that are the causes or consequences of the major events that make up our daily lives. Let us take a recent example. What can we make of the current financial crisis? That it will create a mountain of ressentiments, notably in Southern hemisphere countries which could be freed from poverty with just a fraction of the hundreds of billions of euros and dollars released with disconcerting speed by rich countries to save their banks. The events of 11 September 2001 provide another example. The causes behind it? For many observers, Islamic terrorism springs from the ressentiment felt by the Muslim world towards the West. The war in Iraq? How many long-standing ressentiments has it created or exacerbated in the Middle East?¶ There is an endless supply of examples. Most current conflicts are primarily fed by ressentiment , such as the conflict in the Middle East, tensions between India and Pakistan, and inter-ethnic conflicts in Africa. The genocide in Rwanda and Burundi, the bloodiest conflict of the last fifty years, was essentially a war of ressentiment, as were the wars in the former Yugoslavia. And aside from these examples of open conflicts, how many countries and peoples are influenced by enduring animosity dating from the past, recent or distant, which the collective memory keeps alive just below the surface, ready to explode? China, for instance, has yet to forgive Japan the acts of violence it committed in the 1930s. Neither have the Armenians forgiven the Turks for the genocide of 1915, their bitterness only exacerbated by the Turks’ refusal to recognise the event. The Spanish continue to nurture bitter memories of Napoleon and, increasingly now that Civil War mass graves are being opened, Franco, as well as of the Muslim colonisation, despite several centuries having passed since it took place. The Greeks continue to hold a strong grudge against the Turks for the centuries of subjugation they inflicted upon them. The Africans and Indians have ambivalent relationships with their former colonial nations, France, England, Portugal and the Netherlands. Since the days of Monroe and, especially, Theodore Roosevelt, the US has given its southern neighbours plenty of grounds for ressentment, and still today does nothing to overturn the feelings of animosity. Peru and Bolivia have not yet forgiven the Chileans for having sequestered a vast territory and, for the Bolivians, access to the sea. Throughout the Americas, from Chile to Argentina and the great Canadian north, Amerindian peoples feel the consequences of European colonization in their daily lives, just like the Aborigines and Maoris, amongst others, in the Pacific region. Ressentiment gnaws at people’s minds and hearts and shuts the door on forgiveness.

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Disorder and insecurity are inevitable, the drive to secure culminates in endless violence and ressianiamnet

Der Derian 98 – Prof Political Science at University of Mass. [James, Political Science Professor, University of Massachusetts, 1998. On Security, ed: Lipschitz, The Value of Security: Hobbes, Marx, Nietzsche, and Baudrillard, Decentering Security.]

The will to power, then, should not be confused with a Hobbesian perpetual desire for power. It can, in its

negative form, produce a reactive and resentful longing for only power, leading, in Nietzsche's view, to a triumph of nihilism. But Nietzsche refers to a positive will to power, an active and affective force of becoming, from which values and meanings—including self-preservation—are produced which affirm life. Conventions of security act to suppress rather than confront the fears endemic to life, for "... life itself is essentially appropriation, injury, overpowering of what is alien and weaker; suppression, hardness, imposition of ones own forms, incorporation and at least, at its mildest, exploitation—but why should one always use those words in which slanderous intent has been imprinted for ages."35 Elsewhere Nietzsche

establishes the pervasiveness of agonism in life: "life is a consequence of war, society itself a means to war.” But the denial of this permanent condition, the effort to disguise it with a con-sensual rationality or to hide from it with a fictional sovereignty, are all effects of this suppression of fear. The desire for security is manifested as a collective resentment of difference—that which is not us, not certain, not predictable. Complicit with a negative will to power is the fear-driven desire for protection from the unknown. Unlike the positive will to power, which produces an aesthetic affirmation of difference, the search for truth produces a truncated life which conforms to the rationally knowable, to the causally sustainable. In The Gay Science, Nietzsche asks of the reader "Look, isn't our need for knowledge precisely this need for the familiar, the will to uncover everything strange, unusual, and questionable, something that no longer disturbs us? Is it not the instinct of fear that bids us to know? And is

the jubi lation of those who obtain knowledge not the jubilation over the restora-tion of a sense of security?**37 The fear of the unknown and the desire for certainty combine to produce a domesticated life, in which causality and rationality become the highest sign of a sovereign self, the surest protection against contingent forces. The fear of fate assures a belief that everything reasonable is true, and everything true, reasonable. In short, the security imperative pro-duces, and is sustained by, the strategies of knowledge which seek to explain it. Nietzsche elucidates the nature of this generative relationship in The Twilight of the Idols-. The causal instinct is thus conditional upon, and excited by, the feeling of fear. The "why?*1 shall, if at all possible, not give the cause for its own sake so much as for a particular kind of cause—a cause (hat is comforting, liber-ating and

relieving. . . . That which is new and strange and has not been experienced before, is excluded as a cause. Thus one not only searches for some kind of explanation, to serve as a cause, but for a particularly selected and preferred kind of explanation—that which most quickly and frequently abolished the feeling of the strange, new and hitherto unexperienced: the most habitual explanations.38 A safe life requires safe truths. The strange and the alien remain unexamined, the unknown becomes identified as evil, and evil provokes hostility—recycling the desire for security. The "influence of timidity," as Nietzsche puts it, creates a people who are willing to subordinate affirmative values to the "necessities" of security: "they fear change, transitoriness: this expresses a straitened soul, full of mistrust and evil experiences."39

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This naïve aversion to death is the ultimate form of nihilism, ensuring a valueless existence—rather than seeking to escape death, we should ask first what makes life worth livingOwen & Ridley 0 [David, Head of the Division of Politics & International Relations and Professor of Social & Political Philosophy at the University of Southampton in England, and Aaron, Head of Research in the Department of Philosophy at the University of Southampton, “Dramatis Personae: Nietzsche, Culture, and Human Types,” Why Nietzsche Still? Reflections on Drama, Culture, and Politics, ed. Alan D. Schrift, p. 149-151]

The modern condition offers both a threat and a promise. Nietzsche argues that the self-destruction of the ascetic ideal threatens to under-mine our capacities for “self-discipline,” “self-surveillance," and “self-overcoming” and our disposition to truthfulness precisely because we now lack an overarching goal in the service of which these capacities and this disposition are cultivated. But this undermining does not entail any

diminution of our dissatisfaction with our this-worldly existence: the suffering endemic to life itself remains; all that has gone is the (ascetic) mode of valuing that rendered such suffering meaningful, and hence bearable . Thus

Nietzsche discerns the outlines of a creature whose best capacities have atrophied and whose relationship to its own existence is one of perpetual dissatisfaction. The threat here is obvious: What is to be feared, what has a more calamitous effect than any other calamity, is that man should inspire not profound fear but profound nausea; also not great fear but great pity. Suppose these two were one day to unite, they would inevitably beget one of the uncanniest monsters: the “last will" of

man, his will to nothingness, nihilism. And a great deal points to this union. (GM III:14) So suicidal nihilism beckons. The one response to the situation that is absolutely ruled out is the one that has so far proved most successful at addressing problems of this sort, namely, adoption of the ascetic ideal, because the present crisis is caused by the self-destruction of that ideal. But Nietzsche argues that two plausible

responses to the crisis are nonetheless possible for modern man. Both of these involve the construction of immanent ideals or goals: one response is represented by the type the Last Man, the other by the type the Ubermensch. The first response recognizes the reality of suffering and our (post-ascetic) inability to accord transcendental significance to it and concludes that the latter

provides an overwhelming reason for abolishing the former to whatever extent is possible. This has the effect of elevating the abolition of suffering into a quasi-transcendental goal and brings with it a new table of virtues, on which prudence figures

largest. In other words, this response takes the form of a rapport a soi characterized by a style of calculative rationality directed toward the avoidance of suffering at any cost, for example, of utilitarianism and any other account of human subjectivity that accords preeminence to maximizing preference satisfaction. In Thus Spoke Zarathustra Nietzsche portrays this type as follows: "What is love? What is creation? What is longing? What is a star?" thus asks the Last Man and blinks. The earth has become small, and upon it hops the Last Man, who makes everything small. His race is as inexterminable as the flea; the Last Man lives longest." We have discovered happiness," say the List Men and blink. They have left the places where living was hard: for one needs warmth. One still loves one's neighbor and rubs oneself against him: for one needs warmth. Sickness and mistrust count as sins with them: one should go about warily. He is a fool who still stumbles over stones or over men! A little poison now and then: that produces pleasant dreams. And a lot of poison at last, for a pleasant death. They still work, for work is entertainment. But they take care the entertainment does not exhaust them. Nobody grows rich or poor any more: both are too much of a burden. Who still wants to rule? Who obey? Both are too much of a burden. No herdsman and one

herd. Everyone wants the same thing, everyone is the same: whoever thinks otherwise goes voluntarily into the madhouse "Formerly all the world was mad," say the most acute of them and blink. They are clever and know everything that has ever happened: so there is no end to their mockery. They still quarrel, but they soon make up—otherwise indigestion would result. They have their little pleasure for the day and their little pleasure for the night: but they respect health. "We have discovered happiness," say the Last Men and blink. (Z:1 "Prologue"

5) Nietzsche’s hostility to this first form of response is evident. His general objection to the Last Man is that the Last Man’s ideal, like the ascetic ideal, is committed to the denial of chance and necessity as integral features of human existence. Whereas the ascetic ideal denies chance and necessity per se so that, while suffering remains real, what is objection-able about it is abolished, the Last Man’s ideal is expressed as the practical imperative to abolish suffering, and hence, a fortiori, what is objectionable about

it—that is, our exposure to chance and necessity. This general objection has two specific dimensions. The first is that the Last Man's ideal is unrealizable, insofar as human existence involves ineliminable sources of suffering—not least our consciousness that we come into being by chance and cease to be by necessity. Thus the Last Man's ideal is predicated on a neglect of truthfulness. The second dimension of

Nietzsche's objection is that pursuit of the Last Man's ideal impoverishes and arbitrarily restricts our understanding of what we can be and, in doing so, forecloses our future possibilities of becoming otherwise than we are.

Thus the Last Man's ideal entails an atrophying of the capacities (for self-overcoming, etc.) bequeathed by the ascetic ideal. Nietzsche brings these two dimensions together in Beyond Good and Evil: "You want, if possible-and there is no more insane ‘if

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possible’—to abolish suffering. . . . Well-being as you understand it—that is no goal, that seems to us an end, a state that soon makes man ridiculous and contemptible—that makes his destruction desirable" (BGE 225).

Their predictions and rush to secure the world produces bureaucratic bungling that creates error replication—the solutions we prescribe make the problems worse Der Derian 5 [James, Director of the Global Security Program and Research Professor of International Studies at the Watson Institute for International Studies at Brown University, “National Security: An Accident Waiting to Happen,” Harvard International Review 27.3 (Fall 2005): 82-83]

It often takes a catastrophe to reveal the illusory beliefs we continue to harbor in national and homeland security. To keep us safe, we place our faith in national borders and guards, bureaucracies and experts, technologies and armies. These and other instruments of national security are empowered and legitimated by the assumption that it falls upon the sovereign country to protect us from the turbulent state of nature and anarchy that permanently lies in wait offshore and over the horizon for the unprepared and inadequately defended. But this parochial fear, posing as a realistic worldview, has recently taken some very hard knocks. Prior to September 11, 2001, national borders were thought to be necessary and sufficient to keep our enemies at bay; upon entry to Baghdad, a virtuous triumphalism and a revolution in military affairs were touted as the best means to bring peace and democracy to the Middle East; and before Hurricane Katrina, emergency preparedness and an intricate system of levees were supposed to keep New Orleans safe and dry. The intractability of disaster, especially its unexpected, unplanned, unprecedented nature, erodes not only the very distinction of the local, national, and global, but, assisted and amplified by an unblinking global

media, reveals the contingent and highly interconnected character of life in general. Yet when it comes to dealing with natural and unnatural disasters, we continue to expect (and, in the absence of a credible alternative, understandably so) if not

certainty and total safety at least a high level of probability and competence from our national and homeland security experts

However, between the mixed metaphors and behind the metaphysical concepts given voice by US Homeland Security Director Michael

Chertoff early into the Katrina crisis, there lurks an uneasy recognition that this administration—and perhaps no national government—is up to the task of managing incidents that so rapidly cascade into global events . Indeed, they suggest that

our national plans and preparations for the “big one”—a force-five hurricane, terrorist attack, pandemic disease—have become part of the problem, not the solution. His use of hyberbolic terms like “ultracatastrophe” and “fall-out” is telling: such events exceed not only local and national capabilities, but the capacity of conventional language itself. An easy deflection would be to lay the blame on the neoconservative faithful of the first term of US President George W. Bush, who, viewing through an inverted Wilsonian prism the world as they would wish it to be, have now been forced by natural and unnatural disasters to face the world as it really is—and not even the

most sophisticated public affairs machine of dissimulations, distortions, and lies can close this gap. However, the discourse of the second Bush term has increasingly returned to the dominant worldview of national security, realism. And if language is, as Nietzsche claimed, a prisonhouse, realism is its supermax penitentiary . Based on linear

notions of causality, a correspondence theory of truth, and the materiality of power, how can realism possibly account—let alone prepare or provide remedies—for complex catastrophes, like the toppling of the World Trade Center and attack on the Pentagon by a handful of jihadists armed with box-cutters and a few months of flight-training? A force-five hurricane that might well have begun with the flapping of a butterfly’s wings? A northeast electrical blackout that started with a

falling tree limb in Ohio? A possible pandemic triggered by the mutation of an avian virus? How, for instance, are we to measure the immaterial power of the CNN-effect on the first Gulf War, the Al-Jazeera-effect on the Iraq War, or the Nokia-effect on the London terrorist bombings? For events of such complex, non-linear origins and with such tightly-coupled, quantum effects, the national security discourse of realism is simply not up to the task. Worse, what if the “failure of imagination” identified by the 9/11 Commission is built into our

national and homeland security systems? What if the reliance on planning for the catastrophe that never came reduced our capability to flexibly respond and improvise for the “ultra-catastrophe” that did? What if worse-case scenarios, simulation training, and disaster exercises—as well as border guards, concrete barriers and earthen levees—not only prove inadequate but might well act as force-multipliers—what organizational theorists identify as “negative

synergy” and “cascading effects” —that produce the automated bungling (think Federal Emergency Management Agency) that transform isolated events and singular attacks into global disasters? Just as “normal accidents” are built into new

technologies—from the Titanic sinking to the Chernobyl meltdown to the Challenger explosion—we must ask whether

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“ultracatastrophes” are no longer the exception but now part and parcel of densely networked systems that defy national management; in other words, “planned disasters.”

The alternative is to do nothing. This acceptance that the world breaks the sword out of a heighted sense of feeling accepting the danger of being alive. Nietzsche ’80 (Friedrich Nietzsche, Human All Too Human, #284)

We do not endorse the gendered language in this card

The Means towards Genuine Peace. No government will nowadays admit that it maintains an army in order to satisfy occasionally its passion

for conquest. The army is said to serve only defensive purposes. This morality, which justifies self defence, is called in as the government's advocate. This means, however, reserving morality for ourselves and immorality for our neighbour, because he must be thought eager for attack and conquest if our state is forced to consider means of self defence. At the same time, by our explanation of our need of an army (because he denies the lust of

attack just as our state does, and ostensibly also maintains his army for defensive reasons), we proclaim the neighbor [him] a hypocrite and cunning criminal, who would fain seize by surprise, without any fighting . a harmless and unwary

victim. In this attitude all states face each other today. They presuppose evil intentions on their neighbour's part and good intentions on their own. This hypothesis, however, is an inhuman notion, as bad as

and worse than war. Nay, at bottom it is a challenge and motive to war, foisting as it does upon the neighbouring state the charge of immorality, and thus provoking hostile intentions and acts. The doctrine of the army as a means of self defence must be abjured as completely as the lust of conquest. Perhaps a memorable day will come when a nation renowned in wars and victories, distinguished by the highest development of military order

and intelligence, and accustomed to make the heaviest sacrifice to these objects, will voluntarily exclaim, "We will break our swords” and will destroy its whole military system, lock, stock, and barrel. Making ourselves defenceless (after having been the most strongly defended) from a loftiness of sentiment — that is the means towards genuine peace, which must always rest upon a pacific disposition. The so called armed peace that prevails at present in all countries is a sign of a bellicose disposition, of a disposition that trusts neither itself nor its neighbour, and, partly from hate, partly from fear, refuses to lay down its weapons . Better to perish than to hate and fear, and twice as far better to perish than to make oneself hated and feared — this must someday become the supreme maxim of

every political community! — Our liberal representatives of the people, as is well known, have not the time for reflection on the nature of humanity, or else they would know that they are working in vain when they work for "a gradual diminution of the military burdens”. On the contrary, when the distress of these burdens is greatest, the sort of God who alone can help here will be nearest. The tree of military glory can only be destroyed at one swoop, with one stroke of lightning. But, as you know, lightning comes from the cloud and from above.

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Morality 1nc

Envisioning a world in which the suffering of the 1AC is solved will only ever lead to ressantimant – the resentment of life itself

Turanli 2003 (Aydan, Prof of Humanities and Soc Sciences @ Istanbul Technical Institute, "Nietzsche and the Later Wittgenstein: An Offense to the Quest for Another World" Journal of Nietzsche Studies 26)

The craving for absolutely general specifications results in doing metaphysics. Unlike Wittgenstein, Nietzsche provides an account of how this craving arises. The creation of the two worlds such as apparent and real world, conditioned and unconditioned world, being and becoming is the creation of the ressentiment of metaphysicians. Nietzsche says, “to imagine another, more valuable world is an expression of hatred for a world that makes one suffer: the ressentiment of metaphysicians against actuality is here creative” (WP III 579). Escaping from this world because there is grief in it results in asceticism. Paying respect to the ascetic ideal is longing for the world that is pure and denaturalized. Craving for frictionless surfaces, for a transcendental, pure, true, ideal, perfect world, is the result of the ressentiment of metaphysicans who suffer in this world. Metaphysicians do not affirm this world as it is, and this paves the way for many explanatory theories in philosophy. In criticizing a philosopher who pays homage to the ascetic ideal, Nietzsche says, “he wants to escape from torture” (GM III 6). The traditional philosopher or the ascetic priest continues to repeat, “‘My kingdom is not of this world’” (GM III 10). This is a longing for another world in which one does not suffer. It is to escape from this world; to create another illusory, fictitious, false world . This longing for “the truth” of a world in which one does not suffer is the desire for a world of constancy. It is supposed that contradiction, change, and deception are the causes of suffering; in other words, the senses deceive; it is from the senses that all misfortunes come; reason corrects the errors; therefore reason is the road to the constant. In sum, this world is an error; the world as it ought to be exists. This will to truth, this quest for another world, this desire for the world as it ought to be, is the result of unproductive thinking. It is unproductive because it is the result of avoiding the creation of the world as it ought to be. According to Nietzsche, the will to truth is “the impotence of the will to create” (WP III 585). Metaphysicians end up with the creation of the “true” world in contrast to the actual, changeable, deceptive, self-contradictory world. They try to discover the true, transcendental world that is already there rather than creating a world for themselves. For Nietzsche, on the other hand, the transcendental world is the “denaturalized world” (WP III 586). The way out of the circle created by the ressentiment of metaphysicians is the will to life rather than the will to truth. The will to truth can be overcome only through a Dionysian relationship to existence. This is the way to a new philosophy, which in Wittgenstein’s terms aims “to show the fly the way out of the fly-bottle” (PI §309).

Suffering cannot be eliminated – but worse than suffering is meaningless suffering – its only a question of the meaning we impose on suffering and how we learn from it - pitying the sufferer further increases the suffering that they feelKain ‘07 (Philip J., “Nietzsche, Eternal Recurrence, and the Horror of Existence”, The Journal of Nietzsche Studies 33 (2007) 49-63) Franzy

Eternal recurrence also gives suffering another meaning. If one is able to embrace eternal recurrence, if one is able to turn all "it was" into a "thus I willed it," then one not only reduces suffering to physical

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suffering, breaks its psychological stranglehold, and eliminates surplus suffering related to guilt, but one may even in a sense reduce suffering below the level of physical suffering. One does not do this as the liberal, socialist, or Christian would, by changing the world to reduce suffering. In Nietzsche's opinion that is impossible, and, indeed, eternal recurrence of the same rules it out—at least as any sort of final achievement. 23 Rather, physical suffering is reduced by treating it as a test, a discipline, a training, which brings one greater power. One might think of an athlete who engages in more and more strenuous activity, accepts greater and greater pain, handles it better and better, and sees this as a sign of greater strength, as a sign of increased ability. Pain and suffering are turned into empowerment. Indeed, it is possible to love such suffering as a sign of increased power. One craves pain—"more pain! more pain!" (GM III:20). And the more suffering one can bear, the stronger one becomes.

If suffering is self-imposed, if the point is to break the psychological stranglehold it has over us, if the point is to turn suffering into empowerment, use it as a discipline to gain greater strength, then it would be entirely inappropriate for us to feel sorry for the sufferer. To take pity on the sufferer either would demonstrate an ignorance of the process the sufferer is engaged in, what the sufferer is attempting to accomplish through suffering, or would show a lack of respect for the sufferer's suffering (GS 338; D 135). To pity the sufferer, to wish the sufferer did not have to go through such suffering, would demean the sufferer and the whole process of attempting to gain greater strength through such suffering.

Let us try again to put ourselves in Nietzsche's place. He has suffered for years. He has suffered intensely for years. He has come to realize that he cannot end this suffering. He cannot even reduce it significantly. But he has finally been able to break the psychological stranglehold it has had over him. He is able to accept it. He wills it. He would not change the slightest detail. He is able to love it. And this increases his strength. How, then, would he respond to our pity? Very likely, he would be offended. He would think we were patronizing him. He would not want us around. He would perceive us as trying to rob him of the strength he had achieved, subjugate him again to his suffering, strip him of his dignity. He would be disgusted with our attempt to be do-gooders, our attempt to impose our own meaning on his suffering (treating it as something to pity and to lessen) in opposition to the meaning he has succeeded in imposing on it.

Nietzsche wagers a lot on his commitment to the notion that suffering cannot be significantly reduced in the world. For if it can, then pity and compassion would be most important to motivate the reduction of suffering. Nietzsche is so committed to the value of suffering that he is willing to remove, or at least radically devalue, pity and compassion. [End Page 60]

To appreciate how committed he is, suppose we are incorrigible do-gooders—liberals, socialists, or Christians. We just cannot bear to see anyone suffer. Suppose we find a researcher who is working on a cure for Nietzsche's disease. This researcher thinks that within a few years a drug can be produced to eliminate the disease. Suppose the researcher is right. And suppose that just as Nietzsche has solidly committed to eternal recurrence, just as he is able to love his fate, just as he has decided he would not change the slightest detail of his life, we tell him about this cure.

How would Nietzsche respond? Would he accept the cure? Would he give up his hard-won attitude of accepting his migraines, nausea, and vomiting, of refusing to desire any change? Would he revert to his old attitude of hoping to reduce his suffering, trying out whatever might accomplish this? Would he give his illness a chance to reassert its psychological stranglehold? We must remember that our supposition

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is that he would actually be cured in a few years. But he would also forgo the discipline, the strengthening, the empowerment that a commitment to eternal recurrence and amor fati would have made possible. Although his illness would be cured, he would not have developed the wherewithal to deal with any other suffering—in a world characterized by the horror of existence. We cannot know whether Nietzsche would decide to take the cure or not. What we can be sure of is that if he did, he would not be the Nietzsche we know.

Kierkegaard retells the story of Abraham and Isaac. God commands Abraham to take his only son to Mount Moriah and to sacrifice him there as a burnt offering. Faithful Abraham sets off to obey God's will. But just as he arrives, just as he has drawn his knife, just as he is about to offer his son, he is told instead to sacrifice the ram that God has prepared. Kierkegaard suggests that if he had been in Abraham's position, if he had sufficient faith in God and had obeyed him as Abraham did, if he had been able to summon the same courage, then, when he got Isaac back again he would have been embarrassed. Abraham, he thinks, was not embarrassed. He was not embarrassed because he believed all along, by virtue of the absurd, that God would not require Isaac.24

What about Nietzsche? Let us assume that Nietzsche has fully committed to eternal recurrence and amor fati, that he has come to love his fate, that he has decided he would not change the slightest detail. Moreover, he has announced this to the world in his writings. Let us assume that over the years this commitment has empowered him, given him greater strength. We do-gooders now inform him that we can cure his disease and eliminate his suffering. Even further, suppose we were able to prove to him that eternal recurrence is impossible. Would Nietzsche be embarrassed?

Maybe. But it is not absolutely clear that he would be. He might respond that believing in eternal recurrence—perhaps even by virtue of the absurd—allowed him to face the horror of existence. He might respond that it does not really matter whether his life will actually return. The only thing that matters is the attitude he [End Page 61] was able to develop toward his present life. He might respond that it does not really matter that it has become possible to cure his particular illness; there is still plenty of other suffering to be faced given the horror of existence. He might respond that what matters is the strength he was able to gain from believing in eternal recurrence and loving his fate, not whether eternal recurrence is actually true.

The alt is to affirm every moment of our lives. We can not eliminate the suffering we have or will experience. All we can adjust is how we relate to it. Kain ‘07 (Philip J., “Nietzsche, Eternal Recurrence, and the Horror of Existence”, The Journal of Nietzsche Studies 33 (2007) 49-63) Franzy

Nietzsche embraces the doctrine of eternal recurrence for the first time in The Gay Science 341:

The greatest weight.—What, if some day or night a demon were to steal after you into your loneliest loneliness and say to you: "This life as you now live it and have lived it, you will have to live once more and innumerable times more; and there will be nothing new in it, but every pain and every joy and every thought and sigh and everything unutterably small or great in your life will have to return to you, all in the same succession and sequence—even this spider and this moonlight between the trees, and even this moment and I myself. The eternal hourglass of existence is turned upside down again and again, and you with it, speck of dust!"

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Would you not throw yourself down and gnash your teeth and curse the demon who spoke thus? Or have you once experienced a tremendous moment when you would have answered him: "You are a god and never have I heard anything more divine." If this thought gained possession of you, it would change you as you are or perhaps crush you. The question in each and every thing, "Do you desire this once more and innumerable times more?" would lie upon your actions as the greatest weight. Or how well disposed would you have to become to yourself and to life to crave nothing more fervently than this ultimate eternal confirmation and seal?

(GS 341)6

It is not enough that eternal recurrence simply be believed. Nietzsche demands that it actually be loved. In Ecce Homo, he explains his doctrine of amor fati: "My formula for greatness in a human being is amor fati: that one wants nothing to be different, not forward, not backward, not in all eternity. Not merely bear what is necessary, still less conceal it . . . but love it" (EH"Clever" 10; cf. GS 276). In Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Zarathustra says: "To redeem those who lived in the past and to recreate all 'it was' into a 'thus I willed it'—that alone should I call redemption" (Z II: "On Redemption"; cf. Z III: "On Old and New Tablets" 3). To turn all "it was" into a "thus I willed it" is to accept fate fully, to love it. One would have it no other way; one wants everything eternally the same: "Was that life? . . . Well then! Once more!" (Z IV: "The Drunken Song" 1).

How are we to understand these doctrines? Soll argues that eternal recurrence of the same would not crush us at all. If every detail of one recurrence were exactly the same as every detail of another, if they were radically indistinguishable, recurrence would not be terrifying. To be terrified, Soll thinks, we would have to be able to accumulate new experience from cycle to cycle, remember past recurrences, and tremble in anticipation of their return. If all recurrences were exactly the same, if new experience could not build and accumulate, recurrence would be a matter of complete indifference.7 I think this view is mistaken. In the first place, people who lead a life of intense suffering often look forward to death as [End Page 53] an escape from that suffering. Aeneas, for example, when he visits the underworld in book VI of the Aeneid, expects just that. When he finds that he will have to be reincarnated, he is appalled. His next reincarnated life, it is true, would not be exactly the same, as for Nietzschean eternal recurrence, but Aeneas seems to expect it to be similar enough in its misery and suffering. And despite the fact that in his reincarnated life he would not remember his present life, Aeneas is nevertheless horrified at the idea that he will have to go through it all again.8

Furthermore, although it is true that experience cannot build and accumulate from cycle to cycle, nevertheless, we must recognize that there are places in which Nietzsche suggests that it is possible to remember earlier recurrences.9 Moreover, we can certainly be aware of other recurrences in the sense that we believe in them—the demon informs us of these other recurrences. This raises no problems as long as the very same memory, awareness, and reaction recur in each and every cycle at the very same point—each and every cycle must be exactly the same. It is possible that Soll assumes that such memories, awarenesses, and reactions would necessarily make the cycles different because they would have to be absent in at least one cycle—the first.10 But that would be a mistake. Nietzsche is quite clear. Time is infinite (Z III: "On the Vision and the Riddle" 2; WP 1066)—there is no first cycle. These memories, awarenesses, and reactions could occur in all cycles at exactly the same point in the sequence.

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Still, Soll argues that it is "impossible for there to be among different recurrences of a person the kind of identity that seems to exist among the different states of consciousness of the same person within a particular recurrence. . . . Only by inappropriately construing the suffering of some future recurrence on the model of suffering later in this life does the question of eternal recurrence of one's pain weigh upon one with 'the greatest stress.'"11 I think this too is mistaken. I can very well not want to live my life again even if in the next cycle I will not remember the pain of this cycle. If I am to love my life, not want to change the slightest detail, if I am to desire to live it again, it does not matter if in the future cycle I do not remember this cycle. If the demon tells me, if I believe, that the future cycle will be exactly the same, if I know that now, then it could be quite difficult, right now, to be positive enough about my existing painful life to choose to go through it again, even if when I do go through it again I will not remember it.

Soll's point gains whatever plausibility it has by looking back from a future life at our present life and denying that we could remember anything or tremble in anticipation of its return. But that is not the only perspective one can take on the matter, and it is not the perspective Nietzsche wants to emphasize. For Nietzsche the demon forces us to look over our present life, reflect on it, test our attitude toward it, and assess the degree of positiveness we have toward it. We do that by asking how we feel about having to live it over again without the [End Page 54] slightest change. What is relevant here is how we feel about our present life at the present moment.12

It is also irrelevant to suggest that there is insufficient identity for me to think that it will really be me in the next cycle. The point, for Nietzsche, is how I react to my present life—the threat of a future life is brought up to elicit this reaction . If I do not identify with the person who will live my next life, if I do not care about that person, if I consider that person an other, then I evade the question the demon put to me—and I avoid the heart of the issue. The question is whether I love my life, my present life—love it so completely that I would live it again. I am being asked if I would live my life again to see if I love my present life. If I insist on viewing the liver of my next life as an other, the least I should do is ask myself whether I love my present life enough that I could wish it on another.

At any rate, Nietzsche claims that just thinking about the possibility of eternal recurrence can shatter and transform us.13 In published works, eternal recurrence is presented as the teaching of a sage, as the revelation of a demon, or as a thought that gains possession of one. In The Gay Science 341, we must notice, eternal recurrence is not presented as a truth. Many commentators argue that it simply does not matter whether or not it is true; its importance lies in the effect it has on those who believe it. 14

I have written at length about this complex doctrine elsewhere. I refer the reader there for further treatment of details.15 What I want to do here is point out that the philosopher who introduces eternal recurrence, the philosopher who believes in amor fati, is the very same philosopher who also believes in the horror of existence. This is a point that is never emphasized—indeed, it is hardly even noticed—by commentators.16 Lou Salomé tells us that Nietzsche spoke to her of eternal recurrence only "with a quiet voice and with all signs of deepest horror. . . . Life, in fact, produced such suffering in him that the certainty of an eternal return of life had to mean something horrifying to him."17

Try to imagine yourself with a migraine. Imagine yourself in a feverish state experiencing nausea and vomiting. Imagine that this sort of thing has been going on for years and years and that you have been unable to do anything about it. Extreme care with your diet, concern for climate, continuous

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experimenting with medicines—all accomplish nothing. You are unable to cure yourself. You have been unable to even improve your condition significantly. 18 You have no expectation of ever doing so. Suppose this state has led you to see, or perhaps merely confirmed your insight into, the horror and terror of existence. It has led you to suspect that Silenus was right: best never to have been born; second best, die as soon as possible. All you can expect is suffering, suffering for no reason at all, meaningless suffering. You have even thought of suicide (BGE 157). 19 Now imagine that at your worst moment, your loneliest loneliness, a demon appears to you or you imagine a demon appearing to you. And this demon tells you that you will have to live your life over again, innumerable times more, and that everything, [End Page 55] every last bit of pain and suffering, every last migraine, every last bout of nausea and vomiting, will return, exactly the same, over and over and over again.

What would your reaction be? If your reaction were to be negative, no one would bat an eye. But what if your reaction was, or came to be, positive? What if you were able to love your life so completely that you would not want to change a single moment—a single moment of suffering? What if you were to come to crave nothing more fervently than the eternal recurrence of every moment of your life? What if you were to see this as an ultimate confirmation and seal, nothing more divine? How could you do this? Why would you do this? Why wouldn't it be madness? What is going on here? How has this been overlooked by all the commentators? This cries out for explanation.

Eternal recurrence, I think we can say, shows us the horror of existence. No matter what you say about your life, no matter how happy you claim to have been, no matter how bright a face you put on it, the threat of eternal recurrence brings out the basic horror in every life. Live it over again with nothing new? It is the "nothing new" that does it. That is how we make it through our existing life. We hope for, we expect, something new, something different, some improvement, some progress, or at least some distraction, some hope. If that is ruled out, if everything will be exactly the same in our next life, well that is a different story. If you think you are supremely happy with your life, just see what happens if you start to think that you will have to live it again.

Suppose that you can, as Aristotle suggested, look back over your life as a whole and feel that it was a good one—a happy one. Would that make you want to live it again? Would you at the moment in which you feel that your life was a happy one also crave nothing more fervently than to live it again? What if your life was a joyous life or a proud life? It is quite clear that you could have a very positive attitude toward your life and not at all want to live it again. In fact, wouldn't the prospect of eternal repetition, if the idea grew on you and gained possession of you, begin to sap even the best life of its attractiveness? Wouldn't the expectation of eternal repetition make anything less appealing? Wouldn't it empty your life of its significance and meaning? Most commentators seem to assume that the only life we could expect anyone to want to live again would be a good life. That makes no sense to me. On the other hand, most people would assume that a life of intense pain and suffering is not at all the sort of life it makes any sense to want to live again. I think Nietzsche was able to see that a life of intense pain and suffering is perhaps the only life it really makes sense to want to live again. Let me try to explain.

For years Nietzsche was ill, suffering intense migraines, nausea, and vomiting. Often he was unable to work and confined to bed. He fought this. He tried everything. He sought a better climate. He watched his diet fanatically. He experimented with medicines. Nothing worked. He could not improve his condition. His suffering was out of his control. It dominated his life and determined his [End Page 56] every activity. He was overpowered by it. There was no freedom or dignity here. He became a slave

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to his illness. He was subjugated by it. What was he to do? At the beginning of the essay "On the Sublime," Schiller writes:

[N]othing is so unworthy of man than to suffer violence. . . . [W]hoever suffers this cravenly throws his humanity away. . . . This is the position in which man finds himself. Surrounded by countless forces, all of which are superior to his own and wield mastery over him. . . . If he is no longer able to oppose physical force by his relatively weaker physical force, then the only thing that remains to him, if he is not to suffer violence, is to eliminate utterly and completely a relationship that is so disadvantageous to him, and to destroy the very concept of a force to which he must in fact succumb. To destroy the very concept of a force means simply to submit to it voluntarily.20

Although Nietzsche did not go about it in the way Schiller had in mind, nevertheless, this is exactly what Nietzsche did. What was he to do about his suffering? What was he to do about the fact that it came to dominate every moment of his life? What was he to do about the fact that it was robbing him of all freedom and dignity? What was he to do about this subjugation and slavery? He decided to submit to it voluntarily. He decided to accept it fully. He decided that he would not change one single detail of his life, not one moment of pain. He decided to love his fate. At the prospect of living his life over again, over again an infinite number of times, without the slightest change, with every detail of suffering and pain the same, he was ready to say, "Well then! Once more!" (Z IV: "The Drunken Song" 1). He could not change his life anyway. But this way he broke the psychological stranglehold it had over him. He ended his subjugation. He put himself in charge. He turned all "it was" into a "thus I willed it." Everything that was going to happen in his life, he accepted, he chose, he willed. He became sovereign over his life. There was no way to overcome his illness except by embracing it.

III

I think we are now in a position to see that for eternal recurrence to work, for it to have the effect that it must have for Nietzsche, we must accept without qualification, we must love, everysingle moment of our lives, every single moment of suffering . We cannot allow ourselves to be tempted by what might at first sight seem to be a much more appealing version of eternal recurrence, that is, a recurring life that would include the desirable aspects of our present life while leaving out the undesirable ones. To give in to such temptation would be to risk losing everything that has been gained. To give in to such temptation, I suggest, would allow the suffering in our present life to begin to reassert its psychological stranglehold. We would start to slip back into subjugation. We would again come to be dominated by our suffering. We [End Page 57] would spend our time trying to minimize it, or avoid it, or ameliorate it, or cure it. We would again become slaves to it.

For the same reason, I do not think it will work for us to accept eternal recurrence merely because of one or a few grand moments—for the sake of which we are willing to tolerate the rest of our lives. Magnus holds that all we need desire is the return of one peak experience.21 This suggests that our attitude toward much of our life, even most of it, could be one of toleration, acceptance, or indifference—it could even be negative. All we need do is love one great moment and, because all moments are interconnected (Z IV: "The Drunken Song" 10;WP 1032), that then will require us to accept all moments. This would be much easier than actually loving all moments of one's life—every single detail. The latter is what is demanded inEcce Homo, which says that amor fati means that one "wants nothing to be different" and that we "[n]ot merely bear what is necessary . . . but love it" (EH "Clever" 10, emphasis added [except to love]). We want "a Yes-saying without reservation, even to suffering. . . . Nothing in

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existence may be subtracted, nothing is dispensable . . ." (EH "BT" 2). If we do not loveevery moment of our present life for its own sake, those moments we do not love, those moments we accept for the sake of one grand moment, I suggest, will begin to wear on us.22 We will begin to wish we did not have to suffer through so many of them, we will try to develop strategies for coping with them, we will worry about them, they will start to reassert themselves, they will slowly begin to dominate us, and pretty soon we will again be enslaved by them. Our attitude toward any moment cannot be a desire to avoid it, change it, or reduce it—or it will again begin to dominate us. Indeed, in Ecce Homo, Nietzsche says that he had to display a "Russian fatalism." He did so by

tenaciously clinging for years to all but intolerable situations, places, apartments, and society, merely because they happened to be given by accident: it was better than changing them, than feeling that they could be changed—than rebelling against them.

Any attempt to disturb me in this fatalism, to awaken me by force, used to annoy me mortally—and it actually was mortally dangerous every time.

Accepting oneself as if fated, not wishing oneself "different"—that is in such cases great reason itself.

(EH "Wise" 6)

Eternal recurrence is an attempt to deal with meaningless suffering. It is an attempt to do so that completely rejects an approach to suffering that says, Let's improve the world, let's change things, let's work step by step to remove suffering—the view of liberals and socialists whom Nietzsche so often rails against. If it is impossible to significantly reduce suffering in the world, as Nietzsche thinks it is, then to make it your goal to try to do so is to enslave yourself to that suffering. [End Page 58]

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Apparent WorldThe aff creates an opposition between the real world post plan and the apparent world before the plan. This is a moral illusion that devalues life.Nietzsche 1888 The Twilight of the Idols or, How to Philosophize with a Hammer “Preface” trans. Walter Kaufmann and R. J. Hollingdale http://scholar.googleusercontent.com/scholar?q=cache:537-EkUddDYJ:scholar.google.com/&hl=en&as_sdt=0,37

"We have found him," they cry ecstatically; "it is the senses! These senses, which are so immoral in other ways too, deceive us concerning the true world. Moral: let us free ourselves from the deception of the senses, from becoming, from history, from lies; history is nothing but faith in the senses, faith in lies. Moral: let us say No to all who have faith in the senses, to all the rest of mankind; they are all 'mob.' Let us be philosophers! Let us be mummies" Let us represent monotono-theism by adopting the expression of a gravedigger! And above all, away with the body, this wretched idée fixe of the senses, disfigured by all the fallacies of logic, refuted, even impossible, although it is impudent enough to behave as if it were real!" 2 With the highest respect, I except the name of Heraclitus. When the rest of the philosophic folk rejected the testimony of the senses because they showed multiplicity and change, he rejected their testimony because they showed things as if they had permanence and unity. Heraclitus too did the senses an injustice. They lie neither in the way the Eleatics believed, nor as he believed—they do not lie at all. What we make of their testimony, that alone introduces lies; for example, the lie of unity, the lie of thinghood, of substance, of permanence. "Reason" is the cause of our falsification of the testimony of the senses. Insofar as the senses show becoming, passing away, and change, they do not lie. But Heraclitus will remain eternally right with his assertion that being is an empty fiction. The "apparent" world is the only one: the "true" world is merely added by a lie. 3 And what magnificent instruments of observation we possess in our senses! This nose, for example, of which no philosopher has yet spoken with reverence and gratitude, is actually the most delicate instrument so far at our disposal: it is able to detect minimal differences of motion which even a spectroscope cannot detect. Today we possess science precisely to the extent to which we have decided to accept the testimony of the senses—to the extent to which we sharpen them further, arm them, and have learned to think them through. The rest is miscarriage and not-yet-science—in other words, metaphysics, theology, psychology, epistemology—or formal science, a doctrine of signs, such as logic and that applied logic which is called mathematics. In them reality is not encountered at all, not even as a problem—no more than the question of the value of such a sign-convention as logic. 4 The other idiosyncrasy of the philosophers is no less dangerous; it consists in confusing the last and the first. They place that which comes at the end—unfortunately! for it ought not to come at all!—namely, the "highest concepts," which means the most general, the emptiest concepts, the last smoke of evaporating reality, in the beginning, as the beginning. This again is nothing but their way of showing reverence: the higher may not grow out of the lower, may not have grown at all. Moral: whatever is of the first rank must be causa sui. Origin out of something else is considered an objection, a questioning of value. All the highest values are of the first rank; all the highest concepts, that which has being, the unconditional, the good, the true, the perfect—all these cannot have become and must therefore be causes. All these, moreover, cannot be unlike each other or in contradiction to each other. Thus they arrive at their stupendous concept, "God." That which is last, thinnest, and emptiest is put first, as the cause, as ens realissimum. Why did mankind have to take seriously the brain afflictions of sick web-spinners? They have paid dearly for it! 5 At long last, let us contrast the very different manner in which we conceive the problem of error and appearance. (I say "we" for politeness' sake.) Formerly, alteration, change, any becoming at all, were taken as

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proof of mere appearance, as an indication that there must be something which led us astray. Today, conversely, precisely insofar as the prejudice of reason forces us to posit unity, identity, permanence, substance, cause, thinghood, being, we see ourselves somehow caught in error, compelled into error. So certain are we, on the basis of rigorous examination, that this is where the error lies. It is no different in this case than with the movement of the sun: there our eye is the constant advocate of error, here it is our language. In its origin language belongs in the age of the most rudimentary form of psychology. We enter a realm of crude fetishism when we summon before consciousness the basic presuppositions of the metaphysics of language, in plain talk, the presuppositions of reason. Everywhere it sees a doer and doing; it believes in will as the cause; it believes in the ego, in the ego as being, in the ego as substance, and it projects this faith in the ego-substance upon all things—only thereby does it first create the concept of "thing." Everywhere "being" is projected by thought, pushed underneath, as the cause; the concept of being follows, and is a derivative of, the concept of ego. In the beginning there is that great calamity of an error that the will is something which is effective, that will is a capacity. Today we know that it is only a word. Very much later, in a world which was in a thousand ways more enlightened, philosophers, to their great surprise, became aware of the sureness, the subjective certainty, in our handling of the categories of reason: they concluded that these categories could not be derived from anything empirical—for everything empirical plainly contradicted them. Whence, then, were they derived? And in India, as in Greece, the same mistake was made: "We must once have been at home in a higher world (instead of a very much lower one, which would have been the truth); we must have been divine, for we have reason!" Indeed, nothing has yet possessed a more naive power of persuasion than the error concerning being, as it has been formulated by the Eleatics, for example. After all, every word and every sentence we say speak in its favor. Even the opponents of the Eleatics still succumbed to the seduction of their concept of being: Democritus, among others, when he invented his atom. "Reason" in language—oh, what an old deceptive female she is! I am afraid we are not rid of God because we still have faith in grammar. 6 It will be appreciated if I condense so essential and so new an insight into four theses. In that way I facilitate comprehension; in that way I provoke contradiction. First proposition. The reasons for which "this" world has been characterized as "apparent" are the very reasons which indicate its reality; any other kind of reality is absolutely indemonstrable. Second proposition. The criteria which have been bestowed on the "true being" of things are the criteria of not-being, of naught, the "true world" has been constructed out of contradiction to the actual world: indeed an apparent world, insofar as it is merely a moral-optical illusion. Third proposition. To invent fables about a world "other" than this one has no meaning at all, unless an instinct of slander, detraction, and suspicion against life has gained the upper hand in us: in that case, we avenge ourselves against life with a phantasmagoria of "another," a "better" life. Fourth proposition. Any distinction between a "true" and an "apparent" world—whether in the Christian manner or in the manner of Kant (in the end, an underhanded Christian)—is only a suggestion of decadence, a symptom of the decline of life. That the artist esteems appearance higher than reality is no objection to this proposition. For "appearance" in this case means reality once more, only by way of selection, reinforcement, and correction. The tragic artist is no pessimist: he is precisely the one who says Yes to everything questionable, even to the terrible—he is Dionysian. Morality as Anti-Nature

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Link Call To Act

The inability to resist the temptation to act is a symptom of the weakness of the willNietzsche 1888 The Twilight of the Idols or, How to Philosophize with a Hammer “Preface” trans. Walter Kaufmann and R. J. Hollingdale http://scholar.googleusercontent.com/scholar?q=cache:537-EkUddDYJ:scholar.google.com/&hl=en&as_sdt=0,37

To be fair, it should be admitted, however, that on the ground out of which Christianity grew, the concept of the "spiritualization of passion" could never have been formed. After all, the first church, as is well known, fought against the "intelligent" in favor of the "poor in spirit." How could one expect from it an intelligent war against passion? The church fights passion with excision in every sense: its practice, its "cure," is castratism. It never asks: "How can one spiritualize, beautify, deify a craving?" It has at all times laid the stress of discipline on extirpation (of sensuality, of pride, of the lust to rule, of avarice, of vengefulness). But an attack on the roots of passion means an attack on the roots of life: the practice of the church is hostile to life. 2 The same means in the fight against a craving—castration, extirpation—is instinctively chosen by those who are too weak-willed, too degenerate, to be able to impose moderation on themselves; by those who are so constituted that they require La Trappe, to use a figure of speech, or (without any figure of speech) some kind of definitive declaration of hostility, a cleft between themselves and the passion. Radical means are indispensable only for the degenerate; the weakness of the will—or, to speak more definitely, the inability not to respond to a stimulus—is itself merely another form of degeneration. The radical hostility, the deadly hostility against sensuality, is always a symptom to reflect on: it entitles us to suppositions concerning the total state of one who is excessive in this manner. This hostility, this hatred, by the way, reaches its climax only when such types lack even the firmness for this radical cure, for this renunciation of their "devil." One should survey the whole history of the priests and philosophers, including the artists: the most poisonous things against the senses have been said not by the impotent, nor by ascetics, but by the impossible ascetics, by those who really were in dire need of being ascetics.

Subordination to action ultimately leads to a fragmentary existence – prefer the alternative’s refusal of the aff and its acceptance of incoherence, danger and painBataille ’45 (Georges, French essayist, philosophical theorist and novelist, often called the "metaphysician of evil.", “On Nietzsche”) Franzy

Nonetheless, I don't want my inclination to make fun of myself or act comic to lead readers astray. The basic problem tackled in this chaotic book (chaotic because it has to be) is the same one Nietzsche experienced and attempted to resolve in his work-- the problem of the whole human being.

"The majority of people," he wrote, "are a fragmentary, exclusive image of what humanity is; you have to add them up to get humanity. In this sense, whole eras and whole peoples have something fragmentary about them; and it may be necessary for humanity's growth for it to develop only in parts. It is a crucial matter therefore to see that what is at stake is always the idea of producing a synthetic humanity and that the inferior humans who make up a majority of us are only preliminaries, or

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preparatory attempts whose concerted play allows a whole human being to appear here and there like a military boundary marker showing the extent of humanity's advance." ( The Will to Power)

But what does that fragmentation mean? Or better, what causes it if not a need to act that specializes us and limits us to the horizon of a particular activity? Even if it turns out to be for the general interest (which normally isn't true), the activity that subordinates each of our aspects to a specific result suppresses our being as an entirety. Whoever acts, substitutes a particular end for what he or she is, as a total being: in the least specialized cases it is the glory of the state or the triumph of a party. Every action specializes insofar as it is limited as action. A plant usually doesn't act, and isn't specialized; it's specialized when gobbling up flies!

I cannot exist entirely except when somehow I go beyond the stage of action. Otherwise I'm a soldier, a professional, a man of learning, not a "total human being." The fragmentary state of humanity is basically the same as the choice of an object. When you limit your desires to possessing political power, for instance, you act and know what you have to do. The possibility of failure isn't important--and right from the start, you insert your existence advantageously into time. Each of your moments becomes useful. With each moment, the possibility is given you to advance to some chosen goal, and your time becomes a march toward that goal--what's normally called living. Similarly, if salvation is the goal. Every action makes you a fragmentary existence . I hold onto my nature as an entirety only by refusing to act--or at least by denying the superiority of time, which is reserved for action.

Life is whole only when it isn't subordinate to a specific object that exceeds it. In this way, the essence of entirety is freedom. Still, I can't choose to become an entire human being by simply fighting for freedom, even if the struggle for freedom is an appropriate activity for me--because within me I can't confuse the state of entirety with my struggle. It's the positive practice of freedom, not the negative struggle against a particular oppression, that has lifted me above a mutilated existence. Each of us learns with bitterness that to struggle for freedom is first of all to alienate ourselves.

I've already said it: the practice of freedom lies within evil, not beyond it, while the struggle for freedom is a struggle to conquer a good. To the extent that life is entire within me, I can't distribute it or let it serve the interests of a good belonging to someone else, to God or myself. I can't acquire anything at all: I can only give and give unstintingly, without the gift ever having as its object anyone's interest. (In this respect, I look at the other's good as deceptive, since if I will that good it's to find my own, unless I identify it as my own. Entirety exists within me as exuberance. Only in empty longing, only in an unlucky desire to be consumed simply by the desire to burn with desire, is entirety wholly what it is. In this respect, entirety is also longing for laughter, longing for pleasure, holiness, or death. Entirety lacks further tasks to fulfill.)

7

You have to experience a problem like this to understand how strange it really is. It's easy to argue its meaning by saying, Infinite tasks are imposed on us. Precisely in the present. That much is obvious and undeniable. Still, it is at least equally true that human entirety or totality (the inevitable term) is making its initial appearance now. For two reasons. The first, negative, is that specialization is everywhere, and emphasized alarmingly. The second is that in our time overwhelming tasks nonetheless appear within their exact limits.

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In earlier times the horizon couldn't be discerned. The object of seriousness was first defined as the good of the city, although the city was confused with the gods. The object thereafter became the salvation of the soul. In both cases the goal of action, on the one hand, was some limited and comprehensible end, and on the other, a totality defined as inaccessible in this world (transcendent). Action in modern conditions has precise ends that are completely adequate to the possible, and human totality no longer has a mythic aspect. Seen as accessible in all that surrounds us, totality becomes the fulfillment of tasks as they are defined materially. So that totality is remote, and the tasks that subordinate our minds also fragment them. Totality, however, is still discernible.

A totality like this, necessarily aborted by our work, is nonetheless offered by that very work. Not as a goal, since the goal is to change the world and give it human dimensions. But as the inevitable result. As change comes about, humanity-attachedto-the-taskof-changing-the-world, which is only a single and fragmentary aspect of humanity, will itself be changed to humanity-as-entirety. For humanity this result seems remote, but defined tasks describe it: It doesn't transcend us like the gods (the sacred city), nor is it like the soul's afterlife; it is in the immanence of "humanityattached . . ." We can put off thinking about it till later, though it's still contiguous to us. If human beings can't yet be consciously aware of it in their common existence, what separates them from this notion isn't that they are human instead of divine, nor the fact of not being dead: It's the duties of a particular moment.

Similarly, a man in combat must only think (provisionally) of driving back the enemy. To be sure, situations of calm during even the most violent wars give rise to peacetime interests. Still, such matters immediately appear minor. The toughest minds will join in these moments of relaxation as they seek a way to put aside their seriousness. In some sense they're wrong to do so. Since isn't seriousness essentially why blood flows? And that's inevitable. For how could seriousness not be the same as blood? How could a free life, a life unconstrained by combat, a life disengaged from the necessities of action and no longer fragmented--how could such a life not appear frivolous? In a world released from the gods and from any interest in salvation, even "tragedy" seems a distraction, a moment of relaxation within the context of goals shaped by activity alone.

More than one advantage accrues when human "reason for being" comes in the back way. So the total person is first disclosed in immanence in areas of life that are lived frivolously. A life like this--a frivolous life--can't be taken seriously. Even if it is deeply tragic. And that is its liberating prospect--it acquires the worst simplicity and nakedness. Without any guile I'm saying, I feel grateful to those whose serious attitudes and life lived at the edge of death define me as an empty human being and dreamer (there are moments when I'm on their side). Fundamentally, an entire human being is simply a being in whom transcendence is abolished, from whom there's no separating anything now. An entire human being is partly a clown, partly God, partly crazy . . . and is transparence.

8

If I want to realize totality in my consciousness, I have to relate myself to an immense, ludicrous, and painful convulsion of all of humanity. This impulse moves toward all meanings. It's true: sensible action (action proceeding toward some single meaning) goes beyond such incoherence, but that is exactly what gives humanity in my time (as well as in the past) its fragmentary aspect. If for a single moment I forget that meaning, will I see Shakespeare's tragical/ridiculous sum total of eccentricities, his lies, pain, and laughter; the awareness of an immanent totality becomes clear to me-- but as laceration. Existence as entirety remains beyond any one meaning-and it is the conscious presence of humanness in

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the world inasmuch as this is nonmeaning, having nothing to do other than be what it is, no longer able to go beyond itself or give itself some kind of meaning through action.

This consciousness of totality relates to two opposed ways of using that expression. Nonmeaning normally is a simple negation and is said of an object to be canceled. An intention that rejects what has no meaning in fact is a rejection of the entirety of being--and it's by reason of this rejection that we're conscious of the totality of being within us. But if I say nonmeaning with the opposite intention, in the sense of nonsense, with the intention of searching for an object free of meaning, I don't deny anything. But I make an affirmation in which all life is clarified in consciousness.

Whatever moves toward this consciousness of totality, toward this total friendship of humanness and humanity for itself, is quite correctly held to be lacking a basic seriousness. Following this path I become ridiculous. I acquire the inconsistency of all humans (humanness taken as a whole, and overlooking whatever leads to important changes). I'm not suggesting that I'm accounting for Nietzsche's illness this way (from what we know, it had some somatic basis), though it must be said, all the same, that the main impulse that leads to human entirety is tantamount to madness. I let go of good. I let go of reason (meaning). And under my feet, I open an abyss which my activity and my binding judgments once kept from me. At least the awareness of totality is first of all within me as a despair and a crisis. If I give up the viewpoint of action, my perfect nakedness is revealed to me. I have no recourse in the world, there's nothing to help me--and I collapse. No other outcome is possible, except endless incoherence, in which only chance is my guide.

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Dialectics BadDialectics causes ressentiment through the tyranny of rationality which devalues life and demands deathNietzsche 1888 The Twilight of the Idols or, How to Philosophize with a Hammer “Preface” trans. Walter Kaufmann and R. J. Hollingdale http://scholar.googleusercontent.com/scholar?q=cache:537-EkUddDYJ:scholar.google.com/&hl=en&as_sdt=0,37

5 With Socrates, Greek taste changes in favor of dialectics. What really happened there? Above all, a noble taste is thus vanquished; with dialectics the plebs come to the top. Before Socrates, dialectic manners were repudiated in good society: they were considered bad manners, they were compromising. The young were warned against them. Furthermore, all such presentations of one's reasons were distrusted. Honest things, like honest men, do not carry their reasons in their hands like that. It is indecent to show all five fingers. What must first be proved is worth little. Wherever authority still forms part of good bearing, where one does not give reasons but commands, the dialectician is a kind of buffoon: one laughs at him, one does not take him seriously. Socrates was the buffoon who got himself taken seriously: what really happened there? 6 One chooses dialectic only when one has no other means. One knows that one arouses mistrust with it, that it is not very persuasive. Nothing is easier to erase than a dialectical effect: the experience of every meeting at which there are speeches proves this. It can only be self-defense for those who no longer have other weapons. One must have to enforce one's right: until one reaches that point, one makes no use of it. The Jews were dialecticians for that reason; Reynard the Fox was one—and Socrates too? 7 Is the irony of Socrates an expression of revolt? Of plebeian ressentiment? Does he, as one oppressed, enjoy his own ferocity in the knife-thrusts of his syllogisms? Does he avenge himself on the noble people whom he fascinates? As a dialectician, one holds a merciless tool in one's hand; one can become a tyrant by means of it; one compromises those one conquers. The dialectician leaves it to his opponent to prove that he is no idiot: he makes one furious and helpless at the same time. The dialectician renders the intellect of his opponent powerless. Indeed? Is dialectic only a form of revenge in Socrates? 8 I have given to understand how it was that Socrates could repel: it is therefore all the more necessary to explain his fascination. That he discovered a new kind of agon, that he became its first fencing master for the noble circles of Athens, is one point. He fascinated by appealing to the agonistic impulse of the Greeks—he introduced a variation into the wrestling match between young men and youths. Socrates was also a great erotic. 9 But Socrates guessed even more. He saw through his noble Athenians; he comprehended that his own case, his idiosyncrasy, was no longer exceptional. The same kind of degeneration was quietly developing everywhere: old Athens was coming to an end. And Socrates understood that all the world needed him—his means, his cure, his personal artifice of self-preservation. Everywhere the instincts were in anarchy everywhere one was within five paces of excess: monstrum in animo was the general danger. "The impulses want to play the tyrant; one must invent a counter-tyrant who is stronger. When the physiognomist had revealed to Socrates who he was—a cave of bad appetites—the great master of irony let slip another word which is the key to his character. "This is true," he said, "but I mastered them all." How did Socrates become master over himself? His case was, at bottom, merely the extreme case, only the most striking instance of what was then beginning to be a

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universal distress: no one was any longer master over himself, the instincts turned against each other. He fascinated, being this extreme case; his

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Dialectics Bad

awe-inspiring ugliness proclaimed him as such to all who could see: he fascinated, of course, even more as an answer, a solution, an apparent cure of this case. 10 When one finds it necessary to turn reason into a tyrant, as Socrates did, the danger cannot be slight that something else will play the tyrant. Rationality was then hit upon as the savior; neither Socrates nor his "patients" had any choice about being rational: it was de rigeur, it was their last resort. The fanaticism with which all Greek reflection throws itself upon rationality betrays a desperate situation; there was danger, there was but one choice: either to perish or—to be absurdly rational. The moralism of the Greek philosophers from Plato on is pathologically conditioned; so is their esteem of dialectics. Reason-virtue-happiness, that means merely that one must imitate Socrates and counter the dark appetites with a permanent daylight—the daylight of reason. One must be clever, clear, bright at any price: any concession to the instincts, to the unconscious, leads downward. 11 I have given to understand how it was that Socrates fascinated: he seemed to be a physician, a savior. Is it necessary to go on to demonstrate the error in his faith in "rationality at any price"? It is a self-deception on the part of philosophers and moralists if they believe that they are extricating themselves from decadence when they merely wage war against it. Extrication lies beyond their strength: what they choose as a means, as salvation, is itself but another expression of decadence; they change its expression, but they do not get rid of decadence itself. Socrates was a misunderstanding; the whole improvement-morality, including the Christian, was a misunderstanding. The most blinding daylight; rationality at any price; life, bright, cold, cautious, conscious, without instinct, in opposition to the instincts—all this too was a mere disease, another disease, and by no means a return to "virtue," to "health," to happiness. To have to fight the instincts—that is the formula of decadence: as long as life is ascending, happiness equals instinct. 12 Did he himself still comprehend this, this most brilliant of all self-outwitters? Was this what he said to himself in the end, in the wisdom of his courage to die? Socrates wanted to die: not Athens, but he himself chose the hemlock; he forced Athens to sentence him. "Socrates is no physician," he said softly to himself, "here death alone is the physician. Socrates himself has merely been sick a long time."

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Democracy LinkDemocratic movements are characterized by a slave morality that requires the slave master to exist. That makes ressentiment inevitable because the slave cannot act unless there exists an opposing master.Newman 06 (Saul Newman, 11/11/2006, "Anarchism and the politics of ressentiment," libcom.org, https://libcom.org/library/anarchism-and-the-politics-of-ressentiment-saul-newman)

Political values also grew from this poisonous root. For Nietzsche, values of equality and democracy, which form the cornerstone of

radical political theory, arose out of the slave revolt in morality. They are generated by the same spirit of revenge and hatred of the powerful. Nietzsche therefore condemns political movements like liberal democracy, socialism, and indeed anarchism. He sees the democratic movement as an expression of the herd-animal morality derived from the Judeo-Christian revaluation of values.[6] Anarchism is for Nietzsche the most extreme heir to democratic values - the most rabid expression of the herd instinct. It seeks to level the differences between individuals, to abolish class distinctions, to raze hierarchies to the ground, and to equalize the powerful and the powerless, the rich and the poor, the master and the slave. To Nietzsche this is bringing everything down to level of the lowest common denominator - to erase the pathos of distance between the master and slave, the sense of difference and superiority through which great values are created. Nietzsche sees this as the worst

excess of European nihilism - the death of values and creativity. Slave morality is characterized by the attitude of ressentiment - the resentment and hatred of the powerless for the powerful. Nietzsche sees ressentiment as an entirely negative sentiment - the attitude of denying what is life-affirming, saying 'no' to what is different, what is 'outside' or 'other'. Ressentiment is characterized by an orientation to the outside, rather than the focus of noble morality, which is on the self.[7] While the master says 'I am good' and adds as an afterthought, 'therefore he is bad'; the slave says the opposite - 'He (the master) is bad, therefore I am good'. Thus the invention of values comes from a comparison or opposition to that which is outside, other, different. Nietzsche says: "... in order to come about, slave morality first has to have an opposing, external world, it needs,

psychologically speaking, external stimuli in order to act all, - its action is basically a reaction."[8] This reactive stance, this inability to define anything except in opposition to something else, is the attitude of ressentiment. It is the reactive stance of the weak who define themselves in opposition to the strong . The weak need the existence of this external enemy to identify themselves as 'good'. Thus the slave takes 'imaginary revenge' upon the master, as he cannot act without the existence of the master to oppose. The man of

ressentiment hates the noble with an intense spite, a deep-seated, seething hatred and jealousy. It is this ressentiment, according to Nietzsche, that has poisoned the modern consciousness, and finds its expression in ideas of equality and democracy, and in radical political philosophies, like anarchism, that advocate it. Is anarchism a political expression of ressentiment? Is it poisoned by a deep hatred of the powerful? While Nietzsche's attack on anarchism is in many respects unjustified and excessively malicious, and shows little understanding of the complexities of anarchist theory, I would nevertheless argue that Nietzsche does uncover a certain logic of ressentiment in anarchism's oppositional, Manichean thinking. It is necessary to explore this logic that inhabits anarchism - to see where it leads and to what extent it imposes conceptual limits on radical politics.

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Agonism/Friend Eemy Distinction Good

Enemies key to value to lifeNietzsche 1888 The Twilight of the Idols or, How to Philosophize with a Hammer “Preface” trans. Walter Kaufmann and R. J. Hollingdale http://scholar.googleusercontent.com/scholar?q=cache:537-EkUddDYJ:scholar.google.com/&hl=en&as_sdt=0,37

3 The spiritualization of sensuality is called love: it represents a great triumph over Christianity. Another triumph is our spiritualization of hostility. It consists in a profound appreciation of the value of having enemies: in short, it means acting and thinking in the opposite way from that which has been the rule. The church always wanted the destruction of its enemies; we, we immoralists and Antichristians, find our advantage in this, that the church exists. In the political realm too, hostility has now become more spiritual—much more sensible, much more thoughtful, much more considerate. Almost every party understands how it is in the interest of its own self-preservation that the opposition should not lose all strength; the same is true of power politics. A new creation in particular—the new Reich, for example—needs enemies more than friends: in opposition alone does it feel itself necessary, in opposition alone does it become necessary. Our attitude to the "internal enemy" is no different: here too we have spiritualized hostility; here too we have come to appreciate its value. The price of fruitfulness is to be rich in internal opposition; one remains young only as long as the soul does not stretch itself and desire peace. Nothing has become more alien to us than that desideratum of former times, "peace of soul," the Christian desideratum; there is nothing we envy less than the moralistic cow and the fat happiness of the good conscience. One has renounced the great life when one renounces war.

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raschDrawing the line in the sand is key to confine war and create symmetric power relations Rasch 5

(William Rasch is the Henry H. H. Remak Professor of Germanic Studies at Indiana University, “Lines in the Sand: Enmity as a∂ Structuring Principle,” The South Atlantic Quarterly 104:2, Spring 2005, pp. 260-261, http://saq.dukejournals.org/content/104/2/253.full.pdf, BC)

What is to be done? If you are one who says there is a war, and if you∂ say it not because you glory in it but because you fear it

and hate it, then∂ your goal is to limit it and its effects, not eliminate it, which merely intensi-∂ fies it, but limit it by drawing clear lines within which it can be fought, and∂ clear lines between those who fight it and those who don’t, lines between∂ friends, enemies, and neutrals, lines between combatants and noncombatants.∂ There are, of course, legitimate doubts about whether those ideal lines∂ could ever be drawn again; nevertheless, the

question that we should ask∂ is not how can we establish perpetual peace, but rather a more modest∂ one: Can symmetrical relationships be guaranteed only by asymmetrical ∂ ones? According to Schmitt, historically this has been the case. ‘‘The traditional ∂ Eurocentric orde r of international law is foundering today, as is the∂ old nomos of the earth. This order

arose from a legendary and unforeseen∂ discovery of a new world, from an unrepeatable historical event. Only in∂ fantastic parallels can one imagine a modern recurrence, such as men on∂ their way to the moon discovering a new and hitherto unknown planet that∂ could be exploited freely and utilized effectively to relieve their struggles∂ on earth’’ (39). We have since gone to the moon and have found nothing∂ on the way there to exploit. We may soon go to Mars, if current leaders∂ have their way, but the likelihood of finding exploitable populations seems∂ equally slim. Salvation through spatially delimited asymmetry, even were it∂ to be desired, is just not on the horizon. And salvation through globalization,∂ that is, through global unity and equality, is equally impossible, because∂ today’s asymmetry is not so much a localization of the exception as it is an∂ invisible generation of the exception from within that formal ideal of unity,∂ a generation of the exception as the difference between the human and the∂ inhuman outlaw, the ‘‘Savage Beast, with whom Men can have no Society∂ nor Security.’’ We are, therefore, thrown back upon ourselves, which is to∂ say, upon those artificial ‘‘moral persons’’ who act as our collective

political∂ identities.They used to be called states.What they will be called in the future∂ remains to be seen. But, if we think to establish a differentiated unity of discrete ∂ political entities that once represented for Schmitt ‘‘the highest form∂ of order within the

scope of human power,’’ then we must symmetrically∂ manage the necessary pairing of inclusion and exclusion without denying∂ the ‘‘forms of power and domination’’ that inescapably accompany human ∂ ordering. We must think the possibility of roughly equivalent power relations ∂ rather than fantasize the elimination of power from the political universe. ∂ This, conceivably, was also Schmitt’s solution.Whether his idea of the∂ plurality of Großräume could ever be carried out under contemporary circumstances∂ is, to be sure, more than a little doubtful, given that the United∂ States enjoys a monopoly on guns, goods, and the Good, in the form of a∂ supremely effective ideology of universal ‘‘democratization.’’

Still, we would ∂ do well to devise vocabularies that do not just emphatically repeat philosophically ∂ more sophisticated versions of the liberal ideology of painless, ∂ effortless, universal equality. The space of the political will never be created ∂ by a bloodless, Benjaminian divine violence. Nor is it to be confused with∂ the space of the simply human. To dream the dreams of universal inclusion∂ may satisfy an irrepressible human desire, but it may also always produce∂ recurring, asphyxiating political nightmares of absolute exclusion.

Exclusion is inevitable—attempts to erase boundaries only reify the distinction between the human and the inhumanRasch 5

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(William Rasch is the Henry H. H. Remak Professor of Germanic Studies at Indiana University, “Lines in the Sand: Enmity as a∂ Structuring Principle,” The South Atlantic Quarterly 104:2, Spring 2005, pp. 260-261, http://saq.dukejournals.org/content/104/2/253.full.pdf, BC)

Schmitt, then, starts from the premise of imperfection and acknowledges∂ an ontological priority of violence. If, he reasons, one starts with the rather∂ biblical notions of sin and guilt, not natural innocence, then homogeneity,∂ being contingent, historical, and not the least natural, must be predicated∂ on heterogeneity. That is, citizenship or participation or community must∂ be constructed, not

assumed, and can only be local, circumscribed, not∂ global. One recognizes one’s own in the face of the other and knows the ∂ comfort of inclusion only as the necessary result of exclusion —though in∂ modern, functionally differentiated society, those inclusions and exclusions∂ may be multiple, contradictory, and not necessarily tied to place. ‘‘An absolute∂ human equality,’’ Schmitt writes in his Crisis of Parliamentary Democracy,∂ ‘‘would be an equality without the necessary correlate of inequality∂ and as a result conceptually and practically meaningless, an indifferent∂ equality. . . . Substantive inequalities would in no way disappear from the∂ world and the state; they would shift into another sphere, perhaps separated∂ from the political and concentrated in the economic, leaving this area to∂ take on a new, disproportionately decisive importance.’’6 This, Schmitt’s, is∂ not a popular sentiment, even if it echoes somewhat the Marxist distinction∂ between a political and a social democracy, between a formal and substantial∂ equality. But if one acknowledges that at least

within modernity ∂ all inclusion requires exclusion, that inclusions and exclusions in addition ∂ to being unavoidable are also contingent and malleable, then rather than∂ react with dismay, one might see in this ‘‘logical fact,’’ if fact it is, both the∂ condition for the possibility of dissent and the condition for the possibility∂ of recognizing in the one who resists and disagrees a

fellow human being∂ and thus legitimate political opponent, not a Lyon or Tyger or other Savage∂ Beast∂ For it is not that exclusions are miraculously made absent once distinctions ∂ are not formally drawn. On the contrary, unacknowledged distinctions,∂ and those who are distinguished by them, simply go underground,∂ become invisible, and grow stronger, more absolute, in their violent and∂ explosive force. When the retrograde and condemned distinction between ∂ the ‘‘Greek’’ and the ‘‘barbarian’’ becomes a simple , sanguine affirmation ∂ of humanity, this ideal affirmation actually turns out to be nothing other ∂ than a distinction drawn between all those who, by their right behavior, ∂ show themselves to be truly ‘‘human’’ and those who, alas, by their perverse ∂ dissent, have revealed themselves to be evildoers, to be ‘‘inhuman.’’∂ Deliberate, visible, ‘‘external’’ distinctions that demarcate a space in which a ∂ ‘‘we’’ can recognize its difference from a ‘‘they ,’’ preferably

without marking∂ that difference in a necessarily asymmetrical manner, are to be preferred,∂ in Schmitt’s world, to the invisible and unacknowledged distinctions that ∂ mark those who are exemplary humans from those who, by their political ∂ dissent, show themselves to be gratuitously perverse . For reasons, then,∂ of making difference visible, Schmitt favors lines drawn in the sand, or,∂ in the ‘‘mythical language’’ used in The Nomos of the Earth, ‘‘firm lines’’ in∂ the ‘‘soil,’’ ‘‘whereby definite divisions become apparent,’’ and, above them,∂ on the ‘‘solid ground of the earth,’’ ‘‘fences, enclosures, boundaries, walls,∂ houses, and other constructs,’’ so that the ‘‘orders and orientations of human∂ social life become apparent’’ and the ‘‘forms of power and domination become∂ visible.’’7

Distinctions are inevitable even in a liberal orderRasch 3

(William Rasch is the Henry H. H. Remak Professor of Germanic Studies at Indiana University, “Human Rights as Geopolitics ∂ Carl Schmitt and the Legal Form of American Supremacy,” Cultural Critique 54 (2003) 120-147, http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/cultural_critique/v054/54.1rasch.html, BC)

In the past, we/they, neighbor/foreigner, friend/enemy polarities were inside/outside distinctions that produced a plurality of worlds, separated by physical and cultural borders. When these worlds collided, it was not always a pretty picture, but it was often possible to [End Page 138] maintain the integrity of the we/they distinction, even to regulate it by distinguishing between domestic and foreign affairs. If "they" differed, "we" did not always feel ourselves obliged to make "them" into miniature versions of "us," to Christianize them, to

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civilize them, to make of them good liberals. Things have changed. With a single-power global hegemony that is guided by a universalist ideology, all relations have become, or threaten to become, domestic. The inner/outer distinction has been transformed into a morally and legally determined acceptable/unacceptable one, and the power exists (or is thought to exist), both spiritually and physically, to eliminate the unacceptable once and for all and make believers of everyone. The new imperative states: the other shall be included. Delivered as a promise, it can only be received, by some, as an ominous threat.∂ In his The Conquest of America, Tzvetan Todorov approaches our relationship to the "other" by way of three interlocking distinctions, namely, self/other, same/different, and equal/unequal. A simple superposition of all three distinctions makes of the other someone who is different and therefore unequal. The problem we have been discussing, however, comes to light when we make of the other someone who is equal because he is

essentially the same. This form of the universalist ideology is assimilationist. It denies the other by embracing him. Of the famous sixteenth-century defender of the Indians, Bartolomé de Las Casas, Todorov writes,∂ [his] declaration of the equality of men is made in the name of a specific religion, Christianity.... Hence, there is a potential danger of seeing not only the Indians' human nature asserted but also their Christian "nature." "The natural laws and rules and rights of men," Las Casas said; but who decides what is natural with regard to laws and rights? Is it not speciWcally the Christian religion? Since Christianity is universalist, it implies an essential non-difference on the part of all men. We see the danger of the identiWcation in this text of Saint John Chrysostrom, quoted and defended at Valladolid: "Just as there is no natural difference in the creation of man, so there is no difference in the call to salvation of all men, barbarous or wise, since God's grace can correct the minds of barbarians, so that they have a reasonable understanding."12∂ Once again we see that the term "human" is not descriptive, but evaluative. To be truly human, one needs to be corrected. Regarding the relationship of difference and equality, Todorov concludes, "If it is [End Page 139] incontestable that the prejudice of superiority is an obstacle in the road to knowledge, we must also admit that the prejudice of equality is a still greater one, for it consists in identifying the other purely and simply with one's own 'ego ideal' (or with oneself)" (1984, 165). Such identification is not only the essence of Christianity, but also of the doctrine of human rights preached by enthusiasts like Habermas and Rawls. And such identification means that the other is stripped of his otherness and made to conform to the

universal ideal of what it means to be human.∂ And yet, despite—indeed, because of—the all-encompassing embrace, the detested other is never allowed to leave the stage altogether. Even as we seem on the verge of actualizing Kant's dream, as Habermas puts it, of "a cosmopolitan order" that unites all peoples and abolishes war under the auspices of "the states of the First World" who "can afford to harmonize their national interests to a certain extent with the norms that define the halfhearted cosmopolitan aspirations of the UN" (1998, 165, 184), it is still fascinating to see how the barbarians make their functionally necessary presence felt. John Rawls, in his The Law of Peoples (1999), conveniently divides the world into well-ordered peoples and those who are not well ordered. Among the former are the "reasonable liberal peoples" and the "decent hierarchical peoples" (4). Opposed to them are the "outlaw states" and other "burdened" peoples who are not worthy of respect. Liberal peoples, who, by virtue of their history, possess superior institutions, culture, and moral character (23-25), have not only the right to deny non-well-ordered peoples respect, but the duty to extend what Vitoria called "brotherly correction" and

Habermas "gentle compulsion" (Habermas 1997, 133). 13 That is, Rawls believes that the "refusal to tolerate" those states deemed to be outlaw states "is a consequence of liberalism and decency." Why? Because outlaw states violate human rights. What are human rights? "What I call human rights," Rawls states, "are ... a proper subset of the rights possessed by citizens in a liberal constitutional democratic regime, or of the rights of the members of a decent hierarchical society" (Rawls 1999, 81).

Because of their violation of these liberal rights, nonliberal, nondecent societies do not even have the right "to protest their condemnation by the world society" (38), and decent peoples have the right, if necessary, to wage

just wars against them. Thus, [End Page 140] liberal societies are not merely contingently established and historically conditioned forms

of organization; they become the universal standard against which other societies are judged. Those found wanting are banished, as outlaws, from the civilized world. Ironically, one of the signs of their outlaw status is their insistence on autonomy, on sovereignty. As Rawls states, "Human rights are a class of rights that play a special role in a reasonable Law of Peoples: they restrict the justifying reasons for war and its conduct, and they specify limits to a regime's internal autonomy. In this way they reflect the two basic and historically profound changes in how the powers of sovereignty have been conceived since World War II" (79). Yet, what Rawls sees as a postwar development in the notion of sovereignty—that is, its restriction—could not, in fact, have occurred had it not been for the unrestricted sovereign powers of the victors of that war, especially, of course, the supreme power of the United States. The limitation of (others') sovereignty is an imposed limitation, imposed by a sovereign state that has never relinquished its own sovereign power. What for Vitoria was the sovereignty of Christendom and for Scott the sovereignty of humanity becomes for Rawls the simple but uncontested sovereignty of liberalism itself. 14

Lack of distinction between friends and enemies generates inhuman others to be eradicated—that justifies the worst forms of war and violenceRasch 2k

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(William Rasch is the Henry H. H. Remak Professor of Germanic Studies at Indiana University, “Conflict as a Vocation: Carl Schmitt and the Possibility of Politics,” Theory, Culture, and Society 2000 (Sage, London, Thousand Oaks and New Delhi), Vol. 17(6): 1—32, BC)

In Schmitt's view, then, the sovereignty of the state as the unity of the difference of civil society serves a higher pluralism,

the pluralism of an international order of autonomous states. He starts, in other words, with a unity of difference in order to attain a difference of unities. Liberal plural-ism, on the other hand, is winnowed, he believes, because it works in the opposite

direction. It too seeks the unity of the difference of associations, but the unity it finds is singular and 'sovereign'. There is no resultant differ-ence of unities, no we pluralism, according to Schmitt, because liberal unity is represented by the ultimate `monism' of 'humanity'. Whereas the sovereignty of the state is local and plural, and therefore gives rise to legiti-mate, political content among sovereign equals, the sovereignty of the ethos of humanity is absolute and incontestable. In the name of individual auton-omy and emancipation, liberal pluralism annihilates the space of the politi-cal. The 'political world is a pluriverse', Schmitt emphasizes, and if a single world state 'embracing all of humanity' were to appear, foreclosing both con-flict and civil war, then what would remain would be 'neither politics nor state' (1976: 53), but rather a violence for worse than the structured conflict of politics. What would remain would be the concept of humanity as an `ideo-logical

instrument of imperialist expansion° (1976: 54). Used politically, in other words, the term 'humanity' takes the form of a particularly brutal weapon. When one works with distinctions such as those between friend and enemy, good and bad, economic partner and competitor, educated and une-ducated, employer and employee, and so on, `humanity' remains an unre-marked and unsurpassable horizon within which such distinctions can be drawn. Indeed, `humanity' as horizon guarantees that both friends and ∂ enemies are human, even the good and the bad, the partner and the com-petitor, the employer and employee .

When, however. the terra is itself manip-ulated as one side of a distinction , when, for instance, bourgeois society is contrasted with a future, 'truly human' society, or the purported character-istics done racial group are stylized as

'ideal types', as it were, then 'human-ity' needs a counterpart — it needs the dehumanized and inhuman enemy, the subhuman. Once it is displaced from its position as the horizon of possi-bility and wielded as a weapon, 'humanity' has to be opposed by its other, and, quite simply, that other cannot be human. As Reinhart Koselleck, building on Schmitt's insights, states: ∂ The dualistic criteria of distribution between Greek and Barbarian, and between Christian and Heathen [two distinctions he examinee), were always related, whether implicitly or explicitly, to Menschheit as a totality. To this extent, Menschheit,genushumonian, was a presupposition of all dualities that organized Menschheir physically, spatially, spiritually, theologically, or tem-porally. It will now appear that Menschhea, up to this point a condition imma-nent in all dualities, assumes a different quality as soon as it enters into argument as a political reference. The atomic funmion of distributional con-cepts alters as soon as a totalizing concept —for this is what is involved with Menschheis — is brought into political language, which, in spite of its totaliz-ing claim, generates polarities. (Koselleek,

1985: 186) And so, as Schmitt had already observed, those who fight in the name of humanity are free to deny 'the enemy the quality of being human and declar-ing him to be an outlaw of humanity; and a war can thereby be driven to the most extreme inhumanity' (Schmitt, 1976: 54).

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at: schmitt’s a naziDoesn’t disprove the legitimacy of Schmitt’s argumentsRasch 2k

(William Rasch is the Henry H. H. Remak Professor of Germanic Studies at Indiana University, “Conflict as a Vocation: Carl Schmitt and the Possibility of Politics,” Theory, Culture, and Society 2000 (Sage, London, Thousand Oaks and New Delhi), Vol. 17(6): 1—32, BC)

That Schmitt's most zealous apologists, on both the right and the left, may fairly be accused of minimizing his most

egregious and shameful fail-ings — e.g. his anti-Semitism and his open attempts to legitimize Hitler's regime in the mid-

1930s — is not to be denied. A certain defensiveness about Schmitt, born of a frustration with inept or deliberate misreadings, can easily

turn into polemical aggression. Nevertheless, as tainted as Schmitt's argu-ments may be, tainted by interest and tainted by affiliation, neither their structure nor continued relevance can be an simply dismissed.

The point, or points, he makes against progressive, universalist doctrines have been made, in various registers,

by conservative and leftist critics alike, most recently by French thinkers like Jean-Frangois Lyotard. Schmitt's quarrel with America's post-1917 role as %Sehiederiehter der Er& (1988a: 196) centera on the presumptuous and deceptive nature inherent in any particu-lar instance that designates itself to be the carrier of the universal principle. In Lyotard's view, the particular application of the universal, the particular enunciation of the rights of man, say, or the universal proletariat, always carries with it the potential for terror. Noting the 'aporia of authorization' in the fact that a particular people — his example: the French in 1789 —assumed the position of declaring a universal right, Lyotard asks:∂ Why would the affirmation of a universal normative instance have universal value if a singular instance makes the declaration?

How can one tell, after-ward, whether the wars conducted by the singular instance in the name of the universal instance are wars of liberation or wars of conquest? (1993: 52) ∂ Schmitt would recognize these as the right questions to ask, would recog-nize them, in fact, as his own questions.I3 They go to the heart of the nature and possibility of conflict (which is to say — of politics), for wars conducted in the name of the universal normative instance are wars fought to end all wars, conflicts conducted in the name of the self-transcendence of all con-flict. But what if, afterwards, we find out that the heaven of consensus and reconciliation turns out to be a realm in which conflict has been outlawed in the name of the good, the efficient, the comfortable? In a world where con-flict has been outlawed, how is opposition to be staged? As uncoerced agree-ment?

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Security Links

America Perceives itself as the sole superpower in the world, is self entitled, and leads to flawed response to 9/11

Lifton 2003 (RJ Lifton is a psychiatrist who graduated from Cornell American Apocalypse “American Apocalypse” | http://www.thenation.com/docprint.mhtml?i=20031222&s=lifton)

The American apocalyptic entity is less familiar to us. Even if its urges to power and domination seem

historically recognizable,  it   nonetheless  represents a new constellation of forces bound up with  what

I’ve come to think of as “ superpower syndrome .” By that term I mean  a national mindset —put forward strongly by a tight-knit leadership group—   that takes on a sense of omnipotence ,  of unique standing in the world that grants it the right to hold sway over all other nations .

The American superpower status derives from our emergence from World War II as uniquely powerful in every respect, still more so as the  only superpower from the end of the cold war in the early 1990s .  More than mere domination, the American superpower now seeks to control history . Such  cosmic ambition is accompanied by an equally vast sense of entitlement—of special dispensation to pursue its aims .  That entitlement stems  partly  from historic claims to special democratic virtue, but has much to do with  an embrace of  technological power translated into military terms . That is, a superpower—the world’s only superpower—is entitled to dominate and control precisely because it is a superpower. The  murderous events of 9/11 hardened that sense of entitlement as nothing else could have. Superpower syndrome did not require 9/11, but the attacks on the twin towers and the Pentagon rendered us an aggrieved superpower, a giant violated and made vulnerable, which no superpower can permit . Indeed, at the core of superpower syndrome   liesa powerful fear of vulnerability .  A superpower’s victimization brings on both a sense of humiliation and an angry determination to restore, or even extend, the boundaries of a superpower-dominated world. Integral to superpower syndrome are its menacing nuclear stockpiles and their world destroying capacity.¶  In important ways, the “war on terrorism” has represented an impulse to undo violently precisely the humiliation of 9/11. To be sure, the acts of that day had a warlike 1 aspect. They were certainly committed by men convinced that they were at war with us. In post-Nuremberg terms they could undoubtedly be

considered a “crime against humanity.” Some kind of force used against their perpetrators was inevitable and appropriate.  The humiliation caused, together with American world ambitions, however, precluded dealing with the attacks as what they were—terrorism by a small group of determined zealots, not war . A more focused, restrained, internationalized response to Al Qaeda could have been far more effective without being a stimulus to expanded terrorism.

Unfortunately,  our response was inseparable from our superpower status  and the syndrome that goes

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with it.  Any nation attacked in that way would have felt itself humiliated. But for the United States, with our national sense of being overwhelmingly powerful and unchallengeable, to have its major institutions violently penetrated created an intolerable breakdown of superpower invulnerability that was never supposed to happen, a contradiction that fed our humiliation . We know from history that collective humiliation can be a goad to various kinds of aggressive behavior—as

has been true of bin Laden and Al Qaeda. It was also true of the Nazis. Nazi doctors told me of indelible scenes, which they either witnessed as young children or were told about by their fathers, of German soldiers returning home defeated after World War I. These beaten men, many of them wounded, engendered feelings of pathos, loss and embarrassment, all amid national misery and threatened revolution. Such scenes, associated with strong feelings of humiliation, were seized upon by the Nazis to the point   where one could say that Hitler rose to power on the promise of avenging them. With both Al Qaeda and the Nazis, humiliation could, through manipulation but also powerful self-conviction, be transformed into exaggerated expressions of

violence.  That psychological transformation of weakness and shame into a collective sense of pride and life-power, as well as power over others, can release enormous amounts of aggressive energy . Such  dangerous potential has been present from the beginning in the American “war” on terrorism

Which leads to infinite war

Lifton 2003 RJ Lifton is a psychiatrist who graduated from Cornell American Apocalypse “American Apocalypse” | http://www.thenation.com/docprint.mhtml?i=20031222&s=lifton

War itself is an absolute, its violence unpredictable and always containing apocalyptic possibilities. In this case, by militarizing the problem of terrorism, our leaders have dangerously obfuscated its political, social and historical dimensions. Terrorism has instead been raised to the absolute level of war itself . And although American leaders speak of this as being a “different kind of war,” there is a drumbeat of ordinary war rhetoric and a clarion call to total victory and to the crushing defeat of our terrorist enemies. When President Bush declared that “this conflict was begun on the timing and terms of others [but] will end in a way, and at an hour, of our choosing,” he was misleading both in suggesting a clear beginning in Al Qaeda’s acts and a decisive end in the “battle” against terrorism. In that same speech, given at a memorial service just three days after / at the National Cathedral in Washington, he also asserted, “Our responsibility to history is already clear: to answer these attacks and rid the world of evil.” Washington Post reporter Bob Woodward, not a man given to irony, commented that “the president was casting his mission and that of the country in the grand vision of God’s master plan.” At no time did Bush see his task as mounting a coordinated international operation against terrorism, for which he could have enlisted most of the governments of the world. Rather, upon hearing of the second plane crashing into the second tower, he remembers thinking: “They had declared war on us, and I made up my mind at that moment that we were going to war.” Upon hearing of the plane crashing into the Pentagon, he told Vice President Cheney, “We’re at war.” Woodward thus calls his account of the President’s first hundred days following / Bush at War. Bush would later recall, “I had to show  the American people the resolve of a commander in chief that was going

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to do whatever it took to win.” With world leaders, he felt he had to “look them in the eye and say, ‘You’re either with us or you’re against us.’ ” Long before the invasion of Iraq—indeed, even before the invasion of Afghanistan—Bush had come to identify himself, and be identified by others, as a “wartime president.”  Warmaking   can quickly become associated with “war fever,” the mobilization of public excitement to the point of a collective experience of transcendence .  War then becomes heroic, even mythic, a task that must be carried out for the defense of one’s nation, to sustain its special historical destiny and the immortality of its people . In this case, the growth of war fever came in several stages: its beginnings, with Bush’s personal declaration of war immediately after September 11; a modest increase, with the successful invasion of Afghanistan; and a wave of ultrapatriotic excesses—triumphalism and labeling of critics as disloyal or treasonous—at the time of the invasion of Iraq. War fever tends always to be sporadic and subject to disillusionment. Its underside is death anxiety, in this case related less to combat than to fears of new terrorist attacks at home or against Americans abroad—and later to growing casualties in occupied Iraq. The scope of George Bush’s war was suggested within days of 9/11 when the director of the CIA made a presentation to the President and his inner circle, called “Worldwide Attack Matrix,” that described active or planned operations of various kinds in eighty countries, or what Woodward calls “a secret global war on terror.” Early on, the President had the view that “this war will be fought on many fronts” and that “we’re going to rout out terror wherever it may exist.”  Although envisaged long before 9/11, the invasion of Iraq could be seen as a direct continuation of this unlimited war ; all the more so because of the prevailing tone among the President and his advisers, who were described as eager “to emerge from the sea of words and pull the trigger.”  The war on terrorism is apocalyptic, then, exactly because it is militarized and yet amorphous, without limits of time or place, and has no clear end. It therefore enters the realm of the infinite . Implied in its approach is that every last terrorist everywhere on the earth is to be hunted down until there are no more terrorists anywhere to threaten us, and in that way the world will be rid of evil. Bush keeps what Woodward calls “his own personal scorecard for the war” in the form of photographs with brief biographies and personality sketches of those judged to be the world’s most dangerous terrorists, each ready to be crossed out if killed or captured. The scorecard is always available in a desk drawer in the Oval Office¶

 

 We must consider The justification before talking about security

WÆver 2011 (Ole WÆver Centre for Advanced Security Theory, Department of Political Science, University of Copenhagen, Denmark "Politics, security, theory." Security Dialogue http://sdi.sagepub.com/content/42/4-5/465.full)

The most elaborate, and probably the most surprising and provocative, discussion of securitization theory’s normative utility is by Rita Floyd (this issue), who seeks to establish a

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standard for the normative rightness of a securitization. It is helpful to articulate possible criteria for contesting or discussing an instance of securitization. As noted above, the theory does not claim that desecuritizationis always best, only that when all the particular features of a given case are stripped away desecuritization is preferable to securitization, and the theory always suggests desecuritization for consideration, so it surely leaves room for the question of when a securitization will be valuable.  Floyd is also correct in guiding our attention back to the ‘threat’ itself, because debate on a particular securitization will always have a particular threat at the   centre. The politics of responsibility outlined above precludes a set-up where what   fulfils   the criteria for an objective security threat is measured scientifically outside politics. Lots of real threats exist, but they do not come with the security label attached. Securitization ultimately means a particular way of handling a particular issue, processing a threat through the security format. Thus, the security quality does not belong to the threat but to its management. To specify a proper procedure for analysis of threat (by abstract observers?) cannot determine the appropriateness of a particular security handling. Yet, a discussion of security is a discussion of a threat, so it makes sense to develop ‘discourse ethics’ criteria of justification for securitization.

Aff links to security by portraying threats

MCDONALD 2008

(MATT undergraduate, Masters and PhD degrees at UQ. He has previously been Lecturer in International Relations at UNSW and the University of Birmingham (UK), Associate Professor in International Security at the University of Warwick (UK), and a Visiting Fellow at ANU“Securitization and the Construction of Security” European journal of international relations )

For the Copenhagen School,  issues become security issues (or more accurately threats) through

language. It is language that positions specific actors or issues as existentially threatening to a

particular political community, thus enabling (or indeed constituting, depending on interpretation)

securitization . Indeed, rather than simply being one ‘site’ of security construction, Wæver (1995) located securitization itself in language theory, and particularly Austin’s articulation of the ‘speech act’. In this framework, language itself becomes security in the sense that particular forms of language — spoken or written in a particular context — constitute security. As Wæver argued (1995: 55), ‘the utterance itself is the act . . . by uttering “security”, a staterepresentative moves a particular development into a specific area, and thereby claims a special right to use whatever means necessary to block it’. This reliance on language as the exclusive form of ‘securitizing move’ is problematic for two reasons. First, language is only one (albeit the most central) means through which meaning is communicated (Möller, 2007: 180). A range of authors in this context have suggested the need to take account of the role of images as potential forms of securitization. Second, an exclusive focus on language is problematic in the sense that it can exclude forms of bureaucratic practices or physical action that do not

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merely follow from securitizing ‘speech acts’ but are part of the process through which meanings of security are communicated and security itself constructed.¶

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Foucault Links

In the same way that God died at the exact time that we thought his omnipresence was the greatest, power has now died; it is now no more than an effect of our desire – we want it to continue to exist, and thus we imagine that it does. A continued discussion of biopower only serves to nostalgically preserve the power-zombie.

Jean Baudrillard 77 (L'Autre par lui-même, or professor at, à Université de Paris-X Nanterre, “Forget Foucault”, ISBN 1-58435-041-5, p 65-67)

WHEN ONE TALKS SO MUCH about power, it's because it can no longer be found anywhere. The same goes for God: the stage in which he was everywhere came just before the one in which he was dead.

Even the death of God no doubt came before the stage in which he was everywhere. The same goes for power, and if one speaks about it so much and so well, that's because it is deceased, a ghost, a puppet; such is also the meaning of Kafka's

words: the Messiah of the day after is only a God resuscitated from among the dead, a zombie. The finesse and the microscopic nature of the analysis are themselves a "nostalgia effect." And so

everywhere we see power coupled with seduction (it's almost obligatory these days) in order to give it a second existence. Power gets its fresh blood from desire. And it's no longer anything more than a sort of "desire effect" at the confines of the social, or a sort of "strategy effect" at the confines of history. It is here also that "the" powers of Foucault come into play: grafted upon the privacy of bodies, the tracing of discourses, the facilitation of gestures, in a more insinuating, more subtle, and more discursive strategy which there too takes away power from history and brings it nearer to seduction. This universal

fascination with power in its exercise and its theory is so intense because it is a fascination with a dead power characterized by a simultaneous "resurrection effect," in an obscene and parodic mode, of all the forms of power already seen-exactly like sex in pornography. The imminence of the death of all the great referents (religious, sexual, political, etc.) is expressed by exacerbating the forms of violence and representation that characterized them. There is no doubt that fascism, for example, is the first obscene and

pornographic form of a desperate "revival" of political power. As the violent reactivation of a form of power that despairs of its rational foundations (the form of representation that was emptied of its meaning during the

course of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries), as the violent reactivation of the social in a society that despairs of its own rational and contractual foundation, fascism is nevertheless the only fascinating modern form of power: it is the only one since Machiavelli to assert itself as such, as a challenge, by trifling with all forms of political "truth" and it is the only one to have taken up the challenge to assume power unto death (whether its own or that of others). Besides, it is because it has taken up the challenge that fascism

has benefited from this strange consent, this absence of resistance to power. Why have all the symbolic resistances failed in the face of fascism-a unique fact in history? No ideological mystification and no sexual repression a la Reich can explain it. Only challenge can arouse such a passion for responding to it, such a frenzied assent to play the game in return, and thus raise every resistance. This, moreover, remains a mystery: why does one respond to a challenge? For what reason does one accept to play better, and feel passionately compelled to answer such an arbitrary injunction? Fascist power is then the only form which was able to reenact the ritual prestige of death, but (and most importantly here) in an already posthumous and phony mode, a mode of one-upmanship

and mise-en-scene, and in an aesthetic mode-as Benjamin clearly saw-that was no longer truly sacrificial. Fascism's politics is an aesthetics of death, one that already has the look of a nostalgia fad; and everything that has had this look since then must be inspired by fascism, understood as an already nostalgic obsceniry and violence, as an already reactionary scenario of power and death which is already

obsolete the very moment it appears in history. Again, an eternal shift in the advent of the Messiah, as Kafka says. An eternal inner simulation of power, which is never already (jamais deja) anything but the sign of what it was. We find the same nostalgia and the same simulation characteristic of nostalgia fads when we look today at

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"micro" fascisms and "micro" powers. The "micro" operator can only downshift from what fascism may have been without resolving it and transform an extremely complex scenario of simulation and death into a simplified "floating signifier," "whose essential function is denunciation" (Foucault). Its function is also

invocation because the memory of fascism (like the memory of power), even in the micro-form, is still the nostalgic invocation of the political, or of a form of truth for the political; and its invocation simultaneously allows us to save the hypothesis of

desire, whose mere paranoiac accident power and fascism can always appear to be. IN ANY CASE, power lures us on and truth lures us on. Everything is in the lightning-quick contraction in which an entire cycle of accumulation, of power, or of truth comes to a close. There is never any inversion or any subversion: the cycle must be accomplished. But it can happen instantaneously. It is death that is at stake in this contraction.

For Foucault, power is a polar and static entity that cannot be fluid. His analysis ignores resistance as a form of resistance, and ignores power’s endpoint – self-cancellation. Foulcauldian genealogies of power only serve to further the power they attempt to fight – they don’t posit reversibility.

Jean Baudrillard 77 (L'Autre par lui-même, or professor at, à Université de Paris-X Nanterre, “Forget Foucault”, ISBN 1-58435-041-5, p 47-50)

This "veering away" in Foucault's writing occurs progressively since Discipline and Punish, going against Madness and Civilization and the whole original ordering of his genealogy. Why wouldn't sex, like madness, have gone through a confinement phase in which the terms of certain forms of reason and a dominant moral system were fomented before sex and madness, according to the logic of exclusion, once more became discourses of reference? Sex once more becomes the catchword of a new moral system; madness becomes the paradoxical form of reason for a society too long haunted by its absence and dedicated this time to its (normalized) cult under the sign of its own liberation. Such is also the trajectory of sex in the curved space of discrimination and repression

where a mise-en-scene is installed as a long-term strategy to produce sex later as a new rule of the game. Repression or the secret is the locus of an imaginary inscription on whose basis madness or sex will subsequently become exchangeable as value.* Everywhere, as Foucault himself has so well demonstrated, discrimination is the violent founding act of Reason-why wouldn't the same hold true of sexual reason? This time we are in a full universe,

a space radiating with power but also cracked, like a shattered windshield still holding together. However, this "power" remains a mystery-starting from despotic centrality, it becomes by the halfWay point a "multiplicity of force relations" (but what is a force relation without a force resultant? It's a bit like Pere Ubu's polyhedra that set off in all directions like

crabs) and it culminates, at the extreme pole, with resistances (what a divine surprise on pp. 95-96!) so small and so tenuous that, literally speaking, atoms of power and atoms of resistance merge at this microscopic level.

The same fragment of gesture, body, gaze, and discourse encloses both the positive electricity of power and the negative electricity of resistance (and we wonder what the origin of that resistance might turn out to be; nothing in the book prepares us for it except the allusion to some inextricable "force relations." But since we may ask ourselves exactly the same question concerning power, a balance is achieved in a discourse which in essence staunchly describes the only true spiral, that of its own power). This is not an objection. It is a good thing that terms lose their meaning at the limits of the text (they don't do it enough).** Foucault

makes the term sex and its true principle ("the fictive point of sex") lose their meaning; the analytics of power is not pushed to its conclusion at the point where power cancels itself out or where it has never been. As economic reference

loses its strength, either the reference of desire or that of power becomes preponderant. The reference of desire,

born in psychoanalysis, comes to maturity in Deleuzian anti-psychoanalysis under the form of a shattered molecular desire. The reference of power, which has a long history, is discussed again today by Foucault at the level of dispersed, interstitial power as a grid of bodies and of the ramiform pattern of controls. Foucault at least economizes desire, as well as history (but being very prudent, he does not deny them), yet everything still comes back to some kind of

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power-without having that notion reduced and expurgated-just as with Deleuze everything comes back to some kind of

desire, or with Lyorard to some kind of intensity: these are shattered notions, yet they remain miraculously intact in their current

acceptance. Desire and intensity remain force/notions; with Foucault power remains, despite being pulverized, a structural and a polar notion with a perfect genealogy and an inexplicable presence, a notion which cannot be

surpassed in spite of a sort of latent denunciation, a notion which is whole in each of its points or microscopic dots. It is hard to see how it could be reversed (we find the same aporia in Deleuze, where desire's reversion into its own repression is

inexplicable). Power no longer has a coup de force-there is simply nothing else either on this side of it or beyond it (the passage from the "molar" or the "molecular" is for Deleuze still a revolution of desire, but for Foucault it is an anamorphosis

of power). Only now Foucault does not see that power is dying (even infinitesimal power), that it is not just pulverized by pulverulent, that it is undermined by a reversal and tormented by a reversibility and a death which cannot appear in the genealogical process alone.

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Alt Solves Foucault Claims of war and biopolitics can be better understood under Nietzsche’s philosophy.Reid 2013 (Julian Reid, Professor of international relations at University of Lapland, 2013, “Foucault, Biopolitics, and Govermentatlity” edited by Jakob Nisslon, P 91)

“Who knows how to live well if he does not first know a good deal about¶ war and victory?”1¶ However complex the genealogy of the claim that war is the constitutive capacity for life is found to be within the counter-strategic tradition of modern political and philosophical thought (and it is deeply¶ so), it is arguably to Nietzsche that we owe most for that understanding.2¶ War was, for Nietzsche, not simply a primeval condition from which life¶ must remove itself in order to secure the means for its peaceful flourishing,¶ nor that instrument of the state which must merely be better deployed¶ against other states, in order to secure the conditions for peace and security¶ among its society, nor, for that matter, merely a mechanism by which the¶ state secures itself from the disorder of the life it seeks to govern, but, rather, that which is ontologically fundamental for that life, and which, in being so,¶ is formative of the conditions by which we might otherwise learn how to¶ “live well” in struggle with powers seeking to stifle life of its capacities for¶ such a knowledge. War is a fundamental capacity of life and in being so, is one which, once removed, leaves life in a condition of loss unto itself, and¶ where it can encounter only the conditions for its own decadence. Thus is it that biopolitical modernity—in so far as it has been framed as a project dedicated to freeing life from war—has developed in violation of the constitutive conditions for a life lived well.3¶ Construed, albeit in complexly¶ different ways, as a project for the bringing of the war which informs life of¶ all that which determines its wellness to an end—by declaring it over on¶ account of having established the truth of life’s desire and fitness for¶ peace—biopolitical modernity could proceed only on the basis of the most¶ reactionary form of violence to life. Indeed such is the grand error of the account of life on which biopolitical modernity, in its many different¶ negational forms, has been based. For what is life, ultimately, without that¶ capacity for a destructive shedding of those elements to be found within it,¶ which do not strengthen but only serve to threaten it, limiting it, snuffing it¶ of all that is most instinctive of it?¶ The violence done unto life—a violence on which biopolitical modernity has thrived—remains worthy of further exploration and critique. But these¶ days we invoke the problematic of biopolitics in terms that are increasingly¶ differentiated. Indeed we speak not just of biopolitics in the pejorative sense, through which we refer to the error of a violence that has been done¶ to life on account of an erroneous understanding of what life is. But instead, and in the context of diagnosing the nature of that condition, we seek, now,¶ an affirmative idiom of thought and expression for a politics that will¶ constitute a different account of the necessary conditions for a life that¶ might be lived well. One which, in its aspirations to make life live well, is capable of shedding its relations of subjection to regimes that would remove it of its capacity for war. Every regime of power entails its own particular¶ account of who it is permitted to kill and how. An affirmative biopolitics is¶ no different. It must also entail an account of how and what it needs to kill¶ in order to make life live well. And so is it that in diagnosing the grand error¶ on which biopolitical modernity has proceeded, which is to say the error¶ through which we came to think that life could be lived well in simplistic¶ accordance with a knowledge as to the truth of its will to peace, and in belief¶ in the possibility of a renewed politics for the affirmation of life, so might we seek a restitution of an understanding of war as that which is the constitutive capacity for a life lived well. And so is it too that we might still want to read and return to Nietzsche for inspiration.

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Understanding biopolitics is only useful when we first use Nietzsche’s understanding of human errors and war. Reid 2013 (Julian Reid, Professor of international relations at University of Lapland, 2013, “Foucault, Biopolitics, and Govermentatlity” edited by Jakob Nisslon, P 95)

Contrary to both Esposito and Foucault, error has to be thought not as a capability of life, or that which at its most basic life is, or what the human as¶ a living entity is destined to produce or live in dedication to. It is not of the power of a subject dedicated to “living well” either to produce the error or to correct its relation with error by declaring its capacity to make error what¶ is most true for it and thus absorb the practice of errancy within its own¶ account of what a normal body can do. In order to affirm itself as other than error, the life that errs must be capable of condemning the body normal¶ which not only has the power to determine it as error, but which, in¶ attempting to redress that enunciative practice of naming the error, seeks to¶ normalize it. The question of how to live in dedication to error is from the¶

perspective of the life that errs a false problem. The problem is how to affirm itself without relation to the body in such a way that would claim it as that which it is dedicated to making live. Its self-affirmation depends not¶ on the renunciation of error, nor simply the ability to think the production¶ of error as its highest power, but to condemn as erroneous, the body which¶ named it, and which in naming it, now claims possession of it, as the error¶ which can be normalized. The body normal seeks to make a truth out of its error by naming it that which is most normal of and for it. But, for the life which is named as errant, true freedom lies in the ability not to be renamed as normal but to reconstitute the question of where errancy lies. The¶ reconstitution of the question of “who has erred?” in determining one’s life¶ as errant, a deviancy from the normal, and thus subject to the renormalizing¶ power of the body normal. The exercise of this expressly political power, a¶ power which can only be exercised from the position of the errant subject,¶ entails a will to see disappear the false problem of how to live in dedication to error, of how to destroy the power which thinks life in terms of errancy.¶ How to condemn the false problem on account of which its life was named¶ as erroneous with a view to destroying the enunciator of that problem so¶ that it might realize its difference in kind from the body which once named¶ it and now seeks to absorb it.¶ Only by reconciling and reaffirming these relations between error and war can we talk of the possibility of an “affirmative biopolitics.” One that does not attempt to overcome Nietzsche’s conceptualization of war as constitutive capacity for life by simply affirming error in its place. Such a¶

blithe dedication to error is not an affirmation of life at all, but only of the¶ subject’s failure for life. An affirmation of the body which conceals that which actually lives within it. The skin which conceals its flesh. The truths¶ which live in expense of its life. What lives in the subject is not just that¶ element of itself which reconciles with the errors it makes, or conceives the¶ ability to make errors as that which is most normal for it, but that power to¶ conceive life as that which in being named the error emerges in destruction¶ of the norm, and that which in condemning the norm, legitimates its¶ destruction, willfully shedding it, in full exposure of itself. An affirmative biopolitics requires the conjugation of each of these terms and their correlate practices: life, error, and war. Overcoming the errors of the ways in which life has been conceived and practiced in an era of biopolitical dedication to the defense and promotion of life requires not dedicating ourselves to thinking life as capacity for error, but to thinking war as that capacity¶ without which the erroneous cannot survive and prosper. Thus does it continue to be of necessity that we think biopolitics both affirmatively and polemologically. And so is it that Nietzsche remains an inspiration.

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Nietzsche’s thoughts on power and war predicate Foucault’s (this card contradicts the Reid card)

Esposito 2008 (Roberto Esposito, Italian philosopher specializing in biopolitics, 2008, Bios: Biopolitics and Philosophy, http://www.after1968.org/app/webroot/uploads/esposito-biopot.pdf)

From these initial considerations it is already clear that Nietzsche, without formulating the term, anticipated the entire biopolitical course that Foucault then defined and developed: from the centrality of the body as the genesis and termination of sociopolitical dynamics, to the founding role of struggle and also of war, to the configuration of juridical-institutional’ '¶ orders. to finally the function of resistance as the necessary counterpoint to¶ the deployment of power. One can say that all the Foucauldian categories are present in a nutshell in Nietzsche's conceptual language: “War is another matter"— so Nietzsche notes in the text that functions as the definitive¶ balance sheet of his entire work. “Being able to be an enemy, being an enemy—perhaps that presupposes a strong nature; in any case, it belongs to every strong nature. It needs objects of resistance; hence it looks for what resists: the aggressive pathos belongs just as necessary to strength vengefulness and rancor belong to weakness.” Nevertheless this passage already leads to an analytic landscape not limited to foreshadowing the Foucauldian theorization of biopolitics which in some ways also moves beyond it, or better, enriches it with a conceptual structure that contributes to un -tangling the underlying antimony to which I referred in the opening chapter: to that immunitary paradigm that represents the peculiar figure of¶ Nietzschean bio politics. According to Nietzsche, reality is constituted by a complex of forces counterposed in a conflict that never ends conclusively because those who lose always maintain a potential of energy, which is able not only to limit the power of those who dominate, but at times to reverse the predominance in their own favor.

Only Nietzsche’s formulation of biopolitics avoids the ineffectiveness of previous methods. Esposito 2008 (Roberto Esposito, Italian philosopher specializing in biopolitics, 2008, Bios: Biopolitics and Philosophy, http://www.after1968.org/app/webroot/uploads/esposito-biopot.pdf )

From these first annotations the thread that links them to the proposed hermeneutic activated a century afterwards by Foucault is already clear. If an individual subject of desire and knowledge is withdrawn from and antecedent to the forms of power that structure it: if what we call peace is nothing but the rhetorical representation of relation of force that emerge¶ out of continuous conflict; if rules and laws are nothing other than rituals destined to sanction the domination of one over another - aIl the instruments laid out by modern political philosophy are destined to reveal themselves as simultaneously false and ineffective. False, or purely apologetic because they are incapable of restoring the effective dynamics in operation behind their surface figures. Ineffective because, as we saw in the preceding chapter, they bump more and more violently against their own internal contradictions until they break apart. What breaks apart, precisely, more than the single categorical seams is the logic itself of the mediation on which they depend, no longer able to hold or to strengthen a content that is in itself elusive of any formal control. What that content might be for Nietzsche is well known: it concerns the bios that gives it the intensely biopolitical connotation in Nietzsche’s discussion, to which I’ve already

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referred. All of Nietzschean criticism has accented the vital element - life as the only possible representation of being. Nevertheless, what has a clear ontological relevance is always interpreted politically; not in the sense of any form that is superimposed from the outside onto the material of life— it is precisely this demand, experienced in all its possible combinations by modern political philosophy, which has been shown to be lacking in foundation. But, as the constitutive character of life itself, life is always already political, if by "political" one intends not what modernity wants - which is to say a neutralizing mediation of immunitary nature— but rather an originary modality in which the living is or in which being lives. Far from all the contemporary philosophies of life to which his position is from time to time compared, this is the manner in which Nietzsche thinks the political dimension of bios: not as character, law, or destination of something that lives previously, but as the power that informs life from the beginning to all its extension, constitution, and intensity. That life as well as the will to power according to the well-known Nietzschean formulation doesn’t mean that life desires power nor that power captures, directs, or develops a purely biological life. On the contrary, they signify that life does not know modes of being apart from those of its continual strengthening.

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Oppression Link Demanding social justice for historical injustice codifies resentment and locks subordinated groups in their subordination.

Brown, Professor of Women’s Studies @ UC Santa Cruz, 1995 [Wendy, States of Injury: Power and Freedom in Late Modernity pg. 66-70]

Liberalism contains from its inception a generalized incitement to what Nietzsche terms ressentiment, the moralizing revenge of the powerless,"the triumph of the weak as weak. "22 This incitement to ressentitnent inheres in two related constitutive paradoxes of liberalism: that between individual liberty and social egalitarianism, a paradox which produces failure turned to recrimination by the subordinated, and guilt turned to resentment by the "successful"; and that between the individualism that legitimates liberalism and the cultural homogeneity required by its commitment to political universality, a paradox which stimulates the articulation of politically significant differences on the one hand, and the suppression of them on the other, and which offers a form of articulation that presses against the limits of universalist discourse even while that which is being articulated seeks to be harbored withinincluded inthe terms of that universalism. Premising itself on the natural equality of human beings, liberalism makes a political promise of universal individual freedom in order to arrive at social equality, or achieve a civilized retrieval of the equality postulated in the state of nature. It is the tension between the promises of individualistic liberty and the requisites of equality that yields ressentiment in one of two directions, depending on the way in which the paradox is brokered. A strong commitment to freedom vitiates the fulfillment of the equality promise and breeds ressentiment as welfare state liberalism --- attenuations of the unmitigated license of the rich and powerful on behalf of the "disadvantaged." Conversely, a strong commitment to equality, requiring heavy state interventionism and economic redistribution, attenuates the commitment to freedom and breeds ressentiment expressed as neoconservative antistatism, racism, charges of reverse racism, and so forth. However, it is not only the tension between freedom and equality but the prior presumption of the self-reliant and self-made capacities of liberal subjects, conjoined with their unavowed dependence on and construction by a variety of social relations and forces, that makes all liberal subjects, and not only markedly disenfranchised ones, vulnerable to ressentiment: it is their situatedness within power, their production by power, and liberal discourse's denial of this situatedness and production that cast the liberal subject into failure, the failure to make itself in the context of a discourse in which its selfmaking is assumed, indeed, is its assumed nature. This failure, which Nietzsche calls suffering, must either find a reason within itself (which redoubles the failure) or a site of external blame upon which to avenge its hurt and redistribute its pain. Here is Nietzsche's account of this moment in the production of ressentiment: For every sufferer instinctively seeks a cause for his suffering, more exactly, an agent; still more specifically, a guilty agent who is susceptible to suffering in short, some living thing upon which he can, on some pretext or other, vent his affects, actually or in effigy . . . . This ... constitutes the actual physiological cause of ressentiment, vengefulness, and the like: a desire to deaden pain by means of affects, . . . to deaden, by means of a more violent emotion of any kind, a tormenting, secret pain that is becoming unendurable, and to drive it out of consciousness at least for the moment: for that one requires an affect, as savage an affect as possible, and, in order to excite that, any pretext at all.

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Ressentiment in this context is a triple achievement: it produces an affect (rage, righteousness) that overwhelms the hurt; it produces a culprit responsible for the hurt; and it produces a site of revenge to displace the hurt (a place to inflict hurt as the sufferer has been hurt). Together these operations both ameliorate (in Nietzsche's term, "anaesthetize") and externalize what is otherwise "unendurable." In a culture already streaked with the pathos of ressentiment for the reasons just discussed, there are several distinctive characteristics of late modern postindustrial societies that accelerate and expand the conditions of its production. My listing will necessarily be highly schematic: First, the phenomenon William Connolly names "increased global contingency", combines with the expanding pervasiveness and complexity of domination by capital and bureaucratic state and social networks to create an unparalleled individual powerlessness over the fate and direction of one's own life, intensifying the experiences of impotence, dependence, and gratitude inherent in liberal capitalist orders and constitutive of ressentiment.24 Second, the steady desacralization of all regions of life -- what Weber called disenchantment, what Nietzsche called the death of god would seem to add yet another reversal to Nietzsche's genealogy of ressenti;nent as perpetually available to "alternation of direction." In Nietzsche's account, the ascetic priest deployed notions of "guilt, sin, sinfulness, depravity, damnation" to "direct the ressentiment of the less severely afflicted sternly back upon themselves . . . and in this way exploit[ed] the bad instincts of all sufferers for the purpose of selfdiscipline, selfsurveillance, and selfovercoming. "25 However, the desacralizing tendencies of late modernity undermine the efficacy of this deployment and turn suffering's need for exculpation back toward a site of external agency.26 Third, the increased fragmentation, if not disintegration, of all forms of association not organized until recently by the commodities marketcommunities, churches, familiesand the ubiquitousness of the classificatory, individuating schemes of disciplinary society, combine to produce an utterly unrelieved individual, one without insulation from the inevitable failure entailed in liberalism's individualistic construction27 In short, the characteristics of late modern secular society, in which individuals are buffeted and controlled by global configurations of disciplinary and capitalist power of extraordinary proportions, and are at the same time nakedly individuated, stripped of reprieve from relentless exposure and accountability for themselves, together add up to an incitement to ressentiment that might have stunned even the finest philosopher of its occasions and logics Starkly accountable yet dramatically impotent, the late modern liberal subject quite literally seethes with ressentiment. Enter politicized identity, now conceivable in part as both product of and reaction to this condition, where "reaction" acquires the meaning Nietzsche ascribed to it: namely, an effect of domination that reiterates impotence, a substitute for action, for power, for selfaffirmation that reinscribes incapacity, powerlessness, and rejection. For Nietzsche, ressentiment itself is rooted in reaction -- the substitution of reasons, norms, and ethics for deeds -- and he suggests that not only moral systems but identities themselves take their bearings in this reaction. As Tracy Strong reads this element of Nietzsche's thought: Identity ... does not consist of an active component, but is reaction to something outside; action in itself; with its inevitable self-assertive qualities, must then become something evil, since it is identified with that against which one is reacting. The will to power of slave morality must constantly reassert that which gives definition to the slave: the pain he suffers by being in the world. Hence any attempt to escape that pain will merely result in the reaffirmation of painful structures. If the "cause" of ressentitnent is suffering, its "creative deed" is the reworking of this pain into a negative form of action, the "imaginary revenge" of what Nietzsche terms "natures denied the true reaction, that of deeds."29 This revenge is achieved through the imposition of

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suffering "on whatever does not feel wrath and displeasure as he does”30 (accomplished especially through the production of guilt), through the establishment of suffering as the measure of social virtue, and through casting strength and good fortune ("privilege," as we say today) as self-recriminating, as its own indictment in a culture of suffering: "it is disgraceful to be fortunate, there is too much misery.”31 But in its attempt to displace its suffering, identity structured by ressentiment at the same time becomes invested in its own subjection. This investment lies not only in its discovery of a site of blame for its hurt will, not only in its acquisition of recognition through its history of subjection (a recognition predicated on injury, now righteously revalued), but also in the satisfactions of revenge, which ceaselessly reenact even as they redistribute the injuries of marginalization and subordination in a liberal discursive order that alternately denies the very possibility of these things and blames those who experience them for their own condition. Identity politics structured by ressentiment reverse without subverting this blaming structure: they do not subject to critique the sovereign subject of accountability that liberal individualism presupposes, nor the economy of inclusion and exclusion that liberal universalism establishes. Thus, politicized identity that presents itself as a selfaffirmation now appears as the opposite, as predicated on and requiring its sustained rejection by a "hostile external world."32

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Nuclear War LinksNuclear war has no precedent- just talking about it doesn't make it existDerrida 84 (Jacques Derrida, Professor of the Humanities at the University of California, Irvine; Catherine Porter; Philip Lewis. “No Apocalypse, Not Now (Full Speed Ahead, Seven Missiles, Seven Missives)” Diacritics, Vol. 14, No. 2, Nuclear Criticism. (Summer, 1984), pp. 20-31., published by The Johns Hopkins University Press BFH)In our techno-scientifico-militaro-diplomatic incompetence, we may consider ourselves, however, as competent as others to deal with a phenomenon whose essential feature is that of being fabulously textual, through and through. Nuclear weaponry depends, more than any weaponry in the past, it seems, upon structures of information and communication, structures of language, including non-vocalizable language, structures of codes and graphic decoding. But the phenomenon is fabulously textual also to the extent that, for the moment, a nuclear war has not taken place: one can only talk and write about it. You will say, perhaps: but it is not the first time; the other wars, too, so long as they hadn't taken place, were only talked about and written about. And as to the frightof imaginary anticipation, what might prove that a European in the period following the war of 1870 might not have been more terrified by the "technological" image of the bombings and exterminations of the Second World War (even supposing he had been able to form such an image) than we are by the image we can construct for ourselves of a nuclear war? The logic of this argument is not devoid of value, especially if one is thinking about a limited and "clean" nuclear war. Butitlosesitsvalueinthefaceofthe hypothesisofatotalnuclearwar,which, as a hypothesis, or, if you prefer, as a fantasy, or phantasm, conditions every discourse and all strategies. Unlike the other wars, which have all been preceded by wars of more or less the same type in human memory (and gunpowder did not mark a radical break in this respect), nuclear war has no precedent. It has never occurred, itself; it is a non-event. The explosion of American bombs in 1945 ended a "classical," conventional war; it did not set off a nuclear war. The terrifyingrealityof the nuclear conflict can only be the signified referent, never the real referent (present or past) of a discourse or a text. At least today apparently. And that sets us to thinking about today, our day, the presence of this present in and through that fabulous textuality. Betterthan ever and more than ever. The growing multiplication of the discourse- indeed, of the literature-on this subject may constitute a process of fearful domestication, the anticipatory assimilation of that unanticipatable entirely-other. Forthe moment, today, one may say that a non-localizable nuclear war has not occurred; it has exis- tence only through what is said of it, only where it is talked about. Some might call it a fable, then, a pure invention: in the sense in which it is said that a myth, an image, a fiction, a utopia, a rhetorical figure, a fantasy, a phantasm, are inventions. It may also be called a¶ speculation, even a fabulous specularization. The breakingof the mirror would be, finally, through an act of language, the very occurrence of nuclear war. Who can swear that our unconscious is not expecting this?dreaming of it, desiring it?You will perhaps find it shock- ing to find the nuclear issue reduced to a fable. But then I haven't said simply that. I have recalled that a nuclear war is for the time being a fable, that is, something one can only talk about. Butwho can fail to recognize the massive "reality"of nuclear weaponry and of the terrifying forces of destruction that are being stockpiled and capitalized everywhere, that are coming to constitute the very movement of capitalization. One has to distinguish between this "reality"of the nuclear age and the fiction of war. But, and this would perhaps be the imperative of a nuclear criticism, one must also becareful to interpret critically this critical or diacritical distinction. For the "reality" of the nuclear age and the fable of nuclear war are perhaps distinct, but they are not two separate things. It is the war (in other words the fable) that triggers this fabulous war effort, this senseless capitalization of sophisticated weaponry, this speed race in search of speed, this crazy precipitation which, through techno-science, through all

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the techno-scientific inventiveness that it motivates, structures not only the army, diplomacy, politics, but the whole of the human socius today, everything that is named by the old words culture, civilization, Bildung, schol, paideia. "Reality,"let's say the encompassing institution of the nuclear age, is constructed by the fable, on the basis of an event that has never happened (except in fantasy, and that is not nothing at all),* an event of which one can only speak, an event whose advent remains an invention by men (in all the senses of the word "invention") or which, rather, remains to be invented. An invention because it depends upon new technical mechanisms, to be sure, but an invention also because it does not exist and especially because, at whatever point it should come into existence, it would be a grand premiere appearance.¶

Militaristic discourse limits the possibilities for confronting the absolute unpredictability of nuclear conflict Derrida 84 (Jacques Derrida, Professor of the Humanities at the University of California, Irvine; Catherine Porter; Philip Lewis. “No Apocalypse, Not Now (Full Speed Ahead, Seven Missiles, Seven Missives)” Diacritics, Vol. 14, No. 2, Nuclear Criticism. (Summer, 1984), pp. 20-31., published by The Johns Hopkins University Press BFH)

Third reason. In our techno-scientifico-militaro-diplomatic incompetence, we may consider ¶ ourselves , however, as competent as others to deal with a phenomenon whose essential ¶ feature is that of being fabulously textual, through and through. Nuclear weaponry¶ depends, more than any weaponry in the past, it seems, upon structures of information and¶ communication, structures of language, including non-vocalizable language, structures of¶ codes and graphic decoding. But the phenomenon is fabulously textual also to the extent¶ that, for the moment, a nuclear war has not taken place: one can only talk and write about it.¶ You will say, perhaps: but it is not the first time; the other wars, too, so long as they hadn't¶ taken place, were only talked about and written about.

And as to the fright of imaginary ¶ anticipation, what might prove that a European in the period following the war of 1870 might ¶ not have been more terrified by the "technological" image of the bombings and exterminations ¶ of the Second World War (even supposing he had been able to form such an image)¶ than we are by the image we can construct for ourselves of a nuclear war? The logic of this¶ argument is not devoid of value, especially if one

is thinking about a limited and "clean"¶ nuclear war. But it loses its value in the face of the hypothesis of a total nuclear war, which, ¶ as a hypothesis , or, if you prefer, as a fantasy, or phantasm, conditions every discourse and¶ all strategies. Unlike the other wars, which have all been preceded by wars of more or less¶ the same type in human memory (and gunpowder did not mark a radical break in this¶ respect), nuclear war has no precedent. It has never occurred, itself; it is a non-event. The¶ explosion of American bombs in 1945 ended a "classical," conventional war; it did not set off¶ a nuclear war. The terrifying reality of the nuclear conflict can only be the signified referent,¶ never the real referent (present or past) of a discourse or a text. At least today apparently.¶ And that sets us to thinking about today, our day, the presence of this present in and through¶ that fabulous textuality. Better than ever and more than ever. The growing multiplication of¶ the discourse- indeed, of the literature-on this subject may constitute a process of fearful¶ domestication, the anticipatory assimilation of that unanticipatable entirely-other. For the¶ moment, today, one may say that a non-localizable nuclear war has not occurred; it has existence¶ only through what is said of it, only where it is talked about. Some might call it a fable,¶ then, a pure invention: in the sense in which it is said that a myth, an image, a fiction, a¶ utopia, a rhetorical figure, a fantasy, a phantasm, are inventions. It may also be called a¶ speculation, even a fabulous specularization. The breaking of the mirror would be, finally,¶ through an act of language, the very occurrence of nuclear war. Who can swear that our¶ unconscious is not expecting this? dreaming of it, desiring it? You will perhaps find it shocking¶ to find the nuclear issue reduced to a fable. But then I haven't said simply that. I have¶ recalled that a nuclear war is for the time being a fable, that is,

something one can only talk¶ about. But who can fail to recognize the massive "reality" of nuclear weaponry and of the terrifying ¶ forces of destruction that are being stockpiled and capitalized everywhere, that are ¶ coming to constitute the very movement of capitalization. One has to distinguish between¶ this "reality" of the nuclear age and the fiction of war. But, and this would perhaps be the¶ imperative of a nuclear criticism, one must also be careful to interpret critically

this critical or¶ diacritical distinction. For the "reality" of the nuclear age and the fable of nuclear war are ¶ perhaps distinct, but they are not two separate things. It is the war (in other words the fable)¶ that triggers this fabulous war effort, this senseless capitalization of sophisticated weaponry,¶ this speed race in search of speed, this crazy precipitation which, through techno-science,¶ through all the techno-scientific inventiveness that it motivates, structures not only the army,¶ diplomacy, politics, but the whole of the human socius today, everything that is named by¶ the old words culture, civilization, Bildung, schol, paideia. "Reality," let's say the encompassing¶ institution of the nuclear age, is constructed by the fable, on the basis of an event that¶ has never happened (except in fantasy, and that is not nothing at all),* an event of which one¶ can only speak, an event whose advent remains an invention by men (in all the senses of the¶ word

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"invention") or which, rather, remains to be invented. An invention because it depends ¶ upon new technical mechanisms, to be sure, but an invention also because it does not exist ¶ and especially because, at whatever point it should come into existence, it would be a grand ¶ premiere appearance. ¶ Fourth reason. Since we are speaking of fables, of language, of fiction and fantasy,¶ writing and rhetoric, let us go even further. Nuclear war does not depend on language just¶ because we can do nothing but speak of it - and then as something that has never occurred.¶ It does not depend on language just because the "incompetents" on all sides can speak of it¶ only in the mode of gossip or of doxa (opinion)- and the dividing line between doxa and¶ epistemb starts to blur as soon as there is no longer any such thing as an absolutely¶ legitimizable competence for a phenomenon which is no longer strictly techno-scientific but¶ techno-militaro-politico-diplomatic through and through, and which brings into play the¶ doxa or incompetence even in its calculations. There is nothing but doxa, opinion, "belief."¶ One can no longer oppose belief and science, doxa and episteme, once one has reached the¶ decisive place of the nuclear age, in other words, once one has arrived at the critical place of¶ the nuclear age. In this critical place, there is no more room for a distinction between belief¶ and science, thus no more space for a "nuclear criticism" strictly speaking. Nor even for a¶ truth in that sense. No truth, no apocalypse. (As you know. Apocalypse means Revelation, of¶ Truth, Un-

veiling.) No, nuclear war is not only fabulous because one can only talk about it, ¶ but because the extraordinary sophistication of its technologies-which are also the ¶ technologies of delivery, sending, dispatching, of the missile in general, of mission, missive, ¶ emission, and transmission, like all techne-the extraordinary sophistication of these ¶ technologies coexists, cooperates in an essential way with sophistry, psycho-rhetoric, and ¶ the most cursory, the most archaic, the most crudely opinionated psychagogy, the most ¶ vulgar psychology.

Fear of calculated nuclear threats makes us live in fear of this threat- distracting us from the fact that extinction is still inevitableDerrida 84 (Jacques Derrida, Professor of the Humanities at the University of California, Irvine; Catherine Porter; Philip Lewis. “No Apocalypse, Not Now (Full Speed Ahead, Seven Missiles, Seven Missives)” Diacritics, Vol. 14, No. 2, Nuclear Criticism. (Summer, 1984), pp. 20-31., published by The Johns Hopkins University Press BFH)Reason number one. Let us consider the form of the question itself is the war of (over, for) speed (with all that it entails) an irreducibly new phenomenon, an invention linked to a set of inventions of the so-called nuclear age, or is it rather the brutal acceleration of a movement that has always already been at work? This form of the question perhaps constitutes the most indispensable formal matrix, the keystone or, if you will, the nuclear question, for any problematics of the "nuclear criticism" type, in all its aspects. Naturally, I don't have time to demonstrate this. I am offering it, therefore, as a hasty conclusion, a precipitous assertion, a belief, an opinion-based argument, a doctrine or a dogmatic weapon. But I was determined to begin with it. I wanted to begin as quickly as possible with a warning in the form of a dissuasion: watch out, don't   go   too fast. There is  perhaps no   invention , no radically new predicate in the situation known   as "the nuclear age."  Of all the dimensions of such an "age” we may always say one thing: it is neither the first time nor the last. The historian's critical vigilance can always help us verify that repetitiveness; and that historian's patience, that lucidity of memory must always shed their light on"nuclear criticism," must oblige it to decelerate, dissuade it from rushing to a conclusion on the subject of speed itself. But this dissuasion and deceleration I am urging carry their own risks: the critical zeal that leads   us   to recognize precedents, continuities, and repetitions at every   turn   can make us look like suicidal sleepwalkers, blind and deaf alongside the unheard-of; it could make us stand blind and deaf alongside that which cuts through the assimilating resemblance of discourses   (for example of the apocalyptic or bimillenarist type), through the analogy of techno-military situations, strategic arrangements, with all their wagers,   their last resort calculations,   on   the "brink," their   use   of chance and risk factors , their mimetic resource to upping the ante, and so on- blind and deaf, then, alongside what would be absolutely unique; and it, this critical zeal, would seek in the stockpile of history (in short, in history itself, which in this case would have this blinding search as its function) the wherewithal to neutralize invention, to translate the unknown into a known, to metaphorize, allegorize, domesticate the terror, to circumvent (with the help of circumlocutions: turns of phrase, tropes and strophes) the inescapable catastrophe, the undeviating precipitation toward a remainderless cataclysm. The critical slowdown may thus be as critical as the critical acceleration. One may still die after having spent one's life

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recognizing, as a lucid historian, to what extent all that was not new, telling oneself that the inventors of the nuclear age or of nuclear criticism did not invent the wheel, or, as we say in French, "invent gunpowder." That's the way one always dies, moreover, and the death of what is   still   now and then called humanity might well not escape the rule.

Nuclear war extinction scenarios justify military expansion and preemptive strikes to prevent these scenarios from happeningDerrida 84 (Jacques Derrida, Professor of the Humanities at the University of California, Irvine; Catherine Porter; Philip Lewis. “No Apocalypse, Not Now (Full Speed Ahead, Seven Missiles, Seven Missives)” Diacritics, Vol. 14, No. 2, Nuclear Criticism. (Summer, 1984), pp. 20-31., published by The Johns Hopkins University Press BFH)We are speaking of stakes that are apparently limitless for what is still now¶ and then called humanity. People find it easy to say that in nuclear war ¶ "humanity" runs the risk of its self- destruction, with nothing left over, no¶ remainder. There is a lot that could be said about that rumor. But whatever¶ credence we give it, we have to recognize that these stakes appear in the experience ¶ of a race, or more precisely of a competition, a rivalry between two rates ¶ of speed. It's what we call in French a course de vitesse, a speed race. Whether it¶ is the arms race or orders given to start a war that is itself dominated by that¶ economy of speed throughout all the zones of its technology, a gap of a few¶ seconds may decide, irreversibly, the fate of what is still now and then called¶ humanity- plus the fate of a few other species. As no doubt we all know, no¶ single instant, no atom of our life (of our relation to the world and to being) is¶ not marked today, directly or indirectly, by that speed race. And by the whole¶ strategic debate about "no use," "no first use," or "first use" of nuclear weaponry.¶ Is this new? Is it the first time "in history"? Is it an invention, and can we still say¶ "in history" in order to speak about it? The most classical wars were also speed¶ races, in their preparation and in the actual pursuit of the hostilities. Are we¶ having, today, another, a different experience of speed? Is our relation to time¶ and to motion qualitatively different? Or must we speak prudently of an extraordinary-¶ although qualitatively homogeneous - acceleration of the same experience?¶ And what temporality do we have in mind when we put the question that¶ way? Can we take the question seriously without re-elaborating all the problematics¶ of time and motion, from Aristotle to Heidegger by way of Augustine,¶ Kant, Husserl, Einstein, Bergson, and so on? So my first formulation of the question¶ of speed was simplistic. It opposed quantity and quality as if a quantitative¶ transformation-the crossing of certain thresholds of acceleration within the¶ general machinery of a culture, with all its techniques for handling, recording,¶ and storing information-could not induce qualitative mutations, as if every¶ invention were not the invention of a process of acceleration or, at the very¶ least, a new experience of speed. Or as if the concept of speed, linked to some¶ quantification of objective velocity, remained within a homogeneous relation to¶ every experience of time-for the human subject or for a mode of temporalization¶ that the human subject-as such-would have himself covered up.¶ Why have I slowed down my introduction this way by dragging in such a¶ naive question? No doubt for several reasons¶ .... Reason number one. Let us consider the form of the question itself: is the¶ war of (over, for) speed (with all that it entails) an irreducibly new phenomenon,¶ an invention linked to a set of inventions of the so-called nuclear age, or is it¶ rather the brutal acceleration of a movement that has always already been at work? This¶ form of the question perhaps constitutes the most indispensable formal matrix, the keystone¶ or, if you will, the nuclear question, for any problematics of the "nuclear criticism" type, in all¶ its aspects.¶ Naturally, I don't have time to demonstrate this. I am offering it, therefore, as a hasty¶ conclusion, a precipitous assertion, a belief, an opinion-based argument, a doctrine or a¶ dogmatic weapon. But I was determined to begin with it. I wanted to begin as quickly as¶ possible with a warning in the form of a dissuasion: watch out, don't go too fast. There is ¶ perhaps no invention, no radically new predicate in the situation known as "the nuclear age." ¶ Of all the dimensions of such an "age" we may always say one thing: it is neither the first time ¶ nor the last. The historian's critical vigilance can always help us verify that repetitiveness; and¶ that historian's patience, that lucidity of memory must always shed their light on "nuclear¶ criticism," must oblige it to decelerate, dissuade it from rushing to a conclusion on the subject¶ of speed itself. But this dissuasion and deceleration I am urging carry their own risks: the¶ critical zeal that leads us to recognize precedents, continuities, and repetitions at every turn¶ can make us look like suicidal sleepwalkers, blind and deaf alongside the unheard-of; it¶ could make us stand blind and deaf alongside that which cuts through the assimilating¶ resemblance of discourses (for example of the apocalyptic or bimillenarist type), through the¶ analogy of techno-military situations, strategic arrangements, with all their wagers, their lastresort¶ calculations, on the "brink," their use of chance and risk factors, their mimetic resource¶ to upping the ante, and so on - blind and deaf,

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then, alongside what would be absolutely¶ unique; and it, this critical zeal, would seek in the stockpile of history (in short, in history¶ itself, which in this case would have this blinding search as its function) the wherewithal to¶ neutralize invention, to translate the unknown into a known, to metaphorize, allegorize,¶ domesticate the terror, to circumvent (with the help of circumlocutions: turns of phrase,¶ tropes and strophes) the inescapable catastrophe, the undeviating precipitation toward a¶ remainderless cataclysm. The critical slowdown may thus be as critical as the critical acceleration.¶ One may still die after having spent one's life recognizing, as a lucid historian, to¶ what extent all that was not new, telling oneself that the inventors of the nuclear age or of¶ nuclear criticism did not invent the wheel, or, as we say in French, "invent gunpowder."¶ That's the way one always dies, moreover, and the death of what is still now and then called¶ humanity might well not escape the rule.¶ Reason number two. What is the right speed, then? Given our inability to provide a¶ good answer for that question, we at least have to recognize gratefully that the nuclear age ¶ allows us to think through this aporia of speed (i.e., the need to move both slowly and¶ quickly); it allows us to confront our predicament starting from the limit constituted by the ¶ absolute acceleration in which the uniqueness of an ultimate event, of a final collision or collusion, ¶ the temporalities called subjective and objective, phenomenological and intraworldly,¶ authentic and inauthentic, etc., would end up being merged into one another. But,¶ wishing to address these questions to the participants of a colloquium on "nuclear criticism,"¶ I am also wondering at what speed we have to deal with these aporias: with what rhetoric,¶ what strategy of implicit connection, what ruses of potentialization and of ellipsis, what¶ weapons of irony? The "nuclear age" makes for a certain type of colloquium, with its particular ¶ technology of information, diffusion and storage, its rhythm of speech, its demonstration ¶ procedures, and thus its arguments and its armaments, its modes of persuasion or ¶ intimidation.

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Hammer ALtPhilosophy must be engaged at the level of the body – this focus is necessary to criticism of established norms and understandings – refusal of this philosophy causes ressentiment. HUGHES ‘96 BILL HUGHES Head of Division of Sociology at Glasgow Caledonian

University “Nietzsche: Philosophizing with the Body” Body & Society 1996 2: 31http://bod.sagepub.com/content/2/1/31

Philosophizing with a Hammer It takes a body (a hand) to lift a hammer and smash it down. It takes a body to write philosophy. (Therefore), it takes a body to philosophize (with a hammer). The subtitle to Nietzsche's little book The Twilight of the Idols (1968b) is 'How to Philosophize with a Hammer'. This is a book in which Nietzsche tries to bring together the various strands of his heterogeneous, aphoristic and iconoclastic thinking. It is a text of sublime irony; because here is a man who laughs at systematic thought (philosophizing with a feather) who goes a little way towards what he holds in contempt. In contempt ... is worth

repeating: one may strike with contempt and a hammer is for striking. Critique, for Nietzsche, is the intellectual equivalent of striking a blow against the received and the established, the sediment of tradition and metaphor that 'stands as truth' and forms the iconography of 'philosophical labourers' (Nietzsche's contemptuous phrase for the vast majority of his philosophical predecessors and contemporaries). The metaphorical content of the subtitle of Twilight of the Idols - comparing philosophy with striking forcibly with a blunt instrument - is no accident, for it repairs and restores to thought the 'impurities' of desire, spontaneity and passion, something a little fleshy and wild, something of the long-missing and sublimated Dionysian spirit. Nietzsche is wild. This most sane of insane philosophers is an enigmatic compound of brutality and compassion, disinterestedness and prejudice. Human(' All too Human'), his syphilitic body explodes on to the page, sometimes as banshee, sometimes as zephyr. He is all human too as he explores the subject of humanity. His misogyny is all too apparent when he writes about women.' He is more than modern as he explores the myths of modernity. He is the poetic philosopher. While Plato (the philosophers' philosopher) consigns the passions of linguistic gymnastics to the shadowlands of

thinking (a place of pure sentimentality), Nietzsche restores them, makes them central. How can there be life without passion and desire? Only a lifeless philosophy would exile life from philosophy. For Nietzsche, language and concepts are not vehicles for epistemological correctness but an expression and a portent of a species which must affirm its pain and joy. Not only do they rise out of the body they express a need (not to 'know' in the traditional philosophical sense but) to have power in and perhaps even over the world. Nietzsche is supremely controlled. Except in Thus Spoke Zarathustra (1961), where his feelings and passions intrude into the text and fog its intentions, Nietzsche writes with extraordinary brevity and control (of language). Though he writes through and with his body and soul, using cognition to collect the echoes of his lived experience, his prose does not fall into exaggeration or frilliness. His thoughts are too precious, too impassioned to be clouded in rhetoric, too fat with the terrible beauty of life to be other than beautiful and incisive. As R.J. Hollingdale writes in the Introduction to Zarathustra: In a man who thinks like this, the dichotomy between thinking and feeling, intellect and passion, has really disappeared. He feels his thoughts. He can fall in love with an idea. An idea can make him ill. (1961: 12) What makes Nietzsche a maverick is the way in which he collapses the dualisms of Western thought - not in thought itself - but in the way he does his thinking (painfully, lovingly) and in

the way he welds it into its corporeal, physiological location. The body, as feeling, passion, pain, love, laughter and contempt is hammered on to the anvil of intellect and the intellect is given its place in life alongside - not above - the faculties and capacities of the organism. In this article I want to do three things in order to sketch the role of the body in Nietzsche's thought. I will introduce his critique of modernity and enlightenment and then examine his work on (first) epistemology (and second) the affects. This cannot be a comprehensive treatment. The body appears on almost every page that Nietzsche writes (in Ecce Homo [1969] he congratulates himself on his fine nose) and he writes with it, consciously and emphatically. He puts the organic back into thinking and in this respect is the father of the postmodern imagination2 and important with respect to the recent

movement in sociology to theorize embodiment (Grosz, 1993; Lash, 1991; Stauth and Turner, 1988). Nietzsche is hard to grasp. But to think about grasping; about grasping an idea, holding it in your handand squeezing it, is a good way to begin to incorporate the post-Cartesian turn that Nietzsche exemplifies. To think about the feeling of grasping an idea, about the power that it invests in your body helps with Nietzsche. It is no accident that we use a physiological metaphor for a supposedly cognitive event. One grasps an idea. One grasps a hammer. The body encloses and textualizes both the ethereal and the palpable object. The case for the somatization of philosophy begins here. Indeed much of Nietzsche's critique of philosophy can be read as a reaction to

its de-somatization. As Elizabeth Grosz (1993: 57) puts it, Nietzsche considers Western thought to be a reactive

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force, a ressentiment, a certain fleeing before life and the world in which we live, a fear of and reaction to the body's activity, its constitutive role in the production of language, values, morals, truths or knowledges. In Nietzsche's philosophy, the corporeal is not a determining momen~ nor a pre-symbolic substratum out of which culture grows. Neither his naturalistic materialism nor his vitalism treats the body in a manner that is vulgar or reductionist. And, unlike Foucault, the Nietzschean body is not docile. On the contrary, there is no doubting its agency (Lash, 1991). For Nietzsche, the body is a weapon in the battle against metaphysics; a way of

proclaiming the 'death of god' and confining the discourse of philosophy to the life and times of homo natura. The body is a reference point in his 'revaluation of all values' (1968a). He uses the flotsam of Western philosophy (the body; corporeality) as a point of departure for the critique of modern culture. I want to try to highlight this use of the body by examining Nietzsche's theories of knowledge and the affects. Since the focus is the modern body and the somatization of theory in Nietzsche's counter-Enlightenment paradigm a brief excursus on Nietzsche's engagement with modernity is necessary. Modernity as Decadence: The Modernified Body What is it that comes under Nietzsche's hammer? It is modernity: its myths and values, its 'slave moralities'. It is the idols of modernity, pale and uninteresting, in their twilight, which are to be pulped and thumped by the philosophical bludgeon. The flat, empty truths of (timeless) reiteration, the vulgar, life-denying beatitudes (platitudes) and asceticisms of Christian morality, the icons of Western thought as they are manifest in discourses on the subject, power, progress, truth, knowledge and nature are the target for the body that wields the hammer. Nietzsche's 'will to truth' is an intellectual and physiological investment in the fracturing of the idols of his age. What do we do in a crisis of reason? What do we do when we think the mind incapable of guiding individual acts and social processes? What do we do when we consider that all concepts are simply deceptive rationalizations? We turn to the body, to the passions and interests for clues to the meaning of being and becoming. This is a twist common to both the fin de siecle crisis which produced Nietzsche, Freud and Simmel and the fin de millennium crisis which harbours the postmodern imagination. Nietzsche is at the heart of both, and both embody a tendency to invoke the elemental powers of the body as the datum for the revivification of moribund culture. In Nietzsche's case it is 'the will to power' which becomes the constitutive force of social action. As Terry Eagleton (1991: 63) writes: The reality of things for Nietzsche is power. Reason for Nietzsche is just the way we provisionally carve up the world so that our powers may best flourish: It is a tool or servant of those powers, a kind of specialised function of our biological drives. Reason is constituted by the wisdom of power and desire. The Enlightenment fixation with it, the philosophical fixation with it as the source of human progress, if not redemption, is attacked by Nietzschean materialism. Ideas are rooted in interests and desire, which have their location in our physiological selves. Ideas, concepts, knowledge, truth are simply, essentially, a consequence of our need to know, a rhetorical canopy that we wrap around ourselves to create a place of safety in a confusing and harsh world. Ideas compete in a theoretical marketplace which is one of intellectual violence. The fitfulness and fragility of reason means that the will to power - not the beauty or intellectual resilience or clarity of an idea - will determine the fate of beliefs. For Nietzsche, all ideas are ideological, all ideas are error and sociologically, success (for an idea) is a matter of power, a question of the vigour and vitality with which it is pursued. Schopenhauer's 'will', Nietzsche's 'will to power', Freud's 'unconscious' and Bergson's 'elan vital' all belong to a tradition in which the social is fundamentally circumscribed and manipulated by the passions of the body. As H.S. Hughes (1959: 105) argued, Nietzsche's work contains: a theory of

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natural 'drives', of rationalizations, of sexual masochism and sublimation, of guilt as a product of cultural thwarting, which readily translates itself into Freudian terms; and the Nietzschean notion of a 'will to power' seems quite close to what Freud later called the 'libido' and Bergson termed 'elan vital'. Terry Eagleton (1991 : 176) adds, that for Nietzsche: The rational ego is a sort of organ or outcropping of the unconscious, that piece of it which is turned to the external world; and in this sense our ideas have their complex roots in the bodily drives .... To know for Freud and Nietzsche, is inseparable from the will to dominate and possess. Knowledge, ideas, beliefs flourish within a primary orbit which is one

of desire. Desire is the root of meaning. When meaning appears we should search for its origin in the pleasure principle. But then there is culture: that great (wet) blanket ofcivilizing discontent - that reality principle - which forces us to constrain and repress the impulsions and pulsions of our predatory,

fleshy selves. For Nietzsche, contemporary culture - so called civilization - is a seminary in which we learn that our bodies are dangerous vessels that must be subjected to the laws of sociability. The ancient Greeks knew how to celebrate (with) the body but in the 'decadence' of modernity, arid Apollonian culture becomes inscribed upon the body, shrivelling and pacifying its rampant intensities: 'Modem society', wrote Nietzsche, 'is not a society, not a body, but a sick conglomerate of components' (quoted in Frisby, 1985:30). Decadence is the concept that Nietzsche invokes as a negative comment on modernity or other cultural complexes which embody signs of decline or individuals who oppose the body and have a 'negative attitude to life' or show 'symptoms of degeneration' (1968a:2). According to Richard Schacht (1992:27), Nietzsche, 'diagnoses the phenomenon of decadence as a consequence of certain physiological deficiencies and psychological defects'. For Nietzsche, bourgeois mediocrity, the herd cults of democracy and socialism and the puritanical pulp of Christian morality make the latter part of the 19th century a time of exhaustion and diminished vitality, a time of sickness in which there is an 'attempt to make the virtues through which happiness is possible for the lowest into the standard ideal of all values' (1968a: 185). It is this moribund, mediocre culture that gives rise to the 'social structure' of the modem body. It is this complex of dominant, decadent concepts that compose and give unity to the pains and pleasures of embodiment. The

embodied self, in modernity, is 'constituted by social concepts which discourage difference, creativity and change' (Diprose, 1993: 4). Excess, daring, valour, vigour, vitality, in short 'instinct' - 'everything ... that is easy, necessary, free' (Nietzsche, 1968b: 48) is tamed and made temperate by the barren moralisms, despotic laws, codified customs and aesthetic tiresomeness of modernity. 'Many chains', wrote Nietzsche, have been placed upon man that he might unlearn behaving as an animal: and in point of fact, he has become milder, more spiritual, more joyful and more circumspect than any animal. But now he still suffers from having borne his chains too long. (Quoted in Schacht, 1992: 320) The body is chained. Man is suffocating,

weighed down by the loss of experimentation and adventure, withered by the softening of his instinctual structure. For Nietzsche, it is time for a 'revaluation of all values'. Time, for what Georges Sorel (following Vico) called a cultural 'ricorso', a re-animation and re-spiritualization of life, a new beginning, powered by drive, desire and passion. Modern persons have given themselves over to the flimsy attractions of consciousness and reason. They go down on their knees to these eggshell gods, forgetting that these attributes are 'nothing but the self-inversion of the body's forces' (Grosz, 1993: 56) forgetting how to struggle for intensity, profusion and excess. They have forgotten how to live: 'The whole of the west no longer possess the instincts out of which institutions grow, out of which a future grows' (Nietzsche, 1968b: 39). The Body ofTruth: In Truth, the Body The project of modernity assumes a body of truth that will emanate from critical reason. This is the teleological hope of the Enlightenment; the vision of a good life that reason alone has the capacity to deliver. Nietzsche laughs at the very idea of critical reason as deliverance. Reason cannot even know itself: 'A critique of the faculty of knowledge is senseless: how should a tool be able to criticise itself when it can only use itself for the critique' (1968a: 269). Nietzsche provides a powerful critique of truth and knowledge. As a philosopher, he is perhaps best known for his epistemological work, particularly his scepticism about the relationship between reason or mind and truth. As Eagleton, in The Ideology of the Aesthetic (1990: 235) argues: It is the body, for Nietzsche, which produces

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whatever truth we can achieve. The world is the way it is only because of the peculiar structure of our senses and a different biology would deliver us a different universe entirely. Truth is a function of the material evolution of the species: it is the passing effect of our sensuous interaction with our environment, the upshot of what we need to survive and flourish .... We think as we do because of the sort of bodies we have and the complex relation with reality which this entails. It is the body rather than the mind which interprets the world, chops it into manageable chunks and assigns it approximate meanings. What 'knows' is our multiple sensory powers, which are not only artefacts in themselves - the products of a tangled history - but the sources of artefacts, generating as they do those life-enhancing fictions by which we prosper. Nietzsche stands firm against the privilege afforded to consciousness, reason and knowledge by

science and philosophy and maintains that 'the body is the intimate and internal condition of all knowledge' (Grosz, 1993: 57). Claims for 'pure reason' and 'absolute knowledge' are based on the transcendental assumption of an all-seeing eye, a God's-eye view. Truth is an illusion. There is only interpretation and perspective: Let us beware the tentacles of such contradictory notions as 'pure reason', 'absolute knowledge', 'absolute intelligence'. All these concepts presuppose an eye such as no living being can imagine, an eye required to have no direction, to abrogate its active and interpretative powers, precisely those powers that make of seeing a seeing of something. All seeing is essentially perspective, and so is all knowing. (Nietzsche, 1956: 255) Knowing is as circumscribed as our scopic capacities, as the observational faculty upon which knowledge is predicated. The limits of the senses, of our corporeal appropriations of the world, tell us not only of the limits of truth but of its contingency. What we call 'truth' - that

polished essence - is just an angle, 'a seeing of something', never a seeing of all. All knowledge is value-laden. There is no 'immaculate perception' (1961: 149). Furthermore, the privileged subject that is supposed to know, untrammelled by the bias of values, is embodied, and it is the body, not the subject, that sees. How can this contingent, dying thing which eats and shits and hurts and loves 'know' in a manner that is above perspective? 'Philosophers', wrote Nietzsche, 'have trusted in concepts as completely as they have mistrusted the senses' (1968a: 409). Philosophy raises the categories and concepts that constitute consciousness above the physiological components of our animal being. Like Marx, Nietzsche finds this idealism untenable. How can this be so, since 'consciousness is the last and latest development of the organs and hence what is the most unfinished and unstrong. Consciousness gives rise to countless errors' (Nietzsche,

1974: 11). Concepts and consciousness arise out of the will to truth and power and 'categories are "truths" only in the sense that they are conditions of life for us' (Nietzsche, 1968a: 516). We need them, and use them to make sense of the chaos of life. Our bodies produce them as protection against the violent struggle for existence and as a guide to the way to benefit our hunger for power: 'Our lust for knowledge of nature is a means through which the body desires to perfect itself' (Nietzsche, 1968a: 68). Indeed, for Nietzsche, all of inner psychical life is essentially an excursus, a cultural product of the inhibited body, the body turned inward against itself, the body denied creative space and the possibility for self-overcoming through constitutive activity. The products of contemplation - beliefs, values, moral systems, knowledge, (so-called) truths, soul- are the outcomes of the multiple inhibitions which structure social space and ameliorate desire: All instincts that do not discharge themselves outwardly tum inward - this is what I call the intemalisation of man: thus it was that man first developed what was later called soul. The entire inner world, originally as thin as if it were stretched between two membranes, expanded and extended itself, acquired depth, breadth and height, in the same measure as outward discharge was inhibited. (Nietzsche, 1956: 84-5) Nietzsche develops a strongly naturalistic epistemology. Consciousness, in his view, is an 'organ' of knowledge and a condition of existence. Man - as a 'bungled animal' - needs to know in order to survive. Other animals - complete as animalscan get by without sophisticated organs of knowledge. We need to know more. If we couldn't - at least to some extent - classify and categorize (know, be scientific) we wouldn't have a chance in the evolutionary maelstrom. Wagner's Siegfried dies from want of knowledge. In order for a particular species to maintain itself and increase its power, its conception of reality must comprehend enough of the calculable and constant for it to base a scheme of behaviour on it. The utility of preservation - not some abstract-theoretical need not to be deceived - stands as the motive behind the development of the organs of knowledge - they develop in such a way that their observations suffice for our preservation. In other words ... a species grasps a certain amount of reality in order to become master of it, in order to press it into service. (Nietzsche, 1968a: 480) 'Truth' refers to things that have the status of truth for people, but people's truths are not necessarily true, merely functional. Most things that we take to be true are 'semantic truths', born out of language - the signs by which we know things - and therefore, conventions : 'Truth' is: A flexible army of metaphors, metonymies, anthropomorphisms, in short, a sum of human relations, which have been poetically and rhetorically intensified, transformed, bejwelled, and which after long usage seem to people to be fixed, canonical and binding. (quoted in Schacht, 1992: 73) Our semantic conventions - mounted on the fictions of epistemological realism - are 'truths' in the sense that they have become practically

indispensable, but as such this does not make them true. We may argue that we can use scientific reason to test them - but how can the test be valid (how can it be more than a convention) - if reason is

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inseparable from passion ? We would only be convincing ourselves of what we need to know. This returns us to the need to know, to the organic and anthropological nature of knowledge, to the argument that: 'What has been at stake in all philosophizing hitherto was not at all "truth", but something else -let us say health, future, growth, power, life' (Nietzsche, 1974: 35). The survival and enhancement of the body, of life, underwrites the need to know: 'The criterion of truth resides in the enhancement of the feeling of power' (Nietzsche, 1968a: 534).

The Affects Knowledge and truth are limited to perspective and interpretation. But who interprets? The knowing, thinking, objective subject is, for Nietzsche, an invention of the philosophers, a mythology of humanistic hubris. The body acts and thinking and contemplation follow it. The animal engages with the world and a practical consciousness arises from it. Consciousness - 'as the weakest and most fallible organ' (Nietzsche, 1956: 16) - may appear to advance interpretations, but it is not the source of them. As intelligence evolves, it develops an interpretation of itself, an angle on its being, such that it comes to think of itself as the thinking subject. A convention ossifies. The veneration of contemplation - a sort of decadent narcissism - produces the sciences and

philosophy and for these discourses, theanswer to the question 'Who interprets?' becomes (who else?) the interpreter - the thinking, knowing, unitary subject. Nietzsche explains this genealogy of consciousness but then returns to the question with a different answer; one which privileges not contemplation but physiology; one which humbles the intellect. It is not who interprets, but what! And his answer is: 'our affects' (1968a:254). The answer decentres the subject. His argument is that needs, drives and instincts (often used interchangeably for affects) interpret the world and that each need, each drive, each instinct 'has its perspective that it would like all the other drives to accept as the norm' (Nietzsche, 1968a: 481). Interpretations and perspectives arise from the contradictory longings of the body, the impulsive, competing affects, each seeking sovereignty in the unruly realm of the psycho-physiologica1.4 In drawing out the relationship between knowledge and the affects, Nietzsche invokes the will to power as it manifests itself in the human organism and he invokes it as the source of the will to truth. To know is to need to know. The human animal needs to know. It is driven to it and by it: 'thinking is merely a relation of our drives to each other' (Nietzsche, 1973: 36). The affects, for Nietzsche are our natural powers, our primordial dispositions, the rudiments of psycho-physiological being and the source of creativity.s Nowhere does Nietzsche map out the number and scope of the affects. His discussion of them is scattered over his writings. Some of the dispositions he describes as 'affirmative' others as negative or 'wicked'. Yet no affect is necessarily or unambiguously confined to a particular moral status. A, by no means complete, list of affects would include: hatred, envy, covetousness, cruelty, pity, reverence, cowardice, contemptuousness, magnanimity,

justice and 'gratitude towards earth and life' (see, Nietzsche, 1968a: 1033; 1973: 23). All the affects are linked with that sovereign drive 'the will to power' and many grow out of basic organic needs and appetites like hunger and the sexual drive. Yet the affects are not universal biological data that determine social and cultural life. Affects are continuously transfigured; they adapt, rise, decline, struggle for supremacy, develop, change. Nietzsche does not recognize 'instincts' as essences. The instinct structure is a profoundly movable feast which is constructed (disciplined or released) by the moral/cultural climate in which it subsists. Combinations of affects spill into and shape cultural and institutional life, but the affects are also modified, spiritualized and imprisoned by social order and its myriad constraints. Affects (their expression) can be blocked or turned inward producing an expansion of consciousness, a growth of inner life. Affects get transformed: 'The spiritualisation of sensuality is called love' (quoted in Schacht, 1992: 324). The spiritualization of the drive to conquer can become knowledge. The link between culture and the body - mediated by affects - is complex and twisting. While Nietzsche regards the body as the best place to look for the origins of culture (partly because this is the most obvious yet most ignored location), we cannot read the latter off from the former. Some affects are 'selected and reared at the expense of others' (Nietzsche, 1968a: 889) and the moral, social environment is central to this process of sublimation. The enhancement of the affirmative affects is a manifestation of and gives rise to a thriving culture, to artistic creativity and a challenging, dynamic spiritual life (e.g. pre-Socratic ancient Greece). Values - the stuff of cultural life - are formed out of the complex relations between the affects, so it is necessary to probe the affects - their transfigurations and manifestations - to arrive at a critique of culture and therefore determine if life is decadent or ascending. The numbing asceticism of the modern period is, for Nietzsche, a sign of the suffocation of the passions, their displacement and restraint. The courage and magnanimity of the natural and spiritualized drives

are conspicuous by their absence in the pristine mediocrity of bourgeois life exemplified most clearly in the limp and predictable world of Teutonic bureaucracy - a subject that would later animate Kafka and Max Weber. The body, thrown into the iron cage of rationalization wilts and withers. For Nietzsche, the moral and institutional climate of modernity is not conducive to the eloquent expression of the affects, is inimical to that which fosters growth, life and liberation. A revaluation of all values is necessary and central to this is the affirmation of the body.

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Forgetting

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Forgetting(You could probably put all of these together in one card)The alternative is to forget the pain of the 1AC not in the sense to completely just forget but rather to “actively forget” such that we analyze the memory but do not act on it. Zupancic 03 [Alenka Zupancic, “The Shortest Shadow: Nietzsche’s Philosophy of the Two,” 57-59]

This is perhaps the moment to examine in more detail what Nietzschean “forgetting” is actually about. What is the capacity of forgetting as the

basis of “great health”? Nietzsche claims that memory entertains some essential relationship with pain. This is what he

describes as the principle used in human “mnemotechnics”: “If something is to stay in the memory it must be burned in: only that which never ceases to hurt stays in the memory.”27 Thus, if memory is essentially related to pain (here it seems that Nietzsche claims the opposite of what psychoanalysis is claiming: that traumatic events are the privileged objects of repression; yet pain is not the same thing as

trauma, just as “forgetting” is not the same thing as repressing), then forgetting refers above all to the capacity not to nurture pain. This also means the capacity not to make pain the determining ground of our actions and choices. What exactly is pain (not so much physical pain, but, rather, the “mental pain” that can haunt our lives)? It is a way in which the subject internalizes and appropriates some traumatic experience as her own bitter treasure. In other words, in relation to the traumatic event, pain is not exactly a part of this event, but already its memory (the “memory of the body”). And Nietzschean oblivion is not so much an effacement of the traumatic encounter as a preservation of its external character, of its foreignness, of its otherness. In Unfashionable

Observations, Second Piece (“On the Utility and Liability of History for Life”), Nietzsche links the question of forgetting (which he

employs as a synonym for the ahistorical) to the question of the act. Forgetting, oblivion, is the very condition of possibility for an act in the strong sense of the word. Memory (the 57 “historical”) is eternal sleeplessness and alert insomnia, a state in which no great thing can happen, and which could even be said to serve this very purpose. Considering the common conception according to which memory is something monumental that “fixes” certain events, and closes us within

their horizon, Nietzsche proposes a significantly different notion. It is precisely as an eternal openness, an unceasing stream, that memory can immobilize us, mortify us, make us incapable of action. Nietzsche invites us to imagine the extreme

example of a human being who does not possess the power to forget. Such a human being would be condemned to see

becoming everywhere: he would no longer believe in his own being, would see everything flow apart in turbulent particles, and would lose himself in this stream of becoming. He would be like the true student of Heraclitus. A human being who wanted to experience things in a thoroughly historical manner would be like someone forced to go without

sleep.28 Memory holds us in eternal motion—it keeps opening numerous horizons, and this is precisely how it immobilizes us, forcing us into frenetic activity. Hence, Nietzsche advances a thesis that is as out of tune with our

time as it was with his own: “every living thing can become healthy, strong and fruitful only within a defined horizon; if it is incapable of drawing a horizon around itself and too selfish, in turn, to enclose its own perspective within an alien horizon, then it will feebly waste away or hasten to its timely end.”29 Of course, Nietzsche’s aim here is not to preach narrow-mindedness and pettiness, nor is it simply to affirm the ahistorical against history and memory. On

the contrary, he clearly states that it is only by thinking, reflecting, comparing, analyzing, and synthesizing

(i.e. only by means of the power to utilize the past for life, and to reshape past events into history) that the human being becomes properly human. Yet, in the excess of history, the human being ceases to be human once again, no longer able to create or invent. This is why Nietzsche insists that “every great historical event” is born in the “ahistorical atmosphere,” that is to say, in conditions of oblivion and closure:

Attempting to remember the past while acting renders that action ineffective and incomplete. Application of overflowing passion brings us to ahistorical conditions, allowing us to perform the best actions. Zupancic 03 [Alenka Zupancic, “The Shortest Shadow: Nietzsche’s Philosophy of the Two,” 59-60]

We don’t endorse the Gendered Language in this Card.

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Imagine a man seized and carried away by a vehement passion for a woman or for a great idea; how his world changes! Looking backward he feels he is blind, listening around he hears what is unfamiliar as a dull, insignificant sound; and those things that he perceives at all he never before perceived in this way; so palpable and near, colorful, resonant, illuminated, as though he were apprehending it with all his senses at once. All his valuations are changed and devalued; . . . It is the most unjust condition in the world, narrow, ungrateful to the past, blind to dangers, deaf to warnings; a tiny whirlpool of life in a dead sea of night and oblivion; and

yet this condition—ahistorical, antihistorical through and through— is not only womb of the unjust deed, but of every just deed as well; and no artist will create a picture, no general win a victory, and no people gain its freedom without their having previously desired and striven to accomplish these deeds in just such an ahistorical condition .... Thus, everyone who acts loves his action infinitely more than it deserves to be loved, and the best deeds occur in such an exuberance of love that, no matter what, they must be unworthy of this love, even if their worth were otherwise incalculably great.30 If we read this passage carefully, we note that the point is not simply that the capacity to forget, or the “ahistorical condition,” is the condition of “great deeds” or “events.” On the contrary: it is the pure surplus of passion or love (for something) that brings about this closure of memory, this “ahistorical condition.” In other words, it is not that we have first to close ourselves within a defined horizon in order then to be

able to accomplish something. The closure takes place with the very (“passionate”) opening toward something (“a

woman or a great idea”). Nietzsche’s point is that if this surplus passion engages us “in the midst of life,” instead of mortifying us, it does so via its inducement of forgetting. Indeed, I could mention a quite common experience here: whenever something important happens to us and incites our passion, we tend to forget and dismiss the grudges and resentments we might have been nurturing before. Instead of “forgiving” those who might have injured us in the past, we forget and dismiss these injuries. If we do not, if we “work on our memory” and strive to keep these grudges alive, they will most probably affect and mortify our (new) passion.

Forgetting creates the possibility of action. Otherwise we are constantly bound to our memories and trapped in inaction.Zupancic 03 [Alenka Zupancic, “The Shortest Shadow: Nietzsche’s Philosophy of the Two,” 60-61]

It could also be interesting to relate Nietzsche’s reflections from the quoted passage to the story of Hamlet, in which the imperative to remember, uttered by Hamlet’s father’s Ghost, plays a very prominent role. Remember me! Remember me!, the Ghost repeats to Hamlet, thus engaging him in the singular rhythm that characterizes the hero of this play—that of the alternation between resigned apathy and frenetic activity or precipitate actions (his killing of Polonius, as well as that of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern; his engagement in the

duel with Laertes . . .). This movement prevents Hamlet from carrying out the very deed his father’s Ghost charges him with. Many things have been said and written about the relationship between action and knowledge in this play, and about how knowledge prevents Hamlet from acting. Although the two notions are not unrelated, it might be interesting to consider this also in terms of memory (not only in terms of knowledge). It could be worthwhile to contemplate the role played by the imperative of memory. Could we not

say that one of the fundamental reasons for the difficulty of Hamlet’s position is precisely the structural incompatibility of memory and action— that is to say, the fact that action ultimately always “betrays” memory? And do we not encounter something similar in the wider phenomenon of melancholy (in the play, Hamlet is

actually said to be “melancholic”) as a never-ending grief that keeps alive, through pain, the memory of what was lost? Additionally, although we can recognize in this kind of melancholy a form of fidelity (for instance—to use Nietzsche’s words—fidelity to

“a woman or a great idea”), this kind of fidelity, bound to memory, should be distinguished from fidelity to the very event of the encounter with this woman or idea. Contrary to the first form, this second form of fi- delity implies and presupposes the power to forget. Of course, this does not mean to forget in the banal sense of no longer remembering the person or the idea in question, but in the sense that forgetting liberates the potential of the encounter itself, and opens up—precisely through its “closure”—the possibility of a new one.

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Suppressing Body Causes Ethnocide

Suppressing Body Causes EthnocideHUGHES ‘96 BILL HUGHES Head of Division of Sociology at Glasgow Caledonian

University “Nietzsche: Philosophizing with the Body” Body & Society 1996 2: 31http://bod.sagepub.com/content/2/1/31

Nietzsche pushed hard against the grain of his own time, allowed his body - in sickness and joy - to speak out in the form of philosophical critique. It was a unique methodology which welded together those things that Western thought had taken to be opposite. Philosophical culture fools itself - 'as if every passion did not possess its quantum of reason' (1968a: 387) - that what (supposedly) distinguishes us from other species must be the key to what we are. This is how embodiment gets lost, becomes epiphenomenal, loses its 'value'. When what is close to nature and instinct arises and expresses itself, we become afraid and contemptuous. Colonial ethnocide may be an example of this: an example of bourgeois fear of primordial joys and affects expressed in custom and ritual, of embodiment, brazen, beautiful and exposed. Civilization is a covering-up of the passions and the cruel murder of everything that might allow them to flourish.

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A/T

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UtilEven if you win Util applies, its bad: It's a life negating herd mentality that subverts itself by threating survivalAnomaly ‘5 Jonny Anomaly faculty fellow at the Parr Center for Ethics and a visiting professor at the Duke/UNC program in Philosophy, Politics, and Economics.“Nietzsche’s Critique of Utilitarianism” The Journal of Nietzsche Studies, Issue 29, Spring 2005, pp. 1-15 Project Muse

What does it mean to espouse the values of a herd animal? We have already¶ encountered some of the values Nietzsche associates with slave

morality—humility,¶ industriousness, pity, but in what sense are they “herd” values? If the fundamental ¶ goal of an animal within a herd is its own preservation, and if its own ¶ preservation depends upon the health of the herd of which it is a member, then,¶ Nietzsche supposes, the moral principles of that group will tend to reflect the kind ¶ of egalitarianism embodied in Bentham’s dictum, “Everybody counts for one, and ¶ nobody for more than one.”7 Nietzsche considers this the essence of herd mentality: ¶ “[I]t is the instinct of the herd that finds its formula in this rule—one is equal, ¶ one takes oneself for equal” (WP 925). According to Nietzsche,

this egalitarian ¶ formula originates from the benefit that comes from reciprocal cooperation among¶ equals in a group, but has been extended by Christian morality to apply to all people— ¶ including unequals. Nietzsche thus construes the golden rule as a precept of¶ “prudence” or mutual advantage, observing that “John Stuart Mill believes in it”¶ as the basis of morality, but that he fails to

grasp its prudential origin (WP 925).8¶ Nietzsche also portrays egalitarian values as myopic, dangerous, and potentially¶ self-subverting. This is because, Nietzsche thinks, the opposite of these ¶ values—pain, suffering, inequality; in short, “evil”—is equally indispensable for ¶ the survival and happiness of the very herd that seeks to eradicate it. Accordingly,¶ Nietzsche sharply criticizes Bentham’s hedonic calculus (which correlates happiness¶ maximization

with pain minimization) as inconsistent with utilitarian¶ goals. In its place, Nietzsche stresses the necessity of physical suffering and intellectual ¶ struggle for the self-improvement of each and, by extension, the vitality ¶ and happiness of the group. He accordingly rebukes the proponent of any morality ¶ that makes the reduction of suffering its fundamental goal: “[I]f you experience ¶ suffering and displeasure as evil, worthy of annihilation and as a defect of ¶ existence, then it is clear that besides your religion of pity you also harbor

another¶ religion in your heart that is perhaps the mother of the religion of pity: the religion ¶ of comfortableness” (GS 338). This

religion—or, more specifically, morality—¶ of comfort thwarts its own goals by attempting to eliminate all suffering ¶ (BGE 44).9 In a passage that anticipates what we now call the “hedonic paradox,”¶ according to which pleasure is diminished when we pursue it

directly,¶ Nietzsche ridicules those who, like Bentham, seek to maximize individual or ¶ collective happiness by minimizing pain: “[H]ow little you know of human happiness, ¶ you comfortable and benevolent people, for happiness and unhappiness ¶ are sisters and even twins that either grow up together or, as in your case, remain ¶ small together” (GS 338).10 He goes on to underline the idiosyncratic nature of¶ suffering and the

simplemindedness of those who heedlessly strive to relieve thesuffering of others. “It never occurs to them,” Nietzsche adds, “that . . . the path ¶ to one’s own heaven always leads through the voluptuousness of one’s own hell” ¶ (GS 338).

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A/T Alt ViolentThe alt isn’t violent because we put it towards the enhancement of life, and we should take the riskHUGHES ‘96 BILL HUGHES Head of Division of Sociology at Glasgow Caledonian

University “Nietzsche: Philosophizing with the Body” Body & Society 1996 2: 31http://bod.sagepub.com/content/2/1/31

It should be pointed out that this critique does not envisage the blind indulgence of the affects or the unlimited unleashing of the passions. Nietzsche - as I noted at the outset - is wild and he is in control. To affirm the drives - particularly the lust and will for power - is not to suggest that violence, brutality and cruelty are the supreme values. In Nietzsche's view, affirmation of natural dispositions only becomes 'greatness of character', when they are under control and used for the enhancement of life: 'The greater and more terrible the passions are that an age, a people, an individual can permit themselves, because they are capable of employing them as means, the higher stands their culture' (Nietzsche, 1968a: 1025). For life to ascend, for a higher culture, a higher humanity to emerge from the bondage of modernity, the body, organic being and the drives that manifest the will to power must be released. Danger there may be, but if the affects can be channelled and deployed in the cause of a vigorous life then a creative and flourishing culture will arise.

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At Perm – Must Revaluate Everything They can’t engage in a revaluation of all values because they already presuppose the 1AC. Nietzsche ‘5 The Anti-Christ, Ecce Homo, Twilight of the Idols, and Other Writings p 11 Edited by Aaron Ridley and Judith Norman. Translated by Judith Norman

Let us not underestimate the fact that we ourselves, we free spirits, already constitute a 'revaluation of all values', a living declaration of war on and victory over all old concepts of 'true' and 'untrue' . The most valuable insights are the last to be discovered; but methods are the most valuable insights. All the methods, all the presuppositions of our present scientific spirit have been regarded with the greatest contempt for thousands of years, they barred certain people from the company of 'decent' men, - these people were considered 'enemies of God', despisers of the truth, or 'possessed'. As scientific characters, they were Chandala . . . 7 We have had the whole pathos of humanity against us - its idea of what truth should be, of what serving the truth should entail: so far, every 'thou shalt' has been directed against us . . . Our objectives, our practices, our silent, cautious, distrustful nature - all of this seemed totally unworthy and despicable. - In the end, and in all fairness, people should ask themselves whether it was not really an aesthetic taste that kept humanity in the dark for so long: people demanded a picturesque effect from the truth, they demanded that the knower make a striking impression on their senses. Our modesty is what offended their taste for the longest time . . . And didn't they know it, these strutting turkey-cocks of God - -

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SexistNietzsche’s philosophy isn’t based upon a set definition of gender or sexuality instead it constantly evolvesOppel 05 (Frances Nesbitt Oppel, lecturer at the Griffith University and author of Mask and Tragedy: Yeats and Nietzsche, 2005, Nietzsche on Gender: Beyond Man and Woman, P 2)

Nietzsche’s writings indicate that sexuality is a product of interpretation. They do not oppose sexual difference, unless this is defined narrowly as an innate distinction between “man” and “woman.” In my estimation Nietzsche’s writings are neither essentialist nor sexist, but rather they suggest new ways of thinking about human differences that encourage us to consider the needs and desires of our own bodies after the constraint of dichotomous thinking and social conventions have been loosened. How Nietzsche’s writings hint at a future beyond “man” and “women” – a future towards which we are moving even as the hegemony of heterosexuality is breaking down, and as we experiment with physical sex changes and trans gendering – is the primary question this book seeks to address. By demonstrating that there are codes of moral and social behavior based on the man/woman opposition, and that these codes are human constructions, or “interpretations” and value perspectives, rather than God-given dictates, Nietzsche indicates that our ideas about sex-gender can be revised. He advocates revision for ethical reasons. In asserting that religious interpretations of human purpose are losing, will lose, or have lost their power to validate and regulate people’s lives in the Western world, Nietzsche’s books seek to prepare humans for a future in which, having understood that there is no heavenly reward, they are able to assume responsibility for themselves and for their earthly home. As Heidegger writes, this process involves bringing “man” as he has in his nature been until now, “beyond himself” (67) in order to become caretaker of the earth. Nietzsche suggests that men need to overcome, especially, their resentment of their own vulnerable bodies, of time and change, and of women. One way that Nietzsche seeks to bring human beings beyond themselves is to challenge age-old conventions about sex-gender.

Nietzsche recognizes that his thoughts about women are socially constructed and partial to his experiences. In doing this he also outlines the possibility of overturning these thoughts.

Lipscomb 01 (Michael Edwin Lipscomb, Associate Professor of Political Science at University of Pennsylvania, 2001, Critical Desire and the Feminist Other of Critical Theory, http://media.proquest.com.proxy.uchicago.edu/media/pq/classic/doc/813754111/fmt/ai/rep/NPDF?hl=biopolitics%2Cbiopolitics%2Cnietzsche&cit%3Aauth=Lipscomb%2C+Michael+Edwin&cit%3Atitle=%22Critical+desire%22+and+the+feminist+other+of+critical+theory&cit%3Apub=ProQuest+Dissertations+and+Theses&cit%3Avol=&cit%3Aiss=&cit%3Apg=n%2Fa&cit%3Adate=2001&ic=true&cit%3Aprod=ProQuest)

Having worked through a Nietzschean inspired limit attitude, we have a tool¶ for (re)reading Nietzscheís thinking. We are beginning to recognize how Nietzscheís¶ thinking teaches a strategy of reading, writing, and living, making available new¶ capacities to his readers. The desire for woman that traverses Nietzscheís thought, as we have seen, is a productive limit, or space, where Nietzsche engages in a constant contestation of that which organizes and verifies his own thought. In at least one of its

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iterations, Nietzscheís thinking traces the possibility (rather¶ than the simple consummation) of its own overcoming. Nietzsche's encounters with the¶ feminine and with "woman" encourage a rethinking of his own misogyny. It marks a place where priority is given to the sublimated or outcast ideas in the metaphysical tradition. Such discursive elements have formed part of the initiation of the language¶ of difference, not contemplative or ritual events of union, not rhetorical harmony, not¶ desires for appropriateness on the part of aspects of obedience to special authorities or¶ texts, not experiences of sameness pervasive in differences. A possible overturning of Nietzsche's misogyny is therefore enacted in his¶ thought by his metaphorical linking of "woman" with the "truth."144 If we remember that¶ metaphor suggests a transformation a carrying across of meaning (and if we remember¶ that metaphor cannot be merely a metaphor in Nietzscheís thinking, that writing is not merely ideational but rather a process that occurs on the body in processes that we have¶ associated with mnemotechnic inscription), we can understand Nietzsche's writing as an invitation to explore this metaphorical juncture in a way that transforms our conventional understanding of "woman" and "truth." In coming to recognize that claims to understand truth in its totality ignore that all such claims occur from a situated and thus partial perspective, Nietzsche thus also comes to conclude that what is certain about "woman"¶ (the feminine) is that, as Derrida puts it, she "does not allow herself to be possessed. 145 Nietzscheís insistent proclamations about women, therefore, are permeated by the ironizing effect of woman’s epistemological distance. For this is just how Nietzsche frames his comments about a few truths about woman as such. He assumes that it will be understood from the outset how very much these are after all only my truths.î146 The experiences of woman that appear throughout Nietzscheís work mark¶ the limit of a particular experience, a particular dramatic event where the task of¶ overcoming makes itself manifest in his thinking through the positing of a difference that¶ resists assimilation.

What seems to be Nietzsche’s philosophy being misogynistic is part of his larger concept of what gender meansOppel 05 (Frances Nesbitt Oppel, lecturer at the Griffith University and author of Mask and Tragedy: Yeats and Nietzsche,

2005, Nietzsche on Gender: Beyond Man and Woman, P 2)

In the chapters that follow I argue that Nietzsche’s apparent misogyny is part of his overall strategy to demonstrate that our attitudes toward sex-gender are thoroughly cultural, are often destructive of our own potential as individuals and as a species, and may be changed. What looks like misogyny may be understood as a part of a larger strategy whereby “woman-as-such” (the universal essence of woman with timeless character traits) is shown to be the product of male desire, a construct. Throughout the texts, “woman” as a concept referring to female persons is erased as a matter we need to take very seriously, although she may still exist as a joke, and as history. Misogynist, indeed. But this apparently misogynistic dismissal of women is only part – exactly half- of the story. As woman is erased, so too is her dichotomous counterpart, man-as-such, for the two are entailed in our thinking. No “woman” no “man”: we are left with an empty space, a potential new horizon, where our former “perspective valuations” on sex-gender used to be. This space, I argue, is not that of castration or of nihilism – unless we want it to be. Just how it is filled is, in a completely nontrivial way, up to us.

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Hastiness to label Nietzsche as misogynist ignores the complexities on his theory of women and her relation to truth. Koshy 1999 (Abey Koshy, Associated Professor of Philosophy at the Sree Sankaracharya University of Sanskrit, January 1999, Indian Philosophical Quarterly Vol. XXVI No. 1, P 89)

The various comments Nietzsche’s made about women gave him an ill reputation as a misogynist. Indeed he made lot of statements, which are truly offensive to women. However in their haste to stamp him as a hater of woman the critics mostly fail to see the complexities in some of his expositions that relate the question of woman to the issues of truth, art, and nihilism. A few of the recent feminist readings in Nietzsche to a certain extent moderates this bad image by articulating certain ideas, which are useful to the feminist cause. Still these readings could not bring out properly the feminine dimension of his philosophy. Embarking much on Nietzsche’s derogatory comments about woman these studies yet consider Nietzsche as a philosopher who shares the parameters of the patriarchal logic of western tradition. Adopting a different perspective Derrida’s reading of Neitzxche enlarges the feminine question to the issue of multiplicity of styles in writing. Although the exposition of this paper largely goes in tune with Derrida’s reading still it considers his discussion of Nietzsche's style as “the feminine operation” not sufficient enough to highlight the transfigurative potential of the question of woman posed by Nietzsche. This paper on the other hand attempts to reexamine the prevalent notion that Nietzsche’s philosophy is anti-feminine. By reformulating the existing ideas or masculinity and feminity with the aid of the recent psychoanalytic leads on theories on sexual difference an attempt is being made to reconfigure the image of woman that appears in Nietzsche’s writings. It is argued that woman as a model for life radically transforms the perenial question of truth that appears in Western philosophical tradition. The study traverses the dichotomy of truth and untruth that appears in philosophical systems with the aid of Nietzsche’s woman image in order to highlight the power and value of untruth in life. Following the path of Nietzsche’s critique of truth the paper extends the feminine question into Nietzsche’s interrogation of nihilism and ascetic ideal. Its effect is identified as suggestion for a new way of perceiving the world and the purpose of life.

Nietzsche’s theories on gender through out his philosophy are not framed by just one view of women but get rid of that whole idea. Oppel 05 (Frances Nesbitt Oppel, lecturer at the Griffith University and author of Mask and Tragedy: Yeats and Nietzsche, 2005, Nietzsche on Gender: Beyond Man and Woman, P1)

This book began as a study of Nietzsche and woman, a subject of interest to feminism in the late 1980s. Nietzsche was broadly regarded (and not only by feminists) as a misogynist, or at the least as an opponent of women’s liberation, yet he wrote positively about many topics on feminists’ agendas. Interpretative difficulties inherent to his texts, however, made it almost impossible to decide for sure where Nietzsche stood on the subject “woman.” What does now seem clear is that Nietzsche’s texts offer an interpretive challenge specifically directed to women readers. Among many other women, I took the bait, but unlike some of them, I was not convinced by the text’s misogyny. As time passed I began to understand why. By broadening my focus to include men, and considering the attitudes of the

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texts towards both sexes, I began to see some consistency on matters related to “woman” and “man” and to women and men, in Nietzsche’s baffling and fascinating works. I can now at least frame a hypothesis about Nietzsche’s attitude toward conventional gender categories, and will make the argument in the pages that follow that Nietzsche’s texts eliminate “man” and “woman” altogether. They obviously do not eliminate people; they merely ask us to question the ways in which we think about gender conventions. Perhaps gender has had its day as a fundamental identifier of people? Perhaps “gender differences” (between two “opposites”) could be re-interpreted as “gender differences” (between two in relation)? Perhaps?

Nietzsche’s criticisms on engaging with power structures are not only focused on women but also men. Koshy 1999 (Abey Koshy, Associated Professor of Philosophy at the Sree Sankaracharya University of Sanskrit, January 1999, Indian Philosophical Quarterly Vol. XXVI No. 1, P 89)

In the observation of Nietzsche resentment, bad conscience and ascetic ideal constitute the essence of modern man. This is not an essensial definition of man but is attributed as a gradual development in history. A sort of degeneration, which is said to be the outcome of the triumph of the reactive forces that, seized truth and meaning of existence and created the age of nihilism. Forces that seized truth and meaning of existence and mated the age of nihilism. This is considered as a historical occurrence, which the humanity has to surpass and overcome. In this sense man as such does not exist with a universal essense, but is merely a product, a subject, affected through various discourses of truth, morality, and religion. Can man hope for any escape from this depreciation of the value of life? In the opinion of Nietzsche this most sick and degenerated among the animals needs to affirm plurality of life in order to reach a site that stands above man. Nietzsche suggests 'overman’ as a figure representing a transfiguration in existence. For a transfiguration of existence one needs to unload the heavy weight of truths and morality deposited on humanity by nihilistic forces that uptill now stands victorious in history. Thus if Nietzsche depicted woman as untruth in strict sense it is applicable to man as well. If Nietzsche derided woman for trying to become part of the power structure, governance, social institutions man also comes under his sharp criticism. For it is the reactive values and concepts of world denial man is trying to institute his social activities.

Claims that Nietzsche was completely misogynistic are false and lead to ignorance of parts of his theories that pertain to solving for gender issues. Higgins 1995 (Kathleen Higgins, Professor of Philosophy at University of Texas, 1995, “Gender in the Gay Science” http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/philosophy_and_literature/v019/19.2higgins.html)

The term "gender" is used advisedly in this context, for Nietzsche made the distinction, common in feminist discussion, between sex (the biological potential to play one role rather than another in [End Page 227] reproduction) and gender (the contingently assigned roles that a society attaches to those who are biologically male or female). Nietzsche urged his readers to recognize the contingency of gender roles and to consider the desirability of changing them. ¶ We can hardly begin to consider Nietzsche's suggestions in these regards, however, without confronting the allegation that Nietzsche was a paradigmatic sexist. Although many of the most important names in Western philosophy have been singled out for feminist censure, Nietzsche is often held up as an exemplar of all that is misogynistic, both in the philosophical tradition and within patriarchy generally. Nietzsche is identified as a misogynist for a variety of reasons. He is seen as an essentialist, an opponent of women's rights, an

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enthusiast of masculine virtue, and an advocate of male domination. While none of these attributions may be entirely apt, I agree with Nietzsche's feminist critics that he was, at least sometimes, too willing to rest content with truisms about women and to vent personal rage in the guise of philosophy. ¶ That said, some of the attacks on Nietzsche are both unfair and unfortunate. I am not the only feminist to think so. Maudemarie Clark, Sarah Kofman, Maryanne Bertram, and Deborah Bergoffen have all suggested that certain of Nietzsche's views offer starting points for feminist theorizing. I will describe some attacks made on Nietzsche by certain other feminists, however, because they represent the popular perspective on Nietzsche (if not that most typical of Nietzsche scholars) and because they indicate certain pitfalls that feminists would do best to avoid.¶ Carol Diethe's article "Nietzsche and the Woman Question," for example, criticizes Nietzsche in a number of unwarranted ways. Consider, for example, her complaint that Nietzsche's conception of the will to power entails an affirmation of the domination of women.¶ If we take his key concept, the will to power, we find that it is so gender based that it practically comes to represent the archetypal phallic symbol. Bernstein describes it as a phenomenon which includes the "will to violate" so that the "feeling of power" (Machtgefühl) is generated, yet when he goes on to mention "Nietzsche's desire to avoid reducing the will to power to sexuality," he fails to realize that his own critique has relied heavily on the language of rape and the whole area of male dominance of women which stretches behind words such as "violation." 1¶ Diethe simply accepts Bernstein's characterization of Nietzsche's view as accurate. She may be right in her claim that the will to power [End Page 228] can be read as a phallic symbol, although I would want to know what assumptions are built into the latter notion. Even if so, it is not obvious why Nietzsche's employment of the concept is necessarily sexist. More generally, Diethe's passage involves a move that is far too prevalent in feminist writings on Nietzsche--the tendency to reduce Nietzsche's philosophy to a few obsessions and to yoke these inextricably to his views about women.¶ One common counterargument to feminist critiques of Nietzsche is that Nietzsche was simply blinded by the sexism of his era. Feminist critics rightly complain that a thinker should not be excused for common prejudice just because it is common prejudice. Nevertheless, the recognition that Nietzsche accepted some features of his society's sexist perspective on women does not warrant the judgment that he endorsed every one of his era's sexist sentiments. Diethe, for example, engages in this type of conflation when she equates Nietzsche's position with Schopenhauer's: "As Brann has pointed out, Nietzsche echoes Schopenhauer's ideas on women wortgetreu as the following passage demonstrates. Written by Schopenhauer, it could just as easily have been written by Nietzsche. . . ." Diethe goes on to cite Schopenhauer, beginning with "Because basically women are only there to propagate the race, and they fulfil themselves thereby, they live life more as a sexual partner than as an individual. . ." ("NWQ," pp. 870 and 874).¶ Ellen Kennedy, somewhat more fairly, insists in her article "Nietzsche: Women as Untermensch" that "Nietzsche really does have nothing more to offer . . . than the common prejudices of his age and sex." 2 Her conclusion, however, combines oversimplification of Nietzsche's philosophy with a worrisome insinuation that Nietzsche's work can only be appropriately read as a defense of the patriarchy. ¶ Both the ground for women's subordination in women's biology and Nietzsche's coherently masculine state of adventurers and warriors are founded on a Darwinistically derived master-sex. In light of this the preoccupation with Nietzsche as anti- or philo-Semitic seems rather antiquated; his ideal state is not "Teutonic," nor is Nietzsche a racialist in the earlier sense. But he is, in our sense of it, the founder of peculiarly modern patriarchy and the inventor of one of the crassest and most subtle misogynies: "The enormous expectation in sexual love and the sense of shame in this expectation spoils all perspective for women from the start." ("WU," pp. 197-98)¶ The passage from Nietzsche is not obviously sexist or crass. If one reads this as a psychological interpretation of the social pressures that [End Page 229] constrain

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women's outlook on sexuality, one can see it as sympathetic--and a recognition of the social cultivation of certain attitudes in women. Nietzsche's remark is not so distant from more recent feminist descriptions of the internal obstacles to feminist liberation women confront. Isn't Nietzsche close to hinting that love is a sexist plot? Aside from its questionable reading of Nietzsche's passage, Kennedy's comment is disturbing for its implication that, currently, sexism is a problem of vastly more importance than anti-Semitism. The insinuation that women and Jews are in competition for the status of most oppressed is philosophically, as well as morally, suspect. I find it hard to believe that the mechanisms that support prejudice are essentially different in one case than in another. Indeed, from a political standpoint, it is probable that competition among victims of prejudice only diverts energy that might more profitably be spent fighting it.

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Nazi

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Not a NaziNazis misinterpreted Nietzsche’s work to use it for propaganda- anti-Semitism isn’t intrinsic to his workGrayson Bodenheimer 14, Sociologist at Appalachian State University and has one published research paper in the areas of history and philosophy that were presented at the National Conference of Undergraduate Research, “’With All Winds Straight Ahead:’ The Influence of the World Wars on the Understanding of Friedrich Nietzsche” Appalachian State University http://www.ncurproceedings.org/ojs/index.php/NCUR2014/article/download/1094/538 BFHFueling the flame that grew into the philosophy that became known as Existentialism, Friedrich Nietzsche¶ introduced into the world a new form of thought outside of the realm of logic and reason. However, unlike his ¶ Existentialist predecessor Søren Kierkegaard, Nietzsche did not believe that Christian values should define human¶ existence. Instead, Nietzsche focused on man himself and his own individual will. One of the first times that¶ Nietzsche’s ideas captured the international spotlight was during World War I – though not in the way that he would¶ have hoped for. The chaos and destruction of World War I in 1914 presented America with a view of Germans as¶ immoral and power-hungry, and a depiction of Nietzsche as “the apostle of German ruthlessness and barbarism.”1¶ In¶ Germany itself, however, the growing nationalistic and anti-Semitic crowds found inspiration from his works, taking¶ many of his most radical ideas to heart. These two interpretations of Nietzsche’s works are remarkably similar, yet¶ they yield completely different applications of his philosophy. Germany’s National Socialists, commonly known as¶ the Nazis, used Nietzsche’s most radical ideas to justify their views on war, the extermination of non-Aryan peoples,¶ and the conquest of Europe and, eventually, the world. The Americans did not believe that Nietzsche could justify¶ the Nazis' behavior, but they perceived him as an inspiration and his works as a foundation of Nazi ideology.¶ Although some would argue that Nietzsche's belief in perspectivism could bolster the claim that either of these ¶ interpretations might be viable, neither the Nazi Germans nor the Americans were correct. Nietzsche’s philosophy is ¶ not applicable on a large scale, such as that of the nation-state; rather, it is a personal philosophy, which no ¶ government can dictate . This leads both interpretations to be incorrect; while Nietzsche’s works were used as a¶ justification of Nazi behavior and likely even a foundation for early Nazism, this understanding of his work is an ¶ invalid misconception, purposefully misconstrued by Nazis and Americans as propaganda to be used for their own ¶ philosophies.

Nietzsche’s work included positive excerpts about JewsBrian Leiter 14, Karl N. Llewellyn Professor of Jurisprudence and Director of the Center for Law, Philosophy and Human Values at the University of Chicago, 6-6-2014, "The Recurring Myth About Nietzsche and Fascism," Huffington Post, http://www.huffingtonpost.com/brian-leiter/nietzsche-and-fascism_b_5458843.html BFH

But what of the absurd misunderstanding of Nietzsche? When Nietzsche -- probably the victim of undiagnosed syphilis -- suffered a

mental collapse in early 1889, he was barely read. Over the next two decades, he became the most celebrated intellectual figure in Europe. His cultural stature was so high that at the start of World War I, the German Kaiser purchased 250,000 copies of

Nietzsche's Thus Spoke Zarathustra for the troops, to boost their morale. During and after the WWI, everyone in Germany fought to claim Nietzsche's legacy, from German nationalists to anarchists and socialists .¶ The Nazi takeover in 1933

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settled these debates by political force, and nothing less would have made the Nazi misappropriation of Nietzsche possible.

After all, as actual readers of Nietzsche know, he hated Germans most of all, famously titling an entire chapter of one of his last books, "What the Germans Lack." He ridiculed the German militarism and nationalism of his own day -- in terms equally applicable to the Nazi version -- and, most importantly, was a scathing critic of anti-Semitism, endlessly baiting anti-Semitic readers in his books. This passage from Beyond Good and Evil is typical: ¶ [T]he Jews are without a doubt the strongest, purest, most tenacious race living in Europe today....The fact that the Jews, if they wanted (or if they were forced, as the anti-Semtes seem to want), could already be dominant, or indeed could quite literally have control over present-day Europe--this is established. The fact that they are not working

and making plans to this end is likewise established. Meanwhile, what they wish and want instead...is to be absorbed and assimilated into Europe....[T]his urge and impluse...should be carefully noted and accomodated --in

which case it might be practical and appropriate to throw the anti-Semitic hooligans out of the country.¶ Nietzsche's anti-anti-Semitic insult

is twofold: First, he affirms the superiority of the Jews over most Europeans by noting how easy it would be for Jews to take over Europe; and, second, he denies the anti-Semitic trope that Jews have any intention of doing so. Nietzsche's main complaint about Judaism is that it gave birth to Christianity -- and 19th-century Christian anti-Semites would not have been happy to learn that, as Nietzsche put it, they are the "ultimate Jewish consequence."

Nietzsche was no Nazi---nor did he justify themBrian Leiter 14, Karl N. Llewellyn Professor of Jurisprudence and Director of the Center for Law, Philosophy and Human Values at the University of Chicago. “The Recurring Myth About Nietzsche and Fascism” http://www.huffingtonpost.com/brian-leiter/nietzsche-and-fascism_b_5458843.html BFH

Benighted student members of the Union Council at University College London have made headlines internationally after voting to ban a student group, "the Nietzsche Club," on the grounds that Nietzsche is "on the extreme-right," a "racist" with connections "direct or indirect, with Italian fascism and German Nazism." The ban

is on hold, given its dubious legality. The student action betrays profound misunderstandings of both Nietzsche and of universities. The latter can be dispensed with quickly. Freedom of inquiry and thought must surely encompass the right of students to discuss and think about ideas, including illiberal ideas. Universities may put constraints on racist abuse and discrimination, but they can not, consistent with the mission of a university, put constraints on the right to discuss any and all ideas, including ideas that others deem offensive or immoral. The idea that a "Nietzsche Club," in particular, is not appropriate for a serious university (one with several Nietzsche scholars on its faculty, ironically enough) is astonishing. Nietzsche and Marx are the two most important philosophers of the 19th century whose ideas have exercised enormous influence in literature, art, politics, psychology, historiography and philosophy. Is discussion of the work of Mann, Freud, Weber, Hesse, Sartre, and Foucault off-limits as well, since all of these thinkers (among many others) were profoundly influenced by Nietzsche? But

what of the absurd misunderstanding of Nietzsche? When Nietzsche -- probably the victim of undiagnosed syphilis -- suffered a mental collapse in early 1889, he was barely read. Over the next two decades, he became the most celebrated intellectual figure in Europe. His cultural stature was so high that at the start of World War I, the German Kaiser purchased 250,000 copies of Nietzsche's Thus Spoke Zarathustra for the troops, to boost their morale. During and after the WWI, everyone in Germany fought to claim Nietzsche's legacy, from German nationalists to anarchists

and socialists. The Nazi takeover in 1933 settled these debates by political force, and nothing less would have made the Nazi misappropriation of Nietzsche possible. After all, as actual readers of Nietzsche know, he hated Germans

most of all, famously titling an entire chapter of one of his last books, "What the Germans Lack." He ridiculed the German militarism and nationalism of his own day -- in terms equally applicable to the Nazi version -- and, most

importantly, was a scathing critic of anti-Semitism, endlessly baiting anti-Semitic readers in his books . This passage from Beyond Good and Evil is typical: [T]he Jews are without a doubt the strongest, purest, most tenacious race living in Europe today....The fact that the Jews, if they wanted (or if they were forced, as the anti-Semtes seem to want), could already be dominant, or indeed could quite literally have control over present-day Europe--this is established. The fact that they are not working and making plans to this end is likewise established. Meanwhile, what they wish and want instead...is to be absorbed and assimilated into Europe....[T]his urge and impluse...should be carefully noted and accomodated--in which case it might be practical and appropriate to throw the anti-Semitic hooligans

out of the country. Nietzsche's anti-anti-Semitic insult is twofold: First, he affirms the superiority of the Jews over most Europeans by noting how easy it would be for Jews to take over Europe; and , second, he denies the anti-

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Semitic trope that Jews have any intention of doing so. Nietzsche's main complaint about Judaism is that it gave birth to Christianity -- and 19th-century Christian anti-Semites would not have been happy to learn that, as Nietzsche

put it, they are the "ultimate Jewish consequence." If the smear of Nietzsche as a "fascist" and "anti-semite" has no textual basis, it would be wrong to conclude that Nietzsche is some benign secular liberal: He is not. When the Danish critic Georg Brandes first introduced a wider European audience to Nietzsche's ideas during public lectures in 1888, he concentrated on Nietzsche's vitriolic campaign against morality

and what Brandes dubbed (with Nietzsche's subsequent approval) Nietzsche's "aristocratic radicalism." On this reading, Nietzsche was primarily concerned with questions of value and culture, and his philosophical standpoint was acknowledged to be a deeply illiberal one: What matters are great human beings, not the "herd." The egalitarian premise of all contemporary moral and political theory -- the premise, in one form or another, of the equal

worth or dignity of each person -- is simply absent in Nietzsche's work. The question about the basis of equality remains a live one in

political philosophy: How can it be that we all have equal moral worth given that we are plainly not equal along almost any relevant dimension one can think of (intelligence, rationality, integrity, talents and so on)? Some contemporaries, like Jeremy Waldron, the current Chichele Professor of Social & Political Theory at Oxford, have argued that only with a belief in God can we find a basis for the moral equality of persons. Nietzsche would have agreed, which is why he thought the growing recognition that "God is dead" would be so momentous. The implications of Nietzsche's anti-egalitarianism remains a vexed interpretive question, though

as I have argued elsewhere, the most plausible reading is that Nietzsche had no political philosophy, that his focus was increasingly esoteric, on transforming the consciousness of select individuals -- his rightful readers -- about the extent to which morality was really compatible with the flourishing of the kinds of genius he most admired, as exemplified by figures like Beethoven and Goethe. Whether or not that reading is correct, it is clear there is no evidence that Nietzsche supported a fascist state, and overwhelming evidence to the contrary . Nietzsche's Zarathustra

calls the "state... the coldest of all cold monsters... whatever it says it lies... Everything about it is false," concluding that, "Only where the state ends, there begins the human being who is not superfluous."

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Nietzsche F/W CardsThe idea that one way to debate is the right way or the true way is fundamentally flawed for 3 reasons – (a) Debate Changes, no way is ever correct – (b) Debate doesn’t help, it doesn’t resemble the outside world or help us with it, debate is only ever about what we want the world to look like – (c) The AFF’s interpretation for the ‘best’ way to debate is completely contingent, it has no claim to fame, no reason Johnston 2000 (Ian, a retired instructor (now a Research Associate) at Vancouver Island University , 12-11-2000, "Window To Philosophy: "There's Nothing Nietzsche Couldn't Teach Ya About the Raising of the Wrist" (Monty Python) A Lecture in Liberal Studies," No Publication, http://windowtophilosophy.blogspot.com/2013/09/theres-nothing-nietzsche-couldnt-teach.html) Franzy

The analogy I want to put on the table is the comparison of human culture to a huge recreational complex in which a large number of different games are going on. Outside people are playing soccer on one field, rugby on another, American football on another, and Australian football on another, and so on. In the club house different groups of people are playing chess, dominoes, poker, and so on. There are coaches, spectators, trainers, and managers involved in each game. Surrounding the recreation complex is wilderness.

These games we might use to characterize different cultural groups: French Catholics, German Protestants, scientists, Enlightenment rationalists, European socialists, liberal humanitarians, American democrats, free thinkers, or what have you. The variety represents the rich diversity of intellectual, ethnic, political, and other activities.

The situation is not static of course. Some games have far fewer players and fans, and the popularity is shrinking; some are gaining popularity rapidly and increasingly taking over parts of the territory available. Thus, the traditional sport of Aboriginal lacrosse is but a small remnant of what it was before contact. However, the Democratic capitalist game of baseball is growing exponentially, as is the materialistic science game of archery. And they may well combine their efforts to create a new game or merge their leagues.

When Nietzsche looks at Europe historically what he sees is that different games have been going on like this for centuries. He further sees that many of the participants in any one game have been aggressively convinced that their game is the "true" game, that it corresponds with the essence of games or is a close match to the wider game they imagine going on in the natural world, in the wilderness beyond the playing fields. So they have spent a lot of time producing their rule books and coaches' manuals and making claims about how the principles of their game copy or reveal or approximate the laws of nature. This has promoted and still promotes a good deal of bad feeling and fierce arguments. Hence, in addition any one game itself, within the group pursuing it there have always been all sorts of sub-games debating the nature of the activity, refining the rules, arguing over the correct version of the rule book or about how to educate the referees and coaches, and so on.

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Nietzsche's first goal is to attack this dogmatic claim about the truth of the rules of any particular game. He does this, in part, by appealing to the tradition of historical scholarship which shows that these games are not eternally true, but have a history. Rugby began when a soccer player broke the rules and picked up the ball and ran with it. American football developed out of rugby and has changed and is still changing. Basketball had a precise origin which can be historically located.

Rule books are written in languages which have a history by people with a deep psychological point to prove: the games are an unconscious expression of the particular desires of inventive games people at a very particular historical moment; these rule writers are called Plato, Augustine, Socrates, Kant, Schopenhauer, Descartes, Galileo, and so on. For various reasons they believe, or claim to believe, that the rules they come up with reveal something about the world beyond the playing field and are therefore "true" in a way that other rule books are not; they have, as it were, privileged access to reality and thus record, to use a favorite metaphor of Nietzsche's, the text of the wilderness.

In attacking such claims, Nietzsche points out, the wilderness bears no relationship at all to any human invention like a rule book (he points out that nature is "wasteful beyond measure, without purposes and consideration, without mercy and justice, fertile and desolate and uncertain at the same time; imagine indifference itself as a power--how could you live according to this indifference. Living--is that not precisely wanting to be other than this nature" (Epigram 9). Because there is no connection with what nature truly is, such rule books are mere "foreground" pictures, fictions dreamed up, reinforced, altered, and discarded for contingent historical reasons. Moreover, the rule books often bear a suspicious resemblance to the rules of grammar of a culture (thus, for example, the notion of an ego as a thinking subject, Nietzsche points out, is closely tied to the rules of European languages which insist on a subject and verb construction as an essential part of any statement).

So how do we know what we have is the truth? And why do we want the truth, anyway? People seem to need to believe that their games are true. But why? Might they not be better if they accepted that their games were false, were fictions, having nothing to do with the reality of nature beyond the recreational complex? If they understood the fact that everything they believe in has a history and that, as he says in the Genealogy of Morals, "only that which has no history can be defined," they would understand that all this proud history of searching for the truth is something quite different from what philosophers who have written rule books proclaim.

Furthermore these historical changes and developments occur accidentally, for contingent reasons, and have nothing to do with the games, or any one game, shaping itself in accordance with any ultimate game or any given rule book of games given by the wilderness, which is indifferent to what is going on. And there is no basis for the belief that, if we look at the history of the development of these games, we discover some progressive evolution of games towards some higher type. We may be able, like Darwin, to trace historical genealogies, to construct a narrative, but that narrative does not reveal any clear direction or any final goal or any progressive development. The genealogy of games indicates that history is a record of contingent change. The assertion that there is such a thing as progress is simply one more game, one more rule added by inventive minds (who need to believe in progress); it bears no relationship to nature beyond the sports complex. Ditto for science.

So long as one is playing on a team, one follows the rules and thus has a sense of what constitutes right and wrong or good and evil conduct in the game, and this awareness is shared by all those carrying out the same endeavour. To pick up the ball in soccer is evil (unless you are the goalie); and to punt the ball

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while running in American football is permissible but stupid; in Australian football both actions are essential and right. In other words, different cultural communities have different standards of right and wrong conduct. These are determined by the artificial inventions called rule books, one for each game. These rule books have developed the rules historically; thus, they have no permanent status and no claim to privileged access.

Maintaining that debate gives us some broader skills like research, etc. is BS – The world isn’t ordered like debate, and saying that we DO learn portable skills is only ever giving them a way to win the game rather than contest that debate actually does give us these skills – Additionally, dogmatic claims about one interpretation being better than the other are utterly stupid because there is no ‘rulebook’ outside of debateJohnston 2000 (Ian, a retired instructor (now a Research Associate) at Vancouver Island University , 12-11-2000, "Window To Philosophy: "There's Nothing Nietzsche Couldn't Teach Ya About the Raising of the Wrist" (Monty Python) A Lecture in Liberal Studies," No Publication, http://windowtophilosophy.blogspot.com/2013/09/theres-nothing-nietzsche-couldnt-teach.html) Franzy

Now, at this point you might be thinking about the other occasion in which I introduced a game analogy, namely, in the discussions of Aristotle's Ethics. For Aristotle also acknowledges that different political systems have different rules of conduct. But Aristotle believes that an examination of different political communities will enable one to derive certain principles common to them all, bottom-up generalizations which will then provide the basis for reliable rational judgment on which game is being played better, on what constitutes good play in any particular game, on whether or not a particular game is being conducted well or not.

In other words, Aristotle maintains that there is a way of discovering and appealing to some authority outside any particular game in order to adjudicate moral and knowledge claims which arise in particular games or in conflicts between different games. Plato, of course, also believed in the existence of such a standard, but proposed a different route to discovering it.

Now Nietzsche emphatically denies this possibility. Anyone who tries to do what Aristotle recommends is simply inventing another game (we can call it Super-sport) and is not discovering anything true about the real nature of games because reality (that's the wilderness surrounding us) isn't organized as a game. In fact, he argues, that we have created this recreational complex and all the activities which go on in it to protect ourselves from nature (which is indifferent to what we do with our lives), not to copy some recreational rule book which that wilderness reveals. Human culture exists as an affirmation of our opposition to or contrast with nature, not as an extension of rules which include both human culture and nature. That's why falsehoods about nature might well be a lot more useful than truths, if they enable us to live more fully human lives.

If we think of the wilderness as a text about reality, as the truth about nature, then, Nietzsche claims, we have no access whatsoever to that text. What we do have is access to conflicting interpretations, none of them based on privileged access to a "true" text. Thus, the soccer players may think they and their game is superior to rugby and the rugby players, because soccer more closely represents the

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surrounding wilderness, but such statements about better and worse are irrelevant. There is nothing rule bound outside the games themselves. Hence, all dogmatic claims about the truth of all games or any particular game are false.

The debate god is dead, so what are we to do? Understand that debate has no connection to the rest of the world, and accept that it is a multi-stranded activity – framework is a useless attempt to establish a connection between the game and the world outside of itJohnston 2000 (Ian, a retired instructor (now a Research Associate) at Vancouver Island University , 12-11-2000, "Window To Philosophy: "There's Nothing Nietzsche Couldn't Teach Ya About the Raising of the Wrist" (Monty Python) A Lecture in Liberal Studies," No Publication, http://windowtophilosophy.blogspot.com/2013/09/theres-nothing-nietzsche-couldnt-teach.html) Franzy

Now, how did this situation come about? Well, there was a time when all Europeans played more or less the same game and had done so for many years. Having little-to-no historical knowledge and sharing the same head coach in the Vatican and the same rule book, they all believed that the game was the only one possible and had been around forever. So they naturally believed that their game was true, and they shored up that belief with appeals to scripture or to eternal forms, or universal principles or to rationality or science or whatever. There were many quarrels about the nature of ultimate truth, that is, about just how one should tinker with the rule book, about what provided access to God's rules, but there was agreement that such access must exist.

Take, for example, the offside rule in soccer. Without that the game could not proceed in its traditional way. Hence, soccer players see the offside rule as an essential part of their reality, and as long as soccer is the only game in town and we have no idea of its history (which might, for example, tell us about the invention of the off-side rule), then the offside rule is easy to interpret as a universal, a necessary requirement for social activity, and we will find and endorse scriptural texts which reinforce that belief, and our scientists will devote their time to linking the offside rule with the mysterious rumblings that come from the forest. And from this, one might be led to conclude that the offside rule is a Law of Nature, something which extends far beyond the realms of our particular game into all possible games and, beyond those, into the realm of the wilderness itself.

Of course, there were powerful social and political forces (the coach and trainers and owners of the team) who made sure that people had lots of reasons for believing in the unchanging verity of present arrangements. So it's not surprising that we find plenty of learned books, training manuals, and locker room exhortations urging everyone to remember the offside rule and to castigate as "bad" those who routinely forget about that part of the game. We will also worship those who died in defence of the offside rule. And naturally any new game that did not recognize the offside rule would be a bad game, an immoral way to conduct oneself. So if some group tried to start a game with a different offside rule, that group would be attacked because they had violated a rule of nature and were thus immoral.

But for contingent historical reasons, Nietzsche argues, that situation of one game in town did not last. The recreational unity of the area split up, and the growth of historical scholarship into the past demonstrated all too clearly that there was overwhelming evidence that all the various attempts to

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show that one particular game was privileged over any of the others, that there was one true game, are false, dogmatic, trivial, deceiving, and so on.

For science has revealed that the notion of a necessary connection between the rules of any game and the wider purposes of the wilderness is simply an ungrounded assertion. There is no way in which we can make the connections between the historically derived fictions in the rule book and the mysterious and ultimately unknowable directions of irrational nature. To play the game of science, we have to believe in causes and effects, but there is no way we can prove that this is a true belief and there is a danger for us if we simply ignore that fact. Therefore, we cannot prove a link between the game and anything outside it. And history has shown us, just as Darwin's natural history has demonstrated, that all apparently eternal issues have a story, a line of development, a genealogy. Thus, concepts, like species, have no reality--they are temporary fictions imposed for the sake of defending a particular arrangement.

Hence, God is dead. There is no eternal truth any more, no rule book in the sky, no ultimate referee or international Olympic committee chairman. Nietzsche didn't kill God; history and the new science did. And Nietzsche is only the most passionate and irritating messenger, announcing over the PA system to anyone who will listen that someone like Kant or Descartes or Newton who thinks that what he or she is doing can be defended by an appeal to a system grounded in the truth of nature has simply been mistaken.

Framework is over ever a debate over competing fictions – forgetting this fact leads to exclusion of certain styles of debate because they don’t adhere to the particular fiction of the time – Additionally, claims like fairness or education, the idea that we should all be treated equally, is particularly troubling – the quality of debates will decrease and violence will be omnipresent Johnston 2000 (Ian, a retired instructor (now a Research Associate) at Vancouver Island University , 12-11-2000, "Window To Philosophy: "There's Nothing Nietzsche Couldn't Teach Ya About the Raising of the Wrist" (Monty Python) A Lecture in Liberal Studies," No Publication, http://windowtophilosophy.blogspot.com/2013/09/theres-nothing-nietzsche-couldnt-teach.html) Franzy

This insight is obvious to Nietzsche, and he is troubled that no one seems to be worried about it or even to have noticed it. So he's moved to call the matter to our attention as stridently as possible, because he thinks that this realization requires a fundamental shift in how we live our lives.

For Nietzsche Europe is in crisis. It has a growing power to make life comfortable and an enormous energy. But people seem to want to channel that energy into arguing about what amounts to competing fictions and to force everyone to adhere to a particular fiction.

Why is this insight so worrying? Well, one point is that dogmatists get aggressive. Soccer players and rugby players who forget what Nietzsche is pointing out can start killing each other over questions which admit of no answer, namely, questions about which group has the true game, which group has privileged access to the truth . Nietzsche senses that dogmatism is going to lead to warfare, and he predicts that the twentieth century will see an unparalleled extension of warfare in the name of competing dogmatic truths. Part of his project is to wake up the people who are intelligent enough to

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respond to what he's talking about so that they can recognize the stupidity of killing each other for an illusion which they mistake for some "truth."

In addition to that, Nietzsche, like Mill (although in a very different manner), is serious concerned about the possibilities for human excellence in a culture where the herd mentality is taking over, where Europe is developing into competing herds--a situation which is either sweeping up the best and the brightest or is stifling them entirely. Nietzsche, like Mill and the ancient pre-Socratic Greeks to whom he constantly refers, is an elitist. He wants the potential for individual human excellence to be liberated from the harnesses of conformity and group competition and conventional morality. Otherwise, human beings are going to become destructive, lazy, conforming herd animals, using technology to divert them from the greatest joys in life, which come only from individual striving and creativity, activities which require one to release one's instincts without keeping them eternally subjugated to an overpowering historical consciousness or a conventional morality of good and evil.

What makes this particularly a problem for Nietzsche is that he sees that a certain form of game is gaining popularity: democratic volleyball. In this game, the rule book insists that all players be treated equally, that there be no natural authority given to the best players or to those who best understand the nature of quality play. Hence the mass of inferior players is taking over, the quality of the play is deteriorating, and there are fewer and fewer good volleyball players. This process is being encouraged both by the traditional ethic of "help your neighbour" (now often in a socialist uniform) and (as mentioned above) by modern science). As the mass of more numerous inferior players takes over the sport, the mindless violence of their desires to attack other players and take over their games increases, as does their hostility to those who are uniquely excellent (who may well need a mask to prevent themselves being recognized).

The hopes for any change in this development are not good. In fact, things seem to be getting worse. For when Nietzsche looks at all these games going on he notices certain groups of people, and the prospect is not totally reassuring.

Instead of being framework hacks (Like Ritt and Bagul) or nihilists we should experience and affirm the value in a self-created game – the one that you personally want to playJohnston 2000 (Ian, a retired instructor (now a Research Associate) at Vancouver Island University , 12-11-2000, "Window To Philosophy: "There's Nothing Nietzsche Couldn't Teach Ya About the Raising of the Wrist" (Monty Python) A Lecture in Liberal Studies," No Publication, http://windowtophilosophy.blogspot.com/2013/09/theres-nothing-nietzsche-couldnt-teach.html) Franzy

First of all there is the overwhelming majority of people: the players and the spectators, those caught up in their particular sport. These people are, for the most part, continuing on as before without reflecting or caring about what they do. They may be vaguely troubled about rumours they hear that their game is not the best, they may be bored with the endless repetition in the schedule, and they have more or less reconciled themselves that they are not the only game going on, but they'd rather not think about it . Or else, stupidly confident that what they are doing is what really matters about human life, is true, they preoccupy themselves with tinkering with the rules, using the new technology

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to get better balls, more comfortable seats, louder whistles, more brightly painted side lines, more trendy uniforms, tastier Gatorade--all in the name of progress.

Increasing numbers of people are moving into the stands or participating through the newspaper or the television sets. Most people are thus, in increasing numbers, losing touch with themselves and their potential as instinctual human beings. They are the herd, the last men, preoccupied with the trivial, unreflectingly conformist because they think, to the extent they think at all, that what they do will bring them something called "happiness." But they are not happy; they are in a permanent state of narcotized anxiety, seeking new ways to entertain themselves with the steady stream of marketed distractions which the forces of the market produce: technological toys, popular entertainment, college education , Wagner's operas, academic jargon.

This group, of course, includes all the experts in the game, the cheerleaders whose job it is to keep us focused on the seriousness of the activity: the sports commentators and pundits, whose life is bound up with interpreting, reporting, and classifying players and contests. These sportscasters are, in effect, the academics and government experts, the John Maddens and Larry Kings and Mike Wallaces of society, those demigods of the herd, whose authority derives from the false notion that what they are dealing with is something other than a social fiction.

The Nihilists

There's a second group of people, who have accepted the ultimate meaninglessness of the game they were in. They have moved to the sidelines, not as spectators or fans, but as critics, as cynics or nihilists, dismissing out of hand all the pretensions of the players and fans, but not affirming anything themselves. These are the souls who , having nothing to will (because they have seen through the fiction of the game and have therefore no motive to play any more), prefer to will nothing in a state of paralyzed skepticism. Nietzsche has a certain admiration for these people, but maintains that a life like this, the nihilist on the sidelines, is not a human life.

For, Nietzsche insists, to live as a human being, is to play a game. Only in playing a game can one affirm one's identity, can one create values, can one truly exist. Games are the expression of our instinctual human energies, our living drives, what Nietzsche calls our "will to power." So the nihilistic stance, though understandable and, in a sense, courageous, is sterile. For we are born to play, and if we don't, then we are not fulfilling a worthy human function. At the same time, however, we have to recognize that all games are equally fictions, invented human constructions without any connections to the reality of things.

Hence we arrive at the position of the need to affirm a belief (invent a rule book) which we know to have been invented, to be divorced from the truth of things. To play the best game is to live by rules which we invent for ourselves as an assertion of our instinctual drives and to accept that the rules are fictions: they matter, we accept them as binding, we judge ourselves and others by them, and yet we know they are artificial. And just as in real life a normal soccer player derives a sense of meaning during the game, affirms his or her value in the game, without ever once believing that the universe is organized by the rules of soccer or that those rules have any universal validity, so we must commit ourselves to epistemological and moral rules which enable us to live our lives as players, while at the same time recognizing that these rules have no universal validity.

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The nihilists have discovered half of this insight, but, because they are not capable of living the full awareness, they are very limited human beings.

The Free Spirits, New Philosophers

The third group of people, that small minority which includes Nietzsche himself, are those who accept the games metaphor, see the fictive nature of all systems of knowledge and morality, and accept the challenge that to be most fully human is to create a new game, to live a life that is governed by rules imposed by the dictates of one's own creative nature. To base one's life on the creative tensions of the artist engaged with creating a game that meets most eloquently and uncompromisingly the demands of one's own irrational nature--one's will--is to be most fully free, most fully human.

This call to live the self created life, affirming oneself in a game of one's own devising, necessarily condemns the highest spirits to loneliness, doubt, insecurity, emotional suffering, (because most people will mock the new game or be actively hostile to it or refuse to notice it, and so on; alternatively, they will accept the challenge but misinterpret what it means and settle for some marketed easy game, like floating down the Mississippi smoking a pipe), but a self-generated game also brings with it the most intense joy, the most playful and creative affirmation of what is most important in our human nature.

It's important to note here that one's freedom to create one's own game is not unlimited . In that sense, Nietzsche is no existentialist maintaining that we have a duty and an unlimited freedom to be whatever we want to be. For the resources at our disposal the parts of the field still available and the recreational material lying around in the club house--are determined by the present state of our culture. Furthermore, the rules I devise and the language I frame them in will almost certainly owe a good deal to the present state of the rules of other games and the state of the language in which those are expressed. Although I am changing the rules for my game, my starting point, or the rules I have available to change, are given to me by my moment in history. So in moving forward, in creating something that will transcend the past, I am using the materials of the past. Existing games are the materials out of which I fashion my new game.

Thus, the new philosopher will transcend the limitations of the existing games and will extend the catalogue of games with the invention of new ones, but that new creative spirit faces certain historical limitations. If this is relativistic, it is not totally so.

The Value of the Self-Created Game

The value of this endeavour is not to be measured by what other people think of the newly created game; nor does its value lie in fame, material rewards, or service to the group. Its value comes from the way it enables the individual to manifest certain human qualities, especially the will to power. But whether or not the game attracts other people and becomes a permanent fixture on the sporting calendar, something later citizens can derive enjoyment from or even remember, that is irrelevant. For only the accidents of history will determine whether the game I invent for myself attracts other people, that is, becomes a source of value for them.

Nietzsche claims that the time is right for such a radically individualistic endeavour to create new games, new metaphors for my life. For, wrongheaded as many of the traditional games may have been, like Plato's metaphysical soccer or Kant's version of eight ball, or Marx's materialist chess tournament, or Christianity's stoical snakes and ladders, they have splendidly trained us for the much

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more difficult work of creating values in a spirit of radical uncertainty. The exertions have trained our imaginations and intelligence in useful ways. Hence, although those dogmatists were fundamentally unsound, an immersion in their systems has done much to refine those capacities we most need to rise above the nihilists and the herd.

‘Nihilist!’ / ‘This doesn’t help!’Johnston 2000 (Ian, a retired instructor (now a Research Associate) at Vancouver Island University , 12-11-2000, "Window To Philosophy: "There's Nothing Nietzsche Couldn't Teach Ya About the Raising of the Wrist" (Monty Python) A Lecture in Liberal Studies," No Publication, http://windowtophilosophy.blogspot.com/2013/09/theres-nothing-nietzsche-couldnt-teach.html) Franzy

Finally, there are those who again agree with Nietzsche's analysis of the Enlightenment and thus reject the optimistic hopes of rational progress, but who deny Nietzsche's proffered solution. To see life as irrational chaos which we must embrace and such joyous affirmation as the value-generating activity in our human lives, while at the same time recognizing its ultimate meaninglessness to the individual, to many people seems like a prescription for insanity. What we, as human beings, must have to live a fulfilled human life is an image of eternal meaning. This we can derive only from religion, which provides for us, as it always has, a transcendent sense of order, something which answers to our most essential human nature far more deeply than either the Enlightenment faith in scientific rationality or Nietzsche's call to a life of constant metaphorical self definition . A prominent spokespersons for this reaction to Nietzsche is George Grant--the last author we shall be considering in our curriculum (and the author of an interesting critique of Nietzsche: Time as History, the transcript of a series of lectures on the CBC).

To read the modern debates over literary interpretation, legal theory, human rights issues, education curriculums, feminist issues, ethnic rights, communitarian politics, or a host of other similar issues is to come repeatedly across the clash of these different positions (and others). To use the analogy I started with, activities on the playing fields are going on more energetically than ever. And right in the middle of most of these debates and generously scattered throughout the footnotes and bibliographies, Nietzsche's writings are alive and well. To that extent, his ideas are still something to be reckoned with. He may have started by shouting over the PA system in a way no one bothered to attend to; now on many playing fields, the participants and fans are considering and reacting to his analysis of their activities. So Nietzsche today is, probably more than ever before in this century, right in the centre of some of the most vital debates over cultural questions.

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AFF Answers

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A2 Nietzsche is sexistNietzsche is inherently sexistAnsell-Pearson, 93’ (Keith Ansell-Pearson, board of studies including Cosmos and History, Deleuze Studies, Journal of Nietzsche Studies, and Nietzsche-Studien, in the Philosophy Department at Warwick in 1993 and held a Personal Chair since 1998, In 2013/14 Visiting Senior Research Fellow in the Humanities Research Center at Rice University, “Nietzsche, woman and political theory”, pg.29-30) m.dwag

In his own time Nietzsche wrote as a critic of European feminism, speaking out against what he saw as the emasculation of social life and the rise of a sentimental politics based on altruistic values. He attacked the idea that women would be emancipated once they had secured equal rights. Certain passages in his work show quite unequivocally that he regarded the whole issue of women’s emancipation as a misguided one. The great danger of the women’s movement in attempting to enlighten women about womanhood is that it teaches women to unlearn their fear of man. When this happens, he argues, woman—‘the weaker sex’—abandons her most womanly instincts (Nietzsche 1966:167). Why, Nietzsche asks, should women wish to become like men when woman’s ‘prudence and art’ consist in grace, play and lightness? Why should they want to pursue the ‘truth’ about woman when her great art is the lie and her highest concern ‘appearance and beauty’ (Nietzsche 1966:163)? In opposition to ‘modern ideas’ on man and woman, Nietzsche argues that real instruction on the relationship of the sexes is to be found in Oriental cultures. He suggests that a man of depth, ‘including that depth of benevolence which is capable of severity and hardness’, needs to think of woman ‘as a possession (Besitz), as property (Eigenthum) that can be locked, as something predestined for service and achieving her perfection in that’ (Nietzsche 1966:167). Nietzsche detects a ‘masculine stupidity’ in the women’s movement, one which can lead only to a degeneration of ‘woman’. No ‘social contract’ can put right the inequality of men and women, and the necessary injustice in their relationship (Nietzsche 1974:319). The problem, he suggests, like problems associated with other ‘modern ideas’, goes back to the French Revolution and its ideals of equality. In order to combat this process of degeneration, the sexes must learn that what men respect in woman is her ‘nature… the tiger’s claw under the glove, the naiveté of her egoism , her uneducability and her inner wildness’ (1966:169). He idealizes Napoleon as the figure who triumphed over the plebeian ideals of the Revolution and once again established ‘man’ as ‘master over the businessman, the philistine’, and over ‘“woman” who has been pampered by Christianity and the enthusiastic spirit of the eighteenth century, and even more by “modern ideas”’ (1974:318).

Nietzsche silences women and explicitly excludes them from the idea of self-creation, this re-entrenches the patriarchy Ansell-Pearson et al, 93’ (Keith Ansell-Pearson, Diprose, R. (1989) , Deleuze, G. (1983) board of studies including Cosmos and History, Deleuze Studies, Journal of Nietzsche Studies, and Nietzsche-Studien, in the Philosophy Department at Warwick in 1993 and held a Personal Chair since 1998, In 2013/14 Visiting Senior Research Fellow in the Humanities Research Center at Rice University, “Nietzsche, woman and political theory”, pg.31-32) m.dwag

It is difficult to believe that a philosopher who stated that a real friend of women is someone who tells them that ‘woman should be silent about woman’ (Derrida’s advice too?) (Nietzsche 1966:164), and who, moreover, spoke disparagingly of ‘emancipated women’ as ‘abortive females’ (Nietzsche 1979:75–6), could be of any use to feminism. Recent readings of Nietzsche by a number of women

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philosophers and political theorists, however, have advanced positive and powerful ways in which his ideas and texts can be opened up and moved in the direction of a feminist textual and political practice. Rosalyn Diprose, for example, has argued that Nietzsche’s critique of the self, of the idea that lying behind all action there is to be found a constant, stable, fixed ego, describes a ‘positive mode of resistance to social domination and normalization’ (Diprose 1989:31). Nietzsche’s thinking contains an emphasis on ambiguity, on plural identity, on the affirmation of the constructed self in terms of an artistic task in which one freely gives ‘style’ to one’s character, all of which can be useful for articulating a kind of feminist mode of thought which seeks to subvert an essentializing of human identity, whether female or male, and which would simplify and efface ‘difference’(s). The mythical subject that needs to be attacked and deconstructed in this fashion is the male subject of bourgeois society and bourgeois history. Diprose’s own view on how a progressive or feminist reading should approach the problem of Nietzsche’s aristocratism is worth citing: For Nietzsche, the ‘other’ placed most at risk, by an ethics of equality is not woman but the sometimes cruel, sometimes enigmatic, always exceptional Noble spirit. The way Nietzsche appears to single out a sole aristocratic victim is somewhat surprising to a contemporary reader and has drawn criticism from some commentators. However, that Nietzsche appears to seek to save an elite and somewhat frightening figure from the workings of the democratic state is, in part, a product of historic necessity. It was the noble man, embellished by a memory of Greek nobility, who, more than any other, symbolized what was thrown into relief by the rise of the liberal individual in the nineteenth century. But this is no longer the case: a century of ‘equality’ has created its own hierarchy of value and hence, its own order of differences to be marginalized and effaced. All the same, on the question of Nietzsche’s explicit exclusion of women from the possibility of self-creation, the excuses run out. (Diprose 1989:31)

Nietzsche denies women the common rights men get out of resentment, the use of Nietzsche’s philosophy should be rejected Ansell-Pearson et al, 93’ (Keith Ansell-Pearson, Diprose, R. (1989) , Deleuze, G. (1983) board of studies including Cosmos and History, Deleuze Studies, Journal of Nietzsche Studies, and Nietzsche-Studien, in the Philosophy Department at Warwick in 1993 and held a Personal Chair since 1998, In 2013/14 Visiting Senior Research Fellow in the Humanities Research Center at Rice University, “Nietzsche, woman and political theory”, pg.40-42) m.dwag

Nietzsche affirms woman as the source of life only by denying to woman her own independent reality and experience of the world. Her mediation of the world through a man always assumes the form of an inferior position, one of natural servitude and obligation. And so his affirmation of woman contains a negation of her autonomous being: he will not let woman be, will not let her speak for herself. On Nietzsche’s exclusion of woman, Irigaray writes If from her you want confirmation for your being, why don’t you let her explore its labyrinths? Why don’t you give her leave to speak? From the place where she sings the end of your becoming, let her be able to tell you: no. (Irigaray 1991:23) Zarathustra’s/Nietzsche’s greatest affliction is that he suffers from an envy of the womb. In his desire to achieve the impossible, namely to give birth to himself, Nietzsche expresses a fundamental resentment towards that which he feels ardour for and most esteems —maternal creativity . This resentment on his part towards the creative powers of woman is comparable to the resentment he detects in the will’s desire to will backwards, that is to will the past and what has been. As Irigaray writes on this complex and crucial point: To overcome the impossible of your desire—that is surely your last hour’s desire. Giving birth to such and such a production, or such and such a child is a summary of your history. But to give birth to your desire itself, that is your final thought. To be incapable of doing it, that is your highest

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ressentiment . For you either make works that fit your desire, or you make desire itself into your work . But how will you find the material to produce such a child? With extraordinary insight Irigaray examines the nature of Nietzsche’s masculine resentment towards life and towards woman: And, going back to the source of all your children, you want to bring yourself back into the world. As a father? Or a child? And isn’t being two at a time the point where you come unstuck? Because, to be a father, you have to produce, procreate, your seed has to escape and fall from you. You have to engender suns, dawns, and twilights other than your own. But in fact isn’t it your will, in the here and now, to pull everything back inside you and to be and to have only one sun? And to fasten up time, for you alone? And suspend the ascending and descending movement of genealogy? And to join up in one perfect place, one perfect circle, the origin and end of all things? (Irigaray 1991:34) In other words, Nietzsche, Irigaray contends, because of his desire to create, and care only for, himself, is wrapped up in his own solipsistic universe. Nietzsche wants to attain the impossible and to will backwards so as to be able to give birth to himself. To achieve this he must devalue woman by construing her existence as dependent on man for its fulfilment (when, in reality, every male that exists is dependent on a woman for their coming into the world, for their gift of life). Nietzsche’s resentment of the creative independence of women is surely evident in his description of the emancipated woman as an abortive female. But note, there is nothing particularly unique about Nietzsche’s resentment: it is typical of patriarchy. Irigaray’s reading of Nietzsche/Zarathustra is provocative and contentious. A proper engagement with it would require a detailed reading of Zarathustra, and would have to take into account interpretations of the kind developed by Gary Shapiro, who has argued that the central teaching of the book, the doctrine of eternal return, entails a ‘radical dissolution of selfhood’ (Shapiro 1989:86). According to Shapiro’s reading, the significance of the doctrine of return is that it surrenders the search for a foundation which would secure a ground on which to base a notion of the human self as coherent and integrated, as fully present to itself (Shapiro 1989:92). In contrast to Irigaray’s reading, he is suggesting that what Nietzsche is putting forward in Zarathustra is not a notion of the self as hegemonic and imperial, but rather one which exceeds the boundaries of a narrowly defined identity and is overfull in its openness to otherness and the world. Equally important to consider in this context, however, is Peter Sloterdijk’s (1988) challenging reading of Nietzsche, which argues that the conception of autonomy, of selfcreation through self-birth (the autogenesis of the subject), to be found in Nietzsche’s work (notably the opening of the second essay of the Genealogy of Morals), is a ‘masculine’ one. It is masculine, Sloterdijk argues, in the sense that the subject posited is one which must stand its own ground, independent, beautiful and proud, and suppress what it regards as the horror and ugliness of its own birth: a birth in which it was in a relationship of dependency. Nietzsche speaks of the necessity of ridding oneself of the nauseous view presented to us by the miscarried, the stunted and the poisoned (Sloterdijk 1988:110–11).

Nietzsche’s philosophy is sexist Higgins, 98’ (Kathleen Marie Higgins, continental philosophy, aesthetics, and philosophy of music, edited or co-edited several others on such topics as German Idealism, aesthetics, ethics, erotic love, and non-Western philosophy. Resident Scholar at the Rockefeller Foundation's Bellagio Study and Conference Center and a Visiting Fellow at the Australian National University Philosophy Department and Canberra School of Music, “Feminist Interpretations of Friedrich Nietzsche”, pg. 131) m.dawg

We can hardly begin to consider Nietzsche’s suggestions in these regards, however, without confronting the allegation that Nietzsche was a paradigmatic sexist. Although many of the important names in Western philosophy have been singled out for feminist censure, Nietzsche is often held up as an exemplar of all that is misogynistic, both in the philosophical tradition and within patriarchy generally.

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Nietzsche is identified as a misogynist for a variety of reasons. He is seen as an essentialist, an opponent of women’s rights, an enthusiast of masculine virtue, and an advocate of male domination. While none of these attributions may be entirely apt, I agree with Nietzsche’s feminist critics that he was, at least sometimes too willing to rest content with truisms about women and vent personal rage in the guise of philosophy.

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Nietzsche was a Nazi

Nietzsche’s rampant antisemitism profoundly shaped his thoughtSantaniello 94 (Weaver, Ph.D., Religious Studies-philosophy, Northwestern University M.Div., Theology, Yale University, Professor of Philosophy, specialized research topic is philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche, “Nietzsche, God, and the Jews: His Critique of Judeo-Christianity in Relation to the Nazi Myth” Albany: State University of New York Press, 1994// rck)

Because I am concerned with Nietzsche’s ethical critique of Christianity, and view Nietzsche as one who wrote to encourage critical

thinking and individual transformation, my stance can formally be labeled as existential-apolitical. However, because I argue that Nietzsche’s life and thought was profoundly shaped by his encounter with the rampant antisemitism of his time, political dimensions are indispensable to his project which seeks to fuse both political and religious components in discerning Nietzsche’s analysis of Judeo-Christianity. The historically contextualized aspect of this work, therefore, seeks to challenge Strong’s

claim almost twenty years ago that “there is simply for Nietzsche no coherent way to talk about politics of his day because—in a genealogical perspective—the politics tend to be incoherent.” Considering that scholars readily acknowledge that Judeo-

Christian tradition as the nucleus from which Nietzsche’s philosophy emerges, relatively minor attention has been given to Nietzsche’s overall treatment of both Christianity and Judaism. In regard to Christianity, although various works and scores of

essays address particular aspects of Nietzsche’s analysis, efforts seeking to integrate the religious, political, and personal aspects of Nietzsche’s views are rare. Perhaps the most well-known work is Karl Jasper’s Nietzsche and Christianity, which was based on a lecture delivered in German in 1938, translated into English in 1961, and amounts to the length of an essay. Jaspers connects Nietzsche’s

thought to his personal life; he also relates Nietzsche’s views on Christianity to world history and to the decline of Western culture.

However, Jaspers virtually ignores Nietzsche’s evaluation of ancient Judaism and modern Jewry; and he fails to mention antisemitism in

nineteenth-century Germany which was of major concern to Nietzsche and central to his critique of Christianity and cultural decline.

Nietzsche was an anti-Jewish polemicist—that shaped his cultural politics and arena Holub 95 (Robert C, chancellor of the University of Massachusetts Amherst,[1] beginning his tenure, Professor of German at the University of California-Berkeley (full professor from 1989 on), he became a leading scholar 19th and 20th century German intellectual, cultural, and literary history, “Nietzsche and the Jewish Question,” JSTOR// rck)

Nietzsche's relative freedom from anti-Jewish bias does not mean that he did not partake in the general atmosphere of anti-Jewish feeling of his time. Throughout his correspondence we repeatedly encounter unflattering references to Jews, in particular in his letters to his family. In April of 1866, she relates his endeavor to find a decent restaurant in which he would not have to put up with "oily butter and Jewish pusses [Judenfratzen]."19 To Hermann Mushacke, whom he had befriended while they were both students in Bonn, he reports in a similar manner that "everywhere you look there are Jews and their chums [Juden und Judengenossen]."20 And writing to his mother and sister after the October

fair in 1868, Nietzsche comments that he is relieved to be rid of "the smell of fat and the numerous Jews."21 In

these early letters, one has the impression that Nietzsche's disparaging remarks about Jews are more thoughtless decoration than the

expression of a deep conviction. In his early years, Jews have a traditional field of association in Nietzsche's mind: they are identified with merchants and money, with unsavory food, ugliness, and occasionally cleverness. But the remarks and associations in Nietzsche's letters - and very likely in his casual conversations - are probably as much a reflection on the expectations of his correspondents as on Nietzsche

himself.22 They are significant not because Nietzsche was on the road to becoming a rabid anti-Jewish polemicist - which was the fate of several of his contemporaries - but because they indicate that in his early years he blended in rather inconspicuously with a climate of anti-Jewish biases that flourished almost everywhere around him, from the small town of Naumburg to the university city of Bonn and even to the more

cosmopolitan metropolis of Leipzig.23 In the early 1870s, probably under the influence of Wagner and his entourage, it is possible to detect a slight expansion of this anti-Jewish sentiment into the arena of culture. There is a hint that Nietzsche begins to associate Jews with a complex of contradictory items that includes nationaliberalism in politics, journalism as a form of writing, the newly established German Reich, French influence, and pseudo-cultural aspiration.

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Nietzsche’s cultural criticisms are based on his repressed anti-Semitic prejudice Knodt 93 (Eva M., The German Quarterly, American Association of Teachers of German, “The Janus Face of Decadence: Nietzsche's Genealogy and the Rhetoric of Anti-Semitism,” JSTOR//rck)

There is nothing overtly anti-Semitic in this letter unless one reads the mere mentioning of the Jew, playfully innocent as it may sound, as a sign

of repressed hostility. On the face of it, that would seem absurd. And yet, why mention the Jew at all? What, in other words,

accounts for the introduction of this figure if not an implicit chain of associations that points beyond the picture's

framed surface to the cultural code that generates its meaning according to a structure of perception rooted in 19th-

century racial prejudice? That Nietzsche would indeed establish an associative link between the sense of "stupidity" emanating

from the fair and an excessively "Jewish" spirit of commerce is consistent with the anti-Semitic bias that informs his thinking while under the influence of Richard Wagner. Although never as ferocious as Wagner's in his promotion of this bias, Nietzsche's cultural criticism of the early 1870s, especially in Die Geburt der Tragodie (1872) and the second of the Unzeitgema3e Betrachtungen

(Vom Nutzen und Nachteil der Historie fir das Leben; 1873), is based on a set of conceptual oppositions compatible with, if not

reducible to, the Wagnerian antithesis between Deutschtum and Judentum.3 Like Wagner, the young Nietzsche condemns as

"Jewish" just about everything he finds wrong with contemporary Germany: its shallow optimism, its lack of depth

and true passion. Indicating a state of utter degeneracy, these "symptoms" point to a decentered culture led astray by the false idols of "Socratic" scientism and "Jewish" materialism, hence a culture much in need of redemption.

Nietzsche’s Will to Power specifically justified Nazi expansion and fascismCarter 11 (Lucas, International School of Toulouse, “How did Friedrich Nietzsche’s ideas influence the Nazi regime in the Third Reich?”// rck)

Within the book there are various sections suggesting that Nietzsche was in favour of Eugenics and breeding a master race. This can be seen at

a simple glance at the last part of The Will to Power in a section called Discipline and Breeding, “[Elisabeth] tailored [The Will to Power]

by the title that she gave the various sections…in such a way that it suggested that [Nietzsche] was very much in favour of

eugenics, breeding an ideal Master Race…it was a perversion of his message and to some extent a forgery.”22 The Nazis drew a more biological interpretation of Nietzsche’s Will to Power. This can be seen as a parallel to social Darwinism23, also known as

“survival of the fittest” whereby the stronger animals live to rule out the weaker ones. The Nazis applied this theory to

everyday life to fit their brutal ideals of overpowering “mongrel races” and “undesirables” hence the name ‘social’

and ‘Darwinism’. Similarly, the Nazis drew influence from the Will to Power to justify their territorial quests and their ‘will for power’ to take control over neighbouring countries. The phrase ‘the will to power’ was adapted metaphorically for the

Nazi ambition to expand territorially, also known as Lebensraum (literally – living space). “Above all [Nietzsche] denounced the corruption of German “spirit” by the new practitioners of power politics. Hence it was one of the worst Nazi distortions of Nietzsche’s philosophy to claim that his notion of “the will to power” was consonant with what was being advocated in the Third Reich.”24 A different important point to consider is how Nazi officials, such as Alfred Baeumler (Bäumler) interpreted Nietzsche’s work. Alfred Baeumler was a pseudo-philosopher for

the Nazis who played an important role of portraying Nietzsche as the ‘godfather of fascism’. In one of his books called der

Philosophund Politiker he writes about the relation (he saw) between the Nietzsche and Nazism, “The German state of the future will not be a continuation of Bismarck's creation, but will be created out of the spirit of Nietzsche and the spirit of the Great War”25. Wikipedia claims that he was “one of the few influential philosophers in Nazi Germany”.

Hitler and Nietzsche’s public visit confirms his role as the philosopher of the NazisGolomb and Wistrich 2 (Jacob and Robert S., professor of philosophy at The Hebrew University of Jerusalem in Continental philosophy of the 19th and 20th centuries, phenomenology, hermeneutics, psychoanalysis, philosophy and literature; Philosophy of Zionism and Jewish modern philosophy, Erich Neuberger Professor of European and Jewish history at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, and the head of the University's Vidal Sassoon International Center for the Study of Antisemitism. According to Indiana University,

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Wistrich was "a leading scholar of the history of anti-Semitism,” “Nietzsche, Godfather of Fascism? On the Uses and Abuses of a Philosophy”// rck)

In 1934, Adolf Hitler paid a much publicized visit to the Nietzsche archives at Weimar. He had gone at the insistent request of its director, Elisabeth Förster-Nietzsche (sister of the long-deceased German philosopher), and he was accompanied by his personal photographer, Heinrich Hoffmann. The main purpose of the visit, it seems, was to enable Hoffmann to take a picture of Hitler contemplating the bust of Nietzsche, which stood in the reception room. Perhaps appropriately, only half of the philosopher's head was shown in the picture, which duly appeared in the German press with a caption that read, "The Führer before the bust of the German philosopher whose ideas have fertilized two great popular movements: the National Socialism of Germany and the Fascist movement of Italy." Although Benito Mussolini was

certainly familiar with Nietzsche's writings and was a long-time admirer of the philosopher, Hitler's own connection with Nietzsche remains uncertain. As a soldier during the First World War, he had carried the works of Schopenhauer and not those of Nietzsche

in his backpack. There is no reference to Nietzsche in Mein Kampf (though there is to Schopenhauer), and in Hitler's Table Talk, he refers only

indirectly to Nietzsche, saying: "In our part of the world, the Jews would have immediately eliminated Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, and Kant.

If the Bolsheviks had dominion over us fo r two hundred years, what works of our past would be handed on to posterity? Our great men would fall into oblivion, or else they'd be presented to future generations as criminals and bandits."1 Thus the picture of Hitler gazing at Nietzsche's bust had more to do with a carefully orchestrated cult, one aspect of which was to connect National Socialism with the philosopher's legacy, at least by association. On October 1944, celebrating the hundredth anniversary of the birth of Nietzsche, Alfred Rosenberg, the leading Nazi party ideologist, delivered an official speech in Weimar, seeking to reinforce this impression: "In a truly historical sense, the National Socialist

movement eclipses the rest of the world, much as Nietzsche, the individual, eclipsed the powers of his times."2 Of course, Nietzsche was

not the only German philosopher invoked as a spiritual guide and forerunner of the Nazi revolution, but his "Nazification" in the course of the Third Reich is a historical fact that cannot be denied , though it is more open to interpretation than is sometimes assumed. The intriguing question that lies at the heart of this original collection of essays is how

Nietzsche came to acquire the deadly "honor" of being considered the philosopher of the Third Reich and whether such claims have any justification. What was it in Nietzsche that attracted such a Nazi appropriation in the first place? To what

extent is it legitimate to view Nietzsche as a protofascist thinker? Does it make any sense to hold him in some way responsible for the horrors of Auschwitz? These issues are not as clear-cut as they may seem, and though they have attracted much polemical heat, they have not received any truly systematic treatment. In this volume, we have attempted to fill that gap in as concise and comprehensive a way as possible by turning to a variety of distinguished historians, Nietzsche scholars, philosophers, and historians of ideas. It was clear from the outset that we could not expect, nor indeed did we strive for, unanimous conclusions on the thorny, complex, and emotionally charged question of Nietzsche and fascism. A whole range of views is presented here that attempts to do justice in different ways to the ambiguity and richness of Nietzsche's thought. Nietzsche encouraged his readers to shift their intellectual viewpoints and be willing to experience even radically incompatible perspectives. Thus by dealing with the subject matter of this collection from two different perspectives--that of philosophers and of historians--we hope that a Nietzschean spirit of intellectual tolerance will be reflected in this volume.

Nietzsche’s denial of the concept of evil makes it impossible to prevent future genocidesCalder 14 (Todd, DEPARTMENT OF PHILOSOPHY, SAINT MARY’S UNIVERSITY, The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, “The Concept of Evil," December 21, //rck)

The most celebrated evil-skeptic, nineteenth century German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche, also argues that the concept of evil should be abandoned because it is dangerous. But his reasons for thinking that the concept of evil is dangerous are different from those discussed above. Nietzsche believes that the concept of evil is dangerous because it has a negative effect on human potential and vitality by promoting the weak in spirit and suppressing the strong. In On the Genealogy of Morality: A Polemic, Nietzsche argues that the concept of evil arose from the negative emotions of envy, hatred, and resentment (he uses the French term ressentiment to capture an attitude that combines these elements). He contends that the powerless and weak created the concept of evil to take revenge against their

oppressors. Nietzsche believes that the concepts of good and evil contribute to an unhealthy view of life which judges relief from suffering as more valuable than creative self-expression and accomplishment. For this reason Nietzsche believes that we

should seek to move beyond judgements of good and evil (Nietzsche 1886 and 1887). Nietzsche's skeptical attack on the concept of evil has encouraged philosophers to ignore the nature and moral significance of evil and instead focus on the

motives people might have for using the term ‘evil’ (Card 2002, 28). In the Atrocity Paradigm, Claudia Card defends the concept of evil

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from Nietzsche's skeptical attack. Card rejects Nietzsche's view that judgments of evil indicate a negative life-denying perspective. Instead, she believes that judgments of evil often indicate a healthy recognition that one has been treated unjustly. Card also argues that we have just as much reason to question the motives of people who believe we should abandon the concept of evil as we do to question the motives of people who use the concept. She suggests that people who want to abandon the concept of evil may be overwhelmed by the task of understanding and preventing evil and would rather focus on the less daunting task of questioning the motives of people who use the term (Card 2002, 27–49).

Recognizing evil is necessary to capture and prevent atrocities like the HolocaustCalder 14 (Todd, DEPARTMENT OF PHILOSOPHY, SAINT MARY’S UNIVERSITY, The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, “The Concept of Evil," December 21, //rck)

Some people believe that we should revive the concept of evil because only the concept of evil can capture the moral significance of acts, characters, and events such as sadistic torture, serial killers, Hitler, and the Holocaust.

As Daniel Haybron puts it “Prefix your adjectives [such as ‘wrong’ or ‘bad’] with as many ‘very’s as you like; you still fall short. Only ‘evil’, it seems, will do” (Haybron 2002b, 260). According to this line of argument, it is hard to deny that evil exists; and if evil exists,

we need a concept to capture this immoral extreme. A second argument in favour of the concept of evil is that it is only by facing evil, i.e., by becoming clear about its nature and origins, that we can hope to prevent future evils from occurring and live good lives (Kekes 1990, Card 2010). A third reason to revive the concept of evil is that categorizing actions and practices

as evil helps to focus our limited energy and resources. If evils are the worst sorts of moral wrongs, we should prioritize the reduction of evil over the reduction of other wrongs such as unjust inequalities . For instance, Card believes that it is more important to prevent the evils of domestic violence than it is to ensure that women and men are paid equal wages for equal work (Card

2002, 96–117). A fourth reason to revive the concept of evil is that by categorizing actions and practices as evil we are better able to set limits to legitimate responses to evil. By having a greater understanding of the nature of evil we are better

able to guard against responding to evil with further evils (Card 2010, 7–8).

You should reject all instances of literary anti-Semitism—the alternative is more destruction and violence Gelber 85 (Mark H., American-Israeli scholar of comparative literature and German-Jewish literature and culture, “What Is Literary Antisemitism?”//rck)

The antisemitic polemics characteristic of early Christianity and the incorporation of polemical material into Christian theology had unquestionable consequences in terms of the future of Jewish-Christian relations. Indeed, the very validity of Christianity was in a

sense predicated on the antiquated, no longer pertinent message of Judaism, demonstrable in the ruination and degeneration of Jews and the Jewish nation as a whole, which individual Christians could help precipitate through anti-Semitic outbursts or anti-Jewish legislation. With the ascendency of a Christianity bitterly opposed to Jews and Judaism,

many examples of literary antisemitism became an intrinsic part of the literature of the Mediterranean-European world and continued to be so as Western literature gradually emancipated itself from the service of established Christian religion. Although the current, lively debate about the extent and intensity of anti-Semitism in the pre-Christian periods has yielded no unambiguous conclusion, the

exponents of the most extreme position-those who argue that in the Hellenistic world "anti-Semitism was the norm, more

deeply ingrained and more widespread than many modern scholars allow"'7-base their arguments largely on the evidence of literary antisemitism: "the extreme bitterness of many references to the Jews, the rarity of positive comments, and the fact that entire books were written 'against the Jews."''1 Still, the gradual evolution from a time when antisemitism was chiefly a literary

phenomenon with certain, yet undefined, implications for an intended readership to a period when specific social and political consequences of that phenomenon were drawn and implemented was fatefully accelerated and intensified with the rise and ultimate

hegemony of Christianity in Europe. The harsh reality of Christian antisemitism, which many scholars perceive as the true beginning of

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anti-Semitism as a full-fledged social movement, exerted a profound influence on subsequent modern

varieties of antisemitism; indeed, the widespread acceptance of antisemitic legislation and the nearly ubiquitous complicity of gentile populations in the attempted Nazi destruction of the Jewish people is totally incomprehensible without the extensive background of the centuries-old phenomenon of Christian antisemitism.

Literary anti-Semitism perpetuates physical violence, cultural, psychological, and racial biases Gelber 85 (Mark H., American-Israeli scholar of comparative literature and German-Jewish literature and culture, “What Is Literary Antisemitism?”//rck)

Accordingly, given the literary and social background of antisemitism, satire of Jewish behavior in literature would also be an instance of literary antisemitism, if no discernible counterbalance to negative Jewish types or pejorative attributions to Jews appear at the same time in a given text. The Jewish or non-Jewish identity of a writer would have nothing to do with the possible "antisemitic" aspect of satire directed at Jews.

Thus, "Jewish literary antisemitism" in effect does not constitute a separate area of concern within the general framework of engagement with literary antisemitism. To the extent that any general pronouncement or collective criticism concerning a nation of people might be valid or funny, Jews like any other collective group are subject to this kind of illogical

formulation. Certainly, the abundance of gruesome details of antisemitic violence and the commensurate intensity of Jewish suffering for centuries, effectively lessen the possible humor to be derived from certain kinds of satire of Jewish behavior. Yet, humor in its various varieties is a complex subject, dependent largely on changing social climates, which help

determine its parameters, together with individual, subjective tendencies related to taste, class, age, and other factors, somewhat beyond the purview of this inquiry. As modern antisemitism flourishes in an era when Jews are simultaneously undergoing processes of emancipation

and assimilation and in a civic environment less determined by religious dogma, examples of literary antisemitism in the modern

period are less concerned with religious aspects of the negative Jewish images and tend to focus on other cultural, psychological, or biological (racial) features. Yet, as George Mosse writes, the thoroughly negative image of the Jew, already a permanent feature in Western literature, was easily adopted by racialist writers and the inherited images and literary devices which advanced those images were not altered in any substantial way .28 Once,

however, the battle for Jewish civil emancipation is under way in Europe, and concomitantly, positive Jewish characters and positive references to Jews begin to make their way into the pages of European literature and onto the stage as well, new examples of literary

antisemitism have to be evaluated in contradistinction to the new "pro-Jewish" literary material. Furthermore, the radical changes in the nature of the "Jewish question" in the twentieth century, taking into account the attempted Nazi destruction of

European Jewry and the partial fulfillment of the Zionist goal of a Jewish state, have thrust the contemporary issue of literary anti-Semitism into different perspectives, topical and deserving of critical attention.

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Nietzsche is not a Hippy Nietzsche’s nihilism is the pinnacle of a nihilistic politics that process a moral relativism which justifies rendering the world into its technological utility for the self. This privileging of the will leads to endless violenceSmith 2006

(Nilhilism in Nietzsche, Heidegger and Levinas Smith Toby Nilhilism in Nietzsche, Heidegger and Levinas, Durham theses, Durham University. Available at Durham E-Theses Online: http://etheses.dur.ac.uk/2652/)

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Having oriented ourselves around Heidegger's central concern, the question of Being, we can now turn to his account of Nietzsche. In discussing Nietzsche, we have questioned both the coherence and the feasibility of Nietzsche's account of truth. We also saw that Nietzsche considered this account to have potentially dangerous consequences, for it could lead to a deadening kind of relativism in which more and more people acquiesce, and in which all meaningful distinctions are erased. Heidegger's critique of Nietzsche centres around these twin concerns. He portrays Nietzsche's account of truth, and his posing of the problem of nihilism in terms of values, as symptoms of a 'forgetfulness of Being'. As such, Nietzsche's philosophy marks the end of the line, a line that begun with Plato, and thus Nietzsche is, in Heidegger's eyes, the last metaphysician of the West, and far from having overcome nihilism actually represents its culmination. Nihilism consists, for Heidegger, in this forgetfulness of Being coterminous with the history of Western philosophy since Plato, and culminating in Nietzsche's alleged antidote to nihilism - disposing with an old set of values and adopting new ones. He argues that nihilism, forgetfulness of Being, manifests itself in a 'technological' understanding of being, which obscures Being, and leads to the kind of relativism Nietzsche so feared. As we shall also see, such relativism is not, in Heidegger's view, a product of weakness of will, of the inability to posit one's own values, so much as a product of too much will, of an overly wilful and anthropocentric comportment towards Being which has been entrenching itself for two thousand five hundred years. Thus, an appropriate response to nihilism lies not so much in strength of will as in a relinquishing of will and openness to being claimed or called by something which in some sense transcends us- a claim ruled out by Nietzsche's account of truth.

Nietzsche’s attempt to cover come nihilism is a product of nihilism itself, nihilism is a state of being not a simple orientation. Smith 2006

(Nilhilism in Nietzsche, Heidegger and Levinas Smith Toby Nilhilism in Nietzsche, Heidegger and Levinas, Durham theses, Durham University. Available at Durham E-Theses Online: http://etheses.dur.ac.uk/2652/)

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This is the essence of nihilism, for Heidegge•·: the occlusion of Being by man. This is why Nietzsche, far from discerning a way beyond nihilism, actually remains deeply mired in it, due to the very way in which he - unconsciously - tries to tackle nihilism. The very fact that Nietzsche thinks of nihilism as something that we have brought about (think of the 'death of God' passage, in which the madman screams, 'We have killed him- you and I. All of us are his murderers', (GS: 125 I p.181)) betrays his inability to perceive the essence of nihilism, as far as Heidegger is concerned, which is 'forgetfulness of Being'. From this perspective, nihilism is not something that we have brought about, but is rather an event of the history of Being itself, and is thus sent to us by Being. Recognising this is central to preparing a way beyond it, as we shall see when we consider Heidegger's reflection on technology. As he puts it, in 'Nihilism and the history of Being': 'The essence of nihilism is not at all the affair of man, but a matter of Being itself' (N4: 221 ).

This is, for Heidegger, the essence of nihilism. At this point in his reflections on Nietzsche we find perhaps his most concise and helpful de fin it ion of nihilism [Nihilism] must seek the true and the real in the absolute humanization of all being. Metaphysics is anthropomorphism - the, formation and apprehension of the world according to man's image .... [metaphysics as will to power] ... thrusts man as no metaphysics before it into the role of the absolute and uniquemeasure of things (N4: 83-4).

This is the essence of nihilism, for Heidegge•·: the occlusion of Being by man. This is why Nietzsche, far from discerning a way beyond nihilism, actually remains deeply mired in it, due to the very way in which he - unconsciously - tries to tackle nihilism. The very fact that Nietzsche thinks of nihilism as something that we have brought about (think of the 'death of God' passage, in which the madman screams, 'We have killed him- you and I. All of us are his murderers', (GS: 125 I p.181)) betrays his inability to perceive the essence of nihilism, as far as Heidegger is concerned, which is 'forgetfulness of Being' . From this perspective, nihilism is not something that we have brought about, but is rather an event of the history of Being itself, and is thus sent to us by Being. Recognising this is central to preparing a way beyond it, as we shall see when we consider Heidegger's reflection on technology. As he puts it, in 'Nihilism and the history of Being': 'Th0

Niezsche;s obsession with the over coming of value is a uniqunely modern approach to history that is simply a evocation, to come to a conclusion that we need not do something has no relevance to the notion of value or morality itself. The ancient greeks prove this

Smith 2006

(Nilhilism in Nietzsche, Heidegger and Levinas Smith Toby Nilhilism in Nietzsche, Heidegger and Levinas, Durham theses, Durham University. Available at Durham E-Theses Online: http://etheses.dur.ac.uk/2652/)

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Heidegger's opposition to thinking in terms of values was long standing. In an early series of lectures he gave, Towards a Definition of Philosophy, he attacks this style of thinking in certain neo-Kantians. Such opposition reaches its height in the Nietzsche lectures and after. He claims, 'The very positing of these values in the world is already nihilism' (N4: 44), and, 'No one dies for mere values' (QCT: 142). His

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reasons for thinking this are expressed most clearly in the 'Lette1· on Humanism': it is important finally to realize that precisely through the characterization of something as 'a value' what is so valued is robbed of its worth. That is to say, by the assessment of something as a value what is valued is admitted only as an object for man's estimation. But what a thing is in its Being is not exhausted by its being an object, particularly when objectivity takes the form of value. Every valuing, even where it values positively, is a subjectivizing. It does not let beings: be. Rather, valuing lets beings: be valid- solely as the objects of jts doing .... When one proclaims 'God' the altgg_ether 'highe~t value,' this is a degradation of God's essence. Here as elsewhere thinking in values is the greatest blasphemy imaginable against Being. To think against values therefore does not mean to beat the drum for the valuelessness and nullity of beings. It means rather to bring the---clearing of the truth of Being before thinking, as against subjectivizing beings into mere objects (BW: 251 ). I quote this passage at length because of its supreme importance for my concerns. Firstly, note the theological tone, as Heidegger calls valuative thinking a 'blasphemy' against Being. His reason for thinking this is completely clear here: values are always relative to specific people, and hence involve a subjectivizing (and thereby objectiving) of the world, in which beings are treated solely in terms of their capacity to bring about the goals of man's striving. He opposes to this a way of thinking and living which attends to 'the clearing of the truth of Being', the source of being and beings, which is occluded by a life concerned solely with actualizing certain ends. He is suggesting that, in our talk of values, we come to feel, as our ancestors did not, that our values are merely our values, that they do not possess a reality above and beyond our positing them as such, which is why, Heidegger suggests, 'No one dies for mere values'. Here we see the rift between Heidegger and Nietzsche, and therewith Heidegger and the rest of the philosophical tradition (at least in his characterisation) begin to emerge. Whereas Nietzsche celebrates the recognition that our values are just that - our values- as a way to facing up to man's true creative capacities to forge his own scheme of values and posit his own meanings, Heidegger recoils from such a stance as a 'blasphemy against Being' because it renders what is valued valueless, uncompelling and unbinding.

The altenrative is the revealing of the world, a refusal to impose our subjectivity on the world around us. Instead we should recognize our usbjecitivty is formed not in the clash with other subjects but rather rather we are formed by the world around us.

Smith 2006

(Nilhilism in Nietzsche, Heidegger and Levinas Smith Toby Nilhilism in Nietzsche, Heidegger and Levinas, Durham theses, Durham University. Available at Durham E-Theses Online: http://etheses.dur.ac.uk/2652/)

Secondly, Heidegger argues that this way of disclosing being makes us more likely than ever to forget Being, the 'source' of all disclosures of being, and to forget that there are other, more 'original' and 'primal' ways of disclosing the world: Where this ordering holds sway, it drives out every other possibility of revealing. Above all, enframing conceals that revealing which, in the sense of poiesis, lets what presences come forth into appearance.The rule of enframing threatens man with the possibility that it could be denied to him to enter into a more original revealing and hence to experience the call of a more primal truth (BW: 332-3). What might be the nature of 'a more original revealing and ... a more primal truth' we shall consider in chapter five. For now the point to note is that the great danger, in Heidegger's eyes, that 'technology' poses is that enframing becomes the only mode of revealing entities, and hence prevents us from entering into a more primal relationship to Being. This would result in an obscuration of man's essence as 'the one spoken to [by Being]', the 'shepherd of Being', so that 'he himself will have to be taken as standingreserve' (BW: 332), as a 'human resource'. As he goes on to write, in a passage which makes clear the link between Heidegger's interpretation of Nietzsche and 'technology':

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Meanwhile, man ... exalts himself and postures as lord of the ea1·th. In this way the illusion comes to prevail that everything man encounters exists only insofar as it is his construct. This illusion gives rise in turn to one final delusion: it seems as though man everywhere and always encounters only himself .... Man stands so decisively in subservience to the challenging-forth of enframing that he does not grasp enframing as a claim, that he fails to see himself as the one spoken to, and hence also fails in every way to hear in what respect he ek-sists, in terms of his essence, in a realm where he is addressed, so that he can never encounter only himself.