Nietzsche
disguises himself here as a freethinker well schooled in the best tradition of the Enlightenment who is striking down a father of the church with the momentum of his anticlerical fury.
Peter-Sloterdijk-Thinker-on-Stage
His name is So- we should caution the reader that this is a pseudonym, or at least not the man's full name.
This figure indicates no understanding for the sublimity of the play, and does not take part in the artistic intoxication of the others.
He sits fidgets back and forth, shakes his head, and yawns.
Sometimes he even speaks out loud in between, spontaneously offering theoretical suggestions on the progression of the plot.
According to him, the heroes would not have to unavoidably perish if only they could keep this or that in ?
By ?
Could it be that a philosopher has lost his way and wandered into a tragic theater?
The strange visitor behaves loathsomely.
And yet, during the terrible convolutions of the hero's agony, he exhibits the most malicious ?
and always seems to want to say: It doesn't have to be this ?
things could be otherwise; destiny doesn't follow a fixed ?
ought to let something other than this occur to us!
The true disciple of Dionysus can only turn away in disgust from so much insincerity.
Whoever is so lacking in good taste that he does not take life seriously as a tragedy cannot be proper company for a well-schooled Dionysian.
Or can it
be that he is proper company precisely because of this?
the most resolute partisan of tragedy will not deny that a Diony- sian pleasure must complement Dionysian pain ? not only complement but constitute and surpass ? The fact that this pleasure hides behind the masks
of optimism and comfort would correspond completely to the abysmal superfi- ciality that one must credit to the playful god of intoxication. Is it not part of the essence of tragedy that it is reflected in comedy? Does not the pain want to vanish so that pleasure can stake its own claim to eternity?
In any case, the Dionysian ? ? or should one say fan of Dionysus -- is alarmed. He knows there is someone in the audience whom must dismiss as contemptible at first glance, but whom he also cannot afford to let out of his sight; his presence has something unsettling about it. Perhaps he an unforeseen incarnation of a god? He looks like an idiot, a tramp, like a who can know for sure? Perhaps he is a cunning mask of a god, which would lead us to conclude that he is a smiling god? From his smiles, deities have sprung forth; from his tears have sprung forth ? goes the On the other hand, one never imagined that the laughter of a god could be insipid. This guy always laughs at the wrong moment; he laughs off the mark, speaks when he shouldn't, he sits where he ? he understands
nothing of the dramas of individuation, nothing of the metaphysical convolutions
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? 52 ? DIONYSUS MEETS DIOGENES
of heroes, and nothing of the murderous violence inherent in the dilemmas. For if he did understand, how could he still laugh? If he were prepared to unite in compassion with the god, how could he then abandon himself to his vulgar gaiety, rubbing his belly and, under the open sky of the tragic stage, reduce the deity to a good man?
A l l of this ? the shallow buffoon hangs about obstinately in the retinue of the deity. The only thing that can be noted to his credit is that he does not allow himself to be thrown off by any of the contempt shown toward him. He avoids all questions as to what he is looking for here or whether he belongs there at all with an ironic wink, as if he does not quite comprehend what the words "look for" or "belong" mean. The more sublime things become, the more id- iotic his laughter sounds. The more ceremoniously the symbols are spread out, the more energetically he shakes his ugly head and makes counterproposals in the face of ? Is he not a stain on the magnificent vestments of Dionysus?
But maybe he also has something to do with the terrible truth of the god perhaps it is his embarrassing mission to favor the mediocre over the profound? Perhaps he has been given the terrible duty of informing us that the truth is really not so terrible after ? We would then have to concede that Dionysus was not the most terrible of all deities because his terror is not ? A god in whom we sincerely want to believe should at least not be ironic: Dionysus is up to no good with the sincere believers among his
One of the greatest intuitions contained in Nietzsche's first book is revealed by its coupling of the dramatic resusitation of tragic wisdom with the birth of the Gay if this is done in a very enigmatic and imperceptible way. The intrinsic polarity Nietzsche treats in his book is precisely not that between the Apollonian and the the dramatic theme of the book is the relationship between the tragic and the An attentive reader must be astonished by how easily the compromise between the two deities of art is accomplished by Nietzsche the philologist, while, on the other hand, he has considerable difficulty removing the world of tragic art from the world of nonart, of mundanity, of ra- tionality and theoretical ? a word, from what he terms Socratic cul- ture. Nietzsche required no more than a few pages at the beginning of The Birth of Tragedy for the compromise between Apollo and Dionysus. For the balancing of the tragic with the ? he needed the rest of his life ? ever find- ing a solution to this lamentable complex. In the course of his efforts vis-a-vis the however, he became a genius of dedramatization, of cheering up, and of taking it easy. Thus the same man who, while wearing the mask of the Anti- christ, vented his emotions in the form of highly charged pathetic outbursts, also
became one of the founding fathers of the Gay
As Nietzsche interprets them, Apollo and Dionysus harmonize so splendidly that their historic compromise could be synonymous with a form of "more
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? DIONYSUS MEETS DIOGENES ? 53
advanced" ? theory of culture and neurosis is really only the con- tinuation of the Nietzschean concept of compromise. However, Dionysus, the embodiment of divine vitality, cannot bear to be honored exclusively at the altars of this more advanced culture. A ll along, he has also laid claim to the wild side, and is therefore also called the god "to come" not least of all be- cause he is as thrilling as sexual ecstasy, which is the most experi- ence that human beings know. His domain is the wilderness of intoxication, to the extent that this also represents a vital experience for human beings within
culture is possible only if that which is older than it and supports it remains pre- served within it. And yet the term "wilderness" for Dionysus suggests more than a music reservation administered by Apollo. For this reason he does not, if he is honest, like to attend operas, and the tragedies that are supposedly about him are more likely to inspire him to yawn than to give him pleasure.
It may therefore be the case that this laughing and yawning idiot whom Nietz- sche sees emerging at the edge of the tragic stage is in truth a messenger of the god to come, who is supposed to make it clear to his solemnly high-strung fol- lowers that he is from time to time in need of more palpable forms of
If tragedy will be forever only an orgy in place of an orgy, this fact will ultimately prove to be an argument against tragedy ? matter how sympathetic we are to the advantages to be gained from the substitution. In order to punish, but also to caution, the friends of tragedy, Dionysus resolves to give them the initiative to come to their senses through a messenger whom they will in all likelihood not believe ? that they will most certainly miss the god behind the pretext of his cult: they would then possess the unmisleading sense for the masked truths Nietz- sche substantiated.
Do we now understand the immeasurable consequences that must result from the introduction of this philsophizing spectator? Through his introduction banal as he may seem at first glance ? Dionysian phenomenon, which was initially only postulated and which had been put on ice by the forces of Apollo, could be set in motion in an unforeseen manner! The petrified wrestling match between Apollo and Dionysus could be transformed back into a vital struggle -- provided the Dionysian front was no longer acknowledged as existing only in the tragic spectacle, but also, and above all, in the discrete play of the nontragic.
As a result, one would have to decipher the scene consists of a chorus, heroes, the public, and the than has been cus- tomary up until now. Certainly, the god would appear, as Nietzsche ? fur- ther objectified and illustrated by Apollo, and at the same time as a dream image of the chorus, as the suffering hero on the tragic stage. But what if he were also to appear, unillustrated ? within the audience itself in the guise of a vulgar philosophizing fool, who makes fun of the heroes, the trage- dies, and the whole world of the symbolic? What if Dionysus were no longer alone in his futile assault on the Apollonian impulses of representation? Perhaps
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? 54 ? DIONYSUS MEETS DIOGENES
he could, while he waltzes across the orchestra pit in the convulsions of his di- lemma, also sit in the balcony and enjoy the spectacle he is making; perhaps this blasphemous amusement signifies the essential and most consequential through on the part of the Dionysian through the fissure of culture. Because Dionysus has denounced the absence of a divine wilderness in the innermost region of culture, does he not, more than anyone else, have the right to sneer at its symbolizations? Only the god of the theater can dare to What is the point of theater?
These statements, which go beyond Nietzsche's may seem to disregard essential for bringing the phenomenon that is unspecified but inherent in the text into a proper light. For when Nietzsche supplements his thoughts on trag- edy with those on nontragedy ? course, he does this reluctantly and in open conflict with his tragic-heroic ? is preparing the way for the insight that, in the future, we will have to reckon with a twofold manifestation of the Diony- sian: a higher one and a lower one, one that is symbolic and one that is panto- mimic, one that is celebratory and one which is commonplace, one spectacular
and one imperceptible.
Anyone who is serious about the Dionysian cannot overlook the fact that, in
addition to the great music festivals of universal ? there must also exist Dionysians of the commonplace -- if this god really does mean to signify the essence of the reality of the world differently and to represent not merely an im- presario for week-long Dionysian cultural celebrations or an excuse for artistic stimulation under the supervision of Apollo. Musical festivals of universal ec- stasy, from Pergamum to Bayreuth ? not? But can the Dionysian calendar be satisfied with only two weeks of festivities? Is the always approaching (kom-
god sufficiently honored by one debauch per year? And even if it is true that a year-long orgy would be a contradiction in itself, and that it is part of the fundamental structure of the festival to whirl past in great cycles ? truth of the god must be preserved and shown respect in an appropriate manner during the periods of his absence. The orgies cannot become chronic, but the truth of the orgy ? absorption of the individual consciousness into an enraptured nonob- jectivity that releases it from the misery of individuation ? and must also be elevated to the status of an unpretentious keepsake. More than anyone, Nietzsche has again put us on the trail to the proper name of this keepsake: for two thousand five hundred years it has been known as philosophy.
It is unbelievable: as long as it has existed, philosophy has ? a few sus- pect ? itself as the opposite of all that which the most ordi- nary understanding would define as the Dionysian. From the very beginning it has presented itself in a favorable light as tranquillity itself, seeking the cheerful- ness of the spirit, and existing only in the higher realm of ideas. And now it is suggested that philosophy is fundamentally a manifestation of the ? ap-
? ? ? ? ? ? DIONYSUS MEETS DIOGENES D 55
pearing incognito as something ? hermetic, and far removed from tragedy. The plausibility of this suggestion stands and falls with that of these ini- tial assumptions: that there must necessarily be Dionysians of the commonplace; that the truth of Dionysus also knows a nontragic means for manifesting itself; and that therefore a suspension of consciousness has developed that deciphers the arrival of the god in the thousand ordinary things that, because of their everyday occurrence among us, make up what we refer to as the world.
Assuming that this is all true, it is obvious why the philosophical thought that had become scholastic had to have experienced great difficulty in defining itself from the very ? it has ever since been communicated best whenever it has itself forgotten that for which it had originally stood. In Nietz- sche's Birth of Tragedy, the veil is pulled back a bit from the mystery for the first time. Accordingly, the Dionysian calm after the storm appears as the authentic philosophy. It is the celebration of the commonplace in the light of excess; a haze of postorgiastic thoughtfulness therefore surrounds all original thought. The ec- stasy vanishes, order returns once again, and the everyday resumes its course. But the astonishment remains. The elevated universal experience or universal fusion of intoxication has an obscure aftereffect. ? we say,
Dionysian fissure gapes open like an abyss or a nothingness into which everything that comes along will henceforth sink like something mon- strous, even if it is the most unobtrusive and commonplace.
In its most pedantic manifestation, however, philosophy would not consider thinking of itself in this way. Soon after its debut, it had already involved itself in an undertaking all its ? It soon forgot that it had initially been one half of a bipartite cultural wonder, which led on the one hand to the birth of tragedy out of the spirit of the musical orgy, and on the other to the birth of philosophy out of the spirit of difficulty, which was to be carried out in the interim between orgies. Since ? philosophy has turned a deaf ear whenever it has been in a position to hear the truth about itself; it does not want to acknowledge that it is a mode of thought that is in a state of remembrance of orgies ? -- an orgy in place of an orgy, a drama in place of a drama. Like every chronic search, it one day put itself in the place of what it was seeking and thereby lost itself, seemingly self-satis- fied, in the contemplation of higher realms of thought and spiritual hidden worlds, intelligible structures and logical procedures. What would later be called "metaphysics" developed through this substitution; "theory" developed through the repression of the Dionysian consciousness of universal arrival
by the objectifying and stagnant worldview; both have left a very deep impression on the history of the West. In both, the dominion of a
"truth" is announced, the consequences of which seem
Nietzsche was the first to recognize that the word " t r u t h " was almost always,
in the language of philosophy, the equivalent of "substitute," "alibi," "pre- text," "surrogate," and ? He saw through the illusion of
? ? ? ? ? ? 56 ? DIONYSUS MEETS DIOGENES
the "real world" as a surrogate world, and through the "true" knowledge of the philosophers as a knowledge in place of knowledge. Philosophical truth was for him always a "truth" that stands in place of something else. What is true within the truth therefore cannot possibly be understood without a theory of substitution and representation ? Once again we encounter ? great subject of illusion; once again we observe the interplay between an affirmative illusion that places value on its impenetrability, and a residue of transparency that makes it possible to think from now on within the context of a critical function. For if the substitute were not, to a certain extent, just as good as or better than what it was replacing, it could not replace it. If it did not stand in its place, we would always have to be dealing with something that could not be substituted
would always be immersed in the mute thing in and of itself and would not be able to maintain any distance from it. Thus, it would seem to lie in the nature of the substitution that it places a substitute before ? through which we can apapt ourselves to it. What cannot be replaced herein reveals its affinity with the
What does this have to do with philosophy? Naturally, these surrogate Diony- sians, who have established themselves as hard-hearted lovers of
belong in some way to the Dionysian phenomenon because they could not replace it otherwise. They acquire their critical distance to the real Dionysians "first and
however, in that they sense nothing of their own surrogate-Dionysian quality and have since the time of Socrates found themselves in the position of being oblivious to Dionysus. And yet, if Dionysus is also the god of the surrogate Dionysians, then a Dionysian fundamental phenomenon must take place in the Dionysian oblivion of theoretical thought. And accordingly, Dionysus also pre- vails in the modus of his withdrawal, his absence, his oblivion. Only in the twi- light hours of thought and within the framework of epochal ruptures in intellec- tual history does Dionysus awaken, as it were, to himself and become a more reasoning mode of thought ? condition of alertness inspired by dangers, which no longer represents anything but is rather the unmediated ? of the
Does this suggest merely a variation on Heidegger's thought, which has not yet decided between parody and paraphrase? One would have to say instead that Heidegger has transposed Nietzsche's parody of philosophy into an unauthorized melancholic key. There is everything to indicate that this time the farce preceded the melancholic version and that Heidegger's parody of Nietzsche is a more se- rious offense against the rules of art than the droll ? It is a parody in place of a ? philosophy was in its infancy, who would have thought that it would someday bring forth something like this? But there should be no panic among Heidegger's adoring ? That The Birth of Tragedy can be read as we have read it already presupposes the alternatives ? that Heideg- ger's earnest thinking out has won by means of Nietzsche's impulse to criticize
? ? ? ? ? ? DIONYSUS MEETS DIOGENES ? 57
and the dramaturgical freedom we have assumed in our reading of The Gay Science is one of which Heidegger was the coconqueror. Nietzsche's playfulness becomes evident only in contrast to Heidegger's seriousness. But what permeates the seriousness and jocularity is an epochal mutation of con- sciousness, the consequences of which become immeasurable once Nietzsche has entered his postmetaphysical period ? mutation that cuts like a century-long awakening into an era of thought and that counteracts its dramatic ? He who is lucky enough to be able, because of the modest organization of his intellect, to dismiss this as mere irrationalism should stay asleep for a while ? an unusual task awaits those who have awakened early.
This task begins with this still-painful denunciation of Socrates that gapes forth in Nietzsche's book like an open wound.
Nietzsche disguises himself here as a freethinker well schooled in the best tradition of the Enlightenment who is striking down a father of the church with the momentum of his anticlerical fury. Socrates, the father of the theoretical ? Socrates, the archdogmatist of human self-improvement through mere reason! Socrates, the intellectual mixer of poi- sons and demon of a negative enlightenment! Socrates, the unmusical barbarian of thought who, in his furor of reason, no longer conceives of tragedy as a mis- fortune but rather as a "problem," and who no longer understands that life is above all else a process of ? ? not an object for self-reflexive
With him, the decline of tragic consciousness begins, and phi- losophy enters into an age of theoretical optimism, a term that is merely another name for the most insipid Dionysian obliviousness.
Listen to the tone of these reproaches! Nietzsche is not protesting against the abrupt invasion of the scientific intellect into Greek thought, which occurred in the brief interim between the appearance of Socrates and the work of Aristotle. He objects to the un-Dionysian, unartistic, theoretical self-misrepresentation of philosophy in the persons of those who ? ? its greatest rep-
He does not intend to forgive Socrates for having destroyed the unity of art and philosophy that had lent its depth to an older way of thinking and was informed by Dionysus, and which could be rediscovered in a new way of thinking. The Birth of Tragedy therefore does not limit itself to an anti-Socratic tirade, and certainly not to a mere denunciation of philosophy. In publishing his
Nietzsche intended to point the way to a future potential of an art-enriched thought that has been reborn through the spirit of Dionysus. Ecce philosophus! Dionysus philosophos!
In this early book, Nietzsche has already initiated a radical restylization of the philosophical intellect. Even in his great reprimand of Socrates, his intention is to save the thinker from his merely theoretical obsession. " I f philosophy is art if the philosopher is possibly only a clever he-goat in a state of postor- giastic then the concerns of Dionysus are not lost theoretically. Two
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? 58 ? DIONYSUS MEETS DIOGENES
alternatives are available, through which the he-goat could dispense with his the- oretical ? has taken both into ? The theoretical So- crates could be rehabilitated through Dionysus as a ? or as a
i n g " Socrates.
The first path had already been offered to the ancient Socrates, if the legend is correct, by his demon ? this time spoke to him not to dissuade him, as he usually did, but to challenge him: "Socrates, make ? For Nietzsche, this meant that a philosopher could be forgiven for anything except for being musi- cally deficient. However, to the extent that Socrates represented the incarnation of a concept-weaving unmusicality, he really did lead philosophy in a direction that was unforgivable. Nietzsche does not, however, view this false step as irre- versible. Had not Schopenhauer, in his metaphysics of music, already broken through the wall that divided the philosophical universe from the musical one? Was not Wagner a living example of the fact that it was possible to unite the genius of music with the tragically ideal in earlier doctrines of truth? ? above all else, was not Nietzsche himself already involved in testing a new union of the divided spheres?
As far as the "raving" Socrates was concerned (a figure who would assume a significance as great as it was clandestine in Nietzsche's later writing), he need only read what Diogenes hawked to Laertius in his Lives and Thoughts of Famous Philosophers through his namesake from Sinope. Here we read Sokrates mainomenos; the phrase was coined by no less than Plato. And what could be read beyond this ? collection of anecdotes on a capricious, malicious, life-drenched doctrine of wisdom that refused to constitute a
enough to offer Nietzsche, the artist-theoretician who despaired of theoretical thought, advice he should never forget. This would all point to the trace of the almost physical untheoretical spirituality of the character type that was Diony-
and yet
In future writings, Nietzsche will mention his ancient source only with an
averted gaze. Only with the protection of a psychological and moralistic incog- nito can he succeed in following the ancient trail (Spur) and in profiting from
to a degree that would exceed anything ? "Something cynical, per- haps; something ? ? ? 2, p. 375) will now come into play in all of his works.
Nietzsche's discretion here is easy to understand. By openly establishing a connection with the irreverent bravura of the "cynical writers" (he refers to as we will ? in The Birth of Tragedy in the course of his criticism of the Platonic dialogue as the equivalent of the novel form for ideas), he would
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? have disavowed his stance of tragic, aristocratic
me eternal royal child ? ? had invested so to make two admissions at once, when the one ifestation of the Dionysian ? already difficult
in which h e - He would have had there was a nontragic man- He only succeeded in
? ? ? ? DIONYSUS MEETS DIOGENES ? 59
making the second admission right at the very end: he admitted that there might also be a plebeian form of ? For, in spite of everything, there appeared within the earliest form of "kynicism" an indespicable plebeian gallantry as the
of the poor scoundrel -- indeed, as in Crates, there appears in poverty as a chosen way of life a rare sovereignty. More than any individual ? there is a wild sense for the price of freedom, and he would experience the denunciation of the lies of comfort and the beautiful antics of the middle ? In the primary representations of ? an impressive denial of the authority of man- made laws is ? in the decision to submit himself without cul- tural trimmings to the majesty of the physis. Here the term physis does not mean the paragon of the object world or the gearwork of an obdurate cosmic causality; it is to a much greater extent the guarantor of an existence that does not defer to any reification, and is thus esteemed as the physical foundation of ecstasy, of which the freedom speeches of the philosophers communicate only the diluted infusion. The ancient speech of physis was not a tyrannically objectifying cult of physicalism, but rather a ways and means through which the consciousness of a
gnosis of the body could express itself.
A ll of this had too much in common with Nietzsche's own philosophical and psychological tendencies to have eluded him for long. Indeed,
together with certain rudimentary elements within the stoical Heraclitic move-
the last and most anonymous form of ancient doctrines of wisdom, and thus of a form of thought that conforms to the play of forces and the disso- nant consonance of physis, without losing itself in the phantasms of philosophical doctrines of the beyond. Let the depraved ghosts worry about transcendence and spin out their "relationship" with ? The consciousness of the ecstatic physicists (Physiker) refuses to ascend into the transcendent worlds of the phi- losophers because for them there exists no transcendence that remains within physis and that values it highly enough. He who wanted to establish a taphysical mode of thought, as Nietzsche undertook to do in the strongest mo- ments of his thought and in his whole literary guerrilla war on the great truths -- he had to take up the trail of the last ? especially if he was to prove that he was a Greek scholar who had read his Laertius better than anyone else.
But what does it mean to take up the trail of a consciousness that, because it lacks the will to theory and does not believe in the vital significance of specula- has left hardly a trace behind it? What constitutes the trail of this conscious- ness, which has disappeared almost without a trace? Surely not these few state- ments by the "kynics" on the cosmos as the home of man or on nature as the measure of action? Presuming even the slightest standard for a theoretically de- veloped capacity to question, these statements must be found lacking. The do-
minion of "kynicism" lies elsewhere ? its habitus, its mood, its infatuation with the current, in its style. This oscillates wherever it is authentically
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? 60 ? DIONYSUS MEETS DIOGENES
died, between didactic pantomime and satirical "checkered ? --satyr plays of the body and the ? Thus the concept of literature comes into play here for the second time with a specific ? ? Nietzsche violates the rules of his profession with his brightly checkered ? of philosophy, no dif- ferently than the way in which he had, during his initial appearance on stage, already strayed from the framework of what was permissible within the
of philology. It was precisely in doing this that he ? surreptitiously, but also with a decisiveness that leaves no room for any ? up the thread of that which has stretched from the "cynical writers" of antiquity through countless entanglements into modernity.
The Gay Science begins to spin its vestments from this thread; it will soon openly speak its name in the title of a subsequent book. It will speak first with the best kynical psychologizing of the "human, ? of the petty, ma- lignant truths of the commonplace that the blind gaze of theoretical sight has al- ready overlooked. Without literature, no truth; without psychology, no alertness; without "cynicism," no freedom to call things by their names.
And yet one should not delude oneself about the status of Nietzsche's psychol- ogy. However much it flirts with the perspective of the natural sciences and the stupidity of British positivism; however much it purports to flee into the Apol- lonian and plays out the role of a cold presence of mind in the face of former ecstasies, this psychology has, at its impulsive core, a long since been not a the- oretical undertaking but instead a dramatic one. It organizes Dionysians of civil- ity, and excesses of disillusionment. Dionysus cool. Nietzsche wrote in retro- spect:
But he who is related to me by the height of desire thereby experiences the true ecstasies of learning. ? ? ? There is absolutely no prouder and at the same refined type of book ? ? ? here and there they achieve the height of what can be achieved on earth, cynicism: one has to conquer them with the most tender fingers as well as with the bravest fists.
6, p. 302)
It is the same Dionysian impulse that gives the author an unparalleled under- standing of the psychodramatic tissue of ancient tragedy and, at the same time, opens his eyes to the Dionysians of the commonplace, the satyr plays of the
and the circles of hell of the ? As an aesthetician as well as a psychologist, Nietzsche becomes the mouthpiece of a consequential Dionysian invasion of the theoretical and moralistic culture of modern bourgeois society.
It is true that, in his twofold presence as orgy participant and psychologist, as Dionysian hero and critical rogue, Nietzsche brings to light a character who is anything but straightforward. He is modern, with all the implications of that term, and as such does not omit the self-contradiction and ambivalence that
? ? ? ? ? ? DIONYSUS MEETS DIOGENES
belong to ? He is decadent; a man who has been seriously wounded by culture, in all its resultant ramifications ? most valuable of which appear openly unequivocal with time. As E. M. Cioran has correctly observed, "His misere was therapeutic for us; he opened up the era of ? His was, indeed, a ? ? and yet nothing could prevent him from discovering in himself deeper reserves of healthiness than anyone would have credited him with, considering his wound. His laughter was unfounded; the experience of his life did not justify it. Perhaps because of this he was authorized as no one else had been to state that pleasure within the context of sorely tested exist-
a deeper phenomenon than In any case, he had, as
intellect, discovered something that was uncomplicated within a condition of complexity ? halcyon cheerfulness with which he veiled the news of the terri- ble truth. Cheerfulness is the courtesy of the
Even now, the Gay Science is still the most polite way to openly discuss the unbearable elements of existence. There is no way to retaliate against the clever idiots who, because of the light tone of the work, conclude that the thought con- tained therein is in itself ? with the beautiful statement with which Nietzsche has characterized the relationship between the philosopher and those among his public who are merely clever and inexperienced:
Every deep thinker fears being understood more than he fears being misunderstood. The latter wounds his vanity, perhaps, but the former wounds his heart, his sense of compassion, which always responds, "Ah, why do the likes of you want to suffer as I do? " ? 5, p.
Nietzsche paid a high price for discovering that Dionysus not only manifests him- self as a suffering hero and an ecstatic chorus, but can also plunge into the human fray as a psychologist, itinerant mystic, accursed philosopher, and stylist. When he escaped into the nonidealistic, he lost the sympathies of the ? and thus let fall the most important external supports for his confident self-aware-
Anyone who studies Nietzsche's inner conflicts during the period of his sep- aration from the cult of Wagner and from the constraints of the academic chair in Basel will find it hard to avoid speaking of a social ? a categorical existential and philosophical separation. For those who have entered into the psychonaut-
circle, a social death is inevitable. Only it can bring to an end the interplay between the collective and the personal lies of which unite so gladly around common values: I praise you, you praise both lie. But he who is expe-
a social death because he has begun to find himself can no longer be helped by anything general or by any external ? Whoever believes that he is engaged in real thought without having first peered into the abyss of his
singularity is merely trying to convince himself that he is
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? 62 ? DIONYSUS MEETS DIOGENES
dreams a conformist's dream, and wishes it were the dream of a critical con- sciousness. He who really thinks is condemned to an isolation that compels him to begin anew and to fulfill himself; henceforth, there will no longer be any "tra-
but only a rediscovery of himself in affinities and constellations. During his "kynical," ? knowledge-criticizing years, Nietz- sche forged ahead into an isolation that was constitutive of a mode of thought oriented toward the terrible truth. Only through the discovery of a positive and liberating isolation could the pleasurable-painful (lustschmerzlich) prophecy of the Dionysian ? free itself from its involvement in the idealistic fraud of the Wagner cult. Because isolation exonerated him from all consider- ations, Nietzsche was quickly able to free himself from the false classicist man- nerisms that still cling to his book on tragedy. Redemption from the idols created space for the implementation of harder, purer values. From now on, it was a matter of Voltaire versus Wagner, romantic esprit versus a deep-rooted Teutonic clumsiness, the freethinker versus the religious fanatic, a serene nihilism versus a neoidealist self-indulgence in higher worlds, the malicious tongue versus a beautiful foaming at the mouth, the shadowless phenomena of the south versus the northern lights of cynicism, the "cynical" music of Carmen versus Wagner's oppressive Venusberg, the truth of the small energetic stab versus the lie of great
style.
One thing cannot be denied: Nietzsche was profound in his descent into the isolation of his new precision. From this point on we have known more about the consanguinity of cruelty and profundity, but also more about that of the precision of good ? precision nota bene of musicians and artists, not of admin- istrators of knowledge and those who count mistakes, who confuse devotion to their inhibitions with precision.
He who shoots off theorems like arrows and gives out bites like statements must believe that he can rely on what he is saying having an effect on the pain/pleasure scale, index veri, for the author as well as for the public. Nietzsche practiced this belief as only a true believer can; his credo demanded that there should be no pronouncements of truth without consequences -- and if these consisted of the perishing of the perceiver because of that through which his will to truth had overextended ? fiat Veritas, pereat vita. This outlook on the possible adver- sity inherent in the correspondence between knowledge and effect explains why Nietzsche's credo suggests more than merely an overblown artist's concern for effect, and certainly not a reduction of philosophy to rhetoric.
Nietzsche's concept of style is based on a condensation of all speech into the pleasurable/painful physical foundation of knowledge. In his pronouncements on the truth itself begins to become concrete ? in Lenin's sense, which ultimately confused truth with grenades and allowed its concreteness to atrophy into a strategic brutality called ? Rather, it is concrete in the sense of a
? ? ?
be that he is proper company precisely because of this?
the most resolute partisan of tragedy will not deny that a Diony- sian pleasure must complement Dionysian pain ? not only complement but constitute and surpass ? The fact that this pleasure hides behind the masks
of optimism and comfort would correspond completely to the abysmal superfi- ciality that one must credit to the playful god of intoxication. Is it not part of the essence of tragedy that it is reflected in comedy? Does not the pain want to vanish so that pleasure can stake its own claim to eternity?
In any case, the Dionysian ? ? or should one say fan of Dionysus -- is alarmed. He knows there is someone in the audience whom must dismiss as contemptible at first glance, but whom he also cannot afford to let out of his sight; his presence has something unsettling about it. Perhaps he an unforeseen incarnation of a god? He looks like an idiot, a tramp, like a who can know for sure? Perhaps he is a cunning mask of a god, which would lead us to conclude that he is a smiling god? From his smiles, deities have sprung forth; from his tears have sprung forth ? goes the On the other hand, one never imagined that the laughter of a god could be insipid. This guy always laughs at the wrong moment; he laughs off the mark, speaks when he shouldn't, he sits where he ? he understands
nothing of the dramas of individuation, nothing of the metaphysical convolutions
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? 52 ? DIONYSUS MEETS DIOGENES
of heroes, and nothing of the murderous violence inherent in the dilemmas. For if he did understand, how could he still laugh? If he were prepared to unite in compassion with the god, how could he then abandon himself to his vulgar gaiety, rubbing his belly and, under the open sky of the tragic stage, reduce the deity to a good man?
A l l of this ? the shallow buffoon hangs about obstinately in the retinue of the deity. The only thing that can be noted to his credit is that he does not allow himself to be thrown off by any of the contempt shown toward him. He avoids all questions as to what he is looking for here or whether he belongs there at all with an ironic wink, as if he does not quite comprehend what the words "look for" or "belong" mean. The more sublime things become, the more id- iotic his laughter sounds. The more ceremoniously the symbols are spread out, the more energetically he shakes his ugly head and makes counterproposals in the face of ? Is he not a stain on the magnificent vestments of Dionysus?
But maybe he also has something to do with the terrible truth of the god perhaps it is his embarrassing mission to favor the mediocre over the profound? Perhaps he has been given the terrible duty of informing us that the truth is really not so terrible after ? We would then have to concede that Dionysus was not the most terrible of all deities because his terror is not ? A god in whom we sincerely want to believe should at least not be ironic: Dionysus is up to no good with the sincere believers among his
One of the greatest intuitions contained in Nietzsche's first book is revealed by its coupling of the dramatic resusitation of tragic wisdom with the birth of the Gay if this is done in a very enigmatic and imperceptible way. The intrinsic polarity Nietzsche treats in his book is precisely not that between the Apollonian and the the dramatic theme of the book is the relationship between the tragic and the An attentive reader must be astonished by how easily the compromise between the two deities of art is accomplished by Nietzsche the philologist, while, on the other hand, he has considerable difficulty removing the world of tragic art from the world of nonart, of mundanity, of ra- tionality and theoretical ? a word, from what he terms Socratic cul- ture. Nietzsche required no more than a few pages at the beginning of The Birth of Tragedy for the compromise between Apollo and Dionysus. For the balancing of the tragic with the ? he needed the rest of his life ? ever find- ing a solution to this lamentable complex. In the course of his efforts vis-a-vis the however, he became a genius of dedramatization, of cheering up, and of taking it easy. Thus the same man who, while wearing the mask of the Anti- christ, vented his emotions in the form of highly charged pathetic outbursts, also
became one of the founding fathers of the Gay
As Nietzsche interprets them, Apollo and Dionysus harmonize so splendidly that their historic compromise could be synonymous with a form of "more
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? DIONYSUS MEETS DIOGENES ? 53
advanced" ? theory of culture and neurosis is really only the con- tinuation of the Nietzschean concept of compromise. However, Dionysus, the embodiment of divine vitality, cannot bear to be honored exclusively at the altars of this more advanced culture. A ll along, he has also laid claim to the wild side, and is therefore also called the god "to come" not least of all be- cause he is as thrilling as sexual ecstasy, which is the most experi- ence that human beings know. His domain is the wilderness of intoxication, to the extent that this also represents a vital experience for human beings within
culture is possible only if that which is older than it and supports it remains pre- served within it. And yet the term "wilderness" for Dionysus suggests more than a music reservation administered by Apollo. For this reason he does not, if he is honest, like to attend operas, and the tragedies that are supposedly about him are more likely to inspire him to yawn than to give him pleasure.
It may therefore be the case that this laughing and yawning idiot whom Nietz- sche sees emerging at the edge of the tragic stage is in truth a messenger of the god to come, who is supposed to make it clear to his solemnly high-strung fol- lowers that he is from time to time in need of more palpable forms of
If tragedy will be forever only an orgy in place of an orgy, this fact will ultimately prove to be an argument against tragedy ? matter how sympathetic we are to the advantages to be gained from the substitution. In order to punish, but also to caution, the friends of tragedy, Dionysus resolves to give them the initiative to come to their senses through a messenger whom they will in all likelihood not believe ? that they will most certainly miss the god behind the pretext of his cult: they would then possess the unmisleading sense for the masked truths Nietz- sche substantiated.
Do we now understand the immeasurable consequences that must result from the introduction of this philsophizing spectator? Through his introduction banal as he may seem at first glance ? Dionysian phenomenon, which was initially only postulated and which had been put on ice by the forces of Apollo, could be set in motion in an unforeseen manner! The petrified wrestling match between Apollo and Dionysus could be transformed back into a vital struggle -- provided the Dionysian front was no longer acknowledged as existing only in the tragic spectacle, but also, and above all, in the discrete play of the nontragic.
As a result, one would have to decipher the scene consists of a chorus, heroes, the public, and the than has been cus- tomary up until now. Certainly, the god would appear, as Nietzsche ? fur- ther objectified and illustrated by Apollo, and at the same time as a dream image of the chorus, as the suffering hero on the tragic stage. But what if he were also to appear, unillustrated ? within the audience itself in the guise of a vulgar philosophizing fool, who makes fun of the heroes, the trage- dies, and the whole world of the symbolic? What if Dionysus were no longer alone in his futile assault on the Apollonian impulses of representation? Perhaps
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? 54 ? DIONYSUS MEETS DIOGENES
he could, while he waltzes across the orchestra pit in the convulsions of his di- lemma, also sit in the balcony and enjoy the spectacle he is making; perhaps this blasphemous amusement signifies the essential and most consequential through on the part of the Dionysian through the fissure of culture. Because Dionysus has denounced the absence of a divine wilderness in the innermost region of culture, does he not, more than anyone else, have the right to sneer at its symbolizations? Only the god of the theater can dare to What is the point of theater?
These statements, which go beyond Nietzsche's may seem to disregard essential for bringing the phenomenon that is unspecified but inherent in the text into a proper light. For when Nietzsche supplements his thoughts on trag- edy with those on nontragedy ? course, he does this reluctantly and in open conflict with his tragic-heroic ? is preparing the way for the insight that, in the future, we will have to reckon with a twofold manifestation of the Diony- sian: a higher one and a lower one, one that is symbolic and one that is panto- mimic, one that is celebratory and one which is commonplace, one spectacular
and one imperceptible.
Anyone who is serious about the Dionysian cannot overlook the fact that, in
addition to the great music festivals of universal ? there must also exist Dionysians of the commonplace -- if this god really does mean to signify the essence of the reality of the world differently and to represent not merely an im- presario for week-long Dionysian cultural celebrations or an excuse for artistic stimulation under the supervision of Apollo. Musical festivals of universal ec- stasy, from Pergamum to Bayreuth ? not? But can the Dionysian calendar be satisfied with only two weeks of festivities? Is the always approaching (kom-
god sufficiently honored by one debauch per year? And even if it is true that a year-long orgy would be a contradiction in itself, and that it is part of the fundamental structure of the festival to whirl past in great cycles ? truth of the god must be preserved and shown respect in an appropriate manner during the periods of his absence. The orgies cannot become chronic, but the truth of the orgy ? absorption of the individual consciousness into an enraptured nonob- jectivity that releases it from the misery of individuation ? and must also be elevated to the status of an unpretentious keepsake. More than anyone, Nietzsche has again put us on the trail to the proper name of this keepsake: for two thousand five hundred years it has been known as philosophy.
It is unbelievable: as long as it has existed, philosophy has ? a few sus- pect ? itself as the opposite of all that which the most ordi- nary understanding would define as the Dionysian. From the very beginning it has presented itself in a favorable light as tranquillity itself, seeking the cheerful- ness of the spirit, and existing only in the higher realm of ideas. And now it is suggested that philosophy is fundamentally a manifestation of the ? ap-
? ? ? ? ? ? DIONYSUS MEETS DIOGENES D 55
pearing incognito as something ? hermetic, and far removed from tragedy. The plausibility of this suggestion stands and falls with that of these ini- tial assumptions: that there must necessarily be Dionysians of the commonplace; that the truth of Dionysus also knows a nontragic means for manifesting itself; and that therefore a suspension of consciousness has developed that deciphers the arrival of the god in the thousand ordinary things that, because of their everyday occurrence among us, make up what we refer to as the world.
Assuming that this is all true, it is obvious why the philosophical thought that had become scholastic had to have experienced great difficulty in defining itself from the very ? it has ever since been communicated best whenever it has itself forgotten that for which it had originally stood. In Nietz- sche's Birth of Tragedy, the veil is pulled back a bit from the mystery for the first time. Accordingly, the Dionysian calm after the storm appears as the authentic philosophy. It is the celebration of the commonplace in the light of excess; a haze of postorgiastic thoughtfulness therefore surrounds all original thought. The ec- stasy vanishes, order returns once again, and the everyday resumes its course. But the astonishment remains. The elevated universal experience or universal fusion of intoxication has an obscure aftereffect. ? we say,
Dionysian fissure gapes open like an abyss or a nothingness into which everything that comes along will henceforth sink like something mon- strous, even if it is the most unobtrusive and commonplace.
In its most pedantic manifestation, however, philosophy would not consider thinking of itself in this way. Soon after its debut, it had already involved itself in an undertaking all its ? It soon forgot that it had initially been one half of a bipartite cultural wonder, which led on the one hand to the birth of tragedy out of the spirit of the musical orgy, and on the other to the birth of philosophy out of the spirit of difficulty, which was to be carried out in the interim between orgies. Since ? philosophy has turned a deaf ear whenever it has been in a position to hear the truth about itself; it does not want to acknowledge that it is a mode of thought that is in a state of remembrance of orgies ? -- an orgy in place of an orgy, a drama in place of a drama. Like every chronic search, it one day put itself in the place of what it was seeking and thereby lost itself, seemingly self-satis- fied, in the contemplation of higher realms of thought and spiritual hidden worlds, intelligible structures and logical procedures. What would later be called "metaphysics" developed through this substitution; "theory" developed through the repression of the Dionysian consciousness of universal arrival
by the objectifying and stagnant worldview; both have left a very deep impression on the history of the West. In both, the dominion of a
"truth" is announced, the consequences of which seem
Nietzsche was the first to recognize that the word " t r u t h " was almost always,
in the language of philosophy, the equivalent of "substitute," "alibi," "pre- text," "surrogate," and ? He saw through the illusion of
? ? ? ? ? ? 56 ? DIONYSUS MEETS DIOGENES
the "real world" as a surrogate world, and through the "true" knowledge of the philosophers as a knowledge in place of knowledge. Philosophical truth was for him always a "truth" that stands in place of something else. What is true within the truth therefore cannot possibly be understood without a theory of substitution and representation ? Once again we encounter ? great subject of illusion; once again we observe the interplay between an affirmative illusion that places value on its impenetrability, and a residue of transparency that makes it possible to think from now on within the context of a critical function. For if the substitute were not, to a certain extent, just as good as or better than what it was replacing, it could not replace it. If it did not stand in its place, we would always have to be dealing with something that could not be substituted
would always be immersed in the mute thing in and of itself and would not be able to maintain any distance from it. Thus, it would seem to lie in the nature of the substitution that it places a substitute before ? through which we can apapt ourselves to it. What cannot be replaced herein reveals its affinity with the
What does this have to do with philosophy? Naturally, these surrogate Diony- sians, who have established themselves as hard-hearted lovers of
belong in some way to the Dionysian phenomenon because they could not replace it otherwise. They acquire their critical distance to the real Dionysians "first and
however, in that they sense nothing of their own surrogate-Dionysian quality and have since the time of Socrates found themselves in the position of being oblivious to Dionysus. And yet, if Dionysus is also the god of the surrogate Dionysians, then a Dionysian fundamental phenomenon must take place in the Dionysian oblivion of theoretical thought. And accordingly, Dionysus also pre- vails in the modus of his withdrawal, his absence, his oblivion. Only in the twi- light hours of thought and within the framework of epochal ruptures in intellec- tual history does Dionysus awaken, as it were, to himself and become a more reasoning mode of thought ? condition of alertness inspired by dangers, which no longer represents anything but is rather the unmediated ? of the
Does this suggest merely a variation on Heidegger's thought, which has not yet decided between parody and paraphrase? One would have to say instead that Heidegger has transposed Nietzsche's parody of philosophy into an unauthorized melancholic key. There is everything to indicate that this time the farce preceded the melancholic version and that Heidegger's parody of Nietzsche is a more se- rious offense against the rules of art than the droll ? It is a parody in place of a ? philosophy was in its infancy, who would have thought that it would someday bring forth something like this? But there should be no panic among Heidegger's adoring ? That The Birth of Tragedy can be read as we have read it already presupposes the alternatives ? that Heideg- ger's earnest thinking out has won by means of Nietzsche's impulse to criticize
? ? ? ? ? ? DIONYSUS MEETS DIOGENES ? 57
and the dramaturgical freedom we have assumed in our reading of The Gay Science is one of which Heidegger was the coconqueror. Nietzsche's playfulness becomes evident only in contrast to Heidegger's seriousness. But what permeates the seriousness and jocularity is an epochal mutation of con- sciousness, the consequences of which become immeasurable once Nietzsche has entered his postmetaphysical period ? mutation that cuts like a century-long awakening into an era of thought and that counteracts its dramatic ? He who is lucky enough to be able, because of the modest organization of his intellect, to dismiss this as mere irrationalism should stay asleep for a while ? an unusual task awaits those who have awakened early.
This task begins with this still-painful denunciation of Socrates that gapes forth in Nietzsche's book like an open wound.
Nietzsche disguises himself here as a freethinker well schooled in the best tradition of the Enlightenment who is striking down a father of the church with the momentum of his anticlerical fury. Socrates, the father of the theoretical ? Socrates, the archdogmatist of human self-improvement through mere reason! Socrates, the intellectual mixer of poi- sons and demon of a negative enlightenment! Socrates, the unmusical barbarian of thought who, in his furor of reason, no longer conceives of tragedy as a mis- fortune but rather as a "problem," and who no longer understands that life is above all else a process of ? ? not an object for self-reflexive
With him, the decline of tragic consciousness begins, and phi- losophy enters into an age of theoretical optimism, a term that is merely another name for the most insipid Dionysian obliviousness.
Listen to the tone of these reproaches! Nietzsche is not protesting against the abrupt invasion of the scientific intellect into Greek thought, which occurred in the brief interim between the appearance of Socrates and the work of Aristotle. He objects to the un-Dionysian, unartistic, theoretical self-misrepresentation of philosophy in the persons of those who ? ? its greatest rep-
He does not intend to forgive Socrates for having destroyed the unity of art and philosophy that had lent its depth to an older way of thinking and was informed by Dionysus, and which could be rediscovered in a new way of thinking. The Birth of Tragedy therefore does not limit itself to an anti-Socratic tirade, and certainly not to a mere denunciation of philosophy. In publishing his
Nietzsche intended to point the way to a future potential of an art-enriched thought that has been reborn through the spirit of Dionysus. Ecce philosophus! Dionysus philosophos!
In this early book, Nietzsche has already initiated a radical restylization of the philosophical intellect. Even in his great reprimand of Socrates, his intention is to save the thinker from his merely theoretical obsession. " I f philosophy is art if the philosopher is possibly only a clever he-goat in a state of postor- giastic then the concerns of Dionysus are not lost theoretically. Two
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? 58 ? DIONYSUS MEETS DIOGENES
alternatives are available, through which the he-goat could dispense with his the- oretical ? has taken both into ? The theoretical So- crates could be rehabilitated through Dionysus as a ? or as a
i n g " Socrates.
The first path had already been offered to the ancient Socrates, if the legend is correct, by his demon ? this time spoke to him not to dissuade him, as he usually did, but to challenge him: "Socrates, make ? For Nietzsche, this meant that a philosopher could be forgiven for anything except for being musi- cally deficient. However, to the extent that Socrates represented the incarnation of a concept-weaving unmusicality, he really did lead philosophy in a direction that was unforgivable. Nietzsche does not, however, view this false step as irre- versible. Had not Schopenhauer, in his metaphysics of music, already broken through the wall that divided the philosophical universe from the musical one? Was not Wagner a living example of the fact that it was possible to unite the genius of music with the tragically ideal in earlier doctrines of truth? ? above all else, was not Nietzsche himself already involved in testing a new union of the divided spheres?
As far as the "raving" Socrates was concerned (a figure who would assume a significance as great as it was clandestine in Nietzsche's later writing), he need only read what Diogenes hawked to Laertius in his Lives and Thoughts of Famous Philosophers through his namesake from Sinope. Here we read Sokrates mainomenos; the phrase was coined by no less than Plato. And what could be read beyond this ? collection of anecdotes on a capricious, malicious, life-drenched doctrine of wisdom that refused to constitute a
enough to offer Nietzsche, the artist-theoretician who despaired of theoretical thought, advice he should never forget. This would all point to the trace of the almost physical untheoretical spirituality of the character type that was Diony-
and yet
In future writings, Nietzsche will mention his ancient source only with an
averted gaze. Only with the protection of a psychological and moralistic incog- nito can he succeed in following the ancient trail (Spur) and in profiting from
to a degree that would exceed anything ? "Something cynical, per- haps; something ? ? ? 2, p. 375) will now come into play in all of his works.
Nietzsche's discretion here is easy to understand. By openly establishing a connection with the irreverent bravura of the "cynical writers" (he refers to as we will ? in The Birth of Tragedy in the course of his criticism of the Platonic dialogue as the equivalent of the novel form for ideas), he would
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? have disavowed his stance of tragic, aristocratic
me eternal royal child ? ? had invested so to make two admissions at once, when the one ifestation of the Dionysian ? already difficult
in which h e - He would have had there was a nontragic man- He only succeeded in
? ? ? ? DIONYSUS MEETS DIOGENES ? 59
making the second admission right at the very end: he admitted that there might also be a plebeian form of ? For, in spite of everything, there appeared within the earliest form of "kynicism" an indespicable plebeian gallantry as the
of the poor scoundrel -- indeed, as in Crates, there appears in poverty as a chosen way of life a rare sovereignty. More than any individual ? there is a wild sense for the price of freedom, and he would experience the denunciation of the lies of comfort and the beautiful antics of the middle ? In the primary representations of ? an impressive denial of the authority of man- made laws is ? in the decision to submit himself without cul- tural trimmings to the majesty of the physis. Here the term physis does not mean the paragon of the object world or the gearwork of an obdurate cosmic causality; it is to a much greater extent the guarantor of an existence that does not defer to any reification, and is thus esteemed as the physical foundation of ecstasy, of which the freedom speeches of the philosophers communicate only the diluted infusion. The ancient speech of physis was not a tyrannically objectifying cult of physicalism, but rather a ways and means through which the consciousness of a
gnosis of the body could express itself.
A ll of this had too much in common with Nietzsche's own philosophical and psychological tendencies to have eluded him for long. Indeed,
together with certain rudimentary elements within the stoical Heraclitic move-
the last and most anonymous form of ancient doctrines of wisdom, and thus of a form of thought that conforms to the play of forces and the disso- nant consonance of physis, without losing itself in the phantasms of philosophical doctrines of the beyond. Let the depraved ghosts worry about transcendence and spin out their "relationship" with ? The consciousness of the ecstatic physicists (Physiker) refuses to ascend into the transcendent worlds of the phi- losophers because for them there exists no transcendence that remains within physis and that values it highly enough. He who wanted to establish a taphysical mode of thought, as Nietzsche undertook to do in the strongest mo- ments of his thought and in his whole literary guerrilla war on the great truths -- he had to take up the trail of the last ? especially if he was to prove that he was a Greek scholar who had read his Laertius better than anyone else.
But what does it mean to take up the trail of a consciousness that, because it lacks the will to theory and does not believe in the vital significance of specula- has left hardly a trace behind it? What constitutes the trail of this conscious- ness, which has disappeared almost without a trace? Surely not these few state- ments by the "kynics" on the cosmos as the home of man or on nature as the measure of action? Presuming even the slightest standard for a theoretically de- veloped capacity to question, these statements must be found lacking. The do-
minion of "kynicism" lies elsewhere ? its habitus, its mood, its infatuation with the current, in its style. This oscillates wherever it is authentically
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? 60 ? DIONYSUS MEETS DIOGENES
died, between didactic pantomime and satirical "checkered ? --satyr plays of the body and the ? Thus the concept of literature comes into play here for the second time with a specific ? ? Nietzsche violates the rules of his profession with his brightly checkered ? of philosophy, no dif- ferently than the way in which he had, during his initial appearance on stage, already strayed from the framework of what was permissible within the
of philology. It was precisely in doing this that he ? surreptitiously, but also with a decisiveness that leaves no room for any ? up the thread of that which has stretched from the "cynical writers" of antiquity through countless entanglements into modernity.
The Gay Science begins to spin its vestments from this thread; it will soon openly speak its name in the title of a subsequent book. It will speak first with the best kynical psychologizing of the "human, ? of the petty, ma- lignant truths of the commonplace that the blind gaze of theoretical sight has al- ready overlooked. Without literature, no truth; without psychology, no alertness; without "cynicism," no freedom to call things by their names.
And yet one should not delude oneself about the status of Nietzsche's psychol- ogy. However much it flirts with the perspective of the natural sciences and the stupidity of British positivism; however much it purports to flee into the Apol- lonian and plays out the role of a cold presence of mind in the face of former ecstasies, this psychology has, at its impulsive core, a long since been not a the- oretical undertaking but instead a dramatic one. It organizes Dionysians of civil- ity, and excesses of disillusionment. Dionysus cool. Nietzsche wrote in retro- spect:
But he who is related to me by the height of desire thereby experiences the true ecstasies of learning. ? ? ? There is absolutely no prouder and at the same refined type of book ? ? ? here and there they achieve the height of what can be achieved on earth, cynicism: one has to conquer them with the most tender fingers as well as with the bravest fists.
6, p. 302)
It is the same Dionysian impulse that gives the author an unparalleled under- standing of the psychodramatic tissue of ancient tragedy and, at the same time, opens his eyes to the Dionysians of the commonplace, the satyr plays of the
and the circles of hell of the ? As an aesthetician as well as a psychologist, Nietzsche becomes the mouthpiece of a consequential Dionysian invasion of the theoretical and moralistic culture of modern bourgeois society.
It is true that, in his twofold presence as orgy participant and psychologist, as Dionysian hero and critical rogue, Nietzsche brings to light a character who is anything but straightforward. He is modern, with all the implications of that term, and as such does not omit the self-contradiction and ambivalence that
? ? ? ? ? ? DIONYSUS MEETS DIOGENES
belong to ? He is decadent; a man who has been seriously wounded by culture, in all its resultant ramifications ? most valuable of which appear openly unequivocal with time. As E. M. Cioran has correctly observed, "His misere was therapeutic for us; he opened up the era of ? His was, indeed, a ? ? and yet nothing could prevent him from discovering in himself deeper reserves of healthiness than anyone would have credited him with, considering his wound. His laughter was unfounded; the experience of his life did not justify it. Perhaps because of this he was authorized as no one else had been to state that pleasure within the context of sorely tested exist-
a deeper phenomenon than In any case, he had, as
intellect, discovered something that was uncomplicated within a condition of complexity ? halcyon cheerfulness with which he veiled the news of the terri- ble truth. Cheerfulness is the courtesy of the
Even now, the Gay Science is still the most polite way to openly discuss the unbearable elements of existence. There is no way to retaliate against the clever idiots who, because of the light tone of the work, conclude that the thought con- tained therein is in itself ? with the beautiful statement with which Nietzsche has characterized the relationship between the philosopher and those among his public who are merely clever and inexperienced:
Every deep thinker fears being understood more than he fears being misunderstood. The latter wounds his vanity, perhaps, but the former wounds his heart, his sense of compassion, which always responds, "Ah, why do the likes of you want to suffer as I do? " ? 5, p.
Nietzsche paid a high price for discovering that Dionysus not only manifests him- self as a suffering hero and an ecstatic chorus, but can also plunge into the human fray as a psychologist, itinerant mystic, accursed philosopher, and stylist. When he escaped into the nonidealistic, he lost the sympathies of the ? and thus let fall the most important external supports for his confident self-aware-
Anyone who studies Nietzsche's inner conflicts during the period of his sep- aration from the cult of Wagner and from the constraints of the academic chair in Basel will find it hard to avoid speaking of a social ? a categorical existential and philosophical separation. For those who have entered into the psychonaut-
circle, a social death is inevitable. Only it can bring to an end the interplay between the collective and the personal lies of which unite so gladly around common values: I praise you, you praise both lie. But he who is expe-
a social death because he has begun to find himself can no longer be helped by anything general or by any external ? Whoever believes that he is engaged in real thought without having first peered into the abyss of his
singularity is merely trying to convince himself that he is
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? 62 ? DIONYSUS MEETS DIOGENES
dreams a conformist's dream, and wishes it were the dream of a critical con- sciousness. He who really thinks is condemned to an isolation that compels him to begin anew and to fulfill himself; henceforth, there will no longer be any "tra-
but only a rediscovery of himself in affinities and constellations. During his "kynical," ? knowledge-criticizing years, Nietz- sche forged ahead into an isolation that was constitutive of a mode of thought oriented toward the terrible truth. Only through the discovery of a positive and liberating isolation could the pleasurable-painful (lustschmerzlich) prophecy of the Dionysian ? free itself from its involvement in the idealistic fraud of the Wagner cult. Because isolation exonerated him from all consider- ations, Nietzsche was quickly able to free himself from the false classicist man- nerisms that still cling to his book on tragedy. Redemption from the idols created space for the implementation of harder, purer values. From now on, it was a matter of Voltaire versus Wagner, romantic esprit versus a deep-rooted Teutonic clumsiness, the freethinker versus the religious fanatic, a serene nihilism versus a neoidealist self-indulgence in higher worlds, the malicious tongue versus a beautiful foaming at the mouth, the shadowless phenomena of the south versus the northern lights of cynicism, the "cynical" music of Carmen versus Wagner's oppressive Venusberg, the truth of the small energetic stab versus the lie of great
style.
One thing cannot be denied: Nietzsche was profound in his descent into the isolation of his new precision. From this point on we have known more about the consanguinity of cruelty and profundity, but also more about that of the precision of good ? precision nota bene of musicians and artists, not of admin- istrators of knowledge and those who count mistakes, who confuse devotion to their inhibitions with precision.
He who shoots off theorems like arrows and gives out bites like statements must believe that he can rely on what he is saying having an effect on the pain/pleasure scale, index veri, for the author as well as for the public. Nietzsche practiced this belief as only a true believer can; his credo demanded that there should be no pronouncements of truth without consequences -- and if these consisted of the perishing of the perceiver because of that through which his will to truth had overextended ? fiat Veritas, pereat vita. This outlook on the possible adver- sity inherent in the correspondence between knowledge and effect explains why Nietzsche's credo suggests more than merely an overblown artist's concern for effect, and certainly not a reduction of philosophy to rhetoric.
Nietzsche's concept of style is based on a condensation of all speech into the pleasurable/painful physical foundation of knowledge. In his pronouncements on the truth itself begins to become concrete ? in Lenin's sense, which ultimately confused truth with grenades and allowed its concreteness to atrophy into a strategic brutality called ? Rather, it is concrete in the sense of a
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