The
searcher
must burn out ?
Peter-Sloterdijk-Thinker-on-Stage
past at the appropriate hisj torical distance ?
the reconciliation with man and nature is directly
of no
As soon as proximity provides for the dissolution of an idealistic inexactitude,
all previous premises are reversed. Admittedly, to the same extent that the fusion with the whole appeared as pure impossibility, nothing stood in the way of a sac- rifice to the ? But if the raving chorus of sounds, bodies, and appe- tites comes closer, the abyss of primordial origin is opened up into that to which the individualized subject cannot want to revert for anything in the world. Images of horror immediately rise ? of fatal constriction and death by suffo- cation in the cavern of eros. What appeared previously as a blessed disentangle- ment is now seen as a horrible dismemberment; that which longing purported to crave now causes it to recoil in horror with a definite sense of nausea in the face of its realization. The impulse toward unification suddenly changes over into a frenzy of ? and the eros of the return to the womb of earth and com- munity is transformed into a panic of dissolution and revulsion at the prospect of the socialist vulvocracy
This is the decisive moment. The bacchanalian festival procession is now split apart, and while the Dionysian barbarians continue to revel in their group rut, a noble minority branches off that has placed itself under the command of the Greek will to ? And thus, away with the barbaric ? of the Orient! Away with the orgiastic sexuality of the cult of ? Away with the compulsion toward physical contact among the people and other unappetizing ? Away with this leftist, Green Party, all-embracing crudeness! An Apollonian interven- tion is demanded here; a masculine, self-aware, individualistic principle should intervene, one that would confront with its purity and selectivity any sort of ob- scene confusion. Before the common Dionysians can become Greek and Nietz- schean Dionysians, they must be filtered through a sort of preliminary purifica- tion process. This I will call, following Nietzsche's description of it, the process of "Doric
Early Hellenism erected, so we are told, a masculine dam to protect itself against the Dionysian flood. It heroically resisted the "extravagant sexual licen- tiousness" that was characteristic of the Walpurgis Nights of the barbarian Dionysus. The Doric dam construction was responsible whenever the "horrible
of sensuality and cruelty" became ? The Diony-
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? THE PHILOLOGY OF EXISTENCE, THE DRAMATURGY OF FORCE 29
attempts at inundation recoil against the rejecting at- titude of Apollo" (BT, pp. 39-40).
What is worth noting here is the radical revaluation of the Dionysian. Sud- denly it no longer appears as a principle that is bent on reconciling the world, because of which all human existence would for the first time be able to achieve its true ? but rather as a primitive force of cultural destruction, an uncouth demonic danger of uncontrollable release and dissolution:
For me the Doric state and Doric art are explicable only as a permanent military encampment of the Apollonian, only [as] incessant resistance to the titanic-barbaric nature of the Dionysian. (BT, p. 47)
For ? then, the Doric process of precensorship existed in the initial stages of the ? it served to break the flood of the Dionysian against the dam of the ? The phenomenon of an art of ecstasy that has been tamed into submission to advanced culture develops for the first time out of the binary energetic complex of dam and flood, restraint and ? In the beginning was the compromise ? play of force and counterforce, which became inextri- cably interlaced with each other for the purpose of reciprocal ascent. Nietzsche represents this compromise graphically and does not neglect to mention that the authority who has succeeded in reaching the compromise is ? and not his irresponsible opponent! Thus, Apollo is the calculating subject who enters into a daring game with his own dissolution. After this same Apollo had finally reluc- tantly acknowledged the imperative of the demands of ? he
according to ? disarm his violent opponent by means of a "recon- ciliation. " Nietzsche goes so far as to note that this is "a seasonably effected reconciliation" (BT, p. 39).
The importance of this process can hardly be overestimated, for it signifies nothing less than the primal scene of civilization -- the historical compromise of Western culture. Because of the Apollonian compromise, the old orgiastic power of nature is forced upward and is welded once and for all to the register of the symbolic as artistic energy. In making this observation, Nietzsche was aware that he was speaking not of an arbitrary episode within the context of the history of Greek art but of an event that would prove fateful for all higher civilizing pro- cesses. "This he says, "is the most important moment in the history of the Greek ? and here we might add, the most important transition along the path from archaic to highly advanced forms of living. It is almost un- necessary to state that these more highly developed forms bring with them an increase in fragility, an ascent by the living being toward more ? more perilous forms that ? as if unavoidably, enveloped in a haze of perversion. Through the inhibiting and intensifying act of power that the Apollonian com- promise represents, the naive orgies of early human beings are transformed into the sentimental festival performances of more recent ? They are no longer
? ? ? ? ? 30 ? THE PHILOLOGY OF EXISTENCE, THE DRAMATURGY OF FORCE
"reversions[s] of man to the tiger and the ? but progress toward "festivals of and days of
Only now does Nietzsche's Dionysian undertaking again come into play. After Doric precensorship and Apollonian resistance have done their job and erected adequate defenses, the ? for the Dionysian component
? ? ? ? ? to reenter, a
dance, completely mystical participation and beautiful ? short, every higher form of that the reverential traditional term
Just as soon as a distance from the vulgar procession of the satyrs has been symbolically reestablished, the transfiguration of the Dionysian begins anew. Bracketed within aesthetic parentheses and dramaturgical quotation marks, the singing he-goats are no longer libertines who regress to bestiality. Rather, they have been rejuvenated into the media for effecting a fusion with the foundation of being and the subjects of a musical socialism. The magic is re- peated within a secure framework that serves as protection against the risks in- volved in an actual enchantment. From this point on, everything appears in its revelers in place of Dionysian revelers, unifica- tion in place of unification, orgies in place of orgies. This process of "standing in place of something" is, however, conceived of as a process of beneficial sub- and not merely as a forfeiture of the Within the context of this gain, culture begins to affirm itself as and this quality of standing in place of something becomes the key to the mystery of the civilizing phenomenon. The ramifications of this for theories of truth will soon become ? the next two chapters I will discuss the dramaturgy of sub-
stitution and the metaphysics of illusion.
Henceforth, the old Dionysian forces are permitted to overflow with a new licentiousness ? place of licentiousness ? the riverbed of symbolization. No wonder, then, that the path to Greek tragedy is accompani6d by the "greatest exaltation of all symbolic faculties," indeed, by a "collective release of all sym- bolic ? Through this elevation into the symbolic, the world becomes more than it was. The substitution is superior to what it replaces; what has arisen from the original surpasses it. "The essence of nature is now to be expressed symbolically; we need a new world of symbols" (BT, p. 40). In short, the bar- baric he-goat has advanced to the status of civilized goat, and, if he were to think back on his wild youth (although this would have to be delayed a priori), could say to himself as a poststructuralist, "A symbol has inserted itself between me and my ? a language has preceded my ability to be present only as myself ? a discourse has taught my ecstasy to speak. But isn't it worth lamenting the fact that lamentation itself has become ? discourse? "
The Apollonian ? however, now notices for the first time, albeit too ? the dilemma in which it has implicated itself by agreeing to a compro- mise with the Dionysian. From here on out it can no longer conceive of itself aus
completely
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? THE PHILOLOGY OF EXISTENCE, THE DRAMATURGY OF FORCE
sich selbst. Apollo has lost the illusion of his own autonomy; in his attempts to reestablish it to the extent that he can, he must sink ever deeper into the discern- ment of his own lack of a foundation ? After he has glanced into the Dionysian abyss beneath the forms, Apollo is no longer able to believe in his substantial rationality and his masculine self-control. His initial hope of being able to negotiate a compromise with the Dionysian in which he will be able to preserve himself unaltered is revealed as an illusion. Without fail, Apollo is swept into the undertow of the Dionysian dissolution of identity. It undermines for him the idea that the beautiful illusion of his own self, with its glistening ab- straction and its abundance of rational light, might in truth represent only an ob-
of the amorphously suffering god,
What does this all mean for the actor on the stage with his mask of the two
deities? To what extent does this illuminate for him the structure of his own sub- jectivity? What does it profit his experience of himself to appear on stage in this way? The thinking mime is, I believe, now able to recognize that he himself is not a "One," a Unified Subject, but rather a dual subject who dreams of
able to possess himself as ? This dual existence no longer has the amorphous quality of an unformulated yearning and the pretentious pathos of he who feels that he is pregnant with his own self. This dual existence defines itself within the context of a thinking ? fluctuation in reflection between the Apollonian and Dionysian dimensions of the mask. This uneasily repeated fluc- tuation establishes the pattern of thought for an all-penetrating critical ? A mechanism transformed Nietzsche into a philosopher: the Apollonian in him sus- pected that he was at bottom only a Dionysian ? while the Diony- sian saw through himself with the penetrating clairvoyancy of one who is re- minded of his Apollonian castration. He feels like a mere civilized satyr, like a he-goat in place of a he-goat, who can no longer believe in himself because he must understand that his present self is only a substitute for his true self.
In this way, Nietzsche has set in motion an unprecedented intellectual psycho- drama. Through his audacious game with the double mask of the deities, he has made of himself a genius of self-knowledge as ? He has become a psychologist spontaneously ? has become the first philosopher to be a psy- chologist as philosopher; his antiquating role playing has set him on this path. Nietzsche always finds himself in a position in which he faces himself as a trans- parent phenomenon: he does not believe in himself as Dionysus because he has had to sacrifice his wild lower half to the Apollonian compromise. Conversely, he has just as little belief in himself as Apollo because he suspects himself of being merely a veil before the Dionysian. The self of the thinker on stage that is in search of itself oscillates, within the confines of a sensational reflexivity, back and forth between the frozen halves of his mask. He relinquishes himself to a circular process of total self-distrust, which in time will mount into a distrust of all "truths" and all ? which at the same time rises up in a despair-
? ? ? ? ? 32 ? THE PHILOLOGY OF EXISTENCE, THE DRAMATURGY OF FORCE
ing praise of the illusion of autonomy and the divine impenetrability of the phe- nomenal. Whatever position the ego may assume, whatever "representation" of itself it may choose to offer, it will perpetually sense that the other ? the dis- placed aspect, is lacking.
W ithin the framework of this ? confused fluctuation between the processes of masking and unmasking, Nietzsche's third face develops, with dramaturgical repercussions of the most impressive kind. It is the mask of Nietz- sche the ? the psychologist, the critic of knowledge, the thought dancer, the teacher of the affirmative pretense ? W ith this third face, Nietzsche begins to come dangerously close to his "Become who you dangerous because this mask, in its misleading optimism, could induce Narcissus to tumble into his own image. The danger that emanates from the image always strikes the person who passionately desires at his weakest ? fact that he would like to have ? reality" what he allows himself to have only in the
in the imaginary modus of ? Dionysus does not permit himself to possess, and whatever can be possessed is not Dionysus. Therefore, the greatest danger for Nietzsche lies in wanting to incarnate Dionysus so as to at least be able to take possession of him in his incarnate
On the basis of his theory of bipolar artistic forces, Nietzsche immediately emerges as a virtuoso in the art of an uneasy kind of ? that does not believe its own observations. It does not believe itself, not because it has re- nounced itself or because it would abet a "totalizing critique of reason," but rather because the self of this reflection is constituted in itself (an ? beschaf-
in such a way that that which could allow it to believe in itself must always elude it. Nietzsche's dramatic thought is in the process of discovering that it is absolutely impossible for ? and the sense of an experi- ence of unity that could lead to ? occur simultaneously. Whether as Apollo or as Dionysus, the named, identified, and masked subject is never permitted to believe that it has arrived at the foundation of its own identity. For as soon as it sees itself, this subject has already seen through itself as something wherein it cannot set its mind at ease because it is lacking the best part of itself, its Other.
Thus, Nietzsche's theatrical experience of self sets in motion a perfect system for Whatever might say " I " upon the stage will be a sym- bolicallyrepresented" I , "anApollonianartisticcreation,whichweholdout before us like a veil to protect ourselves from perishing of the complete
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? Chapter 3
Cave or, Danger, Terrible Truth!
? Lonely one, you are going the way to yourself. And your way leads past yourself and your seven devils.
Thus Spoke Zarathustra,
"On the Way of the Creator"
He who seeks a path toward himself is dreaming of a condition in which he will be able to endure himself. For this reason, no search for the self can be a theo- retical one, for this search arises from the impulse within the living being to find a "truth" that will make his unendurable life endurable. Theorizing of any type grinds to a halt when it reaches the level of radical questions of this kind, and either leads to an art of living (Lebenskunst) or remains what it was ? symptom of wounded ? The idea that the true self might be something that can indeed be sought after arises directly from the suffering it causes. Only that which feels pain begins to ? with the longing for a better self, which would be the true one because it has ceased suffering on its own account ? sich).
only those who want to escape from themselves find themselves. It is the very desire to escape that directly points to the direction of the path that the search for self will follow. The search for oneself implies above all else the will to a path; the direction that path will take can initially be none other than the path away from oneself.
Embarking upon this path affords the wanderer the opportunity to encounter his own shadow. Through the act of leaving, the wanderer begins to discover what he has taken with him in spite of ? just when he thought he had left everything behind. The true self clings to the heels of the one who is embarking on the path. But only when the wanderer realizes that he himself constitutes his own heaviest baggage can the "dialectic of the path" begin. Through the efforts made to flee, and also through the stimuli that accompany any meaningful exodus, his powers increase to such an extent that he can recognize and endure
? 33
? 34 ? CAVE CANEM
what, in leaving, he had not wanted to recognize and endure: the unendurable Only along the way does it become apparent how little of what the traveler has driven out of himself really allows itself to be shaken off. The more passion- ate his searching flight, the more vehement his realization of that which cannot be gotten rid ? Only the search that despairs of its own passion can arrive at the decisive point at which the search itself becomes as unbearable as what set it in motion. At this point, the agony of the search reaches its crisis point when it gains insight into the unattainability of what is being sought.
The searcher must burn out ? when he senses that nothing will save him from himself. He is extinguished in the dilemma of having to choose between the unbearable and
the ? Only in the fire of disillusionment can the last remaining illusions be burned away. W ith the departure of what is being sought, the search itself be- comes the ? and the path flows with a tragic bend into the pain from which it was initially able to turn away. Partir, ? ? ? ? is how ? paths begin. But arriver, c'est mourir
The self-knowledge (Selbsterkenntnis) entrusted to the path of experience therefore, the structure of a negative circle in that it returns to its beginnings -- that is, to its pain and its ? ? the gradual repulsion of disillusioned ideas and the burning away of the images of happiness it had sought. This is, incidentally, completely different from the positive circle of narcissistic reflec-
within which a seemingly material spirit loses itself and then rediscovers that identical self in order to perform, in the happy end, dances of jubilation around the golden idol of
I call this remarkably negative structure of self-knowledge the psychonautical Nietzsche's theatrical adventure into the theory of knowledge is intrinsi- cally implicated in it. His personal and philosophical fate depends to a great extent, I believe, on whether he can complete the task of burning away images and whether his search for self can be successfully completed within the context of a beneficial negativity and lack of ? The risk involved in any such uncontrolled search is extraordinary; it can easily happen that the searcher becomes caught up halfway in a vision of his own ego, because of which he will announce, having been duped and enraptured, that this vision is what he has been Homo. Only a crisis will then reveal whether the seeker will plunge himself into a reflection in order to perish of its ? or whether he will still have a chance to turn away from the mirror in order to assume respon- sibility for his life as a discovery that is void of ? But Nietzsche's drama is still far from arriving at this crisis point. He is still in the process of expanding the stage for his great play, exposing its antiquated foundation and properly de- termining what masks the actors will wear. Let us look at what else Nietzsche had
in mind for his Hellenistic, psychodramatic stage!
Contrary to what might be expected, what appears there the inter- mezzo of his contemporary critique, the Untimely not a classi-
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? CAVE 35
? masked hero, not a Wagnerian tenor who has been transplanted into antiq- and not a hero who has been transposed into modernity from the family of Oedipus, Siegfried, Heracles, and Prometheus. What we observe here is a figure who cannot be foreseen, who hardly seems to exist in a believable relationship to the tragic stage. What is produced there on the stage is a sort of theorizing Le- porello, a freethinker and on-stage enlightener, who reminds us of the philoso- pher figures on the stages of the eighteenth ? the Figaro in the works
of perhaps, and even more of Don Alfonso in Mozart's ? fan who, in his modish cynicism, has already mistaken the truth for a woman and woman for a synthesis of the bottomless cask and the thing " i n itself" (an
sich).
In the third trope of his ? Nietzsche reveals himself prima facie to be on paths that are ? As I have already indicated, a critical activity that seems far removed from the mythological performances of the first scene results from his experience of himself within the ? du- ality. Nietzsche now appears behind the mask of the philosophical specialist in abysses ? known as womanizers as the illusionless grand seigneur to whom nothing inhuman or human is ? He speaks maliciously and with bravura of the lies told by the great men and of the abysses of the lesser ones; he presents himself as a virtuoso of cultural-critical distrust. He poses as a libertine underminer of idealistic values and as a positivist psychologist who, out of boredom with his own depth, makes fun of lending out to the British a dose of platitudes and to the French a prize for their infamous worldliness. Has Nietzsche thus completely turned his back on his classical and Wagnerian inspirations? The truth of the matter is that he acknowledged the Apollonian energy of resistance more openly in the psychocritical writing of his middle period. It is as if the ra- tionalist in him were resisting subversion by the forces of
In order to appreciate the dramatic context of Nietzsche's ? however, one must first see lurking behind this third mask, which is negativistic and im- posed by Apollo, a fourth ? mask of Dionysian prophecy. This is Za- rathustra, drawn up to his full height, who will resound across the stage as the heroic tenor of immoralism, a subject his psychologizing precursor had only hinted at aphoristically, jeeringly, and in a miniaturizing way as an intellectual chamber play It must therefore be understood that the masks of the third and fourth orders the Gay Scientist, there the prophet of immo-
essentially only the unfoldings of the Apollonian and Diony- sian double ? from behind which Nietzsche's literary appearance had
The antagonism between the two artistic impulses within the soul thus remains every bit as valid as their relationship as ? the distinction that Nietzsche is now setting in motion what he initially presented within the context of a static symmetry and frozen dialectic. W ithin his process of thought, the po- larity between the extremes begins to swing out of balance ? ? all
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? 1
? ? 36 CAVE
Apollonian attempts at establishing control notwithstanding ? because of this oscillation, the Dionysian, which had been at first exhibited only as a dominated and silenced power, gains in latitude.
This is all just another way of expressing how closely this Nietzsche of the middle ? one of the Gay Science and the great dismantling of values -- is connected to the later Nietzsche, the one of the prophetic dithyrambs. The free- thinking, "cynical" underminer of all existing values ? Apollo who has turned ? ? remains the closest accomplice of Zarathustra, the Dionysus who has turned immoral. The all-penetrating psychologist of the stage performs, in his exercises in the critique of knowledge, the recitative to which Zarathustra's proclamation of self provides the aria.
In the thematic arrangement of The Birth of Tragedy, Nietzsche had already es- tablished the prerequisites for his next step forward. In the reciprocal distrust of both deities lay the philosophical dynamite of the future: the age of ideas was drawing to a close, while the age of energies' was announced. Radical doubt no longer leads ? is the case in Descartes ? to an unshakable foundation in the certainty of thought, but instead to a fireworks display of incredible reflection and a free play of doubting power. Doubt can no longer be assuaged in the cer- tainty of ideas.
Nietzsche forges ahead unchecked on the trail ? Spur) of insights and hunches. He discovers while under way through the psychonautical circle that a labor of negation ? be necessary that is as painful as it is invigorating. His gods experience a twilight from which they will never ? adoration vacillates, the brightly colored paper wrappings fall away from the ideals, leav- ing them naked and deserving only of laughter. Wagner becomes questionable to a degree from which he will not recover; Schopenhauer has retreated far into the background. Classical philology becomes completely nauseating, and the values of the new German present evoke only antipathy and ? period of willful self-deception through the idea of a greatness of this sort has come irre- vocably to an end. The exemplary seeker takes it upon himself to destroy, piece by piece, the value system, the world of images, the pantheon of the noblest goals under whose authority his exodus was set in ? Nietzsche commented on this in retrospect:
It is a war, but a war without powder and smoke, without bellicose attitudes, without pathos and dislocated ? would all itself still be "idealism. " One error after the other is put on ice, the ideal is not
freezes to death ? ? ? Here, for instance, the idea of "genius" freezes; around the corner, the "saint" freezes. The "hero" is freezing beneath a thick icicle, and finally "belief" freezes, so-called conviction, even compassion cools down significantly
everywhere, the thing in itself [das Ding an ? is freezing to
? ? ? ? ? ? CAVE 37
words could better express what it means to enter the phase of an active dis- illusionment. And yet Nietzsche's reflection remains too alert to settle down into a comfortable attitude of triumphal ? The problem that will prove essen- tial has already emerged on the horizon: if ideals collapse, what becomes of the force that has motivated these ideals? After one is no longer able to deceive
self, the question remains: what becomes of the impulse that has allowed one to deceive and lie to oneself? Nietzsche's thought advances to a level that corre- sponds to that of a thermodynamics of illusion; it orients itself, as it were, to a "principle [Satz] of the maintenance of illusion-creating ? The idols col- lapse, and yet the idolatrizing force remains constant; ideals perish in the cold, and yet the fire of idealism continues to wander about, objectless and passion- ately desiring. The period of self-deception has ended, without the reservoirs from which the lies were supplied having been exhausted.
With this turning point, Nietzsche has begun to grow into a thinker whose thought will have incalculable long-range effects. Now we can understand why, when compared to Nietzsche's critique, all other forms of a critique of ideology seem short-winded and reveal themselves to be almost scandalously in want of a self-critical alertness. His realism thinks, as it were, a whole epoch ahead of itself. In his play with the masks of the deities of antiquity, he has already begun to gaze into the abyss of a self-doubt that cannot be assuaged, from which arose the phenomenon of the fundamental untenability of reflexive ? What he gained from this is as disturbing as it is ? insight into the exis- tential inevitability of the lie. One can imagine what would become of philoso- phy if this conjectured insight were to prove true! To a much greater extent, one is not able to imagine it!
The compulsion to lie has its base in the nature of truth ? the young Nietzsche presumes to define it with the unabashed confessional willingness of the unbroken genius, as well as with the relaxed receptivity of a man who con- siders it a distinction to be a student of an important intellect, Schopenhauer. But what is this truth, part of whose fundamental nature it is to make us lie? Nietz- sche says it plainly: the truth lies in primordial pain (Urschmerz), which has im- posed the fact of individuation on each life. Using the expression "primordial pain" in the singular is in any case paradoxical, since there are as many centers of primordial pain as there are individuals. To be condemned to individuality is the most painful of all pains; as regards human subjects it is at the same time the truest of all truths. If, however, "truth" means primordial pain for the individual who has been "thrown" into being (ins Dasein ? then it is in its specific nature to signify insufferability for us. We are therefore able to want not to rec- ognize it at all ? if we do surmise anything at all of it in its immediateness, we do so only because the veil of pretense and representation that usually con-
? ? ? ? ? 38 CAVE
it has been opportunely pulled understand more than will do us good.
so that ? racked with suddenly
? ? ? ? ? This would mean that the known forms of the "search for truth,"
those of the philosophers, the metaphysicians, and the religious are, in reality, only organized lies that have become respectable and institutionalized attempts escape that have disguised themselves behind the diligent mask of the desire for knowledge. What had previously pretended to be a path toward truth was in re- ality a single thrust away from it, a thrust away from what was unbearable
to the provisory tolerability of comfort, security, edification, and transcendent worlds. After Nietzsche, it is almost impossible to overlook the fact that most previous philosophy was nothing more than an ontological whitewashing. With its whole pathos of loyalty to the truth, it committed an act of betrayal -- as nec- essary as it was ? the unbearable truth, to the benefit of a meta- physical optimism and those fantasies of redemption that project themselves into the beyond.
If, however, truth is not something that can be be ? and if any search for it is defined in advance as terrifying, intellectual candor finds itself in a position it had not expected to be ? Truth no longer reveals ? it reveals itself at
the seeker and the researcher, who actually want to elude it, but instead to him who exhibits the deliberateness and courage required to not seek it. To be sure, how he exhibits these qualities of courage and deliberateness remains his secret, and it is certainly conceivable that enough will always remain from the search for truth as is necessary for the search for deliberateness and courage, without which a nonseeking consciousness could not develop. He who does not seek the truth must believe himself capable of enduring it. A l l problems of truth are therefore ultimately confluent with the question of how to endure what is unendurable. Perhaps this is why there are ultimately no techniques for finding truth in the existential sense; in the labyrinth, one looks not for secure knowledge but for the way out.
One may not therefore dismiss Nietzsche's entreaties of heroism, and tragic wisdom as mere manifestations of pompous and the man- nerisms of masculinity, regardless of the extent to which the latter do in fact play into his ? Courage is necessary within Nietzsche's enlightenment, prima- rily for taking part in the phenomena of truth ? because, for him, it is no longer a matter of a game of hide-and-seek, but one of experimen- tation and constancy, which remains, if possible, in the vicinity of the terrible truth. For this reason (according to Nietzsche), anyone who wants to speak of truth without using quotation marks would have to first prove himself as a non- seeker, a nonescapist, a nonmetaphysician.
With the acknowledgment of primordial pain as the basis of all other bases, Nietzsche's early thought places itself under a tragic, theatrical, and psycholog- ical sign (Zeichen). If truth means the unendurable, then knowledge of truth
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? CAVE 39
cannot be abruptly defined as enduring the ? It is that which is unen- durable itself that forces us, incircumstantially, to maintain an unwavering dis- tance from it. Accordingly, the truth about the terrible truth is this: we must always have just missed it, and, furthermore, we will never be able to have the sincere volition ? to recognize it in its relentless presence ? For we are able to want only what we can still endure. According to Nietzsche, knowledge of the truth therefore also means always having been placed at a pro- tective distance from what is unbearable.
is the key word in the new tragic theory of knowledge, after which the old optimistic theory of the desire for unity was at an end. Philoso- phers, seekers, and dreamers might therefore continue to speak of identity and unity, but the thinkers of the future, the psychologists, know better. Their the- matic is that of distance, duality, difference. He who knows about distance has made the optics of a philosophical psychology his own. The psychologist also knows that he is enduring just as little of the whole truth as anyone else, but through this knowledge he gains a point of orientation toward which the general theater of self-deception and liar's play of life can be referred. The psychologist is well aware that everything is merely theater: through his personal union with the tragic theoretician of knowledge, he also knows, however, that it would make no sense to want to close this theater in the name of truth. Indeed, the terrible truth is the mother of theater. In accordance with its nature, we maintain an ir- revocable distance from it, a distance that so radically determines our everyday existence in the world that, even with the staunchest will to truth, we are not at liberty to distance ourselves from this condition of distance. As a rule, it is im- possible to survive the final dissolution of the distance that exists between us and the unimaginable reality of the terrible truth. Nietzsche's phrase "W e have art in order not to die of the truth" can also be read in this way: we maintain a distance from truth so that we will not have to experience it directly. To speak ontologi-
old ? us in order to in turn protect us from having
the
There can be no doubt here: wearing the mask of the theoretician of knowl- edge, Nietzsche has made an unprecedented appearance on the stage of philoso- phy. Do we now understand that this was no longer ? and never was? Do we recognize how something new and unbounded has taken shape within this philosophical project ? ? something new as pertains to truth as the oldest liar, whose wealth of discoveries is not exhausted as long as life itself attends to anything unbearable that might want to save itself in the liar's theater of inven- tions and research along the brink of the unbearable? Do we appreciate what ram- ifications the idea of distance will have? If it is indeed valid, then our position
truth (independent of all our conceits of seeking and finding) must be one of an unavoidable evasiveness and a distance from which we cannot distance ourselves. If the terrible truth always keeps us at a distance, we are no longer able
?
of no
As soon as proximity provides for the dissolution of an idealistic inexactitude,
all previous premises are reversed. Admittedly, to the same extent that the fusion with the whole appeared as pure impossibility, nothing stood in the way of a sac- rifice to the ? But if the raving chorus of sounds, bodies, and appe- tites comes closer, the abyss of primordial origin is opened up into that to which the individualized subject cannot want to revert for anything in the world. Images of horror immediately rise ? of fatal constriction and death by suffo- cation in the cavern of eros. What appeared previously as a blessed disentangle- ment is now seen as a horrible dismemberment; that which longing purported to crave now causes it to recoil in horror with a definite sense of nausea in the face of its realization. The impulse toward unification suddenly changes over into a frenzy of ? and the eros of the return to the womb of earth and com- munity is transformed into a panic of dissolution and revulsion at the prospect of the socialist vulvocracy
This is the decisive moment. The bacchanalian festival procession is now split apart, and while the Dionysian barbarians continue to revel in their group rut, a noble minority branches off that has placed itself under the command of the Greek will to ? And thus, away with the barbaric ? of the Orient! Away with the orgiastic sexuality of the cult of ? Away with the compulsion toward physical contact among the people and other unappetizing ? Away with this leftist, Green Party, all-embracing crudeness! An Apollonian interven- tion is demanded here; a masculine, self-aware, individualistic principle should intervene, one that would confront with its purity and selectivity any sort of ob- scene confusion. Before the common Dionysians can become Greek and Nietz- schean Dionysians, they must be filtered through a sort of preliminary purifica- tion process. This I will call, following Nietzsche's description of it, the process of "Doric
Early Hellenism erected, so we are told, a masculine dam to protect itself against the Dionysian flood. It heroically resisted the "extravagant sexual licen- tiousness" that was characteristic of the Walpurgis Nights of the barbarian Dionysus. The Doric dam construction was responsible whenever the "horrible
of sensuality and cruelty" became ? The Diony-
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? THE PHILOLOGY OF EXISTENCE, THE DRAMATURGY OF FORCE 29
attempts at inundation recoil against the rejecting at- titude of Apollo" (BT, pp. 39-40).
What is worth noting here is the radical revaluation of the Dionysian. Sud- denly it no longer appears as a principle that is bent on reconciling the world, because of which all human existence would for the first time be able to achieve its true ? but rather as a primitive force of cultural destruction, an uncouth demonic danger of uncontrollable release and dissolution:
For me the Doric state and Doric art are explicable only as a permanent military encampment of the Apollonian, only [as] incessant resistance to the titanic-barbaric nature of the Dionysian. (BT, p. 47)
For ? then, the Doric process of precensorship existed in the initial stages of the ? it served to break the flood of the Dionysian against the dam of the ? The phenomenon of an art of ecstasy that has been tamed into submission to advanced culture develops for the first time out of the binary energetic complex of dam and flood, restraint and ? In the beginning was the compromise ? play of force and counterforce, which became inextri- cably interlaced with each other for the purpose of reciprocal ascent. Nietzsche represents this compromise graphically and does not neglect to mention that the authority who has succeeded in reaching the compromise is ? and not his irresponsible opponent! Thus, Apollo is the calculating subject who enters into a daring game with his own dissolution. After this same Apollo had finally reluc- tantly acknowledged the imperative of the demands of ? he
according to ? disarm his violent opponent by means of a "recon- ciliation. " Nietzsche goes so far as to note that this is "a seasonably effected reconciliation" (BT, p. 39).
The importance of this process can hardly be overestimated, for it signifies nothing less than the primal scene of civilization -- the historical compromise of Western culture. Because of the Apollonian compromise, the old orgiastic power of nature is forced upward and is welded once and for all to the register of the symbolic as artistic energy. In making this observation, Nietzsche was aware that he was speaking not of an arbitrary episode within the context of the history of Greek art but of an event that would prove fateful for all higher civilizing pro- cesses. "This he says, "is the most important moment in the history of the Greek ? and here we might add, the most important transition along the path from archaic to highly advanced forms of living. It is almost un- necessary to state that these more highly developed forms bring with them an increase in fragility, an ascent by the living being toward more ? more perilous forms that ? as if unavoidably, enveloped in a haze of perversion. Through the inhibiting and intensifying act of power that the Apollonian com- promise represents, the naive orgies of early human beings are transformed into the sentimental festival performances of more recent ? They are no longer
? ? ? ? ? 30 ? THE PHILOLOGY OF EXISTENCE, THE DRAMATURGY OF FORCE
"reversions[s] of man to the tiger and the ? but progress toward "festivals of and days of
Only now does Nietzsche's Dionysian undertaking again come into play. After Doric precensorship and Apollonian resistance have done their job and erected adequate defenses, the ? for the Dionysian component
? ? ? ? ? to reenter, a
dance, completely mystical participation and beautiful ? short, every higher form of that the reverential traditional term
Just as soon as a distance from the vulgar procession of the satyrs has been symbolically reestablished, the transfiguration of the Dionysian begins anew. Bracketed within aesthetic parentheses and dramaturgical quotation marks, the singing he-goats are no longer libertines who regress to bestiality. Rather, they have been rejuvenated into the media for effecting a fusion with the foundation of being and the subjects of a musical socialism. The magic is re- peated within a secure framework that serves as protection against the risks in- volved in an actual enchantment. From this point on, everything appears in its revelers in place of Dionysian revelers, unifica- tion in place of unification, orgies in place of orgies. This process of "standing in place of something" is, however, conceived of as a process of beneficial sub- and not merely as a forfeiture of the Within the context of this gain, culture begins to affirm itself as and this quality of standing in place of something becomes the key to the mystery of the civilizing phenomenon. The ramifications of this for theories of truth will soon become ? the next two chapters I will discuss the dramaturgy of sub-
stitution and the metaphysics of illusion.
Henceforth, the old Dionysian forces are permitted to overflow with a new licentiousness ? place of licentiousness ? the riverbed of symbolization. No wonder, then, that the path to Greek tragedy is accompani6d by the "greatest exaltation of all symbolic faculties," indeed, by a "collective release of all sym- bolic ? Through this elevation into the symbolic, the world becomes more than it was. The substitution is superior to what it replaces; what has arisen from the original surpasses it. "The essence of nature is now to be expressed symbolically; we need a new world of symbols" (BT, p. 40). In short, the bar- baric he-goat has advanced to the status of civilized goat, and, if he were to think back on his wild youth (although this would have to be delayed a priori), could say to himself as a poststructuralist, "A symbol has inserted itself between me and my ? a language has preceded my ability to be present only as myself ? a discourse has taught my ecstasy to speak. But isn't it worth lamenting the fact that lamentation itself has become ? discourse? "
The Apollonian ? however, now notices for the first time, albeit too ? the dilemma in which it has implicated itself by agreeing to a compro- mise with the Dionysian. From here on out it can no longer conceive of itself aus
completely
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? THE PHILOLOGY OF EXISTENCE, THE DRAMATURGY OF FORCE
sich selbst. Apollo has lost the illusion of his own autonomy; in his attempts to reestablish it to the extent that he can, he must sink ever deeper into the discern- ment of his own lack of a foundation ? After he has glanced into the Dionysian abyss beneath the forms, Apollo is no longer able to believe in his substantial rationality and his masculine self-control. His initial hope of being able to negotiate a compromise with the Dionysian in which he will be able to preserve himself unaltered is revealed as an illusion. Without fail, Apollo is swept into the undertow of the Dionysian dissolution of identity. It undermines for him the idea that the beautiful illusion of his own self, with its glistening ab- straction and its abundance of rational light, might in truth represent only an ob-
of the amorphously suffering god,
What does this all mean for the actor on the stage with his mask of the two
deities? To what extent does this illuminate for him the structure of his own sub- jectivity? What does it profit his experience of himself to appear on stage in this way? The thinking mime is, I believe, now able to recognize that he himself is not a "One," a Unified Subject, but rather a dual subject who dreams of
able to possess himself as ? This dual existence no longer has the amorphous quality of an unformulated yearning and the pretentious pathos of he who feels that he is pregnant with his own self. This dual existence defines itself within the context of a thinking ? fluctuation in reflection between the Apollonian and Dionysian dimensions of the mask. This uneasily repeated fluc- tuation establishes the pattern of thought for an all-penetrating critical ? A mechanism transformed Nietzsche into a philosopher: the Apollonian in him sus- pected that he was at bottom only a Dionysian ? while the Diony- sian saw through himself with the penetrating clairvoyancy of one who is re- minded of his Apollonian castration. He feels like a mere civilized satyr, like a he-goat in place of a he-goat, who can no longer believe in himself because he must understand that his present self is only a substitute for his true self.
In this way, Nietzsche has set in motion an unprecedented intellectual psycho- drama. Through his audacious game with the double mask of the deities, he has made of himself a genius of self-knowledge as ? He has become a psychologist spontaneously ? has become the first philosopher to be a psy- chologist as philosopher; his antiquating role playing has set him on this path. Nietzsche always finds himself in a position in which he faces himself as a trans- parent phenomenon: he does not believe in himself as Dionysus because he has had to sacrifice his wild lower half to the Apollonian compromise. Conversely, he has just as little belief in himself as Apollo because he suspects himself of being merely a veil before the Dionysian. The self of the thinker on stage that is in search of itself oscillates, within the confines of a sensational reflexivity, back and forth between the frozen halves of his mask. He relinquishes himself to a circular process of total self-distrust, which in time will mount into a distrust of all "truths" and all ? which at the same time rises up in a despair-
? ? ? ? ? 32 ? THE PHILOLOGY OF EXISTENCE, THE DRAMATURGY OF FORCE
ing praise of the illusion of autonomy and the divine impenetrability of the phe- nomenal. Whatever position the ego may assume, whatever "representation" of itself it may choose to offer, it will perpetually sense that the other ? the dis- placed aspect, is lacking.
W ithin the framework of this ? confused fluctuation between the processes of masking and unmasking, Nietzsche's third face develops, with dramaturgical repercussions of the most impressive kind. It is the mask of Nietz- sche the ? the psychologist, the critic of knowledge, the thought dancer, the teacher of the affirmative pretense ? W ith this third face, Nietzsche begins to come dangerously close to his "Become who you dangerous because this mask, in its misleading optimism, could induce Narcissus to tumble into his own image. The danger that emanates from the image always strikes the person who passionately desires at his weakest ? fact that he would like to have ? reality" what he allows himself to have only in the
in the imaginary modus of ? Dionysus does not permit himself to possess, and whatever can be possessed is not Dionysus. Therefore, the greatest danger for Nietzsche lies in wanting to incarnate Dionysus so as to at least be able to take possession of him in his incarnate
On the basis of his theory of bipolar artistic forces, Nietzsche immediately emerges as a virtuoso in the art of an uneasy kind of ? that does not believe its own observations. It does not believe itself, not because it has re- nounced itself or because it would abet a "totalizing critique of reason," but rather because the self of this reflection is constituted in itself (an ? beschaf-
in such a way that that which could allow it to believe in itself must always elude it. Nietzsche's dramatic thought is in the process of discovering that it is absolutely impossible for ? and the sense of an experi- ence of unity that could lead to ? occur simultaneously. Whether as Apollo or as Dionysus, the named, identified, and masked subject is never permitted to believe that it has arrived at the foundation of its own identity. For as soon as it sees itself, this subject has already seen through itself as something wherein it cannot set its mind at ease because it is lacking the best part of itself, its Other.
Thus, Nietzsche's theatrical experience of self sets in motion a perfect system for Whatever might say " I " upon the stage will be a sym- bolicallyrepresented" I , "anApollonianartisticcreation,whichweholdout before us like a veil to protect ourselves from perishing of the complete
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? Chapter 3
Cave or, Danger, Terrible Truth!
? Lonely one, you are going the way to yourself. And your way leads past yourself and your seven devils.
Thus Spoke Zarathustra,
"On the Way of the Creator"
He who seeks a path toward himself is dreaming of a condition in which he will be able to endure himself. For this reason, no search for the self can be a theo- retical one, for this search arises from the impulse within the living being to find a "truth" that will make his unendurable life endurable. Theorizing of any type grinds to a halt when it reaches the level of radical questions of this kind, and either leads to an art of living (Lebenskunst) or remains what it was ? symptom of wounded ? The idea that the true self might be something that can indeed be sought after arises directly from the suffering it causes. Only that which feels pain begins to ? with the longing for a better self, which would be the true one because it has ceased suffering on its own account ? sich).
only those who want to escape from themselves find themselves. It is the very desire to escape that directly points to the direction of the path that the search for self will follow. The search for oneself implies above all else the will to a path; the direction that path will take can initially be none other than the path away from oneself.
Embarking upon this path affords the wanderer the opportunity to encounter his own shadow. Through the act of leaving, the wanderer begins to discover what he has taken with him in spite of ? just when he thought he had left everything behind. The true self clings to the heels of the one who is embarking on the path. But only when the wanderer realizes that he himself constitutes his own heaviest baggage can the "dialectic of the path" begin. Through the efforts made to flee, and also through the stimuli that accompany any meaningful exodus, his powers increase to such an extent that he can recognize and endure
? 33
? 34 ? CAVE CANEM
what, in leaving, he had not wanted to recognize and endure: the unendurable Only along the way does it become apparent how little of what the traveler has driven out of himself really allows itself to be shaken off. The more passion- ate his searching flight, the more vehement his realization of that which cannot be gotten rid ? Only the search that despairs of its own passion can arrive at the decisive point at which the search itself becomes as unbearable as what set it in motion. At this point, the agony of the search reaches its crisis point when it gains insight into the unattainability of what is being sought.
The searcher must burn out ? when he senses that nothing will save him from himself. He is extinguished in the dilemma of having to choose between the unbearable and
the ? Only in the fire of disillusionment can the last remaining illusions be burned away. W ith the departure of what is being sought, the search itself be- comes the ? and the path flows with a tragic bend into the pain from which it was initially able to turn away. Partir, ? ? ? ? is how ? paths begin. But arriver, c'est mourir
The self-knowledge (Selbsterkenntnis) entrusted to the path of experience therefore, the structure of a negative circle in that it returns to its beginnings -- that is, to its pain and its ? ? the gradual repulsion of disillusioned ideas and the burning away of the images of happiness it had sought. This is, incidentally, completely different from the positive circle of narcissistic reflec-
within which a seemingly material spirit loses itself and then rediscovers that identical self in order to perform, in the happy end, dances of jubilation around the golden idol of
I call this remarkably negative structure of self-knowledge the psychonautical Nietzsche's theatrical adventure into the theory of knowledge is intrinsi- cally implicated in it. His personal and philosophical fate depends to a great extent, I believe, on whether he can complete the task of burning away images and whether his search for self can be successfully completed within the context of a beneficial negativity and lack of ? The risk involved in any such uncontrolled search is extraordinary; it can easily happen that the searcher becomes caught up halfway in a vision of his own ego, because of which he will announce, having been duped and enraptured, that this vision is what he has been Homo. Only a crisis will then reveal whether the seeker will plunge himself into a reflection in order to perish of its ? or whether he will still have a chance to turn away from the mirror in order to assume respon- sibility for his life as a discovery that is void of ? But Nietzsche's drama is still far from arriving at this crisis point. He is still in the process of expanding the stage for his great play, exposing its antiquated foundation and properly de- termining what masks the actors will wear. Let us look at what else Nietzsche had
in mind for his Hellenistic, psychodramatic stage!
Contrary to what might be expected, what appears there the inter- mezzo of his contemporary critique, the Untimely not a classi-
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? CAVE 35
? masked hero, not a Wagnerian tenor who has been transplanted into antiq- and not a hero who has been transposed into modernity from the family of Oedipus, Siegfried, Heracles, and Prometheus. What we observe here is a figure who cannot be foreseen, who hardly seems to exist in a believable relationship to the tragic stage. What is produced there on the stage is a sort of theorizing Le- porello, a freethinker and on-stage enlightener, who reminds us of the philoso- pher figures on the stages of the eighteenth ? the Figaro in the works
of perhaps, and even more of Don Alfonso in Mozart's ? fan who, in his modish cynicism, has already mistaken the truth for a woman and woman for a synthesis of the bottomless cask and the thing " i n itself" (an
sich).
In the third trope of his ? Nietzsche reveals himself prima facie to be on paths that are ? As I have already indicated, a critical activity that seems far removed from the mythological performances of the first scene results from his experience of himself within the ? du- ality. Nietzsche now appears behind the mask of the philosophical specialist in abysses ? known as womanizers as the illusionless grand seigneur to whom nothing inhuman or human is ? He speaks maliciously and with bravura of the lies told by the great men and of the abysses of the lesser ones; he presents himself as a virtuoso of cultural-critical distrust. He poses as a libertine underminer of idealistic values and as a positivist psychologist who, out of boredom with his own depth, makes fun of lending out to the British a dose of platitudes and to the French a prize for their infamous worldliness. Has Nietzsche thus completely turned his back on his classical and Wagnerian inspirations? The truth of the matter is that he acknowledged the Apollonian energy of resistance more openly in the psychocritical writing of his middle period. It is as if the ra- tionalist in him were resisting subversion by the forces of
In order to appreciate the dramatic context of Nietzsche's ? however, one must first see lurking behind this third mask, which is negativistic and im- posed by Apollo, a fourth ? mask of Dionysian prophecy. This is Za- rathustra, drawn up to his full height, who will resound across the stage as the heroic tenor of immoralism, a subject his psychologizing precursor had only hinted at aphoristically, jeeringly, and in a miniaturizing way as an intellectual chamber play It must therefore be understood that the masks of the third and fourth orders the Gay Scientist, there the prophet of immo-
essentially only the unfoldings of the Apollonian and Diony- sian double ? from behind which Nietzsche's literary appearance had
The antagonism between the two artistic impulses within the soul thus remains every bit as valid as their relationship as ? the distinction that Nietzsche is now setting in motion what he initially presented within the context of a static symmetry and frozen dialectic. W ithin his process of thought, the po- larity between the extremes begins to swing out of balance ? ? all
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? 1
? ? 36 CAVE
Apollonian attempts at establishing control notwithstanding ? because of this oscillation, the Dionysian, which had been at first exhibited only as a dominated and silenced power, gains in latitude.
This is all just another way of expressing how closely this Nietzsche of the middle ? one of the Gay Science and the great dismantling of values -- is connected to the later Nietzsche, the one of the prophetic dithyrambs. The free- thinking, "cynical" underminer of all existing values ? Apollo who has turned ? ? remains the closest accomplice of Zarathustra, the Dionysus who has turned immoral. The all-penetrating psychologist of the stage performs, in his exercises in the critique of knowledge, the recitative to which Zarathustra's proclamation of self provides the aria.
In the thematic arrangement of The Birth of Tragedy, Nietzsche had already es- tablished the prerequisites for his next step forward. In the reciprocal distrust of both deities lay the philosophical dynamite of the future: the age of ideas was drawing to a close, while the age of energies' was announced. Radical doubt no longer leads ? is the case in Descartes ? to an unshakable foundation in the certainty of thought, but instead to a fireworks display of incredible reflection and a free play of doubting power. Doubt can no longer be assuaged in the cer- tainty of ideas.
Nietzsche forges ahead unchecked on the trail ? Spur) of insights and hunches. He discovers while under way through the psychonautical circle that a labor of negation ? be necessary that is as painful as it is invigorating. His gods experience a twilight from which they will never ? adoration vacillates, the brightly colored paper wrappings fall away from the ideals, leav- ing them naked and deserving only of laughter. Wagner becomes questionable to a degree from which he will not recover; Schopenhauer has retreated far into the background. Classical philology becomes completely nauseating, and the values of the new German present evoke only antipathy and ? period of willful self-deception through the idea of a greatness of this sort has come irre- vocably to an end. The exemplary seeker takes it upon himself to destroy, piece by piece, the value system, the world of images, the pantheon of the noblest goals under whose authority his exodus was set in ? Nietzsche commented on this in retrospect:
It is a war, but a war without powder and smoke, without bellicose attitudes, without pathos and dislocated ? would all itself still be "idealism. " One error after the other is put on ice, the ideal is not
freezes to death ? ? ? Here, for instance, the idea of "genius" freezes; around the corner, the "saint" freezes. The "hero" is freezing beneath a thick icicle, and finally "belief" freezes, so-called conviction, even compassion cools down significantly
everywhere, the thing in itself [das Ding an ? is freezing to
? ? ? ? ? ? CAVE 37
words could better express what it means to enter the phase of an active dis- illusionment. And yet Nietzsche's reflection remains too alert to settle down into a comfortable attitude of triumphal ? The problem that will prove essen- tial has already emerged on the horizon: if ideals collapse, what becomes of the force that has motivated these ideals? After one is no longer able to deceive
self, the question remains: what becomes of the impulse that has allowed one to deceive and lie to oneself? Nietzsche's thought advances to a level that corre- sponds to that of a thermodynamics of illusion; it orients itself, as it were, to a "principle [Satz] of the maintenance of illusion-creating ? The idols col- lapse, and yet the idolatrizing force remains constant; ideals perish in the cold, and yet the fire of idealism continues to wander about, objectless and passion- ately desiring. The period of self-deception has ended, without the reservoirs from which the lies were supplied having been exhausted.
With this turning point, Nietzsche has begun to grow into a thinker whose thought will have incalculable long-range effects. Now we can understand why, when compared to Nietzsche's critique, all other forms of a critique of ideology seem short-winded and reveal themselves to be almost scandalously in want of a self-critical alertness. His realism thinks, as it were, a whole epoch ahead of itself. In his play with the masks of the deities of antiquity, he has already begun to gaze into the abyss of a self-doubt that cannot be assuaged, from which arose the phenomenon of the fundamental untenability of reflexive ? What he gained from this is as disturbing as it is ? insight into the exis- tential inevitability of the lie. One can imagine what would become of philoso- phy if this conjectured insight were to prove true! To a much greater extent, one is not able to imagine it!
The compulsion to lie has its base in the nature of truth ? the young Nietzsche presumes to define it with the unabashed confessional willingness of the unbroken genius, as well as with the relaxed receptivity of a man who con- siders it a distinction to be a student of an important intellect, Schopenhauer. But what is this truth, part of whose fundamental nature it is to make us lie? Nietz- sche says it plainly: the truth lies in primordial pain (Urschmerz), which has im- posed the fact of individuation on each life. Using the expression "primordial pain" in the singular is in any case paradoxical, since there are as many centers of primordial pain as there are individuals. To be condemned to individuality is the most painful of all pains; as regards human subjects it is at the same time the truest of all truths. If, however, "truth" means primordial pain for the individual who has been "thrown" into being (ins Dasein ? then it is in its specific nature to signify insufferability for us. We are therefore able to want not to rec- ognize it at all ? if we do surmise anything at all of it in its immediateness, we do so only because the veil of pretense and representation that usually con-
? ? ? ? ? 38 CAVE
it has been opportunely pulled understand more than will do us good.
so that ? racked with suddenly
? ? ? ? ? This would mean that the known forms of the "search for truth,"
those of the philosophers, the metaphysicians, and the religious are, in reality, only organized lies that have become respectable and institutionalized attempts escape that have disguised themselves behind the diligent mask of the desire for knowledge. What had previously pretended to be a path toward truth was in re- ality a single thrust away from it, a thrust away from what was unbearable
to the provisory tolerability of comfort, security, edification, and transcendent worlds. After Nietzsche, it is almost impossible to overlook the fact that most previous philosophy was nothing more than an ontological whitewashing. With its whole pathos of loyalty to the truth, it committed an act of betrayal -- as nec- essary as it was ? the unbearable truth, to the benefit of a meta- physical optimism and those fantasies of redemption that project themselves into the beyond.
If, however, truth is not something that can be be ? and if any search for it is defined in advance as terrifying, intellectual candor finds itself in a position it had not expected to be ? Truth no longer reveals ? it reveals itself at
the seeker and the researcher, who actually want to elude it, but instead to him who exhibits the deliberateness and courage required to not seek it. To be sure, how he exhibits these qualities of courage and deliberateness remains his secret, and it is certainly conceivable that enough will always remain from the search for truth as is necessary for the search for deliberateness and courage, without which a nonseeking consciousness could not develop. He who does not seek the truth must believe himself capable of enduring it. A l l problems of truth are therefore ultimately confluent with the question of how to endure what is unendurable. Perhaps this is why there are ultimately no techniques for finding truth in the existential sense; in the labyrinth, one looks not for secure knowledge but for the way out.
One may not therefore dismiss Nietzsche's entreaties of heroism, and tragic wisdom as mere manifestations of pompous and the man- nerisms of masculinity, regardless of the extent to which the latter do in fact play into his ? Courage is necessary within Nietzsche's enlightenment, prima- rily for taking part in the phenomena of truth ? because, for him, it is no longer a matter of a game of hide-and-seek, but one of experimen- tation and constancy, which remains, if possible, in the vicinity of the terrible truth. For this reason (according to Nietzsche), anyone who wants to speak of truth without using quotation marks would have to first prove himself as a non- seeker, a nonescapist, a nonmetaphysician.
With the acknowledgment of primordial pain as the basis of all other bases, Nietzsche's early thought places itself under a tragic, theatrical, and psycholog- ical sign (Zeichen). If truth means the unendurable, then knowledge of truth
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? CAVE 39
cannot be abruptly defined as enduring the ? It is that which is unen- durable itself that forces us, incircumstantially, to maintain an unwavering dis- tance from it. Accordingly, the truth about the terrible truth is this: we must always have just missed it, and, furthermore, we will never be able to have the sincere volition ? to recognize it in its relentless presence ? For we are able to want only what we can still endure. According to Nietzsche, knowledge of the truth therefore also means always having been placed at a pro- tective distance from what is unbearable.
is the key word in the new tragic theory of knowledge, after which the old optimistic theory of the desire for unity was at an end. Philoso- phers, seekers, and dreamers might therefore continue to speak of identity and unity, but the thinkers of the future, the psychologists, know better. Their the- matic is that of distance, duality, difference. He who knows about distance has made the optics of a philosophical psychology his own. The psychologist also knows that he is enduring just as little of the whole truth as anyone else, but through this knowledge he gains a point of orientation toward which the general theater of self-deception and liar's play of life can be referred. The psychologist is well aware that everything is merely theater: through his personal union with the tragic theoretician of knowledge, he also knows, however, that it would make no sense to want to close this theater in the name of truth. Indeed, the terrible truth is the mother of theater. In accordance with its nature, we maintain an ir- revocable distance from it, a distance that so radically determines our everyday existence in the world that, even with the staunchest will to truth, we are not at liberty to distance ourselves from this condition of distance. As a rule, it is im- possible to survive the final dissolution of the distance that exists between us and the unimaginable reality of the terrible truth. Nietzsche's phrase "W e have art in order not to die of the truth" can also be read in this way: we maintain a distance from truth so that we will not have to experience it directly. To speak ontologi-
old ? us in order to in turn protect us from having
the
There can be no doubt here: wearing the mask of the theoretician of knowl- edge, Nietzsche has made an unprecedented appearance on the stage of philoso- phy. Do we now understand that this was no longer ? and never was? Do we recognize how something new and unbounded has taken shape within this philosophical project ? ? something new as pertains to truth as the oldest liar, whose wealth of discoveries is not exhausted as long as life itself attends to anything unbearable that might want to save itself in the liar's theater of inven- tions and research along the brink of the unbearable? Do we appreciate what ram- ifications the idea of distance will have? If it is indeed valid, then our position
truth (independent of all our conceits of seeking and finding) must be one of an unavoidable evasiveness and a distance from which we cannot distance ourselves. If the terrible truth always keeps us at a distance, we are no longer able
?
