36 pages • 1 hour read
Friedrich Nietzsche, Ed. Walter Kaufmann, Transl. R.J. HollingdaleThe Will to Power
Nonfiction | Book | Adult | Published in 1901A modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Themes
Elitism, the Individual, and the “Herd”
In Book 3, Part 2, Nietzsche says, “one always has to defend the strong against the weak; the fortunate against the unfortunate” (364). He acknowledges this statement may sound “strange” (364). The strong, by definition, seem to be those who can defend themselves. The weak, by the same token, are those whose lack of power makes it unnecessary to defend anyone against them. More alarmingly, for some, Nietzsche seems to valorize political elites over ordinary people. Nietzsche’s disparaging attitude toward the oppressed is reinforced by his praise for “noble” and “aristocratic” virtues and his apparent suggestion that a new aristocracy should replace democratically elected leaders.
While it would be wrong to dismiss these points entirely, his interest in The Will to Power is not primarily to defend the upper classes. Nor does he want to defend “the strong” in a physical or political sense. Rather, his interest in these types is usually, although sometimes confusingly, with exceptional individuals. Conversely, “the weak” is a proxy term for the majority, the average, and what Nietzsche often calls “the herd.” Nietzsche’s main concern, as seen in his critiques of morality and religion, is that individuality and excellence are endangered by the conformist masses. Far from being a conservative, let alone a proto-fascist, Nietzsche seeks to diagnose the causes of the social docility and submissiveness that he saw around him.
But what is it about a certain type of individual that Nietzsche sees as so valuable? Further, what specifically is it about the “herd” which undermines them? Nietzsche says that “the individual is something quite new which creates new things,” because “he has to interpret in a quite individual way even the words he has inherited” (403). The exceptional individual has their own unique perspective on existence, manifest in unusual ways of evaluating, and speaking about, phenomena. If allowed to mature, this new way of seeing eventually gives rise to novel artistic or philosophical creations. This creation, like Nietzsche’s work, helps cultivate new individuals and perspectives. Nietzsche sees such individuals as endangered for two related reasons. First, the herd seeks “the complete renunciation of making one’s evaluations, and the firm desire to see everyone renounce them too” (157). In other words, the majority regard unique perspectives as a threat, and they seek to neutralize them by enforcing conformity. Second, “the higher type represents an incomparably greater complexity” and “is consequently more fragile” (363). The strangeness and nonconformity of exceptional individuals make them more susceptible to physical and psychological pain. The opprobrium and derision of the majority to their different way of thinking is bound to affect them. It is this from which they need defending.
Aphorisms, Style, and Truth
In his discussion of philosophy in Book 2, Nietzsche says that “the profoundest, and least exhausted books will probably always have something of the aphoristic and unexpected character of Pascal’s Pensées” (229). That is, they will be somewhat fragmentary and use short, loosely related aphorisms rather than continuous prose. Besides the biographical point that Nietzsche suffered from migraines, thus making sustained periods of writing difficult, some commentators argue that his aphoristic style reflects an aversion to systems and systematic thought. He believes that total systems of philosophy, such as Hegel’s or Kant’s, could not capture the chaotic nature of reality. While intellectually satisfying as coherent, tidy wholes, their claims to represent truth are misleading. Meanwhile, some have taken this position even further. Based on Nietzsche’s statement that “facts is precisely what there is not, only interpretations” (267), Jacques Derrida argues that Nietzsche’s style reflects skepticism not only about systems but about the meaning of “truth.” In this way, Nietzsche’s aphorisms, and their alleged lack of coherence, are part of a deliberate strategy to subvert belief in truth itself.
On this reading, if the purpose of thought is no longer the pursuit of truth, then perhaps it is artistic “play.” Nietzsche says there is “something that is stronger than pessimism, ‘more divine’, than truth: art” (453). The purpose of philosophy becomes a celebration of style and beauty and the imagining of different perspectives. And this can, allegedly, be seen in the wit and artistry of Nietzsche’s aphorisms. It is also evident in his admiration for artists and his claim that “I agree more with the artists than with any philosopher hitherto” (434). However, while partly explaining Nietzsche’s style, such readings also ignore aspects of his philosophy. For Nietzsche does seem to make many definite claims about the nature of religion, morality, art, and the will to power. These would be absurd if we assumed that Nietzsche did not intend for any of them to be true. And this is not to mention the paradox that arises if one posits “there is no truth” as a truth claim. The question of Nietzsche’s style cannot be so easily, or empathically, answered. Moreover, more compelling interpretations may be possible. Rather than dwelling on issues of truth, or Nietzsche’s supposed aestheticism, these might look at his desire to create responses in his readers, such as an emotional aversion to Christian-moral values.
The Body, Drives, and the Unconscious
Nietzsche argues in Book 3 that “the animal functions are, as a matter of principle, a million times more important than all our beautiful moods and heights of consciousness” (355). Nietzsche reverses an ontological hierarchy that has underpinned Western philosophy since Plato: that the activity of the body, expressed in sexuality and aggression, is both morally inferior and philosophically subordinate to that of consciousness or the mind. In other words, consciousness and free will are, ultimately, sovereign over the body in determining the course of our actions and our lives. This notion can be seen in the mind-body dualism of Descartes and the conceptual analysis of much contemporary philosophy. Both stress the primacy of the mind and its operations and regard the body as secondary.
In contrast, Nietzsche argues that the body is primary. By the “body” Nietzsche means our fundamental and non-conscious drives and instincts, which ultimately can be traced back to the form creating will to dominate of the will to power. Consciousness and rational thought are secondary and derivative phenomena. What we think and what we are aware of is the product of an underlying “bodily” process and drive. This idea can be seen at many points in The Will to Power. For example, as he says, art is “an excess and overflow of blooming physicality into the world of images and desires […] an excitation of the animal functions through the images and desires of intensified life” (422). In other words, artists are driven to create, and us to enjoy, art because it expresses and awakens primal drives, particularly that of sexuality. Likewise with philosophy. Nietzsche argues that our philosophical ideas and arguments are not straightforwardly the result of pure logic or will to truth. Rather, they express in multiple ways, a drive to create and impose oneself on the world.
Yet that is not to say that this theory is without its problems. Like Freud’s conception of the drives and the unconscious, Nietzsche’s theory runs into the question of how we can know anything about them. If these drives are subconscious, how is it possible to apprehend their workings and afford them any explanatory role? Indeed, a classic objection to the notion of unconscious drives is that their defender ends up explaining everything by them but thereby explains nothing. Freud believed psychoanalysis could fill this explanatory gap. For Nietzsche, insight into the depths can be attained through proper attention to the surface of consciousness. As he asks, “could our positing of purposes, our willing, etc., not perhaps be also only a language of signs for something […] that does not will and is unconscious?” (358). Like an archaeologist on a dig with the right tools, careful enough scrutiny of our conscious willing and emotions can allow us to reconstruct the truth about more fundamental drives.
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