Section 14
Original German
Antimoralische16 Triebfedern.
Die Haupt- und Grundtriebfeder im Menschen, wie im Thiere, ist der Egoismus, d. h. der Drang zum Daseyn und Wohlseyn. — Das Deutsche Wort Selbstsucht führt einen falschen Nebenbegriff von Krankheit mit sich. Das Wort Eigennutz aber bezeichnet den Egoismus, sofern er unter Leitung der Vernunft steht, welche ihn befähigt, vermöge der Reflexion, seine Zwecke planmäßig zu verfolgen; daher man die Thiere wohl egoistisch, aber nicht eigennützig nennen kann. Ich will also für den allgemeinern Begriff das Wort Egoismus beibehalten. — Dieser Egoismus ist, im Thiere, wie im Menschen, mit dem innersten Kern und Wesen desselben aufs genaueste verknüpft, ja, eigentlich identisch. Daher entspringen, in der Regel, alle seine Handlungen aus dem Egoismus, und aus diesem zunächst ist alle Mal die Erklärung einer gegebenen Handlung zu versuchen; wie denn auch auf denselben die Berechnung aller Mittel, dadurch man den Menschen nach irgend einem Ziele hinzulenken sucht, durchgängig gegründet ist. Der Egoismus ist, seiner Natur nach, gränzenlos: der Mensch will unbedingt sein Daseyn erhalten, will es von Schmerzen, zu denen auch aller Mangel und Entbehrung gehört, unbedingt frei, will die größtmögliche Summe von Wohlseyn, und will jeden Genuß, zu dem er fähig ist, ja, sucht wo möglich noch neue Fähigkeiten zum Genusse in sich zu entwickeln. Alles, was sich dem Streben seines Egoismus entgegenstellt, erregt seinen Unwillen, Zorn, Haß: er wird es als seinen Feind zu vernichten suchen. Er will wo möglich Alles genießen, Alles haben; da aber dies unmöglich ist, wenigstens Alles beherrschen: „Alles für mich, und nichts für die Andern“, ist sein Wahlspruch. Der Egoismus ist kolossal: er überragt die Welt. Denn, wenn jedem Einzelnen die Wahl gegeben würde zwischen seiner eigenen und der übrigen Welt Vernichtung; so brauche ich nicht zu sagen, wohin sie, bei den Allermeisten, ausschlagen würde. Demgemäß macht Jeder sich zum Mittelpunkte der Welt, bezieht Alles auf sich und wird was nur vorgeht, z. B. die größten Veränderungen im Schicksale der Völker, zunächst auf sein Interesse dabei beziehen und, sei dieses auch noch so klein und mittelbar, vor Allem daran denken. Keinen größern Kontrast giebt es, als den zwischen dem hohen und exklusiven Antheil, den Jeder an seinem eigenen Selbst nimmt, und der Gleichgültigkeit, mit der in der Regel alle Andern eben jenes Selbst betrachten; wie er ihres. Es hat sogar seine komische Seite, die zahllosen Individuen zu sehen, deren jedes, wenigstens in praktischer Hinsicht, sich allein für real hält und die andern gewissermaaßen als bloße Phantome betrachtet. Dies beruht zuletzt darauf, daß Jeder sich selber unmittelbar gegeben ist, die Andern aber ihm nur mittelbar, durch die Vorstellung von ihnen in seinem Kopfe: und die Unmittelbarkeit behauptet ihr Recht. Nämlich in Folge der jedem Bewußtseyn wesentlichen Subjektivität, ist Jeder sich selber die ganze Welt: denn alles Objektive existirt nur mittelbar, als bloße Vorstellung des Subjekts; so daß stets Alles am Selbstbewußtseyn hängt. Die einzige Welt, welche Jeder wirklich kennt und von der er weiß, trägt er in sich, als seine Vorstellung, und ist daher das Centrum derselben. Deshalb eben ist Jeder sich Alles in Allem: er findet sich als den Inhaber aller Realität und kann ihm nichts wichtiger seyn, als er selbst. Während nun in seiner subjektiven Ansicht sein Selbst sich in dieser kolossalen Größe darstellt, schrumpft es in der objektiven beinahe zu Nichts ein, nämlich zu ungefähr 1/1000,000,000 der jetzt lebenden Menschheit. Dabei nun weiß er völlig gewiß, daß eben jenes über Alles wichtige Selbst, dieser Mikrokosmos, als dessen bloße Modifikation, oder Accidenz, der Makrokosmos auftritt, also seine ganze Welt, untergehen muß im Tode, der daher für ihn gleichbedeutend ist mit dem Weltuntergange. Dieses also sind die Elemente, woraus, auf der Basis des Willens zum Leben, der Egoismus erwächst, welcher zwischen Mensch und Mensch stets wie ein breiter Graben liegt. Springt wirklich ein Mal Einer darüber, dem Andern zu Hülfe, so ist es wie ein Wunder, welches Staunen erregt und Beifall einärntet. Oben, §. 8, bei Erläuterung des Kantischen Moralprincips, habe ich Gelegenheit gehabt, auszuführen, wie der Egoismus sich im Alltagsleben zeigt, wo er, trotz der Höflichkeit, die man ihm als Feigenblatt vorsteckt, doch stets aus irgend einer Ecke hervorguckt. Die Höflichkeit nämlich ist die konventionelle und systematische Verleugnung des Egoismus in den Kleinigkeiten des täglichen Verkehrs und ist freilich anerkannte Heuchelei: dennoch wird sie gefordert und gelobt; weil was sie verbirgt, der Egoismus, so garstig ist, daß man es nicht sehen will, obschon man weiß, daß es da ist: wie man widerliche Gegenstände wenigstens durch einen Vorhang bedeckt wissen will. — Da der Egoismus, wo ihm nicht entweder äußere Gewalt, welcher auch jede Furcht, sei sie vor irdischen oder überirdischen Mächten, beizuzählen ist, oder aber die ächte moralische Triebfeder entgegenwirkt, seine Zwecke unbedingt verfolgt; so würde, bei der zahllosen Menge egoistischer Individuen, das bellum omnium contra omnes an der Tagesordnung seyn, zum Unheil Aller. Daher die reflektirende Vernunft sehr bald die Staatseinrichtung erfindet, welche, aus gegenseitiger Furcht vor gegenseitiger Gewalt entspringend, den nachtheiligen Folgen des allgemeinen Egoismus so weit vorbeugt, als es auf dem negativen Wege geschehen kann. Wo hingegen jene zwei ihm entgegenstehenden Potenzen nicht zur Wirksamkeit gelangen, wird er sich sofort in seiner ganzen furchtbaren Größe zeigen, und das Phänomen wird kein schönes seyn. Indem ich, um ohne Weitläufigkeit die Stärke dieser antimoralischen Potenz auszudrücken, darauf bedacht war, die Größe des Egoismus mit Einem Zuge zu bezeichnen und deshalb nach irgend einer recht emphatischen Hyperbel suchte, bin ich zuletzt auf diese gerathen: mancher Mensch wäre im Stande, einen andern todtzuschlagen, bloß um mit dessen Fette sich die Stiefel zu schmieren. Aber dabei blieb mir doch der Skrupel, ob es auch wirklich eine Hyperbel sei. — Der Egoismus also ist die erste und hauptsächlichste, wiewohl nicht die einzige Macht, welche die moralische Triebfeder zu bekämpfen hat. Man sieht schon hier, daß diese, um wider einen solchen Gegner aufzutreten, etwas Realeres seyn muß, als eine spitzfindige Klügelei, oder eine aprioristische Seifenblase. — Inzwischen ist im Kriege das Erste, daß man den Feind rekognoscirt. In dem bevorstehenden Kampfe wird der Egoismus, als die Hauptmacht seiner Seite, vorzüglich sich der Tugend der Gerechtigkeit entgegenstellen, welche, nach meiner Ansicht, die erste und recht eigentliche Kardinaltugend ist.
Hingegen wird der Tugend der Menschenliebe öfter das Uebelwollen oder die Gehässigkeit gegenübertreten. Daher wollen wir den Ursprung und die Gradationen dieser zunächst betrachten. Das Uebelwollen in den niederen Graden ist sehr häufig, ja, fast gewöhnlich, und es erreicht leicht die höheren. Goethe hat wohl Recht zu sagen, daß in dieser Welt Gleichgültigkeit und Abneigung recht eigentlich zu Hause sind. (Wahlverwandtschaften, Th. 1, C. 3.) Es ist sehr glücklich für uns, daß Klugheit und Höflichkeit ihren Mantel darüber decken und uns nicht sehen lassen, wie allgemein das gegenseitige Uebelwollen ist und wie das bellum omnium contra omnes wenigstens in Gedanken fortgesetzt wird. Aber gelegentlich kommt es doch zum Vorschein, z. B. bei der so häufigen und so schonungslosen übeln Nachrede: ganz sichtbar aber wird es bei den Ausbrüchen des Zorns, welche meistens ihren Anlaß um ein Vielfaches übersteigen und so stark nicht ausfallen könnten, wenn sie nicht, wie das Schießpulver in der Flinte, komprimirt gewesen wären, als lange gehegter im Innern brütender Haß. — Großentheils entsteht das Uebelwollen aus den unvermeidlichen und bei jedem Schritt eintretenden Kollisionen des Egoismus. Sodann wird es auch objektiv erregt, durch den Anblick der Laster, Fehler, Schwächen, Thorheiten, Mängel und Unvollkommenheiten aller Art, welchen, mehr oder weniger, Jeder den Andern, wenigstens gelegentlich, darbietet. Es kann hiemit so weit kommen, daß vielleicht Manchem, zumal in Augenblicken hypochondrischer Verstimmung, die Welt, von der ästhetischen Seite betrachtet, als ein Karikaturenkabinet, von der intellektuellen, als ein Narrenhaus, und von der moralischen, als eine Gaunerherberge erscheint. Wird solche Verstimmung bleibend; so entsteht Misanthropie. — Endlich ist eine Hauptquelle des Uebelwollens der Neid; oder vielmehr dieser selbst ist schon Uebelwollen, erregt durch fremdes Glück, Besitz oder Vorzüge. Kein Mensch ist ganz frei davon, und schon Herodot (III, 80) hat es gesagt: Φθόνος ἀρχῆθεν ἐμφύεται ἀνθρώπῳ (invidia ab origine homini insita est). Jedoch sind die Grade desselben sehr verschieden. Am unversöhnlichsten und giftigsten ist er, wann auf persönliche Eigenschaften gerichtet, weil hier dem Neider keine Hoffnung bleibt, und zugleich am niederträchtigsten; weil er haßt, was er lieben und verehren sollte; allein es ist so:
Di lor par più, che d’altri, invidia s’abbia,Che per se stessi son levati a volo,Uscendo fuor della commune gabbia.17
klagt schon Petrarka. Ausführlichere Betrachtungen über den Neid findet man im zweiten Bande der Parerga, §. 114. — In gewissem Betracht ist das Gegentheil des Neides die Schadenfreude. Jedoch ist Neid zu fühlen, menschlich; Schadenfreude zu genießen, teuflisch. Es giebt kein unfehlbareres Zeichen eines ganz schlechten Herzens und tiefer moralischer Nichtswürdigkeit, als einen Zug reiner, herzlicher Schadenfreude. Man soll Den, an welchem man ihn wahrgenommen, auf immer meiden: Hic niger est, hunc tu, Romane, caveto. — Neid und Schadenfreude sind an sich bloß theoretisch: praktisch werden sie Bosheit und Grausamkeit. Der Egoismus kann zu Verbrechen und Unthaten aller Art führen: aber der dadurch verursachte Schaden und Schmerz Anderer ist ihm bloß Mittel, nicht Zweck, tritt also nur accidentell dabei ein. Der Bosheit und Grausamkeit hingegen sind die Leiden und Schmerzen Anderer Zweck an sich und dessen Erreichen Genuß. Dieserhalb machen jene eine höhere Potenz moralischer Schlechtigkeit aus. Die Maxime des äußersten Egoismus ist: Neminem juva, imo omnes, si forte conducit (also immer noch bedingt), laede. Die Maxime der Bosheit ist: Omnes, quantum potes, laede. — Wie Schadenfreude nur theoretische Grausamkeit ist, so Grausamkeit nur praktische Schadenfreude, und diese wird als jene auftreten, sobald die Gelegenheit kommt.
Die aus den beiden angegebenen Grundpotenzen entspringenden speciellen Laster nachzuweisen, wäre nur in einer ausgeführten Ethik an seinem Platz. Eine solche würde etwan aus dem Egoismus ableiten Gier, Völlerei, Wollust, Eigennutz, Geiz, Habsucht, Ungerechtigkeit, Hartherzigkeit, Stolz, Hoffarth u. s. w. — aus der Gehässigkeit aber Misgunst, Neid, Uebelwollen, Bosheit, Schadenfreude, spähende Neugier, Verläumdung, Insolenz, Petulanz, Haß, Zorn, Verrath, Tücke, Rachsucht, Grausamkeit u. s. w. — Die erste Wurzel ist mehr thierisch, die zweite mehr teuflisch. Das Vorwalten der einen, oder der andern, oder aber der weiterhin erst nachzuweisenden moralischen Triebfeder, giebt die Hauptlinie in der ethischen Klassifikation der Charaktere. Ganz ohne etwas von allen dreien ist kein Mensch.
Hiemit hätte ich denn die allerdings erschreckliche Heerschau der antimoralischen Potenzen beendigt, welche an die der Fürsten der Finsterniß im Pandämonium bei Milton erinnert. Mein Plan brachte es jedoch mit sich, daß ich zuerst diese düstere Seite der menschlichen Natur in Betracht nähme, wodurch mein Weg freilich von dem aller andern Moralisten abweicht und dem des Dante ähnlich wird, der zuerst in die Hölle führt.
Durch die hier gegebene Uebersicht der antimoralischen Potenzen wird deutlich, wie schwer das Problem ist, eine Triebfeder aufzufinden, die den Menschen zu einer, allen jenen tief in seiner Natur wurzelnden Neigungen entgegengesetzten Handlungsweise bewegen könnte, oder, wenn etwan diese letztere in der Erfahrung gegeben wäre, von ihr genügende und ungekünstelte Rechenschaft ertheilte. So schwer ist das Problem, daß man zu seiner Lösung für die Menschheit im Großen überall die Maschinerie aus einer andern Welt hat zu Hülfe nehmen müssen. Man deutete auf Götter hin, deren Wille und Gebot die hier geforderte Handlungsweise wäre, und welche diesem Gebot, durch Strafen und Belohnungen, entweder in dieser oder in einer andern Welt, wohin wir durch den Tod versetzt würden, Nachdruck ertheilten. Angenommen, daß der Glaube an eine Lehre dieser Art, wie es durch sehr frühzeitiges Einprägen allerdings möglich ist, allgemein Wurzel faßte, und auch, was aber sehr viel schwerer hält und viel weniger Bestätigung in der Erfahrung aufzuweisen hat, daß er die beabsichtigte Wirkung hervorbrächte; so würde dadurch zwar Legalität der Handlungen, selbst über die Gränze hinaus, bis zu welcher Justiz und Polizei reichen können, zu Wege gebracht seyn: aber Jeder fühlt, daß es keineswegs Dasjenige wäre, was wir eigentlich unter Moralität der Gesinnung verstehen. Denn offenbar würden alle durch Motive solcher Art hervorgerufene Handlungen immer nur im bloßen Egoismus wurzeln. Wie sollte nämlich von Uneigennützigkeit die Rede seyn können, wo mich Belohnung lockt, oder angedrohte Strafe abschreckt? Eine festgeglaubte Belohnung in einer andern Welt ist anzusehen, wie ein vollkommen sicherer, aber auf sehr lange Sicht ausgestellter Wechsel. Die überall so häufige Verheißung befriedigter Bettler, daß dem Geber die Gabe in jener Welt tausendfach erstattet werden wird, mag manchen Geizhals zu reichlichem Almosen bewegen, die er, als gute Geldanlegung, vergnügt austheilt, fest überzeugt, nun auch in jener Welt sogleich wieder als ein steinreicher Mann aufzuerstehen. — Für die große Masse des Volkes muß es vielleicht bei Antrieben dieser Art sein Bewenden haben: demgemäß denn auch die verschiedenen Religionen, welche eben die Metaphysik des Volkes sind, sie ihm vorhalten. Hiebei ist jedoch anzumerken, daß wir über die wahren Motive unsers eigenen Thuns bisweilen eben so sehr im Irrthum sind, wie über die des fremden: daher zuverlässig Mancher, indem er von seinen edelsten Handlungen nur durch Motive obiger Art sich Rechenschaft zu geben weiß, dennoch aus viel edleren und reineren, aber auch viel schwerer deutlich zu machenden Triebfedern handelt und wirklich aus unmittelbarer Liebe des Nächsten thut, was er bloß durch seines Gottes Geheiß zu erklären versteht. Die Philosophie hingegen sucht hier, wie überall, die wahren, letzten, auf die Natur des Menschen gegründeten, von allen mythischen Auslegungen, religiösen Dogmen und transscendenten Hypostasen unabhängigen Aufschlüsse über das vorliegende Problem, und verlangt sie in der äußern oder innern Erfahrung nachgewiesen zu sehen. Unsere vorliegende Aufgabe aber ist eine philosophische; daher wir von allen durch Religionen bedingten Auflösungen derselben gänzlich abzusehen haben, an welche ich, bloß um die große Schwierigkeit des Problems ins Licht zu stellen, hier erinnert habe.
16 Ich erlaube mir die regelwidrige Zusammensetzung des Wortes, da „antiethisch“ hier nicht bezeichnend seyn würde. Das jetzt in Mode gekommene „sittlich und unsittlich“ aber ist ein schlechtes Substitut für „moralisch und unmoralisch“: erstlich, weil „moralisch“ ein wissenschaftlicher Begriff ist, dem als solchem eine Griechische oder Lateinische Bezeichnung gebührt, aus Gründen, welche man findet in meinem Hauptwerke, Bd. 2, Kap. 12, S. 134 ff.; und zweitens, weil „sittlich“ ein schwacher und zahmer Ausdruck ist, schwer zu unterscheiden von „sittsam“, dessen populäre Benennung „zimperlich“ ist. Der Deutschthümelei muß man keine Koncessionen machen.
17 Man scheinet, mehr als Andre, Die zu neiden,Die, durch der eig'nen Flügel Kraft gehoben,Aus dem gemeinen Käfig Aller scheiden.
Musean translation
Machine-assisted Musean translation made directly from the complete 1860 German edition, including its quotations, author’s notes, prize question and judgment. Source-language reviewed.
Antimoral16 Incentives.
The chief and fundamental incentive in human beings, as in animals, is egoism, that is, the urge toward existence and well-being.—The German word Selbstsucht (self-sickness) carries with it a false side-notion of sickness. The word Eigennutz (self-interest), however, designates egoism insofar as it stands under the guidance of reason, which enables it, by means of reflection, to pursue its ends methodically; hence one may well call animals egoistic, but not self-interested. So for the more general concept I shall keep the word egoism.—This egoism is, in the animal as in the human being, most closely bound up with its innermost core and essence—indeed, properly speaking, identical with it. Hence all its actions, as a rule, spring from egoism, and it is from this that the explanation of any given action is always first to be attempted; just as the calculation of all the means by which one seeks to steer human beings toward some goal is likewise grounded throughout upon it. Egoism is by its nature boundless: human beings want unconditionally to preserve their existence, want it unconditionally free of pains, among which all want and privation are counted, want the greatest possible sum of well-being, and want every enjoyment of which they are capable, and even seek, where possible, to develop in themselves new capacities for enjoyment. Whatever opposes the striving of their egoism arouses their displeasure, anger, hatred: they will try to destroy it as their enemy. They want, if possible, to enjoy everything, to have everything; but since that is impossible, at least to rule everything: "Everything for me, and nothing for the others" is their motto. Egoism is colossal: it towers over the world. For if each individual were given the choice between their own destruction and that of the rest of the world, I need not say which way it would tip for the vast majority. Accordingly everyone makes themselves the center of the world, refers everything to themselves, and whatever takes place—the greatest changes in the fate of nations, for example—they will first relate to their own interest in it and, however small and indirect that interest may be, think of that above all. There is no greater contrast than that between the intense and exclusive interest each takes in their own self and the indifference with which, as a rule, all others regard that very self; as each, in turn, regards theirs. It even has its comic side to see the countless individuals, each of whom, at least in practical respects, takes only themselves to be real and regards the others, in a manner, as mere phantoms. This rests ultimately on the fact that each is given to themselves immediately, but the others only mediately, through the representation of them in their head; and immediacy asserts its right. For by reason of the subjectivity essential to every consciousness, everyone is the whole world to themselves: for everything objective exists only mediately, as mere representation of the subject; so that everything always hangs upon self-consciousness. The only world that anyone really knows and is aware of they carry within themselves, as their representation, and they are therefore its center. That is precisely why each is all in all to themselves: they find themselves the possessor of all reality, and nothing can matter more to them than they themselves. While in their subjective view the self presents itself in this colossal size, in the objective view it shrinks to almost nothing, namely to about 1/1000,000,000 of the humanity now living. And at the same time they know with perfect certainty that this very self, important above all else, this microcosm, of which the macrocosm appears as a mere modification or accident—their whole world, that is—must perish in death, which is therefore for them equivalent to the end of the world. These, then, are the elements out of which, on the basis of the will to life, egoism grows, which always lies like a wide ditch between one human being and another. If someone really does once leap across it to help another, it is like a miracle, which arouses astonishment and reaps applause. Above, in §. 8, in expounding the Kantian principle of morals, I had occasion to set out how egoism shows itself in everyday life, where, despite the politeness that is pinned before it as a fig leaf, it nonetheless always peeps out from some corner. Politeness, namely, is the conventional and systematic disavowal of egoism in the trifles of daily intercourse, and is, to be sure, acknowledged hypocrisy; yet it is demanded and praised, because what it hides, egoism, is so ugly that one does not want to see it, though one knows that it is there: just as one wants repulsive objects at least known to be covered by a curtain.—Since egoism, wherever it is not counteracted either by external force—to which every fear, whether of earthly or unearthly powers, is to be added—or by the genuine moral incentive, pursues its ends unconditionally, the war of all against all would, given the countless multitude of egoistic individuals, be the order of the day, to the ruin of all. Hence reflective reason very soon invents the institution of the state, which, springing from mutual fear of mutual violence, forestalls the harmful consequences of universal egoism as far as can be done by the negative way. Where, on the other hand, those two powers opposed to it do not come into effect, it will show itself at once in all its terrible magnitude, and the phenomenon will not be a pretty one. When, in order to express without prolixity the strength of this antimoral power, I was intent on marking the magnitude of egoism in a single stroke and therefore looked for some thoroughly emphatic hyperbole, I at last hit upon this one: many a person would be capable of beating another to death merely to grease their boots with that person's fat. Yet a scruple remained with me whether it really was a hyperbole.—Egoism, then, is the first and chief, though not the only, power that the moral incentive has to combat. One sees already here that this incentive, to take the field against such an adversary, must be something more real than a hairsplitting sophistry or an aprioristic soap bubble.—Meanwhile, the first thing in war is to reconnoiter the enemy. In the coming struggle egoism, as the main force on its side, will oppose itself above all to the virtue of justice, which, in my view, is the first and truly proper cardinal virtue.
The virtue of loving-kindness, by contrast, will more often be confronted by ill will or malignity. We shall therefore first consider the origin and gradations of these. Ill will in the lower degrees is very frequent, indeed almost commonplace, and it easily reaches the higher. Goethe is surely right in saying that in this world indifference and aversion are quite properly at home. (Elective Affinities, Th. 1, C. 3.) It is very fortunate for us that prudence and politeness cast their cloak over it and do not let us see how universal mutual ill will is, and how the war of all against all is carried on at least in thought. But occasionally it does come to light, for example in the so frequent and so merciless backbiting; quite visibly, though, in outbursts of anger, which mostly exceed their occasion many times over and could not turn out so violent had they not been compressed, like gunpowder in the barrel, as long-cherished hatred brooding within.—For the most part ill will arises from the unavoidable collisions of egoism that occur at every step. Then it is also aroused objectively, by the sight of the vices, faults, weaknesses, follies, defects, and imperfections of every kind which each person, more or less, at least occasionally, presents to others. It can go so far that to some, especially in moments of hypochondriac ill humor, the world, viewed from the aesthetic side, appears as a cabinet of caricatures, from the intellectual side as a madhouse, and from the moral side as a den of rogues. If such ill humor becomes permanent, misanthropy arises.—Finally, a chief source of ill will is envy; or rather, envy itself is already ill will, aroused by another's good fortune, possessions, or advantages. No one is wholly free of it, and Herodotus (III, 80) already said so: Envy grows in a human being from the very beginning (envy has been implanted in man from the origin). Its degrees, however, are very different. It is most implacable and most venomous when directed at personal qualities, because here no hope is left to the envious, and at the same time most base, because it hates what it ought to love and revere; but so it is:
Of these, more than of others, envy seems to be felt,Who by themselves have risen into flight,Issuing forth from the common cage.17
So Petrarch already laments. More extensive reflections on envy are to be found in the second volume of the Parerga, §. 114.—In a certain respect the opposite of envy is Schadenfreude. Yet to feel envy is human; to relish Schadenfreude is diabolical. There is no more infallible sign of a thoroughly bad heart and profound moral worthlessness than a trait of pure, hearty Schadenfreude. One should avoid forever anyone in whom one has perceived it: This man is black-hearted; Roman, beware of him.—Envy and Schadenfreude are in themselves merely theoretical; practically they become malice and cruelty. Egoism can lead to crimes and misdeeds of every kind; but the harm and pain thereby caused to others are for it merely a means, not an end, and so occur only incidentally. For malice and cruelty, by contrast, the sufferings and pains of others are an end in themselves, and attaining it is enjoyment. On this account the latter constitute a higher power of moral badness. The maxim of extreme egoism is: Help no one; rather, if it should happen to pay (thus still conditional), harm everyone. The maxim of malice is: Harm everyone, as far as you can.—As Schadenfreude is only theoretical cruelty, so cruelty is only practical Schadenfreude, and Schadenfreude will appear as cruelty as soon as opportunity comes.
To demonstrate the special vices springing from the two fundamental powers named would be in place only in a fully worked-out ethics. Such an ethics would derive from egoism, say, greed, gluttony, lust, self-interest, stinginess, avarice, injustice, hardheartedness, pride, arrogance, and so forth—and from malignity it would derive grudging, envy, ill will, malice, Schadenfreude, prying curiosity, slander, insolence, petulance, hatred, anger, treachery, insidiousness, vindictiveness, cruelty, and so forth.—The first root is more bestial, the second more diabolical. The predominance of the one or the other, or else of the moral incentive, still to be demonstrated further on, gives the main line in the ethical classification of characters. No human being is wholly without something of all three.
With this, then, I have completed the review, admittedly a dreadful one, of the antimoral powers, which recalls that of the princes of darkness in Milton's Pandemonium. My plan, however, required that I first take into consideration this gloomy side of human nature, whereby my path certainly departs from that of all other moralists and becomes like Dante's, which leads first into hell.
The survey of the antimoral powers given here makes plain how hard the problem is: to find an incentive that could move human beings to a mode of action opposed to all those inclinations rooted deep in their nature, or, should such a mode of action perhaps be given in experience, to give a sufficient and unforced account of it. So hard is the problem that, for its solution for humanity at large, people everywhere have had to call in machinery from another world. People pointed to gods whose will and command the mode of action demanded here would be, and who lent force to this command by punishments and rewards, either in this world or in another, to which we would be transferred by death. Suppose that belief in a doctrine of this kind, as is indeed possible through very early imprinting, took root generally, and also—though this is much harder and has much less confirmation in experience—that it produced the intended effect; then legality of actions would indeed be brought about, even beyond the limit to which justice and police can reach; but everyone feels that this would by no means be what we properly mean by morality of disposition. For plainly all actions called forth by motives of such a kind would always be rooted only in sheer egoism. How, indeed, could there be any talk of disinterestedness where reward lures me, or threatened punishment deters me? A firmly believed reward in another world is to be regarded like a perfectly safe bill of exchange, but one drawn at very long sight. The promise, so common everywhere among satisfied beggars, that the giver will be repaid the gift a thousandfold in that other world may move many a miser to give lavish alms, which they gladly dispense as a sound investment, firmly convinced that they will now rise again in that world, too, at once as people of immense wealth.—For the great mass of the people it may perhaps have to be left at impulses of this kind; and accordingly the various religions, which are precisely the metaphysics of the people, hold them up before it. Here, however, it should be noted that we are sometimes just as much mistaken about the true motives of our own doing as about those of another's; hence surely many a person, though able to give an account of their noblest actions only through motives of the above kind, nonetheless acts from far nobler and purer incentives, though ones much harder to make clear, and truly does from immediate love of neighbor what they can explain only by their God's command. Philosophy, by contrast, here as everywhere seeks the true, ultimate disclosures about the problem at hand, grounded on the nature of the human being and independent of all mythical interpretations, religious dogmas, and transcendent hypostases, and demands to see them demonstrated in outer or inner experience. Our present task, however, is a philosophical one; we therefore have to disregard entirely all solutions of it conditioned by religions, which I have recalled here merely to bring the great difficulty of the problem to light.
16 I allow myself the irregular formation of this word, since "antiethical" would not be descriptive here. The now fashionable "sittlich and unsittlich," however, is a poor substitute for "moral and immoral": first, because "moral" is a scientific concept, to which as such a Greek or Latin designation is due, for reasons to be found in my principal work, Bd. 2, Kap. 12, S. 134 ff.; and second, because "sittlich" is a weak and tame expression, hard to tell from "sittsam" (demure), which the common speech calls "zimperlich" (prim). No concessions should be made to Teutomania.
17 One seems, more than others, to envy thoseWho, lifted by the strength of their own wings,Depart from the common cage of all.
Plain English translation
Independent, machine-assisted Plain English translation made directly from the complete 1860 German edition and its embedded passages. Source-language reviewed.
Antimoral16 incentives.
The main and basic incentive in human beings, as in animals, is egoism, that is, the urge toward existence and well-being. The German word Selbstsucht (literally "self-sickness") carries a false side-meaning of illness. The word Eigennutz (self-interest), on the other hand, names egoism insofar as it is guided by reason. Reason enables it, through reflection, to pursue its aims according to a plan. So animals can be called egoistic, but not self-interested. For the more general concept, then, I will keep the word egoism. This egoism, in the animal as in the human being, is tied most closely to the innermost core and essence of the being. In fact it is identical with it. Therefore, as a rule, all of a being's actions arise from egoism, and the explanation of any given action must always be sought there first. The calculation of all the means by which people try to steer a human being toward some goal is likewise built throughout on egoism. By its nature, egoism is boundless. The human being wants unconditionally to preserve their existence. They want it unconditionally free of pain, which includes every lack and deprivation. They want the greatest possible sum of well-being and every enjoyment they are capable of. They even try, if possible, to develop new capacities for enjoyment in themselves. Everything that stands in the way of the striving of their egoism arouses displeasure, anger and hatred. They will try to destroy it as an enemy. If possible, they want to enjoy everything and have everything. Since that is impossible, they want at least to rule everything. "Everything for me, and nothing for the others" is their motto. Egoism is colossal. It towers over the world. For if every individual were given the choice between their own destruction and the destruction of the rest of the world, I do not need to say which way the choice would fall for the great majority. Accordingly, everyone makes themselves the center of the world and relates everything to themselves. Whatever happens, for example the greatest changes in the fate of nations, they will first relate to their own interest in it. However small and indirect that interest may be, they will think of it before everything else. There is no greater contrast than the one between the intense and exclusive interest that each person takes in their own self and the indifference with which, as a rule, everyone else regards that very self, just as that person regards theirs. It even has its comic side to see the countless individuals, each of whom, at least in practical terms, holds only themselves to be real and regards the others as, in a way, mere phantoms. This rests in the end on the fact that each person is given to themselves directly, while others are given to them only indirectly, through the representation of them in their head. And directness asserts its right. That is, because subjectivity is essential to every consciousness, each person is the whole world to themselves. For everything objective exists only indirectly, as a mere representation of the subject, so that everything always depends on self-consciousness. The only world that each person really knows and is aware of, they carry within themselves as their representation, and so each is the center of it. That is exactly why each person is everything to themselves. They find themselves to be the holder of all reality, and nothing can be more important to them than they themselves. Now, while in their subjective view their self presents itself in this colossal size, in the objective view it shrinks to almost nothing, namely to about 1/1000,000,000 of the humanity now living. At the same time they know with complete certainty that this very self, more important than everything, this microcosm, of which the macrocosm, that is, their whole world, appears as a mere modification or accident, must perish in death. For them, death is therefore the same as the end of the world. These, then, are the elements from which egoism grows, on the basis of the will to live. Egoism always lies like a wide ditch between one human being and another. If someone does once jump across it to help another, it is like a miracle, which arouses amazement and earns applause. Above, in §. 8, in explaining Kant's moral principle, I had occasion to describe how egoism shows itself in everyday life. There, despite the politeness that is pinned on in front of it as a fig leaf, it still always peeks out from some corner. Politeness is the conventional and systematic denial of egoism in the small things of daily dealings. It is, of course, acknowledged hypocrisy. Even so, it is demanded and praised, because what it hides, egoism, is so ugly that people do not want to see it, although they know it is there. In the same way, people want repulsive objects at least covered by a curtain. Egoism pursues its aims without condition wherever it is not opposed either by outside force (which includes every fear, whether of earthly or of otherworldly powers) or by the genuine moral incentive. So, given the countless multitude of egoistic individuals, the war of everyone against everyone would be the order of the day, to the ruin of all. That is why reflecting reason very soon invents the institution of the state. The state arises from mutual fear of mutual violence, and it prevents the harmful consequences of general egoism as far as can be done by the negative route. Where, by contrast, those two powers opposing it do not take effect, egoism will at once show itself in its whole terrible size, and the phenomenon will not be a pretty one. I wanted to express the strength of this antimoral power without long discussion. So I was intent on marking the size of egoism in a single stroke, and looked for some really emphatic hyperbole. In the end I arrived at this one: many a person would be capable of killing another just to grease their boots with the victim's fat. But I was still left with the scruple whether it really is a hyperbole. Egoism, then, is the first and chief, though not the only, power that the moral incentive has to fight. Already here one sees that, to take the field against such an opponent, the moral incentive must be something more real than a hair-splitting piece of cleverness or an a priori soap bubble. Meanwhile, in war the first thing is to reconnoiter the enemy. In the coming fight, egoism, as the main force on its side, will oppose above all the virtue of justice, which in my view is the first and truly proper cardinal virtue.
The virtue of love of humanity, on the other hand, will more often face ill will or hatefulness. So let us first consider the origin and the degrees of these. Ill will in its lower degrees is very common, even nearly usual, and it easily reaches the higher ones. Goethe is probably right to say that in this world indifference and dislike are truly at home. (Elective Affinities, Th. 1, C. 3.) It is very fortunate for us that prudence and politeness throw their cloak over it and do not let us see how widespread mutual ill will is, and how the war of everyone against everyone is carried on at least in thought. But now and then it does come into view, for example in the so frequent and so merciless gossip. It becomes fully visible in outbursts of anger. These mostly exceed their cause many times over. They could not turn out so strong if they had not been compressed, like gunpowder in a gun, as long-nursed hatred brooding inside. For the most part, ill will arises from the unavoidable collisions of egoism, which occur at every step. Then it is also aroused objectively, by the sight of vices, faults, weaknesses, follies, defects and imperfections of every kind, which each person, more or less, at least occasionally, presents to the others. This can go so far that to some people, especially in moments of hypochondriac low mood, the world looks, from the aesthetic side, like a cabinet of caricatures; from the intellectual side, like a madhouse; and from the moral side, like a lodging house for crooks. If such low mood becomes lasting, misanthropy arises. Finally, a main source of ill will is envy. Or rather, envy itself is already ill will, aroused by another's good fortune, possessions or advantages. No human being is entirely free of it, and Herodotus (III, 80) already said so: Envy is born in human beings from the start (envy is planted in human beings from the origin). Its degrees, however, differ greatly. It is most implacable and most poisonous when directed at personal qualities, because here no hope is left for the envious person. It is also the most despicable then, because it hates what it should love and honor. But that is how it is:
It seems envy is felt more toward these than toward others,who have lifted themselves into flight on their own,leaving the common cage.17
Petrarch already laments. More extended reflections on envy can be found in the second volume of the Parerga, §. 114. In a certain respect, the opposite of envy is Schadenfreude. Yet to feel envy is human; to enjoy Schadenfreude is devilish. There is no more infallible sign of a thoroughly bad heart and deep moral worthlessness than a streak of pure, heartfelt Schadenfreude. One should avoid forever anyone in whom one has noticed it: This one is wicked; Roman, keep away from him. Envy and Schadenfreude are in themselves merely theoretical. In practice they become malice and cruelty. Egoism can lead to crimes and misdeeds of every kind. But the harm and pain it causes to others is for it merely a means, not an end, and so occurs only incidentally. For malice and cruelty, on the other hand, the sufferings and pains of others are an end in themselves, and reaching that end is enjoyment. For this reason, malice and cruelty make up a higher degree of moral badness. The maxim of the most extreme egoism is: Help no one, but on the contrary, if it happens to be useful (so even this is still conditional), harm everyone. The maxim of malice is: Harm everyone as much as you can. As Schadenfreude is only theoretical cruelty, so cruelty is only practical Schadenfreude, and Schadenfreude will appear as cruelty as soon as the occasion comes.
Tracing the special vices that spring from the two basic powers just named would be in place only in a fully worked-out ethics. Such an ethics would derive from egoism, roughly, greed, gluttony, lust, self-interest, stinginess, avarice, injustice, hard-heartedness, pride, arrogance, and so on. From hatefulness it would derive grudging, envy, ill will, malice, Schadenfreude, prying curiosity, slander, insolence, petulance, hatred, anger, betrayal, sly spite, vengefulness, cruelty, and so on. The first root is more animal, the second more devilish. Which one predominates gives the main line in the ethical classification of characters. It may be the one, the other, or else the moral incentive, which has yet to be shown further on. No human being is entirely without something of all three.
With this I have finished the review of the antimoral powers. It is certainly a terrifying review, and it recalls the review of the princes of darkness in Milton's Pandemonium. My plan, however, made it necessary for me to consider this gloomy side of human nature first. Because of this my path certainly departs from that of all other moralists and becomes like Dante's, which leads first into hell.
The overview of the antimoral powers given here makes clear how hard the problem is: to find an incentive that could move human beings to a way of acting opposed to all those inclinations rooted deep in their nature. Or, if this opposite way of acting should happen to be found in experience, to find an incentive that gave a sufficient and unforced account of it. The problem is so hard that, to solve it for humanity at large, people everywhere have had to call in machinery from another world. People pointed to gods whose will and command was the way of acting demanded here, and who gave force to this command by punishments and rewards, either in this world or in another world to which death would transfer us. Suppose that belief in a doctrine of this kind took root generally, as is indeed possible through very early instilling. And suppose also, though this is much harder and has much less confirmation in experience, that it produced the intended effect. Then legality of actions would indeed be brought about, even beyond the limit to which justice and police can reach. But everyone feels that this would by no means be what we really mean by morality of disposition. For clearly all actions called forth by motives of this kind would always be rooted only in mere egoism. How could one speak of selflessness where a reward lures me or a threatened punishment scares me off? A reward in another world, firmly believed in, is to be regarded as a perfectly safe bill of exchange, but one that falls due only after a very long time. Satisfied beggars everywhere so often promise that the giver will be repaid the gift a thousandfold in that other world. This promise may move many a miser to give generous alms. The miser hands them out cheerfully as a good investment, firmly convinced that in that other world, too, he will at once rise again as an extremely rich man. For the great mass of the people it may perhaps have to remain with incentives of this kind. Accordingly, the various religions, which are precisely the metaphysics of the people, hold them up to the people. Here, however, it should be noted that we are sometimes just as mistaken about the true motives of our own doing as about those of other people's. So many a person, though they can account for their noblest actions only by motives of the kind above, surely acts from much nobler and purer incentives, ones much harder to make clear. They truly do from direct love of their neighbor what they can explain only by their God's command. Philosophy, by contrast, looks here, as everywhere, for the true, final explanations of the problem at hand. These must be founded on human nature and independent of all mythical interpretations, religious doctrines and transcendent entities posited as real, and philosophy demands to see them demonstrated in outer or inner experience. Our task here, however, is a philosophical one. So we must set aside entirely all solutions of it that depend on religions. I have mentioned them here only to bring out the great difficulty of the problem.
16 I allow myself the irregular compounding of the word, since "anti-ethical" would not be apt here. The "sittlich" and "unsittlich" that have now come into fashion (the German-rooted words for "ethical" and "unethical") are a poor substitute for "moral" and "immoral." First, "moral" is a scientific concept, and as such it deserves a Greek or Latin name, for reasons found in my main work, Bd. 2, Kap. 12, S. 134 ff. Second, "sittlich" is a weak and tame expression, hard to tell apart from "sittsam" (demure), which people popularly call "zimperlich" (prissy). One must make no concessions to German chauvinism.
17 People seem, more than others, to envy thosewho, raised up by the force of their own wings,depart from the cage that everyone shares.
About this section
Section 14 is part of On the Basis of Morality by Arthur Schopenhauer. This page sets the German original beside 2 direct-source translations, so any line can be checked against the source. It is section 15 of 24 in the work, which is kept in the European tradition.
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