Стивен Э. Ашхайм: Наследие Ницше в Германии, 1890–1990 (1992)

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The Nietzsche Legacy in Germany, 1890–1990 — Steven E. Aschheim (1992)

1. The Historian and the Legacy of Nietzsche

Leg’ ich mich aus, so leg’ ich mich hinein:
Ich kann nicht selbst mein Interprete sein
Doch wer nur steigt auf seiner eignen Bahn
Trägt auch mein Bild zu hellerm Licht hinan.
Interpreting myself, I read myself in and enter:
I cannot be my own interpreter.
But all who climb on their own way
Carry my image, too, into the breaking day.
Nietzsche, The Gay Science

“Great men are inevitably our creation, just as we are theirs.” Ernst Bertram, Nietzsche

Friedrich Nietzsche’s impact upon the cultural and political sensibilities of the twentieth century has been altogether extraordinary. Since the 1890s his shaping presence has been felt continuously throughout Europe, the United States, and as far as Japan. This study is an attempt to chronicle and analyze the nature and dynamics of that influence in Germany where it was most dense, sustained, and fateful. Forty years ago Walter Kaufmann observed that Nietzsche was so much a part of German life that a serious study of the relationship would grow into nothing less than “a cultural history of twentieth-century Germany, seen in a single, but particularly revealing, perspective.”

What follows is an attempt to furnish such a history. It will not, however, yield any single perspective. For the challenge and significance of the Nietzschean impulse resides precisely in its pervasiveness, in its manifold and often contradictory penetration of crucial political and cultural arenas. It would, indeed, be more accurate to speak not of one but many “Nietzschean impulses” that both influenced and reflected their changing times. Through these Nietzschean refractions we hope moreover to light up some of the more important patterns and directions of an emerging, volatile political consciousness, acutely aware of crisis and searching for novel ways to overcome it.

Nietzsche’s historical legacy must be understood as a product of the dynamic interaction between the peculiar, multifaceted qualities of his thought and its appropriators. This was always a relatively open-ended, reciprocal, and creative process that entailed selective filtering and constant reshaping of Nietzschean thematics according to divergent perceived needs. It was a fluid heritage that both affected, and was affected by, different circles of men and women responding to the concrete and changing circumstances of the Wilhelmine Kaiserreich, World War I, the Weimar Republic, national socialism, and beyond. Through these politically interested mediations Nietzsche was turned into a persistent and vital part of the fabric of national life.

This complex process can only be grasped by examining both its thematic and chronological dimensions. In order to give shape and structure to that larger picture we have concentrated on group patterns and organized clusters of influence. The focus shall be on institutions, movements, and broad ideational currents. Individual attitudes and relationships to Nietzsche will be discussed only insofar as they illuminate more general dimensions of the Nietzsche legacy. We have had to sacrifice some of the complexity and creative intensity characteristic of so many of these individual encounters in order to retain a synoptic perspective. Clearly, any attempt to draw a composite portrait of these multiple appropriations within their unfolding ideological and historical contexts will entail selection. Given the density of the subject and the almost overwhelming wealth of available documentation, exhaustive treatment would be impossible, even undesirable; encyclopaedic comprehensiveness would amount to little more than a cataloging exercise that would obscure rather than highlight the key connections. In this work we hope to provide the kind of suggestive analysis that touches on and illuminates the range of pertinent and representative sources.

This book is animated by the conviction that, to understand the many influences, Nietzsche’s work cannot be reduced to an essence nor can it be said to possess a single and clear authoritative meaning. The cultural historian cannot claim access to a privileged grasp of the unadulterated text by which all subsequent uses should be judged. There should be no set portrait of the “authentic” Nietzsche, nor dogmatic certainty as to his original intent. Only a Rezeptionsgeschichte sensitive to the open-ended, transformational nature of the Nietzsche legacy will be able to appreciate its rich complexity.

To date, rather surprisingly, no such study has appeared. Instead the major post-World War II analyses have typically adopted essentialist approaches in which the history of the Nietzsche legacy is rendered either as a record of deviations from, or as faithful representations of, a prior interpretive construction of the “real” Nietzsche. These inevitably turn out to be moralistic, static histories in the apologetic or condemnatory mode, less interested in the actual processes of influence and dissemination than in judging the various appropriations.

Walter Kaufmann’s extremely influential interpretation of Nietzsche and the Nietzsche heritage is an obvious example. He begins, for instance, with what he calls the “Nietzsche legend,” constructed by those authors he holds responsible for a pernicious “misconstruction”: the belief that Nietzsche was hopelessly ambiguous, lacked a coherent philosophy, and was subject to divergent interpretations. The makers of this legend—important Nietzscheans such as Elisabeth Forster-Nietzsche, Stefan George and his circle, Ernst Bertram, and Karl Jaspers—are analyzed not in terms of their political intentions, institutional settings, and historical contexts but only insofar as they contributed to what Kaufmann holds to be dangerous misuses and unequivocal misinterpretations. It should come as no surprise that the Nazi—Nietzsche relationship is discussed entirely in these terms, as one of out-and-out distortion and radical abuse of the master’s essentially antipolitical project. Georg Lukacs’s definitive Marxist reading is characterized by a diametrically opposed, but similarly essentialist, point of view. He portrays Nietzsche exclusively as the irrationalist spokesman of the post-1870 reactionary bourgeoisie and as an inherently proto-Fascist thinker, father to a nazism which, given the logic and dictates of historical developments, was inexorably bound to faithfully reflect his ideas.

The philosopher is not only free to judge and evaluate—he is obliged to do so. Cultural historians, however, must be exceedingly wary of such exercises. It is the dynamic nature of Nietzsche’s influence, the complex diffusion and uses of his ideas, not their inherent truth, falsity, or even plausibility that must lie at the center of historical analysis. Essentialized approaches tend to obscure rather than illuminate the historical record by pressing the relevant material into a preconceived mold. Whether or not they were justified, different interests and readers did come up with different interpretations. The task is to map their agendae, contexts, and consequences. Nietzscheanism, in one version or another, permeated many of the more important political and cultural strains of the twentieth century. No simple rendering of such influence does justice to this story. The cultural landscape and historical texture is simply too rich, open, and differentiated to bear the weight of these essentialist and unidirectional arguments.

Historians have been similarly culpable in reducing the Nietzsche legacy to either a reactionary or progressive impulse, even in the most recent studies. Restricted constructions of Nietzsche and Nietzscheanism have been pressed into the service of interested historical theses. In his work on the persistence of the old European order through 1914, Arno J. Mayer, for instance, has claimed that the primary function of Nietzsche’s thought was to act as a rhetorical and ideological prop for late nineteenth-century aristocratic interests. This view presents Nietzscheanism as “ideally suited to help the refractory elements of the ruling and governing classes” articulate their antidemocratic, illiberal, and reactionary ideas.

Mayer blithely ignores the fact that those conservative forces embodying the ancien régime were almost inevitably anti-Nietzschean, instinctively opposed to Nietzsche’s anti-Christian immoralist posture, and shocked and frightened by his radical questioning of authority and tradition. These circles were aware that Nietzsche spoke of a new “self-creating nobility” and that he intended an aristocratic ethos quite different from that of the hereditary classes and the landed gentry. On the few occasions that such an alliance was attempted during Nietzsche’s own lifetime he registered his disapproval in no uncertain terms:

In one particular case I once did get to see all the sins that had been committed against one of my books—it was Beyond Good and Evil—and I could make a pretty report about that. Would you believe it? The Nationalzeitung—a Prussian newspaper ... —I myself read, if I may say so, only the Journal des Débats—actually managed to understand the book as “a sign of the times,” as the real and genuine Junker philosophy for which the Kreuzzeitung merely lacked the courage.

A suitable rendering of Nietzsche’s thought could, no doubt, have performed such an upper-class function. The empirical record demonstrates, however, that in the case of the ruling classes (with only a few notable exceptions) this simply did not pertain. By and large, traditional elites continued to regard the philosopher as a dangerous and insane subversive. When the right did seriously adopt Nietzsche it was after World War I during the Weimar Republic, and then it was the work of mainly radical-revolutionary elements.

In his 1983 study, R. Hinton Thomas comes rather closer to the mark when he argues that Nietzscheans were typically dissidents and radicals estranged from the established social order. Far from representing the reactionary (or even the conservative) sectors of society they were characteristically emancipationist, progressive, and moved by humanistic concerns. Socialism, anarchism, feminism, the generational revolt of the young—these were all touched by the libertarian magic of Nietzsche.

While Thomas tells an important part of the story, his one-sided focus ultimately also skews the total picture. Only by means of significant omissions and special pleading can the pre-1918 Nietzscheans be regarded as wholly within the emancipatory camp. In any case, the crucial point is that it was never possible to subsume the Nietzsche legacy under either a simplistic “reactionary” or “progressive” heading. This is so not only because Nietzsche himself would have scoffed at such teleological labelings which, indeed, he helped to undermine. From the beginning Nietzschean thematics appealed to a remarkably wide range of political and cultural interests. Most were radical in nature, pursuing eclectic visions of cultural transvaluation and political redemption. But, as we shall see, while this quest included progressive circles it also characterized more unclassifiable interests: sectors of the avant-garde, diverse wings of the life-reform movement, and most importantly those who created the twentieth-century, German, postconservative, “revolutionary right.”

It is a central contention of this book that Nietzsche and the Nietzscheans were both makers and beneficiaries of a broader iconoclastic process that cut across and obscured such predictable left and right, progressive and reactionary distinctions. They also challenged simple dichotomies between modern and premodern, rational and irrational. In numerous and unexpected ways the Nietzscheans combined archaic with futuristic elements.

Because previous scholarship has generally assumed that Nietzscheanism possessed a kind of inherent political personality, it has bypassed the multiple motivations and complex processes according to which divergent interests actively adopted and re-clothed Nietzsche’s ideas. Nietzscheanism, like its master, was never monochromic. Critical scavenging of Nietzsche’s works and themes led divergent European-wide audiences to fuse him with a broad range of cultural and political postures: anarchist, expressionist, feminist, futurist, nationalist, nazi, religious, sexual-libertarian, socialist, völkisch, and Zionist. It was, indeed, through these fusions, that both Nietzsche and Nietzscheanism became a significant force. What follows therefore is a study in the dynamics of historical mediation which analyzes the diffusion, popularization, assimilation, rejection, and prismatic transfiguration of Nietzsche within changing historical and ideological contexts.

Why in the first place did Nietzsche exert such a unique protean fascination? Why was he able to attract so many generations of appropriated? Why was he regarded as so vital a force by so many groups? While much of the fascination lies in the particular interactions and scavengings, in the specific whims and dictates of selection, and in the concrete reworkings and diverse applications, the beginnings of an answer must surely be found in aspects of the Nietzschean corpus itself. Without its vast storehouse of suggestive themes, ideas, and categories or its scintillating language and rhetoric, no subsequent “Nietzscheanisms” would have been possible.

Nietzsche’s congeniality to so many contrary tendencies and interests and capacity to elicit open-ended responses reflected a central property of his post-Hegelian thought and method: his rejection of systematizers and systems and his determination to attack problems from a plurality of perspectives. “I mistrust all systematizers and avoid them,” wrote Nietzsche. “The will to a system,” he added, “is a lack of integrity.” His aphoristic style reflected his rejection of fixed systems. Indeed, Nietzsche regarded style as a barometer of inner complexity. “Considering that the multiplicity of inward states is exceptionally large in my case,” he wrote, “I have many stylistic possibilities—the most multifarious art of style that has ever been at the disposal of one man.” Nietzsche’s determinedly shifting narrative point of view clearly facilitated varied appropriations.

Equally important for the understanding of the history of Nietzsche’s reception is what Walter Kaufmann has described as the philosopher’s “sustained celebration of creativity,” his call for the “creation of new values and norms.” This influenced the nature and modes of appropriation because here was an openness in principle, an invitation to stake one’s own path; the self-determining creative act was to provide the content and fill in the contours of the vision. Kurt Rudolf Fischer’s remarks about the Übermensch are applicable to most other Nietzschean themes and categories:

We undercut Nietzsche if we wish to determine what the “Übermensch” is. Because I think it is part of the determination of the “Übermensch” not to be determined—that we shall have to experiment, that we shall have to create. Nietzsche puts emphasis on the creativity of man and therefore we should accentuate that the conception of the “Übermensch” is necessarily not determined. We cannot ask whether an author has confused the issue, or has presented us with a dangerous alternative.

This openness constituted a crucial part of the attraction and Nietzscheans of every stripe responded to the call for dynamic self-realization, for completion of the vision.

Nietzsche’s most widely read text, Thus Spoke Zarathustra, did, after all, demand this in an intoxicating manner.

What is good and evil, no one knows yet, unless it be he who creates. He, however, creates man’s goal and gives the earth its meaning and its future. That anything at all is good and evil—that is his creation.

The rhetoric may have been scintillating but most Nietzscheans after all were human, all too human. Quite unable to perform acts of this lonely, creative kind they rushed into the consoling arms of protective political and ideological frameworks. Only thus could Nietzsche be made palatable, a fact that also could be rationalized in Nietzschean terms. As one devotee put it, the master demanded some kind of interpretation and completion if one was not to stand helpless before his creative chaos.

Nietzsche was thus subjected to diverse forms of hermeneutic institutionalization, a process in which projection rather than creation seemed to dominate. The detailed content of generalized notions such as the will to power, Dionysianism, transvaluation of all values, eternal recurrence, and immoralism could and were fitted into preexisting ideological preferences.

For all that, Nietzsche’s capacity to act as a projective foil also inspired a number of independently important works. These typically transformed Nietzsche into a kind of mirror image, an affirmation of the appropriator’s own conceptual and political predilections. Carl Gustav Jung’s fascinating marathon Zarathustra seminar (1934—1939) is an excellent, but by no means a lone, example. Jung simultaneously fashions Nietzsche into a prescient forerunner of the notion of the collective unconscious as well as a living example of its inner workings, a confirmation of Jung’s own system of analysis. Such works are compelling documents in their own right. They too must be fitted into the dynamic history of Nietzsche reception.

Nietzsche’s appropriators wore selective blinders; they did not have to buy the whole Nietzsche or nothing. Readers could and did pick critically from the extraordinarily rich variety of positions and perspectives contained in his work. Some emphasized while others totally disregarded the distinctions between the early, middle, and later writings. The texts thus varied in their salience and perceived value. Nietzsche the scathing critic, the relentless unmasker of truth and custodian of culture, could be distinguished from or combined with the great defender of life against the depredations of deadening intellect. The great stylist, lyricist, and poet was variously severed from or fused with his persona as immoralist, ironist, and nihilist and his work as transvaluator and ruthless grand legislator, prophet of the future.

Admirers, opponents, and critics alike agreed that one did not simply read Nietzsche; rather, as Thomas Mann put it in 1918, one “experienced” him. In a uniquely intense and immediate manner, Nietzsche touched upon what contemporaries regarded as the key experiential dimensions of their individual and collective identity. From the beginning, canonizers and condemners alike tended to regard him as critic and maker of a new kind of European modernity characterized by the predicament of nihilism and its transvaluative, liberating, and cataclysmic potential. Although many of his opponents portrayed him as reactionary and antimodern, the dominant perception was that Nietzsche pointed dramatically forward, embodying a force that strived to go beyond the conventions of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. More than any other thinker, Nietzsche was the prism through which such existential issues could be addressed and a resource through which to express its changing meanings and forms. Upon reading the philosopher, the keen observer Gerhard Hilbert wrote in 1911 that Nietzsche was a seismometer of modern Europe’s spiritual and intellectual life, a stamping ground (Tummelplatz) and battlefield (Schlachtfeld) upon which its tensions, conflicts, and possibilities were played out. Consciously or not, wrote another devotee, “we all carry part of him within us.”

This still-prevalent symbolic load inevitably entailed political mobilization. Even those who argued that any political appropriation constituted misuse and distortion of his thought understood that the sheer expressivist power of the texts made the temptation well-nigh irresistible. As Georges Bataille—that most “pure” of all Nietzscheans—declared, Nietzsche’s thought constituted “without any hope of appeal, a labyrinth, in other words, the very opposite of the directives that current political systems demand from their sources of inspiration.” Yet, he regretfully conceded, the master’s teachings represent an incomparable seductive force, and consequently quite simply a “force,” that politicians are tempted to enslave, or at the very least to agree with, in order to benefit their enterprises. The teachings of Nietzsche “mobilize” the will and the aggressive instincts; it was inevitable that existing activities would try to draw into their movement these now mobile and still unemployed wills and instincts.

Despite Nietzsche’s own repeated warnings—“I want no ‘believers’; I think I am too malicious to believe in myself; I never speak to masses.—I have a terrible fear that one day I will be pronounced holy.”—_the mythicisation and political appropriation of Nietzsche was inevitable. In the real world few would be able to pay heed to Zarathustra’s admonition that “only when you have all denied me will I return to you.”

All this, however, does not on its own explain why Nietzsche became a compelling force after 1890. For this we need a more focused historical perspective. Nietzsche’s newly achieved magnetism was at first linked to his perceived relevance as a critic of Wilhelmine society and as a prophet for its overcoming. Nietzsche articulated a growing disaffection for the pieties and conventions of Wilhelmine Germany. As the century drew to a close, the Kaiserreich provided fertile ground upon which Nietzscheanism could flourish, for it generated a welter of modern protest and reform movements.

This was closely related to a broader shift in thought and disposition which marked significant areas of European life from the late nineteenth century on. Nietzsche was an important contributor to, and a major beneficiary of, this shift. The broad diffusion of his work throughout Europe was inextricably bound up with it. Indeed, the very emergence of Nietzscheanism—of multiple Nietzschean tendencies—at the turn of the century cannot be understood outside of this broader context. Nietzsche’s heritage was integral to its critique of civilization and ongoing quest for personal, political, and cultural recovery. His tensions, categories, and sensibility both prefigured and mirrored central elements of this postliberal mood.

This late nineteenth-century development has long been recognized as a cultural and political watershed. Historians have variously labeled this “change in the public spirit of Europe,” as the revolt against positivism and materialism, as a generational rebellion against the liberal bourgeoisie, as the era of the discovery of the unconscious, and as the age of irrationalism and neo-Romanticism. Underlying and often accompanying these tendencies was the emergence of a full-blown modernism. This self-conscious, though painful, rupture with the past; its fundamental questioning of established limits, authority, and tradition; and its insistence on self-creation and the subjective dimension of meaning was similarly informed by obvious Nietzschean characteristics.

In its antipositivist, antiliberal, and antibourgeois zeal, many proponents of this mood increasingly emphasized youthful dynamism and movement for its own sake and regenerative expressivism rather than fixed and reasoned content. It was a sensibility that closely replicated what Nietzsche had written in 1882 about “the explosive ones” in The Gay Science:

When one considers how much the energy of young men needs to explode, one is not surprised that they decide for this cause or that without being subtle or choosy. What attracts them is the sight of the zeal that surrounds a cause—as it were, the sight of the burning fuse, and not the cause itself. Subtle seducers therefore know the art of arousing expectations of an explosion while making no effort to furnish reasons for their cause; reasons are not what wins over such powder kegs.

Zeev Sternhell has argued that the themes and styles of this intellectual revolution paved “the way for the [Fascist] mass politics of our own century.” The proto-Fascist sensibility was certainly an outgrowth of the larger revolt. Yet what Sternhell calls this “vast movement of thought” cannot be simply reduced to its Fascist moment. Like Nietzsche too, its potential for emancipation and positive creativity was as marked as and as interconnected with its more destructive and irrational moments.

It would, no doubt, be an exaggeration to equate this political-cultural revolution solely with Nietzsche. There were always other forces and influences at work. Nevertheless, he was its central inspiration. For contemporaries and later historians alike, this dissenting, rebellious disposition and its search for heightened experiences transcending the banalities of everyday life seemed inconceivable without Nietzsche.

No one had more acutely articulated belief in the fructifying power of myth. The words of the prescient twenty-seven-year-old as they appeared in 1872 in The Birth of Tragedy were emblematic of this later generation:

Without myth every culture loses the healthy natural power of its creativity; only a horizon defined by myths completes and unifies a whole cultural movement. Myth alone saves all the powers of the imagination and of the Apollonian dream from their aimless wanderings.

Elastic Nietzschean categories, concerns and emphases were easily integrated into the diverse interests invested in the shift.

Nietzsche’s vitalism was moreover a seminal influence on the post-1890 Lebensphilosophie fad and its claims for the primacy of intuition and life over stultifying reason. Nietzsche too had dwelled on what was to become a central and continuing fin-de-siecle European preoccupation: the perception of pervasive decadence and degeneration and the accompanying search for new sources of physical and mental health. In an age increasingly interested in eugenics, his masculine and militant prescriptions for regeneration fell upon receptive ears. The notions of a higher, rejuvenated humanity and a more authentic, living culture partly shaped the period’s obsessive interest in the new man and new society.

Carl Schorske has described the aftereffects of this new consciousness as nothing less than “post-Nietzschean culture.” After Nietzsche, Schorske writes:

European high culture entered a whirl of infinite innovation... Into the ruthless centrifuge of change were drawn the very concepts by which cultural phenomena might be fixed in thought... The many categories devised to define or govern any one of the trends in post-Nietzschean culture—irrationalism, subjectivism, abstractionism, anxiety, technologism—neither possessed the surface virtue of lending themselves to generalization nor allowed any convincing dialectical integration into the historical process as previously understood. Every search for a plausible equivalent for the twentieth century to such sweeping but heuristically indispensable categories as “the Enlightenment” seemed doomed to founder on the heterogeneity of the cultural substance it was supposed to cover.

Their considerable variety notwithstanding, we need to make an initial generalization about Nietzscheans and the nature of their Nietzscheanism. For our purposes Nietzscheans were simply those who regarded themselves as significantly influenced by Nietzsche and sought to give this influence some concrete or institutional expression. Nietzscheanism never constituted one movement reducible to a single constituency or political ideology; it was rather a loose congeries of people attached to different social milieux, political movements, and cultural—ideological agendae.

The inchoate character of Nietzscheanism was not necessarily a weakness. Its penetrative strength lay precisely in the fact that it was not a clearly demarcated ideology backed by a central political apparatus. The Nietzschean impulse became a potent protean force precisely because it was diffuse and not organized. It required no formal commitment and possessed no authorized dogma. Its capacity to selectively influence and be reconstructed by various ideological and political constructs facilitated entry into an astonishing range of institutions. In practice it did not operate as an independent entity or as a fixed ideology but rather as an infiltrative sensibility, a system of selective representations which could be grafted on to other systems.

To be sure, there was an attempt to provide Nietzscheanism with an official home: the Nietzsche Archives under the direction of Nietzsche’s sister, Elisabeth Foerster-Nietzsche. While this controversial and internally disputatious place did, as we shall see, play a part in the creation and perpetuation of the Nietzsche heritage, it never became a normative or authoritative center. Nietzscheanism became a social and political force through annexations that took place outside of its purportedly official address.

Nietzscheanism thrived in eclectic and syncretistic contexts. Because it functioned by virtue of its implantation into other preexistent structures it was not constitutive or autonomous. It thus could perform a number of crucial functions: it acted variously as an inspirational solvent, leavener, catalyst, and gadfly.

Nietzscheanism was thus publicly effective to the degree that it was structured and mediated by other forces and ideologies. There was no naked nihilism here, no pure Nietzschean dynamic but always framing processes and casuistic exercises of accommodation. Nietzschean thematics required tendentious anchoring and domestication. Suitably nationalized (or socialized or Protestantized), its dynamic was placed at the service of goals which tended either to tame its radical drive, or to selectively deploy and unleash it.

How did such casuistry work? Although there were always gleanings and references in Nietzsche’s texts that could lend these annexations a semblance of plausibility, it was clear that Nietzsche was not identical with any of the political appropriations made in his name. All his appropriators were obliged to explain how Nietzsche, despite obvious contradictions or even hostility, was in effect compatible with their favored position, perhaps even its most enthusiastic representative. Placing Nietzsche within any framework entailed a filtering system in which desired elements were highlighted and embarrassing ones deleted or downplayed. More significant were the exercises that sought to distinguish the real or the deep (German, Christian, socialist) Nietzsche from the merely apparent one. Nietzsche was constantly decoded and recoded; “correct” readings made to yield the desired underlying and “authentic” meanings and messages.

This work then is about the dense and changing relations between Nietzsche and German politics and culture. It is also about the complex and interconnected modalities of irrationalism and modernism and Nietzsche’s definitive complicity in both. I shall argue that these two dispositions, so central to twentieth-century consciousness, were never simply destructive and reactionary nor emancipatory and progressive. The dangers and positive possibilities could never be neatly severed. Germany’s leading irrationalist and modernist, the inveterate Nietzschean Gottfried Benn, captured this in his 1933 remark that the “irrational means close to creation, and capable of creation.”

Nietzsche was foundational to this specific consciousness of creation as radical and experimental secular freedom; in later discourse he became the central symbol of the post-Christian, postrationalist, nihilist predicament and its correlated, profoundly destructive, and liberating possibilities. This capacity for symbolically incarnating fundamental issues marked Nietzsche’s reception throughout its history. It certainly characterized those stormy pre-World War I years in which the battle over Nietzsche’s entry into German life took place. It was then that the attempt to either incorporate or banish the Nietzschean presence from German culture became acute. These struggles set the stage for his fateful entrance into German history.

2. Germany and the Battle over Nietzsche, 1890-1914

The name Nietzsche is the highest idea of the German name, the holy shrine of the German spirit and the sin and bad conscience of all German people.
Rudolf Pannwitz

Nietzsche has become the means of raising a mental pestilence, and the only hope of checking its propagation lies in placing Nietzsche’s insanity in the clearest light, and in branding his disciples with the marks most suited to them, viz., as hysterical and imbecile.
Max Nordau

Friedrich Nietzsche’s explosion upon the German political and cultural scene occurred ironically during the years of his insanity. Only in the 1890s did he first begin to reach and preoccupy significantly large audiences. This does not mean that prior to this period Nietzsche was entirely without influence. William McGrath has demonstrated, for instance, how members of the Austrian Pernerstorfer circle—which included such future luminaries as Gustav Mahler and Viktor Adler— were inspired by Nietzsche as early as 1875—1878. Their critique of contemporary society, their dissatisfaction with liberalism, and their search for an alternative, Dionysian politics and total culture was driven by an essentially Nietzschean impulse. But this was an Austrian movement. Georg Brandes’s famous 1888 lectures on Nietzsche’s “aristocratic radicalism” were similarly given not in Germany but in Copenhagen. Nietzsche wrote as late as 1888: “In Vienna, in St. Petersburg, in Stockholm, in Copenhagen, in Paris, in New York—everywhere I have been discovered; but not in the shadows of Europe, Germany.”

This was not entirely accurate. Prior to 1890 he did exert a kind of subterranean influence in Germany, appealing to individual readers or specialized obscure societies such as the Leipzig Genius Club founded in 1886 or a medley of radical fringe groups. Nietzsche remarked in 1887:

A strange fact, which comes more and more to my attention. I have gradually come to have some “influence”—all underground of course. Among all the radical parties (Socialists, Nihilists, Anti-Semitists, Christian-Orthodox, Wagnerians) I enjoy an amazing and almost mysterious esteem.

It was only after that date, however, that Nietzsche emerged as a significant national presence. From that time on the Nietzschean thematic permeated vital areas of German thought and action, shaping in manifold and contradictory ways its political attitudes and imagination.

Nietzsche’s influence never failed to evince vociferous opposition. Indeed, even those favorably inclined hotly contested the meaning of the Nietzschean message and the direction it should take. Yet all this simply underlines the fact that for the post-1890 literate public some sort of confrontation with Nietzsche—the man, the image and his works—was becoming virtually obligatory. One way or another Nietzsche entered into the mainstream of German life.

The initial appeal of Nietzscheanism was clearly international. It spoke to any number of fin-de-siecle concerns and fulfilled functions that cut across geographical boundaries. Yet in Germany the legacy was most fully elaborated; there the myriad faces of the Nietzschean heritage were most systematically and continuously played out. Whether positively or negatively conceived, Nietzsche occupied a strategic place in individual and collective German self-definition and national debate. Both as hero and heretic he became a central national preoccupation, at times even an obsession.

A glance at Krummel’s Nietzsche und der deutsche Geist, an encyclopaedic compilation of the German reception of Nietzsche up to 1918, demonstrates that during these years an encounter with Nietzsche—at least for the intelligentsia—was virtually mandatory. As the twenty-five-year-old socialist Kurt Eisner wrote in 1892:

The “Nietzsche Problem” is becoming an inner experience (Erlebnis) for all those called to it. Only when everyone attempts to represent their own personal relationship to Nietzsche, his thoughts and feelings, the suppositions and notions which make up the “Nietzsche Problem,” will one be able to master it.

Excepting the intelligentsia, Nietzsche’s reading public was concentrated in the literate middle classes. The commemorative meetings and Nietzsche evenings—social gatherings accompanied by musical and spoken texts—followed the classic pattern of bourgeois salon culture and Verein life dating back to the late eighteenth century.

But exposure to Nietzsche was by no means restricted to this sector. Occasionally bewildered aristocrats and patricians pondered—while mostly rejecting—him and the more educated members of the German working class had at least some familiarity with the man and the outlines of his thought.

Although it was not just in Germany that people read Nietzsche existentially, obvious forces facilitated the specific passion in his reception there. A great deal of the magic lay in the lyricism, beauty, and power of Nietzsche’s language. The philosopher was a German thinker with German roots addressing what were thought to be largely German problems. Nietzsche’s opponents considered this unfortunate and went out of their way to minimize his Germanness (Deutschtum). They emphasized his “Slavic” way of thinking, and his Polish and even “Mongolian” roots as a means of banishing him from German respectability and the German pantheon.

Nevertheless, during the 1890s and thereafter various groups began to translate Nietzsche’s Germanness and the Nietzsche—German relationship into something of an ideology. It is striking how many enthusiastic readers simply converted their Nietzsche experience into a unique intellectual experience, a Sondererlebnis predicated upon peculiarly German characteristics of thought and sensibility. They held that Germanness was an ontological precondition for truly grasping the philosopher. Nietzsche’s works were experienced and portrayed as comprehensible only in the German idiom. Zarathustra, Heinrich Rickert commented, was a virtually untranslatable document. Nietzsche was seen as both symptom and critical articulator of national being and becoming: his personal odyssey and Germany’s fate were held to be inextricably linked. Spengler expressed this special sense of symbiosis thus:

Goethe’s life was a full life, and that means that it brought something to completion. Countless Germans will honor Goethe, live with him, and seek his support; but he can never transform them. Nietzsche’s effect is a transformation, for the melody of his vision did not end with his death... Nietzsche’s type of vision will pass on to new friends and enemies, and these in turn will hand it down to other followers and adversaries. Even if someday no one reads his works any longer, his vision will endure and be creative.

His work is not a part of our past to be enjoyed; it is a task that makes servants of us all. As a task it is independent of his books and their subject matter, and thus a problem of German destiny. In an age that does not tolerate otherworldly ideals ... when the only thing of recognizable value is the kind of ruthless action that Nietzsche baptized with the name of Cesare Borgia—in such an age, unless we learn to act as real history wants us to act, we will cease to exist as a people. We cannot live without a form that does not merely console in difficult situations, but helps one get out of them. This kind of hard wisdom made its first appearance in German thought with Nietzsche. ... To the people most famished for history in all the world, he showed history as it really is. His heritage is to live history in the same way.

Spengler’s 1924 remarks were made in the context of the polarized politics of the Weimar Republic where a suitably nationalized Nietzsche had already been fashioned in the radical-right image. But the perception of Nietzsche’s Germanness was by no means limited to such circles. There were many others with different political opinions who continued to regard the philosopher’s Germanness as central but interpreted its meaning in terms far removed from the politics of a brutalized will to power. What they all had in common was the belief that Nietzsche was in some important way an essentially German phenomenon, a belief which, as we shall see, became integrated into an assortment of political postures.

Given Nietzsche’s many, extreme anti-German statements, such a creed required special casuistic explanation. The rather eccentric Rudolf Pannwitz, a follower of Stefan George, put it in typically paradoxical fashion. Nietzsche in essence was no German but what he lived and created was possible only as a German experience. Countless commentators stressed that it was precisely in his criticisms of Germans and Germanness and in his European perspective that Nietzsche was most quintessentially German! As Thomas Mann wrote in 1918: Nietzsche’s “immortal European drama of self-conquest, self-discipline and self-crucifixion with the intellectual sacrificial death as a heart-and-brain-rending conclusion” was unthinkable outside of “the Protestantism of the Naumburg’s preacher’s son” and the “Nordic-German, burgherly-moral sphere.”

Karl Lowith, a keen participant in the German encounter with Nietzsche, claimed that non-Germans could not really grasp the bond. Only this affinity, he argued, explained Nietzsche’s almost unlimited influence within German borders. “Without this last German philosopher German development cannot be understood... Like Luther he is a specific German event (ereignis,) radical and fateful.”

The Protestant connection and its secularizing consequences were clearly relevant. The notion that the Nietzschean frame and its overall problematic was essentially a post-Protestant affair, a function of collective crisis and rupture, was widespread amongst those centrally involved in Nietzschean discourse. Jung (like Nietzsche, the son of a pastor) argued in 1936 that Nietzsche could not touch people who are singing the community song, because they don’t need to bother with it—they remain a remnant of the Catholic church. They did not develop as Protestants, but remained historical derelicts of the original Christian church. But if they develop further as Protestants they will necessarily come to the tremendous problem to which Nietzsche came, namely, to the idea of the Superman, to the idea of the thing in man that takes the place of the God that has been hitherto valid.

Nietzsche’s whole point of view, Jung insisted, was a direct outgrowth of the Protestant conception of radical responsibility, the extravagant belief in one’s ability and in the moral task of higher self-creation.

Regardless of how one explained the peculiar intensity of the relationship, by the 1890s Nietzsche’s significance was recognized by opponents and proponents alike. It was then that the battle over Nietzsche and the struggle over his legacy were joined. This decade saw the emergence of what was dubbed “the Nietzsche cult” and which, in reality, were a series of Nietzsche cults. This only fueled the stridency of the polemics.

Nietzsche’s first obvious followers were the youth and avant-garde of the 1890s. His galvanizing effect was clearly related to the circumstances of the Kaiserreich and to its perceived spiritual and political mediocrity. Nietzsche, wrote one observer, both exposed and was the victim of the inauthenticity of bourgeois society. In early works like The Birth of Tragedy and Untimely Meditations, he provided biting and presciently relevant tools for a critical indictment of that society as well as guidelines for overcoming its decadent condition. The patrician Count Harry Kessler summed up his generation’s perception of Nietzsche from this time thus:

There grew within us a secret Messianism. The desert, to which every Messiah belongs, was in our hearts; and suddenly, like a meteor, Nietzsche appeared... The way in which Nietzsche influenced, or more precisely possessed, us cannot be compared with the effect of any other contemporary thinker or poet. He did not merely speak to reason and fantasy. His impact was more encompassing, deeper, and more mysterious. His ever-growing echo signified the eruption of Mystik into a rationalized and mechanized time. He bridged the abyss (Abgrund) between us and reality with the veil of heroism. Through him we were transported out of this ice age, reenchanted and enraptured (entrueckt).

Regardless of their differences most early participants in Nietzsche’s reception of the philosopher sensed he was a pivotal turn-of-the-century figure. Nietzsche’s furnishing of new criteria for modern ethics, wrote Georg Simmel in 1896, was nothing less than “a Copernican deed.” Upon Nietzsche’s death in 1900 the rhetoric became even more adulatory. In his eulogy the historian Kurt Breysig put it thus: Nietzsche was the guide to a new human future, a man whose stature was comparable only to Buddha, Zarathustra, and Jesus Christ. These were men whose visions encompassed whole nations and whose effects could be measured only in aeons.

There was a growing conviction amongst friend and foe alike that Nietzsche had outlined a critical and prophetic vision that broke previously invisible and impassable barriers. The publication in 1901 of The Will to Power only reinforced this perception. “What I relate,” Nietzsche wrote in the preface, is the history of the next two centuries [written] as a spirit of daring and experiment that has already lost its way once in every labyrinth of the future; as a soothsayer bird-spirit who looks back when relating what will come; as the first perfect nihilist of Europe who, however, has even now lived through the whole of nihilism, to the end, leaving it behind, outside himself.

The tone of his writings spoke to previously tabooed and unexplored levels of experience. Even those who regarded Nietzsche as a notorious reactionary had to deal with the fact that the philosopher couched his thought in exceedingly modern and experimental terms.

Like the works themselves the tone of much of Nietzschean discourse was extreme. Acolytes as well as opponents of Nietzsche discerned the subversive quality of his thought and the challenge that he posed to the fabric of respectable social order. What else did the critique of Christianity, indeed, of morality itself, the transvaluation of values, and the clash between convention and creative freedom imply? It was this perceived extremity that drove makers of the Nietzsche image to employ mythic language, typically in the heroic—prophetic or demonic—pathological mode. Contemporaries were quite aware of this tendency. As early as 1905 one critic complained that Nietzsche’s venerators and despisers alike described the philosopher in what amounted to transhuman terms, as if he were simply either a radiant, heavenly meteor or a bloodthirsty wolf who had emerged from the forests.

Almost from its beginnings Nietzschean discourse assumed wider symbolic functions, mirroring both the hopes and anxieties of the changing times. Nietzsche, wrote one observer, was the Modephilosoph of the period because of his extraordinary affinity to modern sensibility. His sensitive soul reflected “the good and evil spirits of our time ... he expressed in glittering language what others only darkly intuited.”

Endowing Nietzsche’s thought and personage with the aura of supernatural potency has been a distinguishing and enduring characteristic of Nietzsche reception from the 1890s through to the present. Nietzsche’s effect was also often described in epidemiological terms, as if his thought were contagious, infectious. It was this purported, transformative power that gave Nietzsche his special continuing notoriety. “The view,” Sander Gilman has written in an incisive analysis, “that Nietzsche was a ‘dangerous thinker’—not merely that he espoused dangerous thoughts, but that he caused dangerous acts—is a leitmotiv of Nietzsche reception from the fin-de-siecle to Georg Lukacs.” As we shall see later, this power extended to his being uniquely indicted as the cause of two world wars.

This image was already present in popular literature by 1902. In Wilhelm von Polenz’s Wurzellocker, for instance, Nietzsche is portrayed as a bewitching wizard, an ideological sorcerer. Nietzsche’s sickness, wrote the rabid anti-Semite Theodor Fritsch, dwelled in his work and thus infected weak, unformed minds and, no doubt, influenced the wave of youthful suicides of the time. Shocked upholders of public order blamed the philosopher’s influence on vulnerable youth in matters not only suicidal but also murderous, and not only in Germany. In America Clarence Darrow even employed this as a defense in the famous Leopold—Loeb case. Nathan Leopold, Jr., argued Darrow, committed murder because he believed in the amoral Nietzschean superman: “he thought it applied to him, and he could not have believed it excepting that it either caused a diseased mind or was the result of a diseased mind.”

During these early years the struggle for the Nietzschean banner revolved around alternative strategies for his banishment or legitimization. Nietzsche’s ideas were always integrally linked to the myth of the man and his subsequent fate. Critics and celebrators agreed that the philosopher’s thought, being, and life were an important unity; they simply interpreted and evaluated that fact differently.

Opponents of Nietzsche had a certain advantage: mercilessly and with some delight they exploited his madness. It was all too easy to link the clinical pathology with the ideas and thus dismiss the work as well as the man. Nietzsche, as the title of a well-known work of the period had it, was a case of psychopathia spiritualis. This insanity demonstrated not only the palpably dangerous nature of Nietzschean notions but also the diseased nature of his devotees.

The fact of derangement was regularly incorporated into the philosophical critique to explain its perverted contents. Nietzsche’s inherited pathology, Dr. Hermann Türck wrote in 1891, was translated into his moral and philosophical system.

Thus, it may happen that an intellectual and highly gifted man, born with perverted instincts, and feeling as torment... the nonsatisfaction of instinct, will hit upon the idea of justifying the passion for murder, the extremest egoism ... as something good, beautiful, and according to Nature, and to characterize as morbid aberration the better opposing moral instincts.

Works such as Paul Moebius’s 1902 study dedicated to analyzing Nietzsche’s madness and the consequent ideational distortions provided the necessary stamp of professional, medical, and psychological authority.

Pro-Nietzscheans, of course, viewed things quite differently. As one critic put it, no modern psychiatric auto-da-fe would be able to repress Nietzsche’s lasting contribution. They sought instead to endow Nietzsche’s madness with a positively spiritual quality. The prophet had been driven crazy by the clarity of his vision and the incomprehension of a society not yet able to understand it (replicating Nietzsche’s own theme in the famous “God is Dead” passage). Upon meeting the ill philosopher, Rudolf Steiner proclaimed that the reality of the spiritual realm was revealed to him: “In inner perception I saw Nietzsche’s soul as if hovering over his head, infinitely beautiful in its spirit-light, surrendered to the spiritual worlds it had longed for so much.” The German Expressionist fascination with the liberating possibilities of madness found in Nietzsche both a spokesman and an exemplar. With Nietzsche’s madness, wrote August Horneffer a little more conventionally, came a radiant inner peace, an end to the unrelenting struggle of his earlier years. It was precisely in this condition that the magic and majesty of his personality was most manifest.

This clearly was an ongoing theme not limited to Germany. Nietzscheans everywhere argued in similar vein. “How do we know,” wrote Isadora Duncan in 1917, “that what seems to us insanity was not a vision of transcendental truth?” For Bataille, the movement towards wholeness began with madness and Nietzsche’s madness was redolent with Christlike associations. He reminded his readers of William Blake’s proverb that had others not gone mad, we should be so. Madness cannot be cast out of the human generality, for its completion requires the madman. Nietzsche’s going mad—in our stead—thus rendered that generality possible; and those who had previously lost their reason had not done it as brilliantly.

We must, however, return to the anti-Nietzscheans. Their project of defamation was, of course, never simply limited to the fact of madness. Their attack was typically integrated into a larger critique of the civilization which had produced Nietzsche and which he supposedly reflected. The most significant—and symptomatic—example of this genre was Max Nordau’s famous Degeneration which appeared in German in 1892 and was quickly translated into numerous languages.

Nordau’s representation of the trends of his time was not so much analysis as an expression of outrage, the incomprehension of bourgeois positivism as it confronted the incipient modernist revolution intent on questioning, even destroying, all its revered postulates. However one chooses to regard the fin-de-siecle cultural and intellectual revolution, it clearly challenged the liberal worldview and its assumptions of respectability, rationality, and discipline; its conventional middle-class morality; and its belief in order, science, and progress.

Nordau conceived of the fin-de-siecle as as much a moral problem as a temporal phase. He wrote that it represents a practical emancipation from traditional discipline. ... To the voluptuary this means unbridled lewdness, the unchaining of the beast in man; to the withered heart of the egoist, disdain of all consideration for his fellow-men, the trampling under foot of all barriers which enclose brutal greed of lucre and lust of pleasure; to the contemner of the world it means the shameless ascendancy of base impulses and motives... And to all, it means the end of an established order, which for thousands of years has satisfied logic, fettered depravity, and in every art matured something of beauty.

The unifying thread in all of Nordau’s ruminations was the concept of degeneration, a slogan central to the political vocabulary of an age of rapid urbanization, industrialization and mass society. Here was a concept that cut across the ideological spectrum. If it was mainly conservative in provenance, it was also employed by bewildered liberals (like Nordau), discontented socialists, and the incipient radical right.

Committed as he was to the mid-nineteenth-century conception of liberal modernity, Nordau was intent on denying progressive credentials to the modernists he criticized. As a physician he could do this by attributing to these artists and philosophers and their works the clear attributes of physical and mental degeneration. They, he proclaimed, are no heralds of a new era. They do not direct us to the future, but point backwards to times past. Their word is no ecstatic prophecy, but the senseless stammering and babbling of deranged minds, and what the ignorant hold to be the outbursts of gushing, youthful vigour and turbulent constructive impulses are really nothing but the convulsions and spasms of exhaustion.

This was the framework into which Nordau located Nietzsche. The philosopher was no forward-looking prophet but an insane throwback, symptom of and spokesman for the prevailing degeneration. Insofar as any meaning could be extracted from the delirious ideas of this wild madman it derived from “illusions of sense and diseased organic processes.” Nietzsche’s strictures on conscience, morality, and sensuality, for instance, were all functions of his sadism. No “image of wickedness and crime can arise without arousing him sexually, and he is unable to experience any sexual stimulation without the appearance in his consciousness of an image of some deed of violence and blood.”

There is no small irony in the fact that Nordau’s central categories in many ways mirrored the Nietzschean universe of discourse. “Tell me, my brothers,” Zarathustra asked, “what do we consider bad and worst of all? Is it not _degeneration?" Both regarded civilization to be threatened; both were concerned with the sources of decadence and the loss of vitality, with regeneration. There was even something quite Nietzschean in Nordau’s eugenic suggestions: “Those degenerates, whose mental derangement is too deep-seated, must be abandoned to their inexorable fate. They are past cure or amelioration. They will rave for a season, and then perish.”

Anti-Nietzschean tracts grew in volume and vehemence in response to Nietzsche’s rapid popularization. Nietzsche became a familiar part of the German cultural and political landscape not only by means of learned philosophical tomes but through more popular media. Numerous novels and plays served to more widely diffuse various versions of the man and his thought. Even more important was the role of the popular press which made the name of Nietzsche a household word and familiarized basic aspects of his life and work to large national audiences. Journals and magazines did the same for particular institutions and special interests.

Nietzscheana—its slogans, thematics, aesthetics—began to penetrate the prosaic as well as the profound. At least for the literary classes, Nietzsche became a commonplace, domesticated into the trivia of everyday life. Thus Maximilian Harden, editor of Die Zukunft, could write to a friend concerning an afternoon tennis game: “Also spielte Zarathustra!” (Thus played Zarathustra!) On innumerable occasions appropriate proverbial Nietzschean expressions and aphorisms were invoked, transformed into a kind of folk wisdom, and applied to circumstances ranging from the merely trivial to the profoundly sinister (“what does not destroy me, makes me strong;” “that which is falling should be pushed”).

Many of these responses took place at the immediate, existential level. The popular writer Emil Ludwig (1881—1948) found that Nietzsche was the inevitably effective “magical” remedy against depression and hypochondria. People from numerous walks of life—and countries—started to have intoxicating Zarathustra experiences. The poet Richard Dehmel had an eight-day-long possession enraptured by the bellicosity (Kampflust) of its rhythms. Le Corbusier had a Zarathustra-Erlebnis in 1908.

The spread of Nietzscheana was apparent too in the fact that Nietzschean concepts became increasingly incorporated into German and European political vocabulary, part of the available stockpile of slogans and catchwords. Graphic and elastically employable terms like will to power, Übermensch and beyond good and evil and concepts such as master-and-slave morality, the transvaluation of values, and ressentiment were integrated into the language.

One indication of their growing familiarity is the fact that Nietzschean terminology was itself used to subvert Nietzschean values. In liberal and socialist circles notions such as the blonde beast, master morality, and beyond good and evil were applied to political enemies. In M. G. Conrad’s 1895 study, “The Übermensch in Politics,” for instance, that concept was employed in a totally negative way, as a critical tool to capture and criticize the self-image of two “Nietzschean” elites—the power politicians and the self-glorifying intellectuals and artists of the undemocratic Kaiserreich. Already Conrad used the Übermensch motif almost without reference to Nietzsche, unmooring the term from the works in which it was originally embedded. As is so often the case, the influence was most effective when its origins remained blurry or irrelevant. Nietzsche’s ideas were determining a whole mode of life, Raoul Richter commented in 1906, without people even being aware of the source.

The popularization of Nietzsche and his work was never limited to abstract ideas and the printed word. This was done through more concrete, tangible forms of expression, such as music. Nietzsche not only profoundly influenced self-consciously modern music but it was also through this medium that the Nietzschean world and its atmospherics were emotively conveyed. Richard Strauss’s tone poem “Also Sprach Zarathustra,” premiered in Frankfurt am Main in November 1896, was perhaps the most famous but by no means the only example. Mahler’s Third Symphony was heavily indebted to Nietzschean thematics and was originally entitled The Gay Science.

These creations, however, reached limited audiences in concert halls. In a visual age of mass communication the diffusion could reach far more people through the creation of an iconography of Nietzsche and his ideational world—the subject of a superb full-length study by Jürgen Krause. The history of Nietzsche’s reception is replete with examples of the search for suitable visual ways in which to represent the man and the message. In its first few issues, for instance, the glossy, illustrated Pan not only featured Nietzschean poems in his honor but numerous drawings and sculptures of the philosopher as well. Most impressive was Ernst Moritz Geyger’s illustration for Nietzsche’s parable “The Giant.” There the giant—presumably a version of the Übermensch, perhaps even Nietzsche himself—was represented in the shape of a monumental Greek sculpture, replete with angel wings. Beneath, contemptible dwarfs in academic dress scurry about doing their utmost to prevent the giant from performing a giant’s work (illus. I).

While Pan was particularly interested in disseminating the myth of the man and his ideas, it was by no means an isolated example. Between 1890 and 1914 an array of magazines, newspapers, and journals published portraits, paintings, sketches, and sculptures of Nietzsche. This was a popular genre designed to idealize and palpably transmit the myth of the man, his prophecy, and martyrdom. At any rate, it was thus received and interpreted.

It was around this time, too, that Nietzsche’s moustache became his defining visual symbol (illus. 2). The face became as famous as the slogans and the image, a desired commodity. From the mid-1890s, encouraged by the Nietzsche Archives, there were sales of what Krause has called “Nietzsche-cult products”—replicas in Kleinplastik of Nietzsche statuettes, paintings, and the like. For those who could not afford these, there were always cheap photographic reproductions to be found in illustrated magazines and newspapers. Thus for Hermann Hesse, during his 1895—1898 period in Tübingen, Nietzsche became a kind of cultural pin-up: two images hung on Hesse’s wall. Like Goethe, Nietzsche began to take on an aura, an assumed authority. His face, together with a suitable quote, adorned postcards advocating exotic causes such as vegetarianism. His appearance on private bookplates became increasingly common. One, for instance, pictured Nietzsche as a latter-day Christ, bedecked with a crown of thorns (illus. 3). Working-class journals began to use his famous face for satirizing the capitalist commercialization of culture. In January 1914, for instance, the Arbeiter-Zeitung featured a facetious advertisement of Nietzsche writing a testimonial for Bersons (the trademark of a company, Beer & Sohn) (illus. 4).

The consumer side of Nietzscheanism admittedly never reached the mass proportions of the cult surrounding Otto von Bismarck of the same era with its Bismarckian roses, Bismarckian Erdbier, and Bismarckian clothes. Nevertheless, various circles—especially of architects and craftsmen—sought to give practical expression to his inspiration through the creation of real and imagined Nietzschean “life styles.” The most famous and striking example was the work of Peter Behrens. Behrens designed his own Zarathustrian villa as a centerpiece of the experimental Darmstadt artists’ colony. The house was adorned with symbols such as the eagle, Zarathustra’s diamond, and the Edelstein that radiated “the virtues of a world which is not yet here” (illus. 5).

Behrens sought to realize Nietzsche’s prophecy of the “great style” (Stil)—a synthesis in which the vision of the unity of art and life would be fulfilled. He was aware of the tension endemic to most “social applications” of Nietzscheanism. Was it possible to overcome the contradiction of creating a residence in the elitist spirit of the artist as superman, on the one hand, and designing a habitable house of the future for everyman on the other? The monumental side was less problematic for Behrens who, like his colleague, the theatre reformer Georg Fuchs, sought to fuse beauty with power and individual will with state authority. Here Nietzsche moreover symbolized not revolutionary transvaluation but Germany’s contemporary economic and political power. This was evident in the German pavilion Behrens designed for the Turin 1902 Exposition. In a surreal cavern “light flooded the interior in which the industrial might of the Second Reich was on display. Zarathustra, cited explicitly, progresses towards the light. The society of German high capital affirmed its presence, identifying itself as new spirituality.”

This was hardly architecture in the Dionysian or Zarathustrian mode. Rather, as the acute architectural historians Manfredo Tafuri and Francesco Dal Co have observed, it was a new synthesis increasingly intended to take place “under the Apollonian sign of industrial organization.” Behrens’s designs, especially for the Allgemeine Elektriz-itats Gesellschaft (AEG), represented his own rather shrunken interpretation of Nietzsche: not the liberating rejoicing of Zarathustra, but a somewhat mournful quest for a New Order. Not, therefore the desacralization called for by the avant-garde, but an aspiration toward synthesis. The city and the industrial universe were not considered as effects or causes of the destruction of values or of the advent of an anguished chaos but as premises for a new totality, for the conservation of culture brought about by absorbing its antithesis, civilization.

Other Nietzsche-influenced architecture was not, of course, designed to prop up the state and the emerging industrial order but expressed Zarathustrian solitude, emphasizing Nietzsche’s contrast of the “flatlands of the contemptible mob” with the majesty of icy peaks. The expressionist architect Bruno Taut (1880-1938) was the most prominent exemplar of a wider cult of mountains closely associated with Nietzsche and Nietzschean imagery. “Life,” declared Zarathustra, wants to build itself up into the heights with pillars and steps; it wants to look into vast distances and out toward stirring beauties: therefore it requires height.” Taut’s “Alpine Architecture” was perhaps the most radical attempt to translate this vision into graphic form. Its strikingly Zarathustrian imagery envisioned the transformation of whole chains of mountains into “landscapes of Grail-shrines and crystal-lined caves” and the later covering of whole continents with “glass and precious stones in the form of ‘ray-domes’ and ‘sparkling palaces.’ ” (illus. 6) In honor of the post—World War I German revolution he envisaged a towerlike “Monument to the New Law” adorned with numerous quotations on the vast and illuminated hoardings of the crystal pyramids. His expressionist eclecticism was characteristic: Zarathustra’s speech “On the New Idol” was combined with quotations from Luther and Karl Liebknecht.

There were some delicious ironies in the process of popularization. Zarathustra, the man and the setting, fitted in perfectly with antiindustrial naturalist imagery, with the cult of Bergeinsamkeit, the longing to escape the crowded cities and to feel the pristine mountain air. The painter Giovanni Segantini, an enthusiastic Nietzschean, painted scenes of the Engadine, the mountain area that inspired the writing of Thus Spoke Zarathustra. Soon flocks of pilgrims and tourists made their way to these mountains. The Einsamkeitserlebnis—the experience of being alone—was transformed into a mass business! Segantini was quite aware of the need to address the masses with a kind of Nietzschean gimmickry. For the Paris 1900 World Exhibition he had originally planned a massive Engadin total work of art (Gesamtkunstwerk) replete with technical effects to create a total experience (Totalerlebnis).

The emergence of a Nietzschean kitsch industry testifies to a penetration beyond the merely literary and philosophical. Its gaudy quality was precisely what Nietzsche had condemned as symptomatic of the philistinism of the mass age. Paul Friedrich’s play The Third Reich, for instance, had Zarathustra appear on stage dressed in a silver and gold costume and a purple coat with a golden ribbon in his blonde hair and a leopard skin draped over his shoulder.

For hostile critics during these years, the cult of Nietzsche was becoming more worrisome than Nietzsche himself. The cult became the subject of an inordinately large and anxious literature. Already in 1892 Nordau could write of the various Nietzsche Jünger as if they were an obviously identifiable group with clear characteristics:

His disciples believe in this brag, and with upturned eyes, bleat it after him in sheep-like chorus. The profound ignorance of this flock of ruminants permits them, forsooth, to believe in Nietzsche’s originality. As they have never learnt, read, or thought about anything, all that they pick up in bars, or in their loafings, is naturally new and hitherto non-existent.

Even earlier Hermann Türck had expressed this in more sociological terms. Nietzscheans, he proclaimed, were the “intellectual proletariat” of the Great Cities. They were jubilant at their discovery of Nietzsche. It was his essential modernity as “the prophet of the devil and the father of the lie” which attracted “free spirits” without constructive engagement or employment in urban centers like Copenhagen, Munich, and Berlin.

Inasmuch as the early academic reception of Nietzsche was both hostile and slow, there may have been an initial grain of truth to the observation that Nietzsche tended to attract more marginal and “bohemian” elements. In 1900 Karl Kraus called such modish Nietzscheans “the super-apes of the coffee-house” (Über affen des Kaffeehauses). But as his appeal widened to encompass almost every current of cultural life, an almost endless number of first-rate intellects were attracted to Nietzsche. As time went on it became increasingly clear that no simplistic sociology of ideas could encompass the range, complexity, and nuances of his appeal. By 1910 Mann—hardly a bohemian—recognized not only the protean dimensions of Nietzsche’s appeal but also the differentiated fascination he held for different generations:

We who were born around 1870 are too close to Nietzsche, we participate too directly in his tragedy, his personal fate (perhaps the most terrible, most awe-inspiring fate in intellectual history). Our Nietzsche is Nietzsche militant. Nietzsche triumphant belongs to those born fifteen years after us. We have from him our psychological sensitivity, our lyrical criticism, the experience of Wagner, the experience of Christianity, the experience of “modernity”—experiences from which we shall never completely break free, any more than Nietzsche himself ever did. They are too precious for that, too profound, too fruitful. But the twenty-year-olds have from him what will remain in the future, his purified aftereffect. For them he is a prophet one does not know very exactly, whom one hardly needs to have read, and yet whose purified results one has instinctively in one. They have from him the affirmation of the earth, the affirmation of the body, the anti-Christian and anti-intellectual conception of nobility, which comprises health and serenity and beauty.

Critics of the Nietzsche cult were perhaps closer to the mark when they sought to account for its popularity by focusing on the vulnerabilities and deficiencies of the Kaiserreich. Youth were so attracted to Nietzsche, according to the famous conservative educator Friedrich Paulsen, because the fin-de-siecle signified the general breakdown of traditional patterns of authority and respect. In an essentially transitional age, the discovery of Nietzsche seemed almost predestined. No one, after all, had greater contempt for the past and the present.

As perplexed conservatives pondered Nietzsche’s growing and pernicious influence, the only antidote they could offer was precisely the kind of traditionalism Nietzsche and the Nietzscheans were intent on destroying. Nietzsche, one anonymous Lutheran wrote in 1897, was too un-German, paradoxical, and sick for German society. Only traditional national and religious characteristics could oppose these qualities: “We trust that our German Volk, under the power of Christian faith, will have the strength to overcome the sickness of the Nietzsche cult without difficulty.”

Nietzsche was typically regarded as a new, unexpected challenge to the traditional, godless enemies of conservatism. He was paradoxically represented as akin to the forces of socialism, a modern “seducer,” whose message worked even more insidiously than the “odious equalizing of social democracy.” However unlikely it may have appeared, wrote the philosopher and publicist Ludwig Stein, these apparent enemies had coalesced and Nietzscheanism had penetrated various circles of socialism itself. The key to his following was Nietzsche’s “neocynicism.” It was simple to find substantiating Nietzschean texts; the philosopher had written in Beyond Good and Evil: “Cynicism is the only form in which base souls approach honesty; and the higher man must listen closely to every coarse or subtle cynicism.” “Perhaps,” he wrote in Untimely Meditations, “no philosopher is more justified than the Cynic; for the happiness of the animal, as the perfect Cynic, is the living proof of the rightness of Cynicism.”

Nietzsche’s intellectual bombs, Stein maintained, were capable of blowing up “all our religious, moral, and political ideas” and his metaphysical joy in the act of destroying all cultural goods was a faithful reflection of the cynicism of the times. The intoxicated response to Nietzsche was another symptom of the fin-de-siecle’s cynical reaction to the oversatiation of culture. That unholy army of Nietzschean neocynics (out to shock and subvert for its own sake) was particularly attracted to Nietzsche’s use of the aphorism, that weakest of philosophical argumentations. Neither a consequential nor a logical mode of thinking, it was, Stein insisted, ideally suited to a confused mass age of newspaper production, socialist libraries, salons, and boudoirs.

Liberals and conservatives were not the only ones to be alarmed by the Nietzsche cults. Democrats and socialists of various hues similarly expressed their concern and sought in their polemics (often booklength!) to account for them and provide the necessary therapy consonant with their own ideological premises. Nietzscheanism, Georg Tantzscher argued as early as 1900, neatly fitted the needs of its acolytes, who all belonged to the free-floating intelligentsia. Nietzsche’s indeterminate thought perfectly reflected the social condition of its articulators, caught as they were between isolation and a sense of mission, the drive to withdraw from society and the longing to lead it. In Kurt Eisner’s eyes Nietzscheans did not really require special explanation: they were simply modish radicals mindlessly attracted to fashions that appeared more modern and more extreme than the radicalisms of yesterday. In his 1897 book on the Nietzsche cult, the sociologist Ferdinand Tönnies went further than this and described Nietzscheanism as pseudoliberational. Those converted to the doctrine, he wrote, were captivated by the promise of the release of creative powers, the appeal to overcome narrow-minded authority and conventional opinions, and free self-expression. It was important, therefore, to demonstrate that the modern, forward-looking feel and tone of Nietzsche was superficial. In an age of sharpened class differences, these apparently liberational impulses served elitist, conservative, and laissez-faire functions. For those who were not prepared to give up their inherited social position and were previously unable to justify it in moral or national terms, Nietzsche’s immoralist notions of mastery and ruthlessness provided the necessary doctrine. These and other followers were, as Tönnies entitled another publication, “Nietzsche nitwits.”

Other “democratic” opponents of the Nietzsche cult took issue with Tönnies. One such critic argued that while Junkers and industrialists might have used Nietzsche as a philosophical justification for their interests, very few did so because there was no way to translate his “comic and gruesome” ideas into reality. The ruling circles were too realistic to try. Moreover, Tönnies was mistaken' to reduce Nietzscheanism to the Sturm-und-Drang impulses of the young. There was nothing political about Nietzsche and his appeal. The “psychology of the Nietzsche cult,” was rather a form of sick decay, premature cynicism, and tired renunciation. This was the basis of Nietzsche’s appeal to a youth that had been infected by the sickness of their times. A little later, in 1908, in his book The Nietzsche Cult: A Chapter in the History of Aberrations of the Human Spirit, W. Becker argued for a multipurpose role for the various Nietzschean cults, although he too seem puzzled that so many cultured and intellectual circles were so attracted to the Nietzschean message. Nietzsche appealed to youth because he seemed to provide a new and modish “depth.” They did not, however, pick up on the brutalizing thematic as much as did a “whole row of German colonial officials in Africa” who employed Nietzsche’s herrenmoral ideal as one suited perfectly to the colonial mode of rule, sanctioning the ruthless domination of “higher people” over those of lower rank. The Übermensch was rendered possible only by virtue of ruthless treatment of nonmembers of the elite.

It is interesting to note that, unlike most of the conservative critics, many of the reform-minded opponents of the Nietzsche cult had a more complex relationship to Nietzsche. Dismissal of the cults did not necessarily entail outright dismissal of the philosopher himself. This certainly applies to Tönnies. Nietzsche’s pivotal influence on turn-of-the-century German sociology has been analyzed in excellent recent scholarship. What is relevant here, however, is that a major impulse behind Tönnies’s famous and politically ambiguous dichotomy between Gemeinschaft and Gesellschaft was Nietzsche’s early, communitarian Birth of Tragedy. The organic nature of Dionysian, pre-Socratic, prerationalist community informed not only Tönnies’s descriptive account of Gemeinschaft but also, following Nietzsche’s critique of postunification German political and cultural life, his hopes for its regeneration and rebirth.

In 1873 when he discovered Birth of Tragedy, Tönnies read it “almost with the feeling of a revelation” and thereafter wrote imaginary letters to the philosopher, visited his mother in Naumburg, and even traveled to Sils Maria where he saw his hero but was unable to summon the courage to speak to him! Tönnies’s anti-Nietzscheanism was thus directed only at the later “immoralist” Nietzsche, his antisocial and radically individualized aestheticism, his elitism, and his contempt for the masses. The early Nietzsche, Tönnies proclaimed, was “a kind of democrat who still believed in the secret depths of the German popular spirit.” As late as 1893, Tönnies could recommend to youth the Birth of Tragedy for there it was not isolated Übermenschen but a Dionysian Gemeinschaft that could serve as the inspirational basis for a revival of German culture.

Interestingly, the great tragic ironist, Lebensphilosophie sociologist, and Nietzsche enthusiast Georg Simmel (1858-1918) constructed a diametrically opposed sociology—also inspired by Nietzsche. Simmel’s career represented the translation of the modernist idiom into sociological language. Like Nietzsche, Simmel dissolved all certainties into a constantly shifting flux. His most prized value, Vornehmheit, the ideal of distinction, derived from Nietzsche. As distinct from Tonnies’s preoccupation with Gemeinschaft, Simmel regarded Vornehmheit as the crucial mode by which individuals could be separated from the crowd and endowed with “nobility.” Here was an entirely new ideal created by the challenge to maintain or create personal values in a money economy. What was important here was the emphasis on difference and what Nietzsche had called “the pathos of distance.” Distance—crucial to Simmel’s very choice of topics such as the mediating links between domination and subordination, outsiders and insiders—was a function of growing complexity and also the social precondition for this kind of Nietzschean Vornehmheit. It was small wonder then that in 1897 Simmel critically reviewed Tönnies’s Nietzsche Cult. He angrily repudiated the accusation that Nietzsche was simply an immoralist. Nietzsche had criticized traditional morality, he argued, only in order to make way for a superior morality. Nietzsche did urge for the pursuance of specific values—Vornehmheit, beauty, strength—that enhanced life and which, far from encouraging egoism, demanded great self-control.

The centrality and selective deployment of Nietzsche for the sociologies of Tönnies and Simmel has been well summarized by Harry Liebersohn: Vornehmheit could not have been further removed from The Birth of Tragedy’s merging of wills in a homogeneous unity. It represented the later Nietzsche whose repudiation of feeling for others Tönnies could not abide... Their conflicting moralities vied for the inheritance of the great immoralist: Tönnies’s notion of the rational welfare of the whole versus Simmel’s devotion to impersonal individual discipline. The early and late Nietzsche served as advocate for their conflicting ideals of Gemeinschaft and Gesellschaft.

Although Tönnies’s critique was animated by a socialist impulse, his analysis was not really Marxist. It was the playwright Paul Ernst in 1890 who probably penned the first critical Marxist analysis of both Nietzsche and his cultic public. Ernst (whose Marxism was not long-lived thereafter) wrote as a “dialectician” who saw Nietzsche as the “philosopher of decadence” and “brutality,” a thinker who belonged “to that class of bourgeois decadents which stood in opposition to thé achieved goals of bourgeois thought.” His readership was similarly composed of these middle-class decadent elements—only to them were the disconnected essays and aphorisms intelligible. Nietzsche was “Geistreich, trivial, sloganizing in the worst sense.”

Later Marxist criticism tended to view Nietzscheanism as it served capitalism, imperialism, and afterwards, fascism. The leading theoretician of the Socialist Democratic Party (SPD), Franz Mehring, who pioneered much of this thinking, provided a simple materialist explanation for the cult and its motivations:

Nietzscheanism is a healthy guzzle (Fressen) for the literatus vulgaris, one which tickles their ego-mania ... provides a thrill and allows one to play a little Sturm und Drang, but with all this—and this above all!—enables them under every circumstance to feast from the fleshpots of capitalism.

Nietzscheans—and this was to be the authorized Marxist line throughout—were the ultimate in bourgeois pseudoradicalism, never touching the real bases of exploitation and always keeping the socioeconomic structure and class distinctions firmly intact.

What was striking in many of the hostile assessments of the Nietzsche cult was the assertion that Nietzsche’s legacy was certain to be short-lived. The cult of Nietzsche, it was generally thought, was explicable in terms of one aspect or another of the sociology or psychology of the Kaiserreich. Nietzscheanism itself possessed no lasting or paradigmatic qualities. It was merely symptomatic and ephemeral. Predictions of his imminent demise began in Nietzsche’s own lifetime. Both the language and the content of Jürgen Habermas’s remarkably unprescient 1968 declaration that Nietzsche was no “longer contagious” thus fitted into a long tradition. The Catholic journal Der Türmer noted in 1910 that the fumes (Dunstmasse') of Nietzsche were detectable in the multitude of new Weltanschauungen that had mushroomed since his cometlike appearance. But the man who had proclaimed the death of God was now himself irrecoverably sunk in the grave. He was, indeed, a victim of his own followers:

All Nietzsche disciples die separately; no two share the same opinion; everyone goes his own way... Nietzsche is dead, totally dead, not because of his enemies but most of all through his own Celebrators who slowly, but thoroughly, have made him cold.

These chronic burials were always premature. As Nietzsche’s relative Richard Ohler, a leading figure at the Nietzsche Archives and a later Nietzsche-Nazi publicist, wrote in his 1911 reply to Der Türmer, Nietzsche’s influence was only beginning to take effect. One had to differentiate the deeper currents of the master, wrote the Nietzsche scholar Raoul Richter, from the superficial, ephemeral trivialization of the day. There was a world of difference between the philosopher and the raw, self-indulgent circles who had momentarily adopted him as hero for the day. (Richter himself exemplified the Nietzscheans in his tendency to dismiss competing interpretations and to argue for the depth and representativeness of his particular version.)

The pro-Nietzscheans were closer to the mark in arguing that Nietzsche was simply “unburiable.” It was a grand misunderstanding, wrote the progressive critic Franz Serväs in 1895, to believe that one could “refute” and thereby “surpass” Nietzsche. Nietzsche was not a piece of learning but a part of life, a cry against individual and cultural inauthenticity. Nietzsche was “the reddest blood of our time” and although he was supposed to have died already a thousand times, it was not he who had died. “Oh, we shall still all have to drink from his blood! Not one of us will be spared that.”

This kind of existential—mythical language typified the discourse of Nietzsche worshipers. In this there was a kind of symmetry between the cult and the anticult. While discreditors employed the demonic—pathological mode, proponents typically indulged in the heroic—prophetic mode. Max Zerbst’s 1892 vision of a “new God, a fresh, joyful earth God, a Siegfried in the realm of the spirit, a powerful super-courageous dragon-killer” represented a counterversion in reply to Türck’s mentally and morally insane Nietzsche.

Those who predicted a quick disappearance did not realize that it was precisely the fact that there was no uniformity of opinion or binding authoritative organization that ensured Nietzscheanism’s long and varied life. Its elasticity and selective interpretive possibilities constituted its staying power and facilitated its infusion into so many areas of cultural and political life.

The Nietzsche Archives under the directorship of Nietzsche’s sister, Elisabeth Förster-Nietzsche, was equally a collection of diverse personalities and interests, seemingly always beset by conflicts; its influence was never constitutive nor singular. Nevertheless, it did attempt to act as Nietzsche’s official repositor, editor, and disseminator of his works and to institutionalize the cult, to build its monuments, to compose its liturgy and to organize its rituals and ceremonies.

The choice of Weimar as its site was designed in part to enable it to compete with the self-styled protector of German spirituality at Bayreuth. Unlike Cosima Wagner’s Bayreuth shrine to Richard, however, the identification of Nietzsche with Weimar and his sister was at best problematic. Nothing comparable to the unifying Bayreuther Blatter appeared. Moreover, Nietzsche admirers were often put off by Forster-Nietzsche’s activities and what they considered to be the highly un-Nietzschean—provincial, conformist, sanitizing and petit bourgeois—atmosphere of the archives. It would be a grave mistake, therefore, to confuse the history of Nietzscheanism in Germany with the history of the archives.

Nevertheless, Forster-Nietzsche and her coworkers did play an important role in the popularization and monumentalization of the philosopher. The makers of the Nietzsche myth at the archives were always intensely aware of its cultic import. As one activist put it, this was no mere “archive” but a “house of creative powers.” Visiting the Nietzsche house was not merely an activity but itself an Erlebnis! It was one thing to read Nietzsche in a dining car or a café and quite another to encounter him in Sils Maria or the archive.

From its beginnings through the Nazi period the archives attempted to orchestrate the myth and liturgy around Nietzsche. Apart from its regular editorial and publishing activities, special meetings and memorial ceremonies relating to Nietzsche’s life and death facilitated the mythologization. Indeed, similar occasions were arranged to honor his sister’s birthday (eliciting the scorn of liberal intellectuals, one of whom satirized her as an “Übermenschenkaffeekrânzchen”).

Forster-Nietzsche’s infamous role at the archives are by now quite familiar. Here we need only mention the attempts to create an authorized Nietzsche, and the ways in which Forster-Nietzsche and her quick succession of associates attempted to construct definitive counterversions of Nietzsche and Nietzscheanism. Elisabeth’s later notoriety should not blind us to her considerable early successes and the respect in which she was held. Despite the scandals and criticisms that her idealizations of her brother elicited, for a considerable time large sections of the press regarded her version as trustworthy and portrayed her as the legitimate protector of the Nietzschean treasure, selflessly sacrificing herself on behalf of this holy mission.

In her biography of Nietzsche and in countless articles she sought both to depathologize the philosopher and to take the sting of subversion out of his ideas. She desired, above all, to make Nietzsche respectable. Here was a healthy and patriotic man, a selfless and loving brother, son, and friend. Friedrich Nietzsche was a saintlike figure, a man of both outward and inner beauty, sociable and convivial yet destined to loneliness by an incomprehending public, a staunchly patriotic Prussian who, in time of war, had rushed to his country’s colors and had been wounded in the process.

Forster-Nietzsche tirelessly countered allegations that Nietzsche’s collapse was the result of a sexual infection acquired when he was a student or of an inherited disease. On all sides the family was of fine stock, strong, and healthy. Nietzsche himself had been a robust child. His illness was the result of a riding accident exacerbated by his war experience when he contracted diphtheria. In previous years there had been no warning of mental illness. His great sensitivity was the result of the indifference and hostility around him. The mental collapse was due to poisoning from an overdose of a dangerous sleeping medicine: chloral hydrate. This, she authoritatively maintained, was the only correct version of Nietzsche’s illness.

These written works were only part of the story. In the drive to monumentalize Nietzsche into a towering national hero, the more accessible, publicly visible texture of the Nietzsche cult becomes apparent. The archives played an exclusive role for only there were there resources, space, and will to realize at least some of the many projects that were envisaged.

Nietzsche iconographers were faced with a problem endemic to all political appropriation of Nietzsche: reconciling his elitist components with mass functions, canalizing the individualism into some form of palatable community. Nietzscheanism, almost by definition, was a matter of transmuting—or dissolving—these tensions.

While Nietzschean preachers of power and beauty, like Georg Fuchs, Kurt Breysig, and Anthony Mario Ludovici, sought to reconcile individual will and state authority, they also sought to externalize the Nietzschean unions of life and art, power and spirit. The various grand plans to construct Nietzsche stadiums, monuments, and temples, as Krause has convincingly shown, vividly demonstrates these tensions and attempted resolutions.

Many of these projects remained on the drawing board, including Fritz Schumacher’s 1898 design of a round temple situated on lonely heights. On top of the temple Schumacher envisaged a figure with arms aloft, while beneath stood bowed dark giants in chains, symbolizing the ascent from Sklavenmenschen to Höhermenschen (illus. 7).

There were other striking reminders of the philosopher within the archives. A statue of the ill Nietzsche sat beneath a heroic representation of the philosopher with the Zarathustrian symbols of snake and eagle (illus. 8). Henry van de Velde, the famous Belgian architect, redesigned the archives (a project completed in 1903) representing the Nietzschean aesthetic in architectural terms by way of an optimistic, harmonious classicism. This reflected the earlier, more cosmopolitan group of Nietzscheans. Van de Velde’s Nietzsche was essentially European, a champion of the higher redeeming values and of the regenerating powers of art and the spirit.

The post-Nazi imagination tends to confuse political architecture and ceremonies with the Fascist bent. Yet in the case of Nietzscheanism the most monumental and grandiose of all plans came from the enlightened, cosmopolitan adherents. In 1911 van de Velde’s associate, the patrician Count Kessler, envisaged the construction of a gigantic festival area, a memorial to Nietzsche consisting of a temple, a large stadium and a huge statue of Apollo. Thousands were intended to pour into this public space where art, dance, theater, and sports competition would be combined into a Nietzschean totality. For Kessler this was the literal translation of Nietzsche into mass activity.

Many of the most cultivated “Europeans” regarded the idea as an inspired one. Kessler secured the agreement of Aristide Maillol to construct the statue of Apollo using Vaslav Nijinsky as the model. For his organizing and fund-raising committee Kessler was able to enlist international luminaries like Henri Lichtenberger, André Gide, Anatole France, Walther Rathenau, Gabriele d’Annunzio, Gilbert Murray and H. G. Wells, amongst others. The project never got off the ground. At least one reason was Forster-Nietzsche’s attitude. For a surprisingly long time she had supported the cosmopolitan activities of Kessler and van de Velde, even initially supporting this project. But the period of agreement had been coming to an end for some time. Although she only officially withdrew her support in 1913 she had expressed her reservations almost as the project was conceived: “The aping of Greekdom through this rich, idle mob from the whole of Europe is horror to me.”

This shift was indicative of the future of Nietzscheanism in Germany. Prior to 1914 it encompassed and fused—indeed, confused—a variety of political outlooks. It was constantly coined in a fluid and ambiguous liberational idiom that blurred conventional categories and defied easy judgments as to their political direction. With the Great War, as we shall see in chapter 5, the orientation became increasingly (though never exclusively) nationalist and later merged with a radical-right perspective.

All that, however, was still in the future. Prior to World War I the texture of Nietzscheanism appeared variegated. Individuals, groups, and movements attached themselves to one or another of these visions and sought in selective ways to make them an integral part of their lives. Many of these versions—ranging from the profound to the hopelessly prosaic—were at first to be found in the activities of the avant-garde. We therefore begin our analysis with an examination of Nietzschean impulses within that sector of German society.

3. The Not-So-Discrete Nietzscheanism of the Avant-garde

All ordered society puts the passions to sleep.
Nietzsche, The Gay Science

Over the years Nietzsche would influence many segments of German society. His initial and most explosive and enduring impact, however, was upon diverse circles of the intellectual, artistic, and literary avantgarde. This was well-nigh inevitable given their fin-de-siècle sense of foreboding crisis and transformational possibilities: their temperamental resonances and ideational affinities with the Nietzschean sensibility were palpable.

Nietzsche played a definitive role in the agenda of the avant-garde. He provided the basic epistemological tools of its modernist revolution and inspired its elitist, prophetic élan. His exhortation “to be something new, to signify something new, to represent new values” was, as Count Kessler perceptively noted, emblematic of this Nietzschean generation. The avant-garde found in Nietzsche sustenance for their alienation from the establishment’s high culture and their desire to overcome the nineteenth century. He was a central force in the impulse to radical critique and the revolt against positivism and materialism. He was the major force behind its proclivity for Lebensphilosophie and its celebration of post-Enlightenment, irrationalist modalities.

As a rule these circles appropriated two elements that at best stood in tension with each other and at worst were flatly contradictory: the dynamic project of radical, secular self-creation and the Dionysian impulse of self-submersion. Almost all manifestations of the Nietzschean avant-garde reflected this tension, a tension of which many contemporary participants were quite aware. People like Ludwig Klages, for instance, explicitly insisted upon the negation of Nietzschean self-creation and the adoption of what he took to be the philosopher’s Dionysian absorption of self. The most common response was, however, to either mute the tension or to seek in some way to fuse the individualistic and even antisocial impulse within the search for new forms of “total” community.

This Salvationist Nietzschean impulse may strike a foreign note to those attuned to the poststructuralist Nietzsche of the late twentieth century who loudly heralds the illusory nature of all systems of truth and totality. Today’s Nietzschean message is deconstructive, its canonic text the posthumously published 1873 fragment “On Truth and Lie in an Extra-Moral Sense”:

What then is truth? A mobile army of metaphors, metonyms, and anthropomorphisms—in short, a sum of human relations, which have been enhanced, transposed, and embellished poetically and rhetorically, and which after long use seem firm, canonical, and obligatory to a people: truths are illusions about which one has forgotten that this is what they are; metaphors which are worn out and without sensuous power.

But a hundred years ago Nietzsche’s modernist appropriators— while aware of the nihilist predicament they had inherited—concentrated on creative, positive reconstruction, enlisting Nietzsche as champion of sweeping visions of cultural and political redemption. Notwithstanding the epistemological crisis, like Nietzsche himself, they stressed the expansive rather than self-subverting possibilities of new interpretations and drew up transvaluative programs of “regeneration” designed to overcome this nihilism. They advocated the formation of a new Übermenschlich type and pictured him in ways consonant with what they took to be the desiderata of a transformed future civilization.

The details and content of such visions differed from Nietzschean to Nietzschean and it will be part of our task to delineate some of these major projects. These avant-garde projects tended to challenge and create alternatives to standard left-right, progressive-reactionary categories. In their various guises they eroded older certainties and created new eclectic combinations and possibilities of cultural, political, literary, and even sensual exploration.

Like Nietzsche himself, many of the aesthetic circles described in this chapter claimed to be nonpolitical, even antipolitical. Nietzsche’s attraction for those interested in making life a work of art was self-evident. But their rejection of the banality of contemporary society and political life was itself political. All formulated some kind of critique of the status quo (even if it was limited to generalized indictments of the philistine mediocrity, the materialism and leveling forces of the day) and posited counterideals of power and culture, of individual and social life.

In the 1890s Nietzsche’s writings began to appear regularly in literary and experimental journals such as Die Gesellschaft and became a prominent part of the German avant-garde’s conceptual armory. The eclectic excitement, the search for authenticity, and the feelings of superiority and momentous discovery still impressed these countercultural participants many years later: “What I was engaged in,” recalled Ernst Blass of café life in imperial Berlin,

... was ... a war on the gigantic philistine of those days... Yes, it was a spirited battle against the soullessness, the deadness, laziness, and meanness of the philistine world.... Soul was still worth something... Even the timid and the silent learned how to talk and express themselves, learned to recognize what it was they really felt deeply about it... What was in the air? Above all Van Gogh, Nietzsche, Freud too, and Wedekind. What was wanted was a post-rational Dionysos.

Like psychoanalysis (itself still an avant-garde phenomenon) Nietzscheans explored the irrational depths; they too were fascinated with the murky areas of the unconscious. Freud’s complex, highly ambivalent personal relationship to the philosopher is well known. He denied in any way being influenced by Nietzsche—indeed, purposely avoided reading him in order to keep his mind free from such influence. Yet this great explorer of the unconscious stated several times that Nietzsche “had a more penetrating knowledge of himself than any other man who had ever lived or was likely to live.” There were thematic affinities between Freud and Nietzsche. Both sought to banish teleological and metaphysical explanation and engaged in unmasking activities; both stressed “self-creation” (even if they understood the process differently). Both, as Jung noted, formulated profound critiques of their times, both were answers “to the sickness of the nineteenth century.”

For purposes of our study, however, the differences are as important as the similarities. Various commentators have pointed out that with Freud the unconscious was democratized: the “self-making” project was not limited, as in Nietzsche, to an elect few.

For Freud, nobody is dull through and through, for there is no such thing as a dull unconscious. What makes Freud more useful and plausible than Nietzsche is that he does not relegate the vast majority of humanity to the status of dying animals. For Freud’s account of unconscious fantasy shows us how to see every human life as a poem, ... as an attempt to clothe itself in its own metaphors. (Rorty, Contingency, 35-36)

Moreover, unlike Nietzsche and his followers, Freud insisted on conducting his explorations within a “scientific” frame (despite the clear indications that he went far beyond the normal conventions of nineteenth-century positivism). For Jung, of course, it was precisely Freud’s individualist-rationalist bent that made Nietzsche the more incisive thinker, more attuned to the deeper realities:

It is a great discovery that below or aside from one’s psyche, or consciousness, or mind, is another intelligence of which one is not the maker, and upon which one depends. You see, Freud’s great fear is that there may be something outside which is not “I”; to say there is a greater intelligence outside of one’s own mind means that one must be crazy. Like Nietzsche. Unfortunately for Freud, Nietzsche was not the only one who had such thoughts; it was the conviction of all the thousands of years before Nietzsche, that man’s intelligence was not the last word, that even his mind was the result of something behind the screen—that we are not the makers, but we are made. Your mind is not the creative god that makes a whole world jump into existence out of nothing. There is a preparation. There is, prior to consciousness, an unconscious out of which consciousness once arose, and that is an intelligence which surely exceeds our intelligence in an indefinite way.

For Freudians like Arnold Zweig, however, it was just this desire to harness and treat the unconscious as much as to comprehend it which gave Freud the clear edge over Nietzsche—and presumably Jung! Zweig pointedly named his 1936 essay on Freud’s life and achievements “Apollo Masters Dionysos.” Even earlier he had penned a comparative analysis in a letter to Freud:

To me it seems that you have achieved everything that Nietzsche intuitively felt to be his task, without his being really able to achieve it with his poetic idealism and brilliant inspirations. He tried to explain the birth of tragedy; you have done it in Totem and Taboo. He longed for a world beyond Good and Evil; by means of analysis you have discovered a world to which this phrase actually applies. Analysis has reversed all values, it has conquered.

Analysis has reduced the will to power to what lies at its basis... And thanks to the fact that you are a scientist, and furthermore a psychologist who advances step by step, you have attained what Nietzsche would so gladly have achieved himself: the scientific description and explanation of the human soul—and, more than that, since you are a physician, you have taught and created the possibility of influencing and curing it.

While psychoanalysis strained to attain respectability, Nietzscheanism reveled in notoriety, much to the consternation of its more levelheaded followers. Nietzschean immoralism, the attacks on conscience and praise of criminal “health of soul,” provided deliciously subversive intimations for an overt attack on middle-class respectability and the possibilities of lawless liberation. As one enthusiast put it: “Today, I believe, one sends the best and the strongest to the jails.” It was there that the selection of tomorrow’s Übermensch should begin.

With their stridently antiscientific, antirationalist bent and their wild Dionysian rhetoric the novels, poems, and polemics of the literary Nietzscheans sought to unleash the immoralist possibilities of the unconscious. In Italy, Gabriele d’Annunzio (1863—1938), future leader of the first Fascist republic at Fiume, wrote novels (The Triumph of Death [1894]; The Virgin of the Rocks [1895]) in which the Mediterranean Übermensch discovers his hidden self through the experience of the perverse, the exotic, and an exquisite lust for death. By 1899 d’Annunzio had been translated into German, but well before then Germany had produced a literature with similar themes. The hero of Hermann Conradi’s 1887 novel Phrasen, for instance, is a self-conscious Nietzschean who believes that the innocence he longs for will arise from his great passion for a prostitute. At the same time there appeared a slew of feminist novels—such as Mathieu Schwann’s Liebe (1901)—preaching a Zarathustrian poetics of love and a longing for sexual liberation.

This radical Nietzschean libertarianism and emancipating eroticism was not limited to literary fiction. For some it was actualized into a determined alternative lifestyle conducted outside and against the mainstream. The story of the infamous Otto Gross (1877—1920) encapsulates some of its more extreme tendencies. Gross was himself an early brilliant psychoanalyst who hardly fit into the conventional framework of analysis and quickly dissented from some of its hardening orthodoxies. A drug addict, bohemian, sexual and cultural revolutionary, anarchist, and paranoiac, he was the sworn enemy of what he regarded as the repressive, authoritarian, patriarchal order of his day. That order was embodied in his father, a renowned positivist criminologist. The two stood for diametrically and generationally opposed visions of the world. Their conflict created a public sensation when the newspapers announced that the father had incarcerated the son in an insane asylum!

Like many emergent Nietzscheans, Gross’s ideas could not be fitted into any conventional framework. His prescription for emancipation blended Nietzsche with an idiosyncratic rendering of psychoanalysis and Johann Bachofen’s matriarchy. For Gross the task of the unconscious was to act as the ferment of revolt within the psyche. “The psychology of the unconscious,” Gross proclaimed, is the philosophy of revolution ... the incomparable transvaluation of all values, with which the coming time will be filled, begins in the present with the thought of Nietzsche on the background of the soul [über die Hintergründe der Seele] and with the discovery of the so-called psychoanalytic technique through Freud.

Jung, Gross’s analyst, described to Freud his patient’s outlook thus: “The truly healthy state for the neurotic is sexual immorality. Hence he associates you with Nietzsche.”

Like Nietzsche, Gross was especially concerned with the strong, exceptional individual. The status quo, he argued, clearly allowed such strong personalities no possibility of self-fulfillment. Capitalist society rendered them pathological because it allowed them no scope for what amounted to extravagant forms of self-realization. Nietzsche had recognized this conflict between the individual and society and thus founded “the discipline of biological sociology.” Nietzsche, Gross declared, understood that such contradictions led “to the elimination of precisely the healthiest and strongest individuals—those gifted with the greatest tendencies towards expansion—by reprisals on the part of the general public, to a negative selection, and hence to a decline of the race, to a progressive growth of hereditary degeneration.”

Gross is still described today as a Nietzschean. Yet his case makes clear that more often than not Nietzscheanism became a force precisely because it did not operate as a discrete, defined system. It could be easily integrated into broader theories and dissenting moods, where it was only one element in a melange of influences. Nietzscheanism operated well in syncretistic political and ideological contexts. Gross joyfully mated Marx, Bachofen, Freud, and Nietzsche, oblivious to their differences, and selectively honed in upon their common antirepressive, life-affirming, and revolutionary thematics.

Extreme and idiosyncratic though he may have been, Gross operated within the context of a small but significant pre-World War I counterculture. There was even an Otto Gross circle which, in the words of Marianne Weber, “questioned the validity of universally binding norms of action and either sought an ‘individual law’ or denied any ‘law’ so as to let only feeling influence the flow of life.”

Like much of pre-World War I libertarian Nietzscheanism, this had a decidedly international flavor, crossing borders as easily as it did political and intellectual orthodoxies. Martin Green has recently reminded us that perhaps the most noteworthy home for such countercultural projects was located in the small Swiss village of Ascona where Gross was a familiar figure. There some remarkable feminists, pacifists, literary figures, anarchists, modern dancers, and surrealists came together to develop their radical ideas and to conduct diverse “life-experiments.” Ascona was part Tolstoyan and part anarchist with a decidedly naturalist, at times even occult, orientation. Amongst the better-known luminaries involved were D. H. Lawrence, Franz Kafka, Jung, and Hermann Hesse.

Nietzscheanism commingled with all these tendencies without necessarily operating as a separate program. It played a more subtle role as an inspirational subtext, a pervasive atmospheric presence. Insofar as the nature of that presence can be identified it was certainly not the masculine and heroic Nietzsche that Asconans stressed. They were not will-to-power but Dionysian Nietzscheans who aspired to a kind of ecstatic dynamism. They sought to create beauty in motion and to affirm lifecreating values—above all that of eros. The Asconan search for eros and beauty, for freeing the body and soul in motion, found its most dynamic physical expression in the idea and development of modern dance. Here the notions of self-creation and Dionysian community could fuse.

Dance was the area where Ascona contributed most enduringly to the development of European high culture. In this endeavor the Nietzschean impulse was crucial. Asconans did not envisage dance as a fragmented specialty but as part of a greater totality and as an essential element of revolt against the repressive physical and mental constraints of bourgeois society.

In Zarathustra Nietzsche wrote: “And we should consider every day lost on which we have not danced at least once.” Long before this he had linked cultural and political regeneration with aesthetics. Both dance and the dancer figured centrally as sensuous incarnations of his liberational vision. The Birth of Tragedy conceived of the dancer as one in whom all productive power was contained, and included one godlike dancer who was himself transformed into a work of art. Rudolf Laban (1879—1958) was the moving force behind Asconan applications of this vision. His case illustrates the essential open-endedness of this Dionysian Nietzscheanism, a political ambiguity that could lead equally into right-wing as much as anarchist modes of redemption. Contemporaries regarded Laban as the incarnation of modern dance, a man who cast himself as the bearded Dionysian satyr. He thought of himself as apolitical, yet his utopian aim was the re-creation of communitarian collective ecstasy very close to the vision of The Birth of Tragedy with its rejection of human fragmentation into separate and alienated individuals. He posited life as a kind of perpetual festival, “at which [all] are participants in communal thinking, feeling, and doing.” His total commitment to dance, his notion that it would regenerate life as a whole, was a mode of putting the early Nietzsche into practice.

Precisely because the emphasis here was not on form but on expressiveness and on the generalized ideal of community without specifying its content, Laban’s Birth of Tragedy collectivity could find expression in both the Asconan and the National Socialist context. Initially Laban was able to move with relative ease from one to the other. In 1934 he became director of the Deutsche Tanzbühne in Nazi Germany. The same dynamic notions that had given shape to his Asconan libertarianism were now simply nationalized. On 20 June 1936 twenty thousand people watched Laban’s massive dance display for the Eleventh Olympic Games, entitled “Of the warm wind and the new joy,” and based upon Nietzschean themes and a text from Also Sprach Zarathustra. The Nazis were suspicious of Laban’s “free” creations and before the major performance of this display he was declared Staatsfeindlich.

Asconan dance and a species of Nietzschean feminist radicalism also seemed to fit together. The Asconan dancer and close associate of Laban, Mary Wigman, was a keen reader of Nietzsche. Her ecstatically possessed (some said demonic) dancing—discharging tension through whirling, jerking, and thrusting movements—was explicitly Dionysian, much of it done to the drumming and recitation of Zarathustra. Associates regarded her as a feminist realization of the Nietzschean programme of autonomous self-creation. “Mary Wigman is creative. A woman who forms great art out of her own body. She is not accommodation to men. She is sovereign women.” She too moved with relative ease from one form of radicalism to another. Wigman’s dancing, Laban wrote in 1934, was German precisely because it stressed expression and not form, and in 1935 both Wigman and Laban demanded an art that would be linked to German myth.

Avant-garde dance and feminist-erotic Nietzscheanism easily crossed frontiers. Isadora Duncan, who Karl Federn described as the incarnation of Nietzsche’s intuition, was also an Asconan devotee. Together with Federn, the dancer ecstatically first read Nietzsche in Berlin in 1902: “The seduction of Nietzsche’s philosophy ravished my being.” Indeed, her memoirs spoke of Nietzsche as “the first dancing philosopher” and opened with his motto: “If my virtue be a dancer’s virtue, and if I have often sprung with both feet into golden-emerald rapture, and if it be my Alpha and Omega that everything heavy shall become light, everybody a dancer and every spirit a bird: verily that is my Alpha and Omega.” In her 1903 lecture, “The Dance of the Future,” the Asconan devotee summed up her vision of a transvalued superwoman in clearly Nietzschean terms: “Oh, she is coming, the dancer of the future: more glorious than any woman who has yet been: more beautiful than the Egyptian, than the Greek, than the early Italian, than all women of past centuries—the highest intelligence in the freest body!”

Without doubt the most exotic example of such radicalism was Valentine de Saint Point (1875-1953), author of the outrageous 1913 “Futurist Manifesto of Lust.” The great-granddaughter of Alphonse de Lamartine, she was a theorist and practitioner of dance, and presented her own creations at the Theatre du Champs-Elysees in 1913 and the Metropolitan Opera House in 1917. The manifesto that de Saint Point addressed in part “to those women who only think what I have dared to say,” was almost a parody of eclectic, erotic—liberationist Nietzscheanism. In this vision women represent “the great galvanizing principle to which all is offered”:

Lust when viewed without moral preconceptions and as an essential part of life’s dynamism, is a force.

Lust is not, any more than pride, a mortal sin for the race that is strong. Lust, like pride, is a virtue that urges one on, a powerful source of energy.

Lust is ... the sensory and sensual synthesis that leads to the greatest liberation of spirit...

Lust is the act of creating, it is Creation...

Christian morality alone, following on from pagan morality, was fatally drawn to consider lust as a weakness. Out of the healthy joy which is the flowering of the flesh in all its power it has made something shameful and to be hidden, a vice to be denied. It has covered it with hypocrisy, and this has made a sin of it...

We must make lust into a work of art.

Not even the most outspoken Nietzschean women working in the organized framework of German feminism would have dreamed of advocating what her manifesto proposed: “A strong man must realize his full carnal and spiritual potentiality. The satisfaction of their lust is the conquerors’ due. After a battle in which men have died, it is normal for the victors, to turn to rape in the conquered land, so that life may be re-created.”

In addition to being a dancer de Saint Point was a playwright, poet, and novelist whose subjects included war, death, instinct, and female desire. Her “Manifesto of the Futurist Woman” (1912) demonstrated clearly her Nietzschean bent. There she translated the notion of the Übermensch into a new myth of the masculinized superwoman. It was absurd, she contended, to divide humanity into men and women. In fact, the division was between masculinity and femininity. The complete being, the hero and the Übermensch, definitionally combined the two: “An exclusively male individual is nothing but a brute; an exclusively female is nothing but weakness.” But, as de Saint Point’s male futurist counterparts agreed, one was living in an essentially weak, feminine historical period: masculinity was lacking in both men and women. For both a new doctrine of energy had to be taught so that an epoch of superior humanity could be reached. For both it was “the brute who must become the model.” Femininity was now certainly not desirable. Women had allowed themselves to be tamed: “But call out a new word to her, give her a war cry and with joy she will ride again on her instinct and lead you towards undreamed-of conquests. ... Let women rediscover her own cruelty and violence that make her turn on the beaten, just because they are vanquished, and mutilate them.”

This Nietzschean dynamic was, of course, rather difficult to sustain and, after leaving the futurist movement in early 1914, de Saint Point became attracted to esotericism, moved to Egypt, converted to Islam (where she took the name of Raouhya Nour el Dine), and became an Arab nationalist, launching the newspaper Le Phoenix in its support!

Futurism was, of course, an Italian modernist, nationalist movement that heavily harnessed Nietzsche. Imperial Germany possessed no equivalent avant-garde and proto-Fascist celebration of speed and technology. Only during the Weimar Republic did such a machine-oriented, radical nationalism make itself apparent. Of course, modernism did not necessarily entail any particular attitude toward industrial society. Its Nietzsche-influenced characteristics—the radical questioning of all received canons; its expressive rather than mimetic posture; its belief that truth, values and beauty were self-created rather than objectively discovered entities—could and did operate in both directions: as exuberant celebration and as alienated condemnation of the modern technological world. Prior to 1914 German modernism expressed itself in the peculiar guise of expressionism, a movement whose relationship to the industrial-technological order was significantly more ambivalent than that of Futurism.

In virtually every one of its manifold guises—painting, sculpture, architecture, literature, drama, and politics—expressionism and Nietzsche were linked. While there were some exceptions, most expressionists were—in some way and degree—either acknowledged Nietzscheans or Nietzscheans by osmosis. The most talented and problematic German expressionist, Gottfried Benn, retrospectively summed up the relationship thus:

Actually, everything that my generation discussed, dissected in its deepest thoughts—one can say suffered through; one can say: enlarged upon—all of that had already been expressed and explored, had already found its definitive formulation in Nietzsche; everything thereafter was exegesis. His treacherous, tempestuous, lightning manner, his feverish diction, his rejection of all idylls and all general principles, his postulation of a psychology of instinctual behavior as a dialectic—“knowledge as affect,” all of psychoanalysis and Existentialism. They were all his achievements. As is becoming increasingly clear, he is the great giant of the post-Goethean era.

For expressionists, Nietzschean epistemology was liberating in that it rendered metaphysical truth and objective reality as little more than illusions. Kurt Pinthus, editor of the important expressionist anthology Menschheitsdämmerung, put it thus: “Reality is not outside us, but rather in us... All the great ideas of mankind did not engender themselves through the force of the facts, not through the demands of reality, but rather immediately out of the self-creative, future-directed spirit of man.” Nevertheless, the crisis was there and no one comprehended its depth more acutely than did Benn. He recognized that the Nietzschean world was post-theist and nihilist, one in which no system or philosophy was possible—or even desirable. Indeed, early on he had outlined the themes that were to become the province of late twentieth-century Nietzscheans. Nietzsche, he wrote, had destroyed philosophy, theology, philology, biology, causality, politics, eros, truth, being, and identity. There was no transcendental, binding Archimedian point. Nietzsche had demonstrated the error of assuming that humans had an intrinsic or metaphysical content. There was, indeed, no such thing as the “person”—there were only symptoms. What was most basic in Nietzsche, Benn stressed, was the move from content to expression, the extinction of substance in favor of expression.

Free and creative expression was above all the métier of the artist, and pre-World War I German expressionism celebrated Nietzsche’s elitist vision of the sublime if painful role of the isolated artist-superman who in creating experienced what the herd would never know. Given their portrayal of the pressures of bourgeois conformity and the emerging mass society, the expressionist artist typically espoused an elitist, Nietzschean immoralism. In the metaphorical landscape of the lonely Zarathustrian heights, in the shadow of the death of God, stood the artist beyond conventional notions of good and evil: a Nietzschean law unto himself. In Paul Kornfeld’s “The Seduction” (1913), for instance, the outcast-hero takes upon himself the right to kill a bourgeois merely because the hero is disgusted by him. When Georg Kaiser was sued for debts he had incurred, he proclaimed that the assumption “‘All are equal before the law’ is nonsense.” For the genius the act of creativity, of producing meaning itself, was paramount “even if his wife and children should perish because of it.”

This kind of immoralism extended to a celebration of madness. For expressionism, madness could provide an illuminating perspective. The language of the insane expressed a freedom from everyday conventions and oppressive laws. In a sense the ultimate expressionist Übermensch was the mad person conceived as the incarnation of a liberating lawlessness. Georg Heym in 1906 confided to his diary his longing to realize the Übermensch ideal in his own person, and took this impulse to its limits in his story entitled “The Madman.” There madness is depicted as a form of ultimate salvation. Because ordinary laws do not apply to those who are mad, insanity is equated with utter freedom, symbolized by the final image: the madman soaring like a bird high above reality.

Nietzsche’s remark that “ordered society puts the passions to sleep” typified the expressionist critique of the deadening bourgeois world. Like other segments of the avant-garde, expressionists typically combined this rejection of contemporary society with a variety of vitalist Dionysian solutions. Most explicitly rejected the restraining and ordering Apollonian dimension: “Even the statues of the Greeks,” wrote Kurt Pinthus, “do not ... aim at ‘noble simplicity and serene greatness.’”

Many expressionists closely echoed Nietzsche’s Lebensphilosophie strictures. “Is life to dominate knowledge and science,” Nietzsche asked, “or is knowledge to dominate life? Which of these two forces is the higher and more decisive? There can be no doubt: life is the higher, the dominating force, for knowledge which annihilated life would have annihilated itself with it.” This expressionist vitalism, as Walter Sokel has pointed out, differed from its French counterpart and preferred an antiintellectual interpretation of Nietzsche. Henri Bergson’s elan vital posited a distinction between the unconscious flow of life and ossifying intellect. Yet the partially rational faculty of memory was a tool for comprehending the irrational stream of life (a role that for Freud was fulfilled by psychoanalysis). In German expressionism that mediating, controlling factor was largely absent. Dionysian anticerebralism was meant to proceed unchecked. The expressionists tended to lose the sense of tension between intellect and antiintellect which, according to Sokel, characterized the German tradition.

German expressionist vitalism typically voiced bitter critiques of the stultifying educational system and championed the discovery of the liberating powers of youth. Texts such as Nietzsche’s Untimely Meditations (1874—1876), especially “The Use and Abuse of History for Life” (1874), provided important inspirations and legitimations for these impulses. There Nietzsche mercilessly pilloried the educational institutions of the time and mocked the kind of sterile rationalism which, he argued, was an impediment to life. Youth, he proclaimed, were the primary carriers of the regenerating powers of life and it was their primary mission to liberate it.

It was not surprising that the typical nemesis of the expressionist imagination turned out to be either the professor or the repressive father. In his drama Ithaka, Gottfried Benn’s spokesman, Roenne, is moved to murder a professor who insists upon the supreme value of scientific knowledge. Roenne’s harangue inciting fellow students to commit the deed is couched in terms immediately recognizable to those aware of the Nietzschean universe of discourse: “We are the youth. Our blood cries out for heaven and earth, and not for cells and worms... We want to dream. We want ecstasy. We call on Dionysus and Ithaca!”

It was, of course, Frank Wedekind who, through his pioneering and sensational play Spring Awakening (1895), became the model for later expressionist approaches. Like Nietzsche he combined a searing indictment of the repressive educational system with a plea for life, but Wedekind sharpened the focus by equating life with the liberation of adolescent sexual instinct.

The initial expressionist impulse was concerned with the individual rather than society and was basically indifferent to concrete questions of politics and economics, being more concerned with the symptoms of bourgeois sickness than its causes. Its ecstatic, unprogrammatic, Nietzschean, revolutionary sentiments were too unchanneled and vague to have much real political effect. The inchoate expressionist longing for deliverance—founded usually on emotion rather than concrete social analysis—could take on tangible form only when wed to larger political frameworks. For many of those expressionists who did become thus politicized, whether toward the right or left, their open-ended Nietzschean radicalism remained central to the ways in which they defined their affiliation.

In the imaginings of those like Arnolt Bronnen and Hans Johst, who later would become actively involved in national socialism, the Nietzschean imagery of a youthful and liberational life-affirming cruelty was central and took on an increasingly crude form. Bronnen’s plays illustrate the brutalization of the expressionist—Nietzsche nexus. In Vatermord (parricide) an adolescent kills his Social Democratic father, dismisses his mother, and goes out into the world. There is no motive for the deed other than the vitalist freedom the act itself endows. The emphasis on the deed as such, on the dynamic for its own sake, was a leitmotif of Nietzsche-influenced activism. In the even more extreme sequel, Die Geburt der Jugend (The birth of youth), the post-Nietzschean consequences of the death of God theme is even more graphically represented. Roving bands of youth on horseback trample over the aged and shout that they are God.

More than any other expressionist, however, it was Gottfried Benn who grappled with the consequences of the death of God. His entire career, including his short but passionate attachment to nazism, was an attempt to deal with that Nietzschean predicament. He accepted Nietzsche’s nihilism, Michael Hamburger commented, “as one accepts the weather.” Prior to 1933, Benn posited a theoretical nihilism that denied the possibility of any metaphysical truth. At that stage his solution to nihilism pointed to a twentieth-century form of primitivism. The transcendence of nihilism meant ridding oneself of the torment of modern self-consciousness, induced by humanity’s rift with nature. This meant a return to the preconscious, prelogical, primal, and inert state. Anchorage in this Dionysian-like transindividual (Uberindividuellen) condition was, however, possible only in organic, animal form. As Benn put it in his April 1932 talk to the Prussian Academy of Art: “One of the classic perceptions of the post-Nietzschean epoch derives from Thomas Mann and reads: ‘‘everything transcendent is animal, everything animal transcends'"·

Benn’s denunciation of science and humanitarianism and his longing for primitivist forms, however, also allowed him to find (albeit temporarily) that principle of transcendence within a more tangible political home, in the kind of community that nazism heralded. For Benn national socialism seemed to embody the Nietzschean dynamic in both its primal and future-oriented senses. It satisfied the longing for the authentic symbolized by the modern barbarian, a rootedness in the Volk as well as the promise of the creation of the New Man—a new biological type—the Aryan, whose great task it was to do battle against decadence in all its guises.

The expressionists, like many other Nietzscheans, wavered between an apolitical individual stance and a sense of redemptive social mission, a hunger for union with communities. Even for those leftists who defined themselves in explicitly social and political terms—such as the pacifist and anarchist circles around Franz Pfemert’s Die Aktion or Kurt Hiller—their analysis ignored specific social institutions; they posited their redemptive goal in subjective and highly abstract terms of individual “self-realization.”

Kurt Hiller and his “new club,” founded in March 1909, for instance, regarded Nietzsche as their chief inspiration. Their “new pathos,” stressing an “increased psychic temperature” and universal merriment (Heiterkeit), was informed by the familiar Dionysian dimension. The new pathos, Hiller noted, was informed by what Nietzsche had said in Ecce Homo: “I estimate the value of men, of races, according to the necessity by which they cannot conceive the god apart from the satyr.” Hiller pursued, as he described it, a radicalism that had little to do with “the mathematized old-morality.” What was needed was a new post-theist and neohellenic heroism (Heldentum) as Nietzsche had proclaimed it.

Hiller nevertheless typified that wing of the expressionist movement that rejected an undifferentiated anticerebralism and insisted instead on using the shaping, moderating Apollonian dimension: perhaps his best-known slogan was “Let mind become master” (Geist werde Herr). Walter Sokel has pointed out that Hiller’s ideal, unlike other versions of the vitalist New Man that sought action for its own sake, emphasized “action guided by reason in the cause of love.”

Most expressionists were, however, attracted to the Nietzschean vision of the self-legislating, creative Übermenschlich artist working in splendid isolation from the masses. In this respect one measure of Nietzsche’s influence is the fact that many early expressionists who came to reject this antisocial stance and to affirm anew the bonds of human solidarity found it necessary to indulge in an overt and passionate cutting of the Nietzschean umbilical chord.

This repudiation led in different directions. In 1896, for instance, Heinrich Mann had constructed a rather right-wing, nationalist Nietzsche: his Übermensch had to be understood as a positive “social and race symbol.” Later, with his turn from Romantic aestheticism to social democracy, Mann penned a democratic critique of the arrogant superman who was now cut off from the concerns and dignity of ordinary people. (His brother Thomas made a similar shift but after World War I. In both cases dissociation from the the antidemocratic bias did not mean negating the philosopher: other more appropriate aspects were now emphasized.)

In the case of Reinhard Sorge (1892—1916), the turn from an initial enthusiasm for Nietzsche—his Odysseus was based upon the idea of the eternal recurrence and the later Prometheus depicted the earthly establishment of a race of supermen—to a rejection of the myth of the Übermensch led to his conversion to Roman Catholicism and “a radicalism of brotherly love.” In his accusatory Gericht über Zarathustra: Vision (1912; “Judgment upon Zarathustra: A vision”) he bitterly chronicled his disillusion, in language which ironically betrayed Nietzsche’s continuing, painful influence:

Do you know who that boy is? Look, Zarathustra, he loved you, he was your disciple. Your ardor seized his, and he squandered all for your sake. Because his ardor was such that he loved you above everything ... your spirit was turned earthward, my spirit allowed itself to be deceived. For the sake of your ardor it deceived itself.

Then came the hour when it turned upward, do not ask how, the spirit is its own answer... The command came from above to be a fighter against the brother-spirit (Zarathustra), to judge him by the authority of Heaven. If Nietzsche was a ubiquitous presence within expressionism the same could be said of his role within the avant-garde circle around Stefan George known as the George Kreis. The disaffection from establishment and bourgeois culture, the emphasis on the creative artist and spiritual elite as incarnation of the Übermensch, and the ambiguously conceived politics of regeneration similarly characterized this circle. There were also significant differences between the two, and the ways in which they harnessed Nietzsche to their own needs. Expressionist subjectivism and irrationalism provided its own self-justifying dynamic. For George, aestheticism was the justification: the intuitive and the irrational facilitated apprehension of the poetic and the beautiful. Expressionism was an inchoate manifestation of a mood and an impulse. In the case of George the poet-seer, everything flowed from his own patrician person. Like the characters of expressionist imagination, here was a self-proclaimed prophet who followed no rules, but instead created the laws and values. Once formulated, however, they took on an authority inconceivable to the more dynamic, indeed chaotic, expressionist sensibility.

The George Kreis was an initiate community of disciples, a sect with no formal or binding statutes yet utterly under the thrall of its master. The fluid inner circle, this “secret Germany,” probably never exceeded more than forty members. Yet it succeeded far beyond its numbers in becoming a kind of elitist cultural model; its impact on antiestablish-mentarian German poetry, criticism, and historiography was enormous.

Nietzsche’s legacy touched Stefan George and his Kreis in both latent and manifest ways. The conscious and unconscious functions that Nietzsche fulfilled for the master and his disciples, their dependence on the philosopher as well as their outright attempt to supersede him, to enlist his authority, and to distance themselves from him provide a good example of the complexity of Nietzsche appropriation. That complexity should not, however, obscure the fact that the George project is virtually incomprehensible outside of its post-Nietzschean context.

In the preface to the 1886 edition of The Birth of Tragedy Nietzsche lamented that he had not dared to speak in the poetic language commensurate with his work: “It should have sung, this ‘new soul’—and not spoken!” In his 1900 eulogy to Nietzsche George made it clear that he would undertake that project. His circle’s journal (founded in 1892), the Blätter für die Kunst, was born, as the George disciple and poet Karl Wolfskehl wrote in 1910, “because one poet [Nietzsche] ignited a flame in another [George].”

What, in the view of the George Kreis, did Nietzsche provide? He furnished the tools for their critique of the nineteenth century and voiced the heroic promise of a rediscovered German spirituality on a new creative basis. It was he who set the elitist tone for their patrician struggle against the age of mediocrity. The nature of the struggle was itself defined in dynamic Nietzschean terms: renewal was possible only through the innovative activity of the prophetic, law-creating poet who lived at a time when no return to a bygone age was possible. Because classical religious, mythical, and philosophic traditions had broken down, his daunting task was to create them anew. Renewal was defined through the ideal of beauty and aesthetic form. This too was fashioned after the Nietzschean conception of the will to power, not political power but the power of the seer who would transform the nation, especially with the help of beautiful and heroic youth.

It was from Nietzsche, moreover, that they imbibed much of their antiscientific posture and vitalist aestheticism. They routinely employed Nietzschean conceptions of the heroic and the mythical—categories which they then applied to Nietzsche himself:

With him the whole tremendous treasure of German spirituality, which since the extinction of the Roman world ... had remained underground, came at last to light. With that began the real, great struggle under whose banner we stand today. The last irreconcilable battle of the powers that have shaped our lives became with Nietzsche a public matter.

In a wayward Europe he “perceived a way which lead out of this chaos into the cosmos.”

For George and his followers the cosmic and the really meaningful dimensions of life could not be apprehended rationally or through scientific means. Only aesthetic and the poetic sensibilities could achieve this. Such Romantic convictions, of course, were not novel to George. As Wolf Lepenies has recently demonstrated, these views had a longstanding pedigree. Georgians, however, injected this Romantic critique with essentially Nietzschean ingredients. Their critique of science and academic scholarship, especially the inadmissibility of its self-referential validation, began with Nietzsche’s dictum in The Birth of Tragedy that “the problem of science ... cannot be recognized in the context of science.”

George juxtaposed communal scientific knowledge with the Nietzschean aristocratism of the solitary sage. “One knowledge the same for all,” he wrote, “is fraud.” If amongst his circle there were differing assessments as to the possibilities of rationality, all agreed that the errors of artistic heroes were more important than the truths of the mediocre. They read Nietzsche as the man who, in overcoming the nineteenth century, had taught that society had nothing to do with life and certainly could not claim the right to impose laws upon it.

Science and scientists could not teach men how to live; poetry and the poet gifted with intuitive and prophetic powers could. “Inner experience” was both method and key to salvation—history was to be transfigured back into consciously forged myth. As vindication, Nietzsche’s vision of “the poet as signpost to the future” was constantly invoked:

That poetic power available to men of today which is not used up in the depiction of life ought to be dedicated, not so much to the representation of the contemporary world or to the réanimation and imaginative reconstruction of the past, but to signposting the future:—not, though, as if the poet could, like a fabulous economist, figuratively anticipate the kind of conditions nations and societies would prosper better under and how they could then be brought about. What he will do, rather, is emulate the artists of earlier times who imaginatively developed the existing images of the gods and imaginatively develop a fair image of man; he will scent out those cases in which, in the midst of our modern world and reality and without any artificial withdrawal from or warding off of this world, the great and beautiful soul is still possible, still able to embody itself in the harmonious and well-proportioned and thus acquire visibility, duration and the status of a model, and in so doing through the excitation of envy and emulation help to create the future.

This poet and his poetry, in line with Nietzsche’s ideal, would produce art in which life itself had penetrated. George’s disciple Friedrich Gundolf’s analysis and dismissal of the masses was written in paraphrased Nietzschean terms: “Whoever has regarded this ‘people’ on a Sunday afternoon in cities great or small, and has done so with eyes open and not befogged by humanitarian, social, or progressive catch phrases, loses all desire to engage in any intelligent relationship with it.”

We should note here the public contours in which George wanted his relationship to Nietzsche to be seen. Admiring as his 1900 eulogy was, in the last analysis Nietzsche had to be regarded as a tragic figure:

Dull trots the crowd below, do not disturb it! Why stab the jelly-fish or cut the weed? For a while yet let pious silence reign and let the vermin that stain him with praise and are still fattening in the musty fumes that helped to stifle him, first waste away! But then, resplendent, thou wilt face the ages like other leaders with the bloody crown. Redeemer thou thyself the most unblessed— ... Didst thou create gods but to overthrow them, never enjoying rest or what thou built? Thou hast destroyed what in thyself was closest to tremble after it with new desire and to cry out in pain of solitude.

He came too late that said to thee imploring: There is no way left over icy cliffs and eyries of dread birds—now this is needed: constraint within a circle closed by love.

George’s Nietzsche dies in heroic futility, unable to enter the new world he had prophesied. George himself is the fulfillment of this Nietzschean vision. This, indeed, was the official line of the Kreis: Nietzsche had paved the way for what was to come, the forerunner not the realization. “Nietzsche,” wrote Kurt Hildebrandt, “was a pathbreaker and a forerunner, not a fulfiller.” By ending this poem: “now this is needed / Constraint within a circle closed by love,” George made his supersession of the philosopher clear. Nietzsche’s vision had to be encircled. Only through such a community could the political and spiritual Reich be realized. What Nietzsche lacked, wrote George, was a “plastic God.”

Yet the structure of the George community itself had a decidedly Nietzschean texture. Self-consciously aristocratic, it was supposed to be held together by cultural affinities and not binding regulations. This mode of organization could apply only to special elites. Rudolf Pannwitz, another George circle member, put it best: Nietzsche was “not a prophet for the volk but rather a prophet for the prophets.”

Like other Nietzschean avant-garde circles, George’s circle regarded itself as fundamentally apolitical and was quite indifferent, if not actively hostile, to political parties. Yet their aesthetic impulse towards transformation and national renewal was political in the broadest sense. Like other Nietzschean radicalisms it lacked a formal programme, leaving the nature of that renewal vague. The circle encompassed people ranging from a future leader of the German resistance to nazism, Count von Stauffenberg, to anti-Semites like Ludwig Klages; Jews like Ernst Kantorowicz, Gundolf and Wolfskehl; and those like Ernst Bertram who were attracted to nazism. The circle was, as Lepenies points out, “capable not only of political manoeuverability but also of political reversionism: ... George was as right to emphasize his distance from Wilhelmine Germany as Rudolf Borchardt was to emphasize the acceptance of the George circle by the Prussian state.”

Whatever the internal differences, all adherents of the circle were overtly critical of the democratic system, especially the Americanized Weimar brand. They were patricians far removed from the vulgar Nazi sensibility. They contributed to an antiegalitarian, antidemocratic discourse that nevertheless aided the rise of a force they despised. They also called for the creation of a new German mythology. The related emphasis on intuition, inner experience, and vital as opposed to dead (Lebensfeindlich) scientific knowledge, the antiacademic conception of history was inspired directly by Nietzsche.

The task of history writing was regarded as explicitly legend making, as it described exemplary Übermenschen. Only the great figures were worth studying and only poets with similarly constituted souls could truly grasp and present their subjects. Neither objectivity nor a scientific spirit would do—the great figures had to be presented as contemporary models. Heroes, Gundolf commented, should not be humanized (vermenschlicht werden.) Although Goethe and Hölderlin were invoked, Nietzsche above all was presented as inspiring these conceptions.

It was not merely as methodological inspiration, however, but as heroic subject of such myth making that Nietzsche figured in Ernst Bertram’s 1918 enormously important Nietzsche. That work, reissued seven times between 1918 and 1927, played a crucial role in the history of the völkisch appropriation of Nietzsche and his transfiguration into a Germanic right-wing prophet. We shall concern ourselves with the details and casuistic structure of that process in various parts of this book. Here we need only note Bertram’s direct relationship to the George circle. Published under the imprimatur of the series “Werke der Wissenschaft aus dem Kreise der Blätter für die Kunst“ George—as a disillusioned Bertram later made clear in his correspondence—attempted to dictate what this Nietzschean image should be. Its Georgian subtitle, Versuch einer Mythologie, was self-explanatory. There was an open disinterest in examining Nietzsche’s life according to the conventional methods of historical scholarship. Instead, Nietzsche was made into a Germanic legend, his life and thought transmuted into a nation-saving prophetic myth.

For other associates of George this mythical dimension pointed to religious—cosmic as well as national—political dimensions. “Nietzsche lived and created in this world of fulfilled and free myth which is also the logos and the psyche of the cosmos,” wrote Pannwitz, a fringe figure around the Kreis and a sworn Nietzschean who, amongst other things, had published various works that attempted to give poetic expression to the master’s philosophical vision. Pannwitz regarded Nietzsche’s Übermensch as nothing less than “cosmic man ... the synthesis of all human types ... the crystalline individual representative of the cosmos.” Viewed thus Nietzsche was the creator of a religion which had overcome transcendence and was “fully mythical, fully cosmic.” For Pannwitz this led to a kind of mystic Oriental religion blending individualism with German regeneration.

However idiosyncratic, Pannwitz was by no means the only Kreis figure drawn to such visions. George’s early associates, Alfred Schuler (1865-1923) and Ludwig Klages (1872-1956), similarly enunciated a mythical outlook informed by an occult search for cosmic radiations (Ausstrahlungen.)_

This particular cosmic view accompanied a rabid anti-Semitism, notions of blood, and primal earthly visions. One historian has diagnosed these conceptions as part of “the mystical origins of National Socialism.” Like other radicalisms touched by the Nietzschean impulse, this spiritual aspect too combined progressive and reactionary elements in unpredictable ways.

From 1897 to 1904 George, Schuler, and Klages were members of an esoteric pagan—gnostic circle in Munich-Schwabing known as the Cosmics. Influenced by a variety of sources (especially Bachofen’s Mutterrecht), it also appropriated a suitably Nietzschean side. This was reflected in its critique of liberal rationalism and industrial modernity, its anti-Christian bias, and above all the quest for Dionysian community which, according to this group, could be practically achieved through the re-creation and celebration of heathen festivals.

Nietzsche’s influence on the eclectic Schuler, the charismatic leader of the group, was clear. Schuler’s Nietzsche was not the prophet of individualism. In Schuler’s view the individual did not count; what was crucial were the deeper, unconscious layers and unifying powers of race, “soul,” and blood. He valued Nietzsche’s mythic regeneracy and vitalism, the apocalyptic texture and the belief that buried creative and instinctual powers could be released. Schuler’s historical periodization, his dismissal of the Reformation and the French Revolution as Judaized and devitalized ressentiment phenomena were, he believed, fashioned after Nietzsche’s characterization of these in The Genealogy of Morals. His Nietzsche, moreover, taught the cycle of awesome destruction and new beginnings. “Nietzsche said,” he lectured, “that with collapse new sources reveal themselves, and so is it also in life. Violent destructions must proceed first before the new sources out of which the future flows are brought to light.”

The philosopher was even the intended recipient of Schuler’s occult therapy. For two years Schuler made preparations to cure Nietzsche’s madness through the freely interpreted rite of an ancient Corybantic dance. It was never implemented, partly because of the difficulty of enlisting suitable youths for the cultic dance! The fact that both Klages and Wolfskehl approved of the plan indicates the atmosphere generated within such esoteric circles.

Schuler’s most influential disciple was Ludwig Klages (who bitterly broke with George in 1904). The virulently anti-Semitic Klages, a prolific publicist, renowned graphologist, and cult philosopher of the Weimar Republic, dedicated his career to the elaboration and articulation of the cosmic outlook which he acquired from those years in Schwabing. Klages was a post-Nietzschean in every sense of the term. Like Benn and the expressionists, his work can be understood as a critical exegetical dialogue with Nietzsche. Simultaneously expositor of his thought and elaborator of key insights, Klages’s system selectively appropriated Nietzsche as well.

The Klagesian Nietzsche was the great herald of the cosmic soul, clearly referring to the Dionysian Nietzsche of wild self-abandon. As with Schuler, Klages provided no room for Nietzsche’s individualism. His great achievement consisted in understanding Greek tragedy as “breaking the chains of individual life by cosmic life.” Indeed, the animating drive behind Klages’s system was the search for this primal, cosmic “Dionysian intoxication.” His programmatically irrationalist categories—“elemental ecstasy” and “erotic rapture,” for instance— derived from The Birth of Tragedy which sought, as Klages put it, to penetrate “through the limits of ‘individuation’ into the life of the elements.”

For Klages the Dionysian realm was important because there life manifested itself. Klages was the most radical German exponent of irrationalist Lebensphilosophie, taking its Nietzschean premises to their most extreme conclusions. In order to fashion that philosophy he made a basic distinction between life-affirming Seele (soul) and lifedestroying Geist (mind), as the title of his most famous work, The Mind as Opponent of the Soul, made crystal clear. This distinction, Klages wrote, was basic, an Urbegriff similar to Nietzsche’s juxtaposition of the Dionysian and the Socratic. Geist on the one hand represented all those forces of modern, industrial, and intellectual rationalization which destroyed nature, peace, organicism, and the cosmic dimension. Seele on the other hand represented the possibility of an authentically lived life—the overcoming of alienated intellectuality in favor of a newfound earthly rootedness.

We should not forget that Klages was also a renowned graphologist. Consistent with his broader antiscientific, antipositivist outlook he described himself not as a psychologist but as a “researcher of the soul,” and he proclaimed Nietzsche as the father of “soul research” (Seelenforschung). For Klages, Nietzsche’s psychological achievement was the demarcation of the battleground between Yahweh’s ascetic priests and the orgiasts of Dionysius; his psychological sensitivity provided extraordinary illumination pursued through his relentlessly honest self-knowledge and unmasking (Enttäuschungstechnik.)

Like so many other commentators Klages did not limit his analysis to Nietzsche’s thought: through his Seelenforschung and graphology he also provided the requisite mythologization of Nietzsche’s persona. Like other exceptional individuals he partook of primordial being and because of that was destined to cut a tragic figure. Nietzsche was one of the “martyrs of paganism: their souls struggled and died for the fervour of Life.” His epochal service had been to break open the church walls. This “greatest breaker of chains in the whole history of mankind” broke through “oceans of errors before us ... but also for us.” But, and here Klages resumed the old George Kreis line, this was a Nietzsche who could intuit, but never himself enter, the new world towards which he had pointed.

Nietzsche’s tragedy was that he was torn apart by the incompatible Dionysian longing for self-abandon and the constant Übermenschlich striving to self-overcome. Attracted to rationalist Socratism as much as he was repelled by it, Nietzsche never transcended the inner tension between the orgiastic pagan and Christian self-overcoming elements of his character.

Klages pointed to a dual impulse which had exerted equal fascination for different avant-garde circles in Germany. These two Nietzschean themes—the “masculine” imperative of dynamic and sovereign selfcreation and the more “feminine” submersion into a transindividual Dionysian whole—were both woven, however inchoately, into its aspirations. Some stressed one aspect over the other. At times attempts were made to combine the two or the tension was simply allowed to stand unresolved. Either way, these thematics encouraged and reinforced the open-ended and eclectic radicalism characteristic of the Nietzschean avant-garde.

Klages exemplifies the classificatory difficulties of this postliberal Nietzschean radicalism. His was an all-encompassing irrationalism, a vitalist politics of antimodern, cosmic Dionysianism fueled by anti-Semitism, anti-individualism, and the mystique of “blood.” He is commonly identified with an ideological line that led directly to nazism. Marxist critics regarded his organic Dionysian epistemology as profoundly reactionary, a device for denying all historical progress. Klages, Ernst Bloch declared, banished the future as a possibility. He did this in part by attacking the dream-drenched utopian core of Nietzsche: he “halves Nietzsche’s heroisms by removing the will to power; he ‘halves’ Nietzsche’s teleology: man is not something that must be overcome, but merely something which must be archaically circumvented, deprived of goals.” Moreover, Bloch added, he destroyed “the bridge to the future, on which precisely all of Nietzsche’s dream abodes had been situated.” The question of truth and falsity had always been bothersome to Fascists. Klages’s archaic mythology extinguished the problem almost entirely.

Yet with his attack on Nietzschean self-overcoming and the masculine will to power, as Hinton Thomas has pointed out, Klages also enunciated a critique of power which was the very antithesis of the Nazi celebration of it. According to this analysis, Klages offered a critique of power, repression, and aggression in which all the modern alternatives of liberalism, socialism, and capitalism seemed culpable. From this point of view, Klages’s ideas belonged to the anarchist—liberationist Asconan, not the authoritarian, tradition.

This mix of elements always attracted the German and European avant-garde. Their radicalism was a response to real issues of liberal and industrial modernity. Almost definitionally hostile to bourgeois tastes and politics, Nietzsche provided them with a marvelous thematic reservoir with which they could proceed into a postliberal world. It is this perhaps which accounts for the ease with which certain Asconans, lifereformers, expressionists and George Kreis adherents could move from anarchist—liberationist to Fascist and Nazi positions. These dissenting impulses cut across and combined with all kinds of political and cultural postures. All were characterized by postrationalist propensities. One road from this could and did lead to fascism and nazism but this was not the only path taken.

The avant-garde was, however, limited coteries of creative artists and intellectuals. In order to document the process by which Nietzsche was more broadly diffused we must turn our attention to more popular areas, to those interest groups and movements, even whole communities, that sought somehow to weave a Nietzschean pattern into the fabric of their institutions.

4. Nietzscheanism Institutionalized

Society’s stomach is stronger than mine, it can digest me.
Nietzsche, Human, All Too Human

Nietzscheanism was not—nor could it have been—a separate political ideology backed by its own political party or movement. The Nietzschean impulse became a potent protean force precisely because it was not organized. Requiring no formal commitment, possessed of no set dogma, its very elasticity facilitated entry into multiple areas of German institutional and community life. It did so inevitably through processes of dynamic and contextual selection; it was shaped and filtered according to the perceived needs of the appropriating institution. With some the reception was wholehearted and rhapsodic, with others, more tentative and fragmentary. As a rule it assumed explicit, conscious form; occasionally it operated subliminally, insinuating itself into the thematics of those very groups that voiced anti-Nietzsche sentiments. Galvanized as a rule for radical purposes it often led to unintended conservative consequences. Because Nietzscheanism was seldom an independent constitutive force, it was subject to institutional constraints and competing ideological imperatives. Nevertheless it performed a variety of crucial functions: it acted as solvent, leavener, catalyst, and gadfly, challenging established postures and categories, while being absorbed or re-created by them.

The history of the Nietzschean moment within late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century German feminism is keenly illustrative of these characteristics. There was something typically ironic about this celebratory feminist appropriation. Nietzsche’s emphasis on power, hardness, and masculinity; his assessment that “good nature is in a woman a form of degeneration”; his cutting comments on the emancipation of women; and his famous admonition: “You are going to women? Do not forget the whip!” hardly seemed conducive to his becoming a champion of the feminist cause. As one caustic male critic put it, the “modern woman” had an ambivalent relationship to Nietzsche’s whip: in the name of “emancipation” she sought to liberate herself from it but at the same time an ancient drive impelled her back to it.

For those women attracted to Nietzsche’s ideas there were two broad strategies for confronting the problem: one could argue that despite his hostile views on women’s issues, his general message was of fundamental importance or that the perception of Nietzsche’s hostility to women was superficial and incorrect: Nietzsche was, in fact, unusually perceptive and championed the feminist cause at the very highest level of self-realization. Whatever the particular line of reasoning, Nietzsche held out the prospect of a new kind of female liberation in which historical and institutional repressions of the past could be overcome. Like many other turn-of-the-century contemporaries, these women harnessed Nietzsche both for critical diagnosis and as inspiration towards May I here venture to surmise that I know women? That is part of my Dionysian dowry. Who knows? Perhaps I am the first psychologist of the eternally feminine. They all love me—an old story—not counting abortive females, the “emancipated” who lack the stuff for children.—Fortunately, I am not willing to be torn to pieces: the perfect woman tears to pieces when she loves... Ah, what a dangerous, creeping, subterranean little beast of prey she is! And yet so agreeable!... Woman is indescribably more evil than man; also cleverer; good nature is in a woman a form of degeneration. (Ecce Homo, 266) a newfound freedom going beyond all previously sanctioned social limits.

These sentiments were most accessibly reflected and expressed in the popular literature of the day. As early as 1894 Hedwig Dohm’s story— with its explicitly Nietzschean title, Werde, die du bist (Become what you are)—explored the frustrations of a women whose life, lived according to her prescribed role of service to others, was reduced to an odyssey of self-denial and self-obliteration. Dohm made no secret of the culprit: conventional morality had decreed that women could have “no self,” so its tablets “had to be destroyed.” The heroine, not surprisingly, regards Nietzsche as “the greatest living philosopher,” the source of her passion to “transcend things as they are and climb away to greater heights.” Typical, too, of the genre was Mathieu Schwann’s novel, Liebe (1901). This was peppered with quotes from Zarathustra, its New Woman driven by the Nietzschean-inspired desire to “dip deep into full, whole, undivided life.” The novel made clear that repressive morality was rendering genuine love impossible and that “lifedestroying prudery” was encouraging prostitution. In Käthe Schirrmacher’s 1895 novel Halb, the New Woman had already proclaimed:

We want to be modern! That means a break with misunderstood Greek and Roman ideas—a break with orthodox religion—freedom, use of our energy, nature—independence, experimentation rather than abstraction and stereotype—a triumphant ego! In such a transition the weak may succumb, those transitional types that are no longer very old and not yet very new—but we, we will make it!

But feminist Nietzscheanism was, of course, not limited to the literary realm: it also became integral to a new kind of radical feminist politics. German women’s organizations, like so many other realms of Wilhelmine society, were separated into working-class and bourgeois components. Until the mid-1890s both followed roughly conventional courses. Socialist women conformed to the broad party outlook and integrated their feminism within a disciplined Marxist ideology. Bourgeois feminists, while critical of prevalent sexism and discriminatory practices, sought on the whole to preserve such social institutions as the political system, existent property relations, the monogamous family, and the church. Their conservative temperament often went hand in hand with a reluctance to confront embarrassing subjects like prostitution, sexuality, and venereal disease. Within such circles Nietzsche’s presence was clearly unwelcome.

Only with the apparent radicalization of the women’s movement around the mid-1890s did the Nietzschean impulse began to make itself apparent. Within German feminism Nietzscheanism was a dissident moment, an expression of internal ferment. The iconoclastic Social Democrat Lily Braun (1865—1916) and the radicalized bourgeois feminist Helene Stöcker (1869—1943) typified this tendency. For Braun, Nietzsche at first signified the intoxicating possibility of individual emancipation and general human liberation rather than a specific feminist message. In her memoirs, reporting on her conversation with George Bernard Shaw, she expressed this exhilaration:

The will to power, the highest possible development of the personality as the goal for the individual, the superior human being as the goal of humanity: the tones that had met me in England this time suddenly united into one single full chord. My heart beat almost to bursting like that of a prisoner whose leg chains are being taken off, and whose prison door is opening so that he can roam freely. He sees nothing more than the old familiar world of his youth, and yet it appears to him miraculously new. I was still half a child when I heard the first call to personal liberation out of Nietzsche’s Fröhliche Wissenschaft: “Life says: Do not follow me, but yourself! Your own self!” Was this not this same summons today addressed to all humanity?

Braun’s female liberationism was therefore envisaged as a heroic Nietzschean act of self-creation culminating in the formation of a superwoman. As a socialist she also collectivized this Nietzschean act: for both moral and political reasons the creation of the superwoman was to be conducted in solidarity with others similarly oppressed. The end result would be the release of women’s creative powers in all spheres of life, especially those traditionally blocked to them.

This generalized call to women to live life to the full and to reject the narrow roles ascribed by bourgeois society was also an essential part of the message that Stöcker—the most prominent and effective Nietzschean feminist in Germany—imparted in her string of writings from as early as 1893 on. Nietzsche had demanded of both sexes a “higher, brighter, more joyous culture.” He had set forth the task of the future, the challenge to unite the apparently irreconcilable: “being at once a free person, a unique personality, and a loving woman.”

Until around 1900 Stöcker’s feminist Nietzscheanism, however radical, did not go beyond the demands acceptable to the movement as a whole. Only then did she muster her Nietzscheanism to mount a head-on attack on conventional sexual practices and institutions. The New Morality she championed went far beyond the conventional feminism of the women’s organization, Bund Deutscher Frauenvereine (League of German Women’s Associations).

The New Morality explicitly took its inspiration from Nietzsche who had “led the great search.” It sought a “reform of sexual ethics,” which would constitute an essential part of the joyous creation of “new forms and new feelings for new people.” The New Morality laid down a critique of both conventional marriage and sexual life-denying asceticism. Sexuality, for women as well as for men, was a fundamental part of life, a legitimate and positive part of being human.

It was one artist in particular—one of the greatest of the past century—who gave us a religion of joy which spiritualizes, enhances, and idolizes everything earthly. Friedrich Nietzsche taught us how to “overcome” the passions. For centuries the Church has known only one means to deal with them: castration. Nietzsche understood that with such a radical cure we destroy life itself, that we attack life itself at the roots. Thus he teaches the spiritualization of sensuality, “love” as the greatest triumph over sterile ascetism.

As a biological and spiritual imperative, love was to be allowed beyond the restraints of marriage. The double standard that permitted only men sexual satisfaction outside matrimony had to be abolished. Proponents of the New Morality repeatedly argued that there was no necessary connection between love and the formal legal institution of marriage. Marriage, they insisted, too often rendered relations a matter of property. Lily Braun held that children who were born out of wedlock were potentially the elite of humanity, being the products of pure love, yet in Christian society and under capitalism these most valuable members of humanity were destined to perish.

The institutional expression of the New Morality was the breakaway Bund für Mutterschutz (League for the Protection of Mothers) established in 1905. By 1912 it could claim about four thousand members. Apart from Stöcker and Braun, well-known figures such as Iwan Bloch, Hedwig Dohm, Ellen Key, Max Marcuse, Werner Sombart and Max Weber endorsed its activities. The league advocated state recognition of unformalized marriages, established hostels for unmarried mothers, promoted free love, and provided easier access to contraception. It was in constant tension with the more conservative Bund Deutscher Frauenvereine which resisted their attempts to legalize abortion and after 1909 refused to grant them membership.

Liberals and the mainline women’s organizations regarded the league, especially its Nietzsche connection, as an outrage to Wilhelmine respectability. Anton Erkelenz pointedly advised Stöcker “to pursue her Nietzscheanism outside the League.” Its critics, most notably Helen Lange, regarded erotic Nietzscheanism as a betrayal of the moderating, cultivating, Bildungs conception of personality and as an outright attack on the “honor of bourgeois morality.” The source of this boundlessness, of this enslavement to the passions and the breakdown of sexual control was inevitably traced to Nietzsche. Interestingly enough, there were also critics who admired Nietzsche, preferring to blame his “ultraradical feminist” acolytes, half-educated dilettantes who, unlike their master, had no sense of historical evolution and who mistakenly saw in him only the herald of immediate and limitless gratification.

These outraged protests against anarchistic eroticism and immoralist boundlessness were rather misdirected. Stöcker and the women associated with the Bund für Mutterschutz were far more staid than the avant-garde Nietzschean feminists discussed in the last chapter. Indeed, in many ways their Nietzschean feminism revealed a conservative bias ironically undermining the empowerment they sought. While de Saint Point demanded the masculinization of women, they insisted upon the need to fully realize a separate, intrinsically feminine nature. Nietzsche’s endlessly invoked injunction to “become what you are” was interpreted less as a call to individual self-creation than as an imperative to fulfill women’s innate propensities. These feminists were thus inclined to quote Zarathustra’s assertion that “everything about a woman has only one solution, namely pregnancy” and “the aim is always the child.” The league’s founder, Ruth Bre, always emphasized love and motherhood. Braun too constantly celebrated motherhood as the essential destiny of women and as the most noble form of self-actualization. This generic notion of female self-realization increasingly became the focus of the New Morality. Very early on a perceptive critic allied to the mainstream women’s movement noted that this emphasis on a pure female nature (reine Weibnatur) implicitly affirmed male supremacy. “In truth,” she wrote, “Nietzscheanism in the female world signifies a renunciation of the demands of the ‘radical egalitarians.’ It establishes anew the [centrality of] the biological role and also, in transfigured form reaffirms male domination.”

Like other Nietzschean offshoots, this brand of feminism blurred conventional distinctions, rendering its political direction dangerously ambiguous. Critics were similarly wary of the eugenics of the New Morality which, as one historian has remarked, “far from merely being a hedonistic call to shake off the shackles of old-fashioned repressive codes ... was primarily a theory of practical evolutionism based on Darwinist and Nietzschean ideas.”

Well before the rise of nazism, eugenics was attractive to progressive as well as reactionary fin-de-siecle sources. German feminist eugenics was closely tied to its Nietzschean Lebensphilosophie, which was glaringly apparent in the league’s guidelines. It advocated a “joyous, life-affirming world-view” and sought “to protect life above all at its source, to let it emerge pure and strong.” From very early on Stöcker considered the Nietzschean eugenic vision valid. Although this was clearly not a racist conception, and while her proposed measures were always educational and voluntary, she nevertheless advocated a species of Nietzschean “social hygiene” that today appears peculiarly suspect. Her New Ethic was biologically based and was aimed, after all, at nothing less than “the creation of a new human. One will have to find means of preventing the incurably ill or degenerate from reproducing.” Similar bio-eugenic guidelines characterized the league’s activities and determined the women they helped. Like so much else within political Nietzscheanism, the rejection of the present and the search for new worlds and a new humanity entailed peculiar combinations and socially and morally ambiguous results.

Feminist Nietzscheanism was an expression of a dissident impulse within a single political movement. German Jewry provides a larger, community-wide canvas on which to portray the multileveled process of Nietzsche’s reception. Here was an important minority group that assimilated Nietzsche into various aspects of its self-consciousness and its cultural and institutional life.

We must limit ourselves to examining organized streams of Jewish community life, omitting the considerable involvement of individual Jews with Nietzsche. We cannot consider the early and prominent role of people like Siegfried Lipiner, Georg Brandes and Georg Simmel in interpreting and popularizing Nietzsche; these endeavors were done in the name of general, not Jewish, culture (and have been treated as such in this study). To be sure, they were not always perceived as such. After 1890, for instance, Nietzschean anti-Semites attributed what they took to be the prevalent distorted understanding of the philosopher—as libertarian and nihilist internationalist—to the Jewishness of his mediators, whereas in the mid-1930s, when Nietzsche achieved something akin to official state recognition, Jewish commentators approvingly emphasized the ethnic background of his popularizers. We must leave unresolved the recently made claim that precisely their marginality predisposed Jews to adopt a passionate interest in Nietzsche because his themes were so conducive to their post-traditional and assimilatory needs. Here we must limit ourselves to the disparate functions Nietzsche fulfilled within explicitly Jewish contexts.

The differentiated but mainly positive response of even the most conservative and official organs of the German Jewish community reflected the complex centrality of Jews and Judaism to Nietzsche’s work. In both his hostile and friendly deliberations, he insisted on the fateful role of Jews within European history. Whether one regards these views as a unified and coherent element of Nietzsche’s larger systematic outlook or as disparate and self-contradictory, from the Jewish point of view there was much in his oeuvre that required confrontation and could be usefully mined. How could one avoid negotiating and interpreting ambiguous passages like the following one from Morgenröte with its simultaneously affirmative and ominous tone?:

Among the spectacles to which the coming century invites us is the decision as to the destiny of the Jews of Europe. That their die is cast, that they have crossed their Rubicon, is now palpably obvious: all that is left for them is either to become the masters of Europe or to lose Europe... They themselves know best that a conquest of Europe, or any kind of act of violence, on their part is not to be thought of: but they also know that at some future time Europe may fall into their hands like a ripe fruit if only they would just extend them. To bring that about they need, in the meantime, to distinguish themselves in every domain of European distinction and to stand everywhere in the first rank until they have reached the point at which they themselves determine what is distinguishing... Then, when the Jews can exhibit as their work such jewels and golden vessels as the European nations of a briefer and less profound experience could not and cannot produce, when Israel will have transformed its eternal vengeance into an eternal blessing for Europe: then there will again arrive that seventh day on which the ancient Jewish God may rejoice in himself, his creation and his chosen people—and let us all, all of us, rejoice with him!

From early on Jewish analysts were aware that Nietzsche covered both negative and positive extremes. On the one hand he endowed the Jews with a world-historical stain. On the Genealogy of Morals held the “priestly people” responsible for nothing less than beginning “the slave revolt in morality: that revolt which has a history of two thousand years behind it and which we no longer see because it—has been victorious.” The history of Israel, as depicted in The Antichrist, consisted of “the radical falsification of all nature, all naturalness, all reality, of the whole inner world as well as the outer.” Yet at the same time, Jewish readers found in Nietzsche perhaps the most pronounced non-Jewish opponent of the racist and anti-Semitic “swindle,” and the most outspoken admirer of the capacities of the European Jews of his time. His views on the Bible too could not be bettered:

The Old Testament—that is something else again: all honour to the Old Testament! I find in it great human beings, a heroic landscape, and something of the very rarest quality in the world, the incomparable naivete of the strong heart; what is more, I find a people. In the New one, on the other hand, I find nothing but petty sectarianism, mere rococo of the soul, mere involutions, nooks, queer things.

Jewish appropriations of Nietzsche began to appear parallel to his general popularization. Despite his problematic side, the celebratory, apologetic, and defensive Jewish uses of Nietzsche very soon assumed prominence. After all, no other contemporary European thinker of similar stature had been more complimentary to the Jews and more scathing to their enemies. The overwhelmingly liberal, middle-class Jewish community was thus predisposed to look more favorably upon Nietzsche than were other—liberal or conservative—sectors of the bourgeoisie.

Whoever reads me in Germany today, has first de-Germanized himself thoroughly as I have done: my formula is known, “to be a good German means to de-Germanize oneself”; or he is—no small distinction among Germans—of Jewish descent.—Jews among Germans are always the higher race—more refined, spiritual, kind. L’adorable Heine, they say in Paris, (p. 262)

For a summary of these more positive views see Kaufmann, Nietzsche, chap. 10.

At the same time Nietzsche was often employed as an authoritative crutch in the ongoing defense against anti-Semitism: indeed, anti-Semitism was itself sometimes diagnosed within the Nietzschean frame and classified as a classical form of ressentiment. Under national socialism (in which Nietzsche had become an official, national prophet) entirely new forms of apologetics and accommodations were, of course, required. Jews highlighted their role in the antipositivist revolt and in the discovery of Nietzsche and made it into a virtue, inverting older anti-Semitic accusations: “Today one must hammer into the brain,” wrote one Jewish commentator in 1934, “that it was Jews who almost alone took a stand for Nietzsche and against trite materialism: Georg Brandes in the north, Henri Bergson in the west, Berdyczewski in the east.” It was a prevalent misconception that “at the beginning of the century there were only Kommerzienräte [councillors of commerce] and ‘historical’ materialists amongst our parents. The opposite is the case.”

These were not the only general functions Nietzsche fulfilled in Jewish life. Like elsewhere in Germany the Nietzschean idiom, its slogans and catchwords, soon became commonplace and were applied to a variety of Jewish situations. These had various applications. They helped, for instance, as tools in the formulation of a newly conceptualized sense of Jewish solidarity. Thus the popular German Jewish magazine Ost und West—a journal devoted to mediating the largely preemancipated Jewish world of Eastern Europe to an acculturated German Jewish audience—without mentioning Nietzsche’s name portrayed the mutually antithetical yet complementary qualities of eastern and western Jewry in categories derived directly from The Birth of Tragedy. Eastern Jews were fundamentally Dionysian, western Jews, Apollonian, and their mutually fruitful synthesis would bring about the same kind of Jewish renaissance that Nietzsche had envisaged for Germany. Nietzschean folk wisdom also consoled; in the attempt to provide a modicum of hope and meaning to the prevalent suffering under nazism, German Jewish leaders repeatedly turned to the famous aphorism: “Whatever does not destroy me makes me stronger.”

Of course, the Nietzschean idiom was as easily employed to undermine as to bolster Jewish solidarity. Thus in 1910 Friedrich Blach transmuted Jewish assimilation into a life-affirming Nietzschean act. Forcefully advocating collective Jewish self-immolation he wrote: “Well then, so be it, free and joyful suicide. For I no longer want to be the self that I was born. ‘Die at the right time: thus spake Zarathustra.’ We have endured too long.”

But these were all incidental uses. There were far more direct and substantive appropriations. It is an interesting measure of the popularity of Nietzsche-like slogans that a leading liberal rabbi—Cesar Seligmann—coined the much-quoted phrase: “the will to Judaism.” Seligmann presents an interesting example of the multilayered response Nietzsche induced within circles of liberal Judaism. On the surface this was a meeting of total opposites. Seligmann typified the liberal Bildungs tradition of mainstream German Jewry. There was nothing less Nietzschean than his emphasis on the quiet, settled, industrious, and patriotic life. Yet as a liberal rabbi Seligmann felt it imperative to be open to the currents of modern thought. Nietzsche, Seligmann had no doubt, was central to this enterprise. He praised Nietzsche as an embodiment of modernity, a nondogmatic seeker of truth with no final or closed system, a latterday prophet who could not be silenced or made to die. Although he was quite aware of the more questionable dimensions of Nietzsche’s version of Jewish history, he was more impressed by the fact that not even the most chauvinist Jew had endowed Jews and Judaism with greater significance than Nietzsche.

For Seligmann encountering Nietzsche was itself a sign of Jewish cultural openness. Ultimately, however, his Bildungs liberalism entailed a rejection of the Nietzschean message. The problem, he wrote, was not the prophetic idea of morality, as Nietzsche believed, but rather its lack of fulfillment. For Judaism, unlike for Nietzsche, it was not man but the Unmensch that had to be overcome.

The prominent orthodox personality Rabbi N. A. Nobel also ultimately rejected Nietzschean illiberalism. Nietzschean immoralism and contempt for the weak were unacceptable. “There is,” wrote Nobel, “only one morality and it is democratic, cultivates no disproportionate cult of genius, advocates no romantic, mystic love of the distant but says, ‘Love thy neighbour as thyself.’ ”

Nobel nevertheless went considerably further than Seligmann, and in tandem with some Protestant formulations of the same period, in 1898 he expounded perhaps the first version of the German Jewish temptation to Nietzscheanize Judaism (and, at times, Judaize Nietzsche). For Nobel the prevalent chronicling of what Nietzsche had said about the Jews and anti-Semitism did not penetrate to the core. Far more essential was the comparative inner relationship between these two structures. Like Nietzsche, Nobel proclaimed, Judaism had always stressed the element of will. Indeed, it was precisely this volitional ingredient that had provided Judaism with its glory. Moreover, the Nietzschean call for Übermenschen, the notion of the development of humanity in terms of ever-higher goals, was the basis of the Jewish messianic faith. Here Nietzsche and the prophets were one.

As against the pessimistic Schopenhauerian worldview Judaism had always been characterized by a kind of affirmative Nietzschean Lebensphilosophie:

Insofar as Jewish morality holds world-flight and renunciation to be immoral, it creates very immanent, very earthly moral values. The commandments of Judaism relate to life itself in all its details. It elevates the most common matters in the sphere of religion: it ennobles work and rest, food and drink. Every Jew who consciously fulfills one of the so-called ceremonial laws thereby enacts the transvaluation of values of which Nietzsche spoke.

Such pontifications were not universally popular. It was one thing for Jews to study and confront Nietzsche, one critic complained, and quite another for rabbis of all people to transform Nietzsche into a Jewish prophet. The hysterical rabbinic attempt to “turn the German philosopher into a Hebrew” was nothing short of laughable, yet another misguided instance of Jewish “modernism.”

Still, the casuistic Nietzscheanization of Judaism became an ongoing temptation. Writing in 1925 in the Centralverein-Zeitung, a journal devoted to the defense of Jewish rights and interests against anti-Semitism, published an article applying Nietzsche’s categories to Judaism.

Heinemann’s was a critical application of Nietzschean categories to Judaism. Others were far less measured. In 1932 Heinrich Berl proclaimed Nietzsche to be nothing less than the “prophet of the Jewish spirit.” Here was a relationship that had to be understood in terms of congeniality rather than consanguinity. Judaism and Nietzsche coincided in their psychology and ethics and shared the same paradigmatic mentality. Nietzsche had to be grasped in terms of the great Western cultural conflict between Greece (which he despised) and Judaism (which he admired). This, Berl argued in a moment of eccentricity extreme even amongst Nietzscheans, was reflected in Nietzsche’s guiding categories: plastic and Apollonian Greece as against musical and Dionysian Judaism!

For Berl there were crucial Jewish—Nietzschean parallelisms. Jewish ethics was a Gattungsethik (species ethic) and Nietzsche was the first Gattungsethiker. Here was a morality, moreover, which—in its singleminded devotion to Yahweh—stood beyond good and evil. Nietzsche, Berl proclaimed, erred in his depiction of Jewish slave morality: throughout their history Jews had possessed primal Nietzschean characteristics! What Nietzsche had overlooked was that the slaves’ will to domination was more powerful than the masters’ because the masters already possessed external power while the slaves remained hungry for it.

While most of the presentations discussed above were surprising, given either their religious or establishmentarian provenance, they were nevertheless all variations on a conserving theme, identifying parallels and integrating Judaism and the Nietzschean thematic. They were all the products of circles concerned with the perpetuation, in some way or another, of normative Judaism. Like Nietzscheanism elsewhere, however, the real force of Nietzsche’s impact was felt within nonconformist and dissident elements of the Jewish community. Amongst these groups Nietzsche became a galvanizing element in the post-traditional quest for regenerative Jewish forms and postliberal modes of identity.

It is hardly surprising that in the life and thought of Franz Rosenzweig (1886-1929), the most innovative German—Jewish theologian of the twentieth century, Nietzsche—the man and his mode of thinking if not his philosophy—stood as a shining beacon. Impelled by the shattering experience of World War I, Rosenzweig’s work, like so many other major cultural productions of the Weimar Republic, sought to rethink everything anew. Here was a theology of radical renewal characterized by its critical breakdown of accepted categories. As Gershom Scholem described it in 1930, there was an “obvious impossibility of recognizing the realms of orthodoxy or liberalism in Rosenzweig’s world.” Rosenzweig described his work as “quite fantastic, entirely unpublishable, equally scandalous to ‘Christians, Jews and heathens.’” Nietzsche was central to Rosenzweig’s rejection of Hegelian idealism and abstract academic scholarship, his discovery of a “living” Judaism, his epistemological emphasis on “becoming,” and his insistence upon a personal philosophy in which humans had to be the starting point of thought. In 1918 he wrote of Hegel: “It’s a pity about him! Only Nietzsche (and Kant) pass muster!”

Quite independent of the content of his own theology, Rosenzweig called for a theologian-philosopher impelled to translate “theological problems into human terms” and to bring “human problems into the pale of theology.” Nietzsche the heretic was precisely the embodiment of such a vision. A Nietzschean rejection of dogma and formulae and an affirmation of complete and concrete freedom of individual choice characterized Rosenzweig’s project as did an underlying awareness of, and temptation to, nihilism on the way to faith. As Rosenzweig put it, in his 1921 magnum opus, The Star of Redemption, Nietzsche was one man who knew his own life and his own soul like a poet, and obeyed their voice like a holy man, and who was for all that a philosopher. What he philosophized has by now become almost a matter of indifference. Dionysiac and Superman, Blond Beast and Eternal Return—where are they now? But none of those who now feel the urge to philosophize can any longer by-pass the man himself, who transformed himself in the transformation of his mental images, whose soul feared no height, who clambered after Mind, that daredevil climber, up to the steep pinnacle of madness, where there was no more Onward. The fearsome and challenging image of the unconditional vassalage of soul to mind could henceforth not be eradicated... For the philosopher, philosophy was the cool height to which he had escaped from the mists of the plain. For Nietzsche this dichotomy between height and plain did not exist in his own self: he was of a piece, soul and mind a unity, man and thinker a unity to the last.

If Rosenzweig’s work was a conscious part of the German-Jewish impulse to renewal, it remained a densely personal endeavor independent of any larger social and political movement. For this we must turn to Zionism and the role that Nietzsche played there.

Classical Zionism, that essentially secular and modernizing movement, was acutely aware of the crisis of Jewish tradition and its supporting institutions. Nietzsche was enlisted as an authority for articulating the movement’s ruptured relationship with the past and a force in its drive to normalization and its activist ideal of the self-creating Hebraic New Man. Unlike the circles mentioned above, Zionists were not particularly interested in harmonizing Judaism with Nietzscheanism. What moved them was not Nietzsche’s writings on Judaism but his radical antitraditionalism, his rebellious, transvaluative attitudes that they could bring to bear on their own Jewish experience. Zionism, to be sure, always bore an inherent tension—pressures for Jewish continuity as against the imperative to rebel—which muted this Nietzschean impulse or deflected it into more conserving directions.

Nevertheless, until the end of World War I, the radical Nietzschean note functioned as a means for the expression of activist and redemptive Zionist hopes. In 1902, for instance, the future first president of the State of Israel, Chaim Weizmann, wrote from Switzerland to his then-sweetheart Vera Khatzman, “Vera, my joy, I am sending you Nietzsche: learn to read and understand him. This is the best and finest thing I can send you.” Weizmann never spelled out the reasons for his admiration, yet it was perhaps implicit in his earlier comment: “The French are incapable of understanding Nietzsche. They are too superficial for a revaluation of all values.” Presumably the Jews impelled by Zionism were not.

Within German Zionism the attraction to Nietzsche was very much a generational affair. The first Zionist generation, far from being a part of the revolt against liberal rationalism and positivism, embodied its values. The official Zionist journal, Die Welt, remained unmoved by the Nietzsche cult at the turn of the century. Theodor Herzl’s close friend and the most famous Zionist of his time, Max Nordau, in his Degeneration had penned perhaps the most vociferous attack on Nietzsche. Herzl himself paid little attention to Nietzsche, referring to him, only once, as a “madman.”

The second German Zionist generation challenged the Zionism of their elders, defining it not as a philanthropic and diplomatic matter but as the imperative for personal metamorphosis and cultural rejuvenation. As Jewish renaissance was increasingly conceived as a question of personal realization, the Nietzschean moment entered German Zionism. The intellectual leadership of this generation no longer took the rationalist Enlightenment tradition for granted. The wider, antibourgeois, neo-Romantic mood of the day with its emphasis on the creative role of myth admirably fit the needs of a remodeled Zionism of collective regeneration and personal authenticity.

The rhetoric of transvaluation was a staple in the intellectual diet of this generation. On one level Nietzsche acted as a model of rebellious authenticity for what constituted the new secular Jew. Robert Weltsch cited the prevalent paradoxical contention that Nietzsche (and Hölderlin) would create stronger Jews than “a forced return to a ritual in which we do not believe.” In 1922 Hans Kohn—then still a Zionist— portrayed Nietzsche as the father of a new, less institutional, humanizing form of nationalism, one that was “becoming a question of personal ethics, personal shaping of life”:

Everywhere people feel the desperation of a time without faith or myth, the fatigue of termination, but people are trying to get away from these things. A new song of life affirmation and powerful courage is to begin. Nietzsche, the unique genius, as lonesome as a gigantic figure, who overshadows the decline of an era of faith, is the father of this desperate temerity, this endless hope for a new heaven.

Some of this Nietzschean dynamism went beyond rhetoric into Zionist praxis. The radical Zionist youth movement Hashomer Hazair, founded in Vienna in 1916, clearly incorporated the Nietzschean thematic into its melange of influences including Hans Bluher, Freud, Gustav Landauer, and Gustav Wyneken. It actively aimed at creating a sexually and spiritually liberated, antibourgeois youth culture based upon voluntary and elitist communal forms, rejecting all “mechanical” relationships and party organization. Transplanted into Palestine, this radical Central European youth ethos soon achieved notoriety. The Hashomer Hazair commune, Bitania, constantly clashed with party functionaries who sought to co-opt them into prevailing political structures. They loudly proclaimed their independence from all imposed ideology and organization. Their outspoken insistence upon establishing “agitated” (t’sisa) rather than settled modes of communal life as the basis for their central goal of perpetual self-creation, their strident cries for erotic and intellectual freedom were informed by the Nietzschean cloth they had packed into the cultural baggage they had brought from Vienna.

Even within a less harsh environment it would have been difficult to maintain such a sectarian Nietzschean dynamic outside of a mediating ideological framework. It is hardly surprising that around 1926 the group adopted a revolutionary Marxist ideology. Nevertheless, their earlier insistence upon voluntarism and individual freedom remained strong.

All these Zionist circles were in one way or another affected by the most important intellectual influence on this generation of young Jews, Martin Buber (1878-1965). Through him, above all others, Nietzsche was assimilated into German Zionism. His particular mediation illustrates well both the possibilities and the limits which Nietzscheanism presented as it was incorporated into religious and national frameworks.

Buber maintained a passionate and changing relationship to Nietzsche over the years, and Nietzsche had a profound impact on his work. The young Buber found Nietzsche both intoxicating and threatening, but his public pronouncements were adulatory and his early work shot through with Nietzschean themes and language. Nietzsche, wrote Buber in his 1900 eulogy, belonged to those “apostles of life” whose greatness was as undefinable as life itself. He was a visionary who could intuit future human forms in ways that went beyond everyday language and longings. He was the prophet of immanence and creative renewal: “out of dead cultures he gathered elements of new formations into light.” He “erected before our eyes the statue of the heroic man who creates himself and goes beyond himself... Against the God of Genesis he brought a great adversary: the God of becoming, in whose development we may share.”

It was precisely these values that informed Buber’s influential fin-de-siecle vision of a Zionist Jewish renaissance, of a revivified nation composed of free and creative individuals:

... the way out of medieval asceticism to a warm, flowing, life-feeling, out of the coercion of narrow-minded communities to freedom of the personality. The secret of the new, the rich sense of the discoverer, the free life of risks and the overflowing creative impulse (Schaffenslust) dominate this time.

The Jewish renaissance of 1900 was not a return to old traditions and practices but, Buber wrote, one conceived and led by people “possessed by a sense of the future (Kommende)

In Buber’s Zionist vision, the historical precondition for Jewish rebirth entailed overcoming the “life-denying,” disempowering abnormalities of galut (exile) and the distortions of the “unfree spirituality” of the ghetto. This would facilitate the reemergence of the “elemental” Jew, able once again to live a life of “unconditionality.” The sources for this recovery were contained in the still healthy materials and primal energies of the Jewish Volk. Buber’s use of Nietzsche, like other nationalist appropriations, had to somehow reconcile the emphasis on activist transvaluation, on intensely lived Erlebnis, with the belief in the eternal, organic properties of the nation. Buber effected the compromise by arguing that only a dynamic movement such as Zionism would be able to tap the unbroken but historically repressed “life-feeling of the Jews.” Such an expansive life-feeling, the necessary antidote to “pure intellectuality” (reine Geistigkeit), urgently needed recovery. Exile had dislocated this vitality “from its natural expression, the free creation in reality and art.”

Zionism, in this early Buberian rendering, was about the re-establishment of a proper, lived Jewish relationship to the cosmos, a project of Nietzschean renaturalization. Buber’s youthful Nietzschean Zionism was an aesthetic, vitalist vision of “unconditionality” in which Jews would once again be able to lead freely creative, joyful, and healthy lives. Even his conception of creative national life was replete with language that echoed The Birth of Tragedy. “The redemptive affirmation of an antagonism,” he wrote, “is the essence of all creation.”

Buber’s early Erlebnis Zionism of renaturalization never stressed the martial aspects of Nietzsche, nor did it elevate one national group over another in its will to power. It demonstrated that a nationalized Nietzsche could be pressed equally into humanist as well as antihumanist service. However, the activist Zionist impulse was increasingly tamed by the Buberian emphasis on sanctity and was seemingly deflected by Buber’s sustained mythologization of Hasidism as a living model of heightened, authentic experience.

Nietzschean Zionist vitalism was maintained, however, in the writings of the controversial German—Jewish philosopher Theodor Lessing (1872—1933) during the late 1920s and early 1930s. But Lessing’s theories were written under the shadow of nazism (of which he was an early victim) and as a last-ditch attempt to provide a Jewish answer. Lessing had already written a number of general works on Nietzsche as well as general critiques very much in the Nietzschean mode. He now applied many of these Nietzschean themes in his analyses and solutions for the contemporary Jewish condition. Lessing’s diagnosis of Jewish self-hate—insights largely derived from his own share in the affliction— as well as his prescribed Zionist cure flowed from a kind of völkisch Nietzschean creed. Jewish self-hatred was a product of exile and an overly intellectual life alienated from the earth. In this unnatural situation, in a hostile environment, the Jews turned their own overspiritualized characteristics against themselves. The result was a pathological psychology.

How could the Jews move from their pathological state to one of healthy self-acceptance? Lessing explicitly invoked the Nietzschean injunction: “Become what you are.” For him, however, it was clear that becoming what one was would be far removed from conventional bourgeois Jewish self-acceptance. It meant rather a kind of Nietzschean process of renaturalization, the assertion of a Jewish will to power and a virile, even instinctual, activism. The exilic Jew had to be metamorphosed into the new Zionist Man, forged in the spirit of the “Old Testament, pagan Naturmythos.”

Of course, Lessing’s late, Nietzschean remedies were not animated by joy but by desperation. To see the really liberational Nietzschean Zionism one must turn to the East European Hebrew intelligentsia, for there he had the most sustained and radical impact. “No European thinker,” the Israeli critic Menachem Brinker has recently pointed out, “had the same profound influence upon Hebrew literature during this period.”

The reasons for this should be immediately apparent. Western European Zionism was essentially a postassimilationist phenomenon, a project of return to forgotten Jewish materials. In pre-emancipation Eastern Europe, Zionism instead functioned as a major secularizing force, a modernizing mode of escape from the constrictions of traditional Jewish life. Whereas Buber addressed a postassimilationist audience who took the break with the past for granted, the Hebraic Nietzsche was designed for a public that had not severed the cord. The antitraditional Nietzsche made immediate sense to many Eastern European Jews precisely because they were still being actively shaped by that tradition.

Historical coincidence enhanced Nietzsche’s visibility: the Europeanization of these Hebraic East European Jewish intellectuals coincided with the period when Nietzsche was most in vogue. Nietzscheanism was thus easily channeled into some of the major thematics of the Zionist national revolt.

The most famous and vocal East European Jewish Nietzschean was Micha Josef Berdichevsky (1865-1921; pseud. Bin Gorion). The explicitly Nietzschean title of his collection of essays written between 1890 and 1896, Shinui Arachim (A transformation of values), proclaimed his agenda. Berdichevsky enunciated nothing less than a Nietzschean Lebensphilosophie applied to the whole of the Jewish experience. In his radical dismissal in his early writings of both diaspora life and the normative tradition with its anti-individualist constraints," Berdichevsky posited a Zionist transvaluation of Jewish values based upon the perceived need for Jewish empowerment.

In Berdichevsky’s view the Jewish religious and ideological establishment had rendered a pathetic powerlessness as a moral virtue. Lacking national power and the capacity to affect history, the Jews were simply “below good and evil.” Only their re-establishment into a national entity based upon power and responsibility would render them again capable of doing good and committing evil.“In every other people, nationality is the single storehouse in which are preserved human individualities, and where the individual sees his achievements secured and his gains safeguarded. Among us, the individual finds in his Jewish nationality a power hostile to what is in his heart. Every one of us feels this opposition the moment he begins to improve himself and seek for culture.” Nietzscheanism was perhaps the most radical means by which this stream of Zionism could enunciate its drive towards empowerment and “normalization.”

Nietzschean Lebensphilosophie also informed his radical rereading of the Jewish past, its enslavement to history, and its perpetual privileging of the “book” over the “sword.”

There is a time for men and nations who live by the sword, by their power and their strong arm, by vital boldness. This time is the hour of intensity, of life in its essential meaning. But the book is no more than the shade of life, life in its senescence.

The blade is not something abstracted and standing apart from life; it is the materialization of life in its boldest lines, in its essential and substantial likeness. Not so the book.

Berdichevsky began an important and ongoing shift in (mainly Zionist) historiography, placing renewed emphasis on Jewish power and sovereignty over its vaunted spirituality and political passivity. The priestly—rabbinic stranglehold on Jewish life, he wrote, had emasculated the vitality of the people by repressing its original, vital, natural religion—the “anti-natural” Torah of Moses was a later imposition—and transforming it into an abstract, spiritualized doctrine. The prophets had also contributed: their substitution of ethics for life had so weakened the national fiber that exile inevitably followed.

What Berdichevsky proposed, David Biale has perceptively suggested, was a Nietzschean counterhistory, a search for those vital elements repressed in the distortive construction of a monolithic, antiplu-ralist “historic Judaism.” He believed that within the rich reservoir of the Jewish tradition the materials for a vitalist recovery could be found, especially in those pre-Mosaic traditions of the sword and their orgiastic identifications with nature. Calling upon the Nietzschean insistence on destruction as precondition for creation, Berdichevsky maintained: “in order to build a temple, it is necessary first to destroy a temple.”

Yet even for the most enthusiastic nationalist Nietzscheans, there were inherent limits and inevitable ironies surrounding the Nietzschean revolt against normative tradition and the drive towards naturalization and empowerment. Despite Berdichevsky’s deep longings for overcoming the unnatural distortions of ghetto and exilic life, he incarnated an ongoing and quite unresolved internal Zionist tension between normalcy and moral uniqueness, the traditional past and the open future:

When we defeat the past, it is we ourselves who are defeated. But if the past conquers, it is we, and our sons, and the sons of our sons, who are conquered... Elixir and poison in one and the same substance.

Ultimately Berdichevsky accepted what his critics had argued: after the modern Jewish nation had been created and sovereignty restored, it would indeed be governed by the same moral spirit he had so castigated. The later Berdichevsky turned to forgotten aspects of the Jewish tradition, including Hasidism, and neglected legends, sayings, and folklore. These too may have been elements of his vaunted counterhistory, avenues to the lost alternatives of the Jewish past. Nevertheless, Berdichevsky increasingly regarded himself as a historian, a chronicler rather than a conscious mythologizer of the Jewish past, and in later collections of his early work he often deleted his references to Nietzsche.

In 1934 a German Jewish commentator could write of Berdichevsky’s and Buber’s turn to Volksmärchen as not a conservative turning away from Nietzsche but a logical continuation of their interest in him. They had reached the point “where the extremes touch and the Übermensch is transformed into the Volksgeist. (The way from the Baalschem to Nietzsche and from Nietzsche to the Baalschem is possible, only that of the Kommerzienrat and the party functionary to the Baalschem or to Nietzsche cannot lead there.)” Moreover, there were clear commonalities: “With Nietzsche and Hasidism, Bin Gorion shared passion with passion, life-affirmation, ... and the mistrust of all words, slogans, and programmes.” In fusing Nietzsche and Hasidism, the plasticity of Nietzscheanism was stretched to its utmost.

But then the whole history of Nietzscheanism abounds with unlikely combinations and politically ambiguous appropriations containing both novel radicalizing and, at times, unexpected conserving properties. The difficulties of classification become most evident once we turn to the quasipolitical, countercultural institutions that proliferated between 1890 and 1914 and to an examination of the Nietzschean impulse within the then nascent radical right.

It is not easy to classify the myriad of Lebensreform (life-reform) movements that mushroomed in pre-World War I imperial Germany. These groups—expressing, no doubt, the stresses of rapid industrialization—each had its own pet naturalist issue: vegetarianism; nudism and “body culture”; or abstinence from alcohol or smoking. These Lebensreform groups were animated by a strong regenerationist, indeed eugenic, impulse and were compatible with manifold anarchist, socialist, völkisch and racist visions of renewal.

Nietzsche was easily integrated into this politics of anti-decadence. His affirmative vitalism, his eugenic critique of weakness and lifenegating forces, the celebration of strength and health, were emblematic of these movements. There was even a Nietzsche Lebensreform iconography. Fidus (Hugo Höppener) drew a naked couple bound in marriage with a suitable Zarathustra quotation, and Alfred Soder pictured a nude Nietzsche in the elevated isolation of the high mountains (illus. 9 and 10). Early in the century a vegetarianist postcard—featuring a woodcut of Hans Olde’s famous portrait of Nietzsche—carried an apocryphal quote from Nietzsche: “I believe that the vegetarian with his prescription to eat less and more simply, has been more beneficial than all the new moral systems combined” (illus. 11).

If the Lebensreform movement had a Nietzschean theorist it was Walter Hammer. His Friedrich Nietzsche: The Life-reformer and His Culture of the Future annexed Nietzsche to the movement’s aspirations towards a simplification of life and its rejection of the urban, industrial, mechanistic mass culture of Western Europe. The culture of the future and the strengthening of personality was possible only by rising above the prevalent materialism. Nietzsche was vital to this endeavor because of his ideas and his personal example: in Genoa, for instance, he ate neither soup nor meat but lived on fruit and vegetables, especially almonds! As Hammer told readers of Healthy Life, Nietzsche represented a purifying “will to health.” With his regenerative ideal of the Ubermensch he “gave back to us the will to life.” In another series of articles he argued that such a healthy life could be achieved by following the “foundations of a large-scale vegetarian Kulturpolitik in Nietzsche’s sense.”

Similar regenerationist rhetoric characterized another important countercultural institution—the German Youth Movement. It was there that the self-consciousness of a separate youth culture found its clearest expression. The slogan of one of its prophets, Gustav Wyneken—“Youth for Itself Alone”—encapsulated its rejection of parents, schooling, and bourgeois conventions and its drive for the free development of the spirit of youth.

Nietzsche’s influence over their ethos was palpable, though of course never unalloyed. Uncovering the relevant strains is complicated by the movement’s varied protopolitical tendencies. After World War I few observers bothered with these distinctions. Nietzsche was sweepingly described as the “Prophet of the German Youth Movement.” As one of its historians put it in 1929, the philosopher had established the magically attractive, brilliant, new human goals, and called youth to its new arena of struggle (Kampfbahnen)... Nietzsche is the great prophet of the future who awoke in youth a consciousness of their worth and their calling to shape the future. His contempt of philistinism and ... of societal lies and laziness penetrated deeply into the youth movement. ... For he is the prophet of the undiscovered land that the youth movement seeks to build.

The Youth Movement was the attempted incarnation of Nietzschean transvaluative self-creation and responsibility as well as the attempted construction of culture through the development of leadership qualities.

Some later historians interested in rescuing a politically correct, emancipatory Nietzsche have argued that Nietzsche only entered the youth movement through the progressive Freideutsche youth after 1912. According to this view, both leaders and supporters of the original Wandervogel, with their increasingly völkisch and anti-Semitic bent, considered the philosopher to be a dangerous and heretical force. This changed only in the quite different atmosphere of the Weimar Republic when Nietzsche began to be retroactively portrayed as the most significant of all influences on the Wandervogel.

Nietzsche’s influence on the Freideutsche youth and their mentor Gustav Wyneken is uncontested. Wyneken’s rejection of völkisch and nationalist themes and his humanistic emphasis on achieving the highest plane of individual creativity eclectically combined Nietzsche with Hegel and Johann Gottlieb Fichte. Wyneken sought to integrate individualist creativity into the Youth Movement by forging an alternative to völkisch conceptions of community. Here individual liberation was regarded as the precondition for the creation of a truly free community. The blueprint for this community—as expressed in the pages of Wyneken’s journal, Der Anfang (The beginning)—was filled with Nietzschean emphases on will, self-creation and worldly aspirations.

Evidence of the philosopher’s influence on the Wandervogel youth is ambiguous. Nietzsche clearly had his opponents. The founder of the movement, Karl Fischer, was indifferent to Nietzsche, enamored instead with the Youth Movement’s other, virulently völkisch star, Paul de Lagarde. The dedicated anti-Semite Theodor Fritsch also resisted Nietzsche’s infiltration into youthful circles and desperately sought to erase him and his antinationalist, pro-Jewish orientation from its inspirational pantheon. Ironically, much of Fritsch’s political vocabulary of will, masculinity, and heroism derived from the Nietzschean lexicon. Even the name of his journal—Hammer—had a Nietzschean resonance. Nevertheless, he regarded Nietzsche’s ideas as sick, the source of a dangerous personal and national contagion. He too recommended de Lagarde instead as the proper and healthy guide to German youth. The Führerzeitung of Herman Popert’s Vortrupp similarly recommended that its members keep away from the mad philosopher and his wild landscape beyond good and evil.

For all that, this exorcistic passion revealed an awareness of Nietzsche’s attractiveness. Nietzschean rhetoric permeated the ambience of the Youth Movement, infiltrating the subtext even of his opponents. Indeed, the influence on the Wandervogel went considerably further. Amongst the leadership there were numerous explicit attempts to enlist him as a guiding force. Walter Hammer, for instance, sought to do for the Youth Movement what he had already done within Lebensreform circles. His Nietzsche as Educator (1914) aimed to provide them with a compatible and palatable account of the philosopher. His twenty letters to a Wandervogel member did, to be sure, advise that Nietzsche was not suitable for its younger recruits. For those, however, who had passed through the movement and had the courage for struggle he provided only the stable pole around which the culture of the time revolved. One could now go beyond Nietzsche precisely because the time was so thoroughly permeated by his presence.

This selective harnessing of Nietzsche was done by educational-reform circles as well. None other than Wyneken’s nemesis, Ludwig Gurlitt, the leading theorist of the völkisch school-reform movement and the first chair of the advisory council to the Wandervogel, described himself as a venerator of Nietzsche (Nietzsche Verehrer) and placed the philosopher at the center “of the new reformation in which we stand.” Nietzsche was the great master who stressed the importance of selfdiscipline and will. Both the Wandervogel and the Freideutsche youth sought to awaken everything that was best “in our young Volk to a new life—all that is in Nietzsche’s spirit.”

Nietzschean themes were built into Gurlitt’s philosophy of education, which had to perceive and treat its charges as full human beings; education had to be made into a matter of “joy” and the free unfolding of “personality.” Moreover, he rejected rationalism, decried the bourgeois age, and praised the creative and heroic dimensions. Hinton Thomas, while ignoring Gurlitt’s pro-Nietzschean articles, has argued that “the reason why Gurlitt wanted pupils above all to enjoy themselves is the wholly un-Nietzschean one that they would then better love their country and be more naturally inclined to think and act patriotically.” But precisely this capacity for deployment within völkisch and other frameworks was a core property of Nietzscheanism and the basis of its broad influence.

This was not a hidden process. Leaders of the Youth Movement were well aware of the need to reconcile the tension between Nietzsche’s individualist stance and the burgeoning drive to incorporate him within collective and national frameworks. Eugen Diederichs held that the tension could be resolved in a new kind of fusion. Diederichs’s Nietzsche made sense only when transfigured into a larger whole. The Youth Movement and its self-redemptive impulses, he argued, derived from Nietzsche’s prophecy of the Übermenschen. Personality was indeed important but the coming race (Geschlechts) could not exist in isolated self-absorption; it had to be integrated into community. Nietzschean personal realization was thus made to meld into the nation (Volkstum).

Oscar Schütz went so far as to regard the contradiction as a major source of the constant splintering within the Youth Movement. Common to the Wandervogel and Freideutsche youth, he wrote, was their Nietzschean individualist elitism and an antipathy to the masses. The entire history of the Youth Movement could be depicted as the swing of the pendulum between leadership through autocracy and through rebellion. Was this, Schütz asked, not attributable to Nietzsche’s boundless individualism? The answer was negative, for Nietzsche understood that the autonomous personality was the possession of the few and that it was a great error to generalize it. The Youth Movement had gone beyond these boundaries and both socialist and völkisch leaders had sought to temper this with collective ideals that transcended the individual. It was precisely the relationship between elites and followers, individual and community which the Youth Movement had not resolved. If Nietzsche was the prophet of the Youth Movement, Schütz concluded, its later communitarian and völkisch ideas came from different sources.

Despite his acute analysis, in his conclusions Schütz could not resist harmonizing the tensions. He formulated a völkisch-Nietzschean answer to the dilemma! Only leaders, he proclaimed, had the right to create their own laws, but they had to be constructed in such a way that the good of the Volk would be the highest law.

Most of the tendencies we have discussed thus far were dissident, unconventional ones. For the traditional right—a few exceptions notwithstanding—Nietzsche remained anathema to conservatives, ruling elites, and nationalists alike. Until 1914, establishment circles for the most part continued to regard the philosopher as subversive and dangerous, despite the frenetic efforts of Förster-Nietzsche to endow Nietzsche with a patriotic pedigree. Count Kessler recounted in his diary that young people who were raised in conservative homes and had read the philosopher were “locked up with a priest for six months.” “The German aristocracy,” its leading journal declared, “has not the slightest in common with Nietzsche and his aristocratism.”

Contemporaries, it is true, were surprised by this aversion. As one observer put it, the mountain air and absence of any industrial landscape in Nietzsche’s thought was ideally suited to conservative representations. Their otherwise inexplicable neglect was a result of the celebration of Nietzsche in the liberal and democratic press!

The aristocracy obviously did not regard Nietzsche’s aristocratic radicalism as referring to them nor did they identify with his radical critique of the traditional and churchly order. When Nietzsche did emerge as a spokesman for the right it was a new and radical right different from the traditionally conservative right that emerged after World War I. The embryonic outlines of this novel right wing were nevertheless already becoming visible in the 1890s. Here we trace the first steps of this new conjuncture.

We have already seen some of its diverse themes enunciated in the George Kreis, the Cosmics, aspects of Expressionism, and the Ascona project. But not all the building blocks that went into this construction derived from the avant-garde. Apart from the Youth Movement there were various nationalist and völkisch tendencies that went against the prevalent conservative grain and excavated useable Nietzschean nuggets for their own cause. For instance, a minority of nationalist and völkisch educators took issue with the prevalent picture of Nietzsche as an immoral, atheistic corrupter of youth; they proclaimed him “King of Pedagogy” and inspirer of a new living education to counter the deadening effects of official learning. Nietzsche, Martin Havenstein wrote in 1906, was to be welcomed as awakener and liberator of personality and the soul, a “Columbus of the inner world” opposed, as he later explained it, to superficial intellectualism and the spreading degenerating forces of Alexandrian rationalism and leveling democracy.

Nietzsche’s reception amongst the nationalist student fraternities is almost a study in cognitive dissonance. Because of their clear nationalist and Christian commitments they handily condemned him. Yet, as writers for the Kyffhäuserverband confessed, they also were drawn to his antiliberalism, antisocialism, poetic genius, and his critique of moral and religious hypocrisy. Some sought to explain the contradictions by separating the early aesthetic, patriotic Nietzsche from the later sick, nihilistic one. These fraternities could safely identify with the early Nietzsche of The Birth of Tragedy and were increasingly attracted to his critique of rationalism and philistinism and his rhetoric of activist renewal. “A healthy culture,” its leading journal proclaimed, “a healthy national life requires Dionysian devotion.”

Indefinable though he seemed, Nietzsche had become so central a new force within German culture that he had to be incorporated somehow into fraternity life. This was most easily done through articles recounting Nietzsche’s own career as a fraternity member. These articles typically went on to argue for the selective use of a rather baffling thinker who was nevertheless “a phenomenon of the first range in European culture whose effects on the future could not yet be evaluated.” Even in apparently hostile quarters the Nietzschean influence was making itself felt.

Within the ideologically amorphous völkisch movement some of its most extreme and anti-Semitic members could be found on either side of the Nietzschean divide. Through the mediation of Förster-Nietzsche, for instance, the influential völkisch novelist and founder of the open-air völkisch theatre, Ernst Wachler, enthusiastically created a Nietzsche that was the Germanic prophet of a newly born race of heroes. To the publicist Wilhelm Schwaner, Nietzsche would have seemed the last possible candidate for his salvationary scheme that proposed to fuse Aryan racism and doctrines of superior blood with a purified and de-Judaized German Christianity. His insignia eclectically combined the cross with the swastika! Yet, as Schwaner announced in his 1900 eulogy, the widespread belief that Nietzsche was the enemy of religion and the Volk was an error. Nietzsche had dealt with the most profound human problems in abstruse language. When properly grasped, it was clear that he advocated what Christ had first preached on the Mount: the blessed creation of a kingly race and the transformation of earth into paradise. Schwaner’s Germanen-Bibel, a compilation of “the holy scripts of the German Völker,” featured excerpts from Nietzsche’s “holy” writings.

Pre-1914 völkisch anti-Semites came to Nietzsche from a variety of different, interested angles. Franz Haiser, a later Nazi, wrote works with pointedly Nietzschean titles, such as The Aristocratic Imperative, that championed Nietzsche in the struggle against Christianity, plebian science, and the ressentiment “slave revolt” of 1789. Nietzsche, Haiser wrote, had understood and opposed those forces that had contributed to European cosmopolitanism and deracialization (Entrassung),_

The inveterate anti-Semite Adolf Bartels exemplified the direction of Nietzsche’s future annexation into the völkisch camp. In Bartel’s 1897 study of contemporary German poetry, he described Nietzsche simply as “the philosopher and poet of decadence.” A few years later he evaluated Nietzsche’s positive and negative elements more thoroughly, condemning Nietzsche’s Europeanism and his attacks on the German spirit but praising him as a perceptive cultural observer and a superb moral psychologist. Nietzsche’s appeal overcame the hesitations and qualifications, however, and soon after Nietzsche was thoroughly assimilated into Bartels’s nationalist, anti-Semitic worldview. A people, Bartels wrote in “Friedrich Nietzsche and Germanism,” had to hold on to their great men even as they sought to disengage themselves! Detachment was in any case impossible, for great men derived their treasures from the Volk and the bond between them was absolute. Great men were duty bound to tell their people the hard truth. They might transcend their contemporaries but not their own Volk. We will never, Bartels proclaimed, allow Friedrich Nietzsche to rob us of him! Bartels could thus present Nietzsche as a thoroughgoing German. He had turned away from Germanness only because he had not foreseen the “deeper and freer” nationalism which people like Paul de Lagarde had introduced. Nietzsche had penned a constructive, freedom-loving critique of Germany that had nothing in common with the vitriol of Ludwig Borne and Heinrich Heine who draped their racial hatred in the guise of love of freedom. To be sure, Nietzsche’s Europeanism was an error. Moreover, he did his own nation an injustice when he repeatedly sang Israel’s praises while fully recognizing the real, pernicious nature of the Jews. These qualifications aside, Bartels left no doubt as to which camp Nietzsche belonged.

Gradually, eugenicists, social Darwinians, and Alldeutsch nationalists began to relate to Nietzsche in kind. Some handled him gingerly, others dismissed him out of hand, and still others enthusiastically adopted him. Early on, the social Darwinian Willibald Hentschel forcefully dissociated himself from what he termed Nietzsche’s “Jew-loving.” Later, at a 1909 conference of German doctors and scientists, he made it clear that the notion of breeding a superman was idiocy. Yet Hentschel eclectically appropriated elements from the Nietzschean sensibility into his conception of a regenerated racial nobility and his rural, utopian visions. Not surprisingly, the Nietzsche of The Birth of Tragedy attracted him; he admired the early pro-Wagner writings and Nietzsche’s search for “pure spirituality.” More important, despite the surface contradictions, his Germanic eugenics resonated with Nietzschean themes: vitalism and “higher development,” the breeding of a new and stronger people, a cult of strength, and the “succumbing of the weak” all figured prominently. He called for the establishment of a racially rejuvenative utopia called Mittgart designed to create an elite Aryan caste of nobles and warriors. Over its entrance one could “inscribe those words ... with which Nietzsche linked the mystery of racial breeding with the name of Dionysus, ‘The noblest clay, the most precious marble, is here moulded and chiselled, namely man.’”

The leading racial theorist, Wilhelm Schallmeyer, also harnessed Nietzsche in a selective and critical manner. As someone interested in race, Schallmeyer regarded Nietzsche’s emphasis on the individual as excessive. Nevertheless, he listed the philosopher amongst those who had contributed to the view that “we are on the way to progressive socialization, that is, increasing strength and efficiency of social organization ... and that corresponds to a morality conducive to the development of the highest community powers.”

There were others, however, who made the link far more explicit. The Political—Anthropological Monthly of 1906, for instance, featured a long account by the well-known Leipzig Nietzsche scholar Raoul Richter. There Nietzsche was characterized as nothing less than the philosopher of biological anthropology.” In his unfolding cultural history Nietzsche had emphasized the breeding of the Übermensch and underlined the importance of ineradicable human inequality. Moreover, he had grounded individual differences in constant racial characteristics. In his evaluation of Aryans as a higher species whose blood was being poisoned by the lower races, Nietzsche, Richter insisted, was in line with Count Arthur de Gobineau, Richard Wagner, Houston Stewart Chamberlain, and their disciples! Nietzsche was the first “to advocate the close connection between racial anthropology (Rassenanthropologie) and biological ethics.” Richter’s presentation was clearly racist but not anti-Semitic. He emphasized that the breeding of the Übermensch had to proceed according to the most favorable mixture of available anthropological types—most preferably a mixture of the Germanic—Slavic and Jewish components!

The most rabid Nietzschean in social Darwinian and pan-Germanic circles was Alexander Tille (1866-1912). Tille was a leading member of the Alldeutsche Verband after 1898 and an early and intense Nietzsche publicist. He was also a major mediator of Nietzsche in Britain, teaching German for ten years at Glasgow University, and in 1895 became editor of an English translation of Nietzsche’s works. He was also deputy director of the Organization of German Industrialists in Berlin and later became representative of an employers association in Saarbrücken. Tille’s Nietzscheanism stressed the philosopher’s dismissal of humanism, equality, Christian ethics, socialism, and democracy, and was combined with a brutal social Darwinism. Tille was in favor of “helping” nature by killing off unproductive elements of society (cripples, lunatics, and so on) and giving more food to its efficient and gifted members. Slums were beneficial in that they purged the nation of its useless citizens. His From Darwin to Nietzsche (1895) starkly rendered the connections. Nietzsche had provided ethics consonant with Darwin’s evolutionary teachings and applicable to the development of humanity. Most crucial for Tille was the fact that, unlike Darwin, Nietzsche held that the new teaching was incompatible with the “christian—human—democratic ethic.” Only with Nietzsche did the realization emerge that a new morality had to distance itself from the traditional ethics of neighborly love. Nietzsche’s fundamental lesson for the species was that people did not possess equal worth; while the strong represented upward development, the weak represented decay. To be sure, Nietzsche was not always aware that his Zarathustrian ideal grew out of the soil of evolutionary thought, yet there was no doubt that he drew the ethical conclusions of the Darwinian worldview: a physiologically higher form of human being was also the moral goal of mankind.

Like most appropriators, Tille shaped Nietzsche into a worldview that entailed rejecting certain aspects of the master’s vision. Tille as an active supporter of the industrialist cause believed that Nietzsche’s ethic underestimated the intrinsic value of labor. He suspected that the shadow of feudalism still lingered in Nietzsche’s aristocratic ideal and that he had not fully conceived of the aristocracy of merit. Moreover Nietzsche had not placed sufficient emphasis upon conflicts between tribes, nations, and races. He was also still partly bound to a traditional humanitarianism that was blind to the fact that only through service to one’s own Volk could one serve humanity.

These reservations notwithstanding, the conclusion reached by one recent commentator that with Tille “it was Nietzsche’s faults that finally counted” is not only a gross exaggeration but also misses the central point. Tille’s whole career was a kind of extended and applied celebration of Nietzsche. From early in his career he called the master “The Herald of Modern Germany,” and was perceived as a “furious Nietzschean.” His unlikely affair with Helene Stöcker was based upon their common passionate Nietzscheanism. The few reservations that Tille did voice only made sense in light of the overarching function Nietzsche performed in shaping Tille’s social Darwinian and pan-Germanic goals.

Despite all their efforts the dissident Kaiserreich right did not produce a definitive version of Nietzsche commensurate with its own needs and worldview. It was only at the end of World War I that Ernst Bertram would produce a Nietzsche beautifully attuned to the changed circumstances and sensitivities of the new radical right. The conditions of the Wilhelmine era were obviously not conducive to the creation of an equivalently comprehensive, radical, and thus theoretically satisfying account (although the George Kreis, from which Bertram emerged, came closest to it). Most appropriations remained either too fractured, too factional, wed to the old order, or too selectively critical of the philosopher to permit an overall mythologization. Still, there were right-wing theoreticians who began to wrestle with the Nietzsche phenomenon. Already in 1899 Arthur Möller van den Bruck—later a cult figure of conservative revolutionaries—penned an exploratory appreciation that pointed to elements of the later radical appropriation. This Nietzsche was valued for articulating the frustration that discontented circles felt for Wilhelmine society and the need to create a new culture. Nietzsche’s culture of the future seemed at one with Möller-Bruck’s demands: a future relieved of everyday mediocrity and selfish interests (code words in the völkisch lexicon for liberalism and divisive parliamentarianism). Nietzsche’s proposal in The Birth of Tragedy to metamorphosize the present through the conscious employment of myth was comfortably endorsed by Möller-Bruck.

Ironically, the most sophisticated reading of Nietzsche consonant with the nascent right-wing interpretation came not from a völkisch activist but from the scholar Karl Joel (1864—1934) who, like Nietzsche, wrote in the detached, patrician tranquility of Basel. His Nietzsche and Romanticism (1905) sought to locate—and partially domesticate—Nietzsche within the German Romantic tradition. Both Nietzsche’s life and thought were incomprehensible outside of the “intoxicated” Romantic frame; Joel’s book was devoted to a sustained comparison. Nietzsche’s life was depicted as the heroic struggle to emancipate himself from Romanticism while eventually returning to it in transmogrified form.

The context in which Joel placed his quintessentially Germanic Nietzsche was one that could unintentionally provide the building blocks for a new political vision. “One sees Nietzsche against the gloomy background of socialism, Darwinism and pessimism from which he freed himself. Without it Nietzsche appears as a fool and a criminal. With it he appears as a hero.” Joel prefigured many of the Nietzschean and Romantic themes that the radical right would later stress: the disregard for systems and the emphasis on dynamic movement; the attempt to fuse will and feeling; the praise of passion over reason; and, above all, the stress on “living dangerously” and “overcoming.”

Most critically, Joel enunciated the differences between early Romanticism and the later Nietzschean brand. Already in 1900 Nietzsche had been identified as symptomatic of the neo-Romantic mood, but Joel did so in a sustained and persuasive fashion. There was, he pointed out, a world of difference between the early Romantic “feminine soul” and Nietzsche’s “manly spirit.” While for the early Romantics nothing was worse than exaggerated manliness, Nietzsche exhorted one to “become hard.” Whereas Romanticism feminized to the point of sentimentality, Nietzsche sought manliness to the point of brutality. His main aim was the “masculinization of culture”—a theme that in later German developments was to become all too familiar.

At an even deeper level, Joel intuited differences that were to become critical to the political appropriation of Nietzsche. There was nothing in the Romantic canon, he wrote, that even vaguely resembled Nietzsche’s intoxicated celebration of the intrinsic value of war and cruelty. While for the Romantic nothing was evil, Nietzsche regarded evil as humanity’s best quality. The Romantic longed for the “moralization of nature”; Nietzsche sought the iced zones, the wild, raw power of destructive, dehumanized (entmenschten) nature. The Romantic was a backward-looking, dreamy creature, whereas Nietzsche emphasized forward-looking, activist creation: only the future was enchantment. History for the Romantic was applied morality and religion; Nietzsche was the great secularizer and philosopher of the profane and all its unbounded possibilities.

Joel had portentously if unwittingly outlined the great Nietzschean themes that became enmeshed in the transformed right-wing politics of the future and in the unlimited profanity that was World War I.

5. Zarathustra in the Trenches: The Nietzsche Myth, World War I, and the Weimar Republic

All power structures of the old society will have been exploded—all of them are based on lies; there will be wars the like of which have never yet been seen on earth.
Nietzsche, Ecce Homo

The present-day European requires not merely war but the greatest and most terrible wars—thus a temporary relapse into barbarism—if the means to culture are not to deprive them of their culture and of their existence itself.
Nietzsche, Human, All Too Human

Soon after its beginning, a London bookseller dubbed the war of 1914 the Euro-Nietzschean War. He was not only referring to the dramatic increase in the sales of works by Nietzsche. He was alluding to the widespread conviction of Germany’s enemies that this thinker was somehow directly responsible for its outbreak and especially brutal conduct. In Britain and the Empire, in France and the United States, Nietzsche was suddenly propelled into the limelight. He was constantly discussed in the popular press, his name entering ordinary households as perhaps the villain of the war. The legend that Nietzsche was a thinker who generated dangerous acts was now internationalized. As a later observer wrote, no other philosopher had been made responsible for a European war.

Such convictions confirmed that by 1914 Friedrich Nietzsche had been transformed into a protean cultural symbol for many of the great issues of European life. The Nietzsche heritage was a shaping force that was itself constantly redefined by changing political needs and ideological circumstances. The Great War strikingly illustrates the workings of this heritage. Nietzsche’s manly posture and his admonitions to live dangerously crucially affected turn-of-the-century attitudes towards a coming war; at the same time, the war itself spurred various groups, even nations, to re-create Nietzsche in terms consonant with their changing interests. Not surprisingly, World War I pushed Nietzscheanism deeper into the German nationalist and right-wing camps. As never before, reality seemed (or was made) to take on Nietzschean form as Nietzschean images fused with the ongoing conflagration. As a result, the deification and demonization of that thinker reached new extremes.

The simplest level of the Nietzsche war myth was his vilification by Germany’s war enemies for propaganda purposes. It was convenient to equate Nietzschean extremism with the German condition itself and the foil on which to base the anti-German attack. As H. L. Stewart put it in his book-length tract, Nietzsche and the Ideals of Germany (1915), the war was between a Germany that stood for an unscrupulous “Nietzschean immoralism” and those who fought for the cherished principles of “Christian restraint.” In tandem with the Prussian ruling class, Nietzschean notions had done their work: “I ask you ... whether the creed of Beyond Good and Evil has left no mark in the smoking ruins of Arschot and the mangled corpses of the women of Dinant?” The negative equation of Nietzsche with Germany and the German mind was destined to become a tradition, and during World War II was successfully revived.

Although dissenting voices opposed this vilification, they were essentially overshadowed, especially at the beginning of the Great War.

Typical of the early mood were the letters of Thomas Hardy to the English Daily Mail and the Manchester Guardian: “I should think there is no instance since history began of a country being so demoralized by a single writer.” Nietzschean notions were easily converted into German political characteristics. Hardy regarded the German leadership as infected by the will to power. Moreover, Germany became identified as a nation of rapacious supermen. Sophisticated thinkers, such as J. H. Muirhead, were aware of Nietzsche’s anti-Prussian, antinationalist posture. Nevertheless, he argued that Nietzsche’s appropriation had produced explosive results:

Let Nietzsche’s ego be interpreted in terms of the nation and clothed with the power of the State; let it come to be taught in high places with all the flavour of prophecy that it was from the loins of the German nation that the Superman was destined to appear, while upon its chief enemies in the direction in which its hopes were set decay had already set her mark; finally let it be announced with all the authority of expert knowledge that the hour was about to strike, and it was not difficult to see what the harvest of this long sowing was likely to be.

In France, too, intellectual luminaries began to perceive the German enemy through the Nietzschean filter. Romain Rolland, for example, argued that war developments were to some degree the product of “what the masses make of the words of a sage. One superman is a sublime spectacle. Ten or twenty supermen are unpleasant. But hundreds of thousands who combine arrogant extravagance with mediocrity or natural baseness become a scourge of God which is ravaging Belgium and France.” These pronouncements served to label all that was negative and aggressive in the German heritage. It was certainly World War I that spurred the Anglo-American tendency to read militarism and imperialism into Nietzsche’s conception of power. The very titles of Ernst Barker’s wartime Oxford pamphlet, Nietzsche and Treitschke: The Worship of Power in Modern Germany, and Canon E. McClure’s Germany’s War Inspirers Nietzsche and Treitschke indicted Nietzsche simply for the nationalist and imperialist company he was made to keep. In addition, he was often linked to the arch militarist and imperialist, General Friedrich von Bernhardi. Staid journals such as the Athenaeum explained how the Nietzschean web was spun throughout Germany:

We find the principles of Nietzsche at work in the life of the German nation, in the teachings of her professors and schoolmasters, more startling than this, we find them embodied in the texts of the German Staff College—at least in Bernhardi—and, if not embodied, implied even in the conversation of diplomatists with foreign publicists. This deadly seriousness which can drag a professor from his lecture room and bear him in triumph through the land—for this may be said of Nietzsche—could not but end in explosion.

But apart from the emblematic and decorative use of a Zarathustrian exhortation as the motto for Bernhardi’s famous Germany and the Coming War the relationship—as many indignant critics pointed out—was extremely tenuous. Like all war propaganda, innuendo rather than accuracy characterized these discussions of Nietzsche. Indeed, at times such demonization reached the level of farce. Nietzsche’s American popularizer, H. L. Mencken, was actually arrested and charged with being the war agent of “the German monster, Nietzsky.” Mencken’s contemporary description (1915) of what he termed the “imbecile Nietzsche legend,” satirically captured this popular trivial-ization of Nietzsche into a “high priest of diabolism” responsible for all the sins and butcheries of an anti-Christian war.

The usual thing was to link together Nietzsche, Treitschke, and Bernhardi—a grotesque cacophony for the ear of all intellectual Germans, and not of the Germans alone. One might conceivably name Treitschke and General von Bernhardi in one breath, although there was a great injustice to Treitschke in this. But it was ridiculous that Nietzsche should be brought in to complete the symbol of German wickedness.

(Thomas Mann, “German Letter,” The Dial 74 [1923], 610—611)

Nietzschean immoralism, the symbolic antithesis of upright respectability, was smoothly transmuted into a metaphor for German immoralism. William Archer put it as bluntly as possible. The war was a war against the philosophy of Nietzsche. Not only did Nietzschean precepts and Prussian practice agree, but Nietzschean ideas also sanctioned the German soldier’s brutality: “the average man hugs to his heart the philosopher’s violently dogmatic asseverations, in semibiblical rhythms, that force, rapacity, unscrupulousness, pitilessness are indispensable parts of the ethics of the future.” These words represent the myth at its most basic level. There were, however, more complex perceptions tying Nietzsche to the war which went well beyond the elementary motivation of negatively labeling one’s enemy.

One dimension of the history of prewar Nietzscheanism partly explains the later conjunction of Nietzschean themes with the war experience. For countless European intellectuals, Nietzsche’s appeal before 1914 was closely bound to the widespread critique of decadence and a regenerative predisposition which glorified a future, cathartic, redemptive war. There was no shortage of useable quotations in which Nietzsche celebrated war and martial virtues, regardless of their context. “War is the father of all good things.” Zarathustra’s exhortations that war and courage had achieved things far greater than love of neighbor encouraged Nietzscheans to make courage a value regardless of the ends. “What is good you ask? To be brave is good.” Nietzsche seemed to foster a conception of war as a means of transcending everyday banalities, as a purifying form of individual and collective action. From 1900 through 1945, Zarathustra’s cry was endlessly invoked: “You say that it is the good cause that hallows even war? I say unto you: it is the good war that hallows any cause.”

Not all Nietzscheans were necessarily “war Nietzscheans” and not all intellectuals who advocated war did so on Nietzschean grounds. Nevertheless, the interrelation was clear. For many aesthetes, poets, and avant-garde intellectuals a Lebensphilosophie war, shorn of ideological trappings, seemed to answer to the great issues of the time as Nietzsche had diagnosed them. Would not war bring about Nietzsche’s dictum to “live dangerously,” facilitate the search for heightened, authentic experience, and overcome the pervasive decadence?

Such attitudes were spread throughout European intellectual circles. They were part of a new cultural and political style. Gabriele D’Annunzio, the aesthete dandy and an important mediator of Nietzsche to the Italian world, wrote in his famous novel, The Virgins of the Rocks (18 94-18 95), about his ancestors whom he celebrated as a “noble race of warriors.” Elsewhere he celebrated savage acts in a Nietzschean literary rhapsody over “the terrible energies, the sense of power, the instinct for battle and domination, the abundance of productive and fructifying forces, all the virtues of Dionysian man, the victor, the destroyer, the creator.”

The futurists contemporized this longing in their 1909 manifesto resonant with post-Nietzschean themes, images and passion:

We want to exalt movements of aggression ... the forced march, the perilous leap, the slap and the blow with the fist... We want to glorify war—the only cure for the world—and militarism, patriotism, the destructive gesture of the anarchists, the beautiful ideas which kill, and contempt for women... We want to demolish museums and libraries, fight morality, feminism and all opportunist and utilitarian cowardice.

In France, Georges Sorel exemplified this new political aesthetic in expressing the hope that a great war would reawaken decadent energies and bring to the fore men who had the requisite will to power. The emphasis on action and dynamism rather than stasis made it easy to acclaim war. The young Mussolini, for example, began in the socialist camp but his Marxism was always influenced by Nietzsche, integrated with the Lebensphilosophie of the time, and less concerned with ideology than heroic will and vitality. Here was a manly Marxism grounded in a warrior relationship to reality. These categories did not merely facilitate Mussolini’s later move to fascism, they also conditioned his attitude toward the coming Great War. His pro-interventionism combined the socialist perception of war as a prelude to revolution with a less instrumental Nietzschean vitalism.

Pre—World War I Nietzscheanism, then, proceeded independently of fixed national or political boundaries. Nietzsche adapted with some elasticity to a variety of ideologies. Indeed, he may even have had a role in the genesis of the Great War, for he penetrated the secret Young Bosnia Movement from whence came the assassins of the Archduke Franz Ferdinand. Its members, hotheaded Serb students, absorbed certain radical Nietzschean sentiments and sought to put them into action. Their intellectual mentor, Vladimir Cerina, taught them overtly trans-valuative lessons:

Thought, free thought, is the greatest and bravest ruler of the universe. It has huge space wings of the freest and most audacious bird, for which fear and danger do not exist.

Its wild flight goes to infinity and eternity. It destroys today what was created yesterday. It destroys every dogma, every norm, every authority. It has no other faith but the faith in its power. It creates critics, subversives, rebels and wreckers.

The assassin of the Archduke, Gavrilo Princip, who precipitated the crisis of 1914, was fond of reciting Nietzsche’s short poem, Ecce Homo: “Insatiable as flame, I burn and consume myself.”

Whatever the degree of Nietzsche’s influence upon the Serb students there is no doubt that Nietzsche’s pre-war appeal to intellectuals throughout Europe made it easy for them to pack a copy of Zarathustra into their kitbags as they marched off into the Great War. Writers like Robert Graves in England, d’Annunzio in Italy (the war transformed him into a military hero facilitating his takeover of the city of Fiume in 1919), and the future Fascist Drieu La Rochelle in France are only a few examples. They could all take Nietzsche into battle because Nietzsche transcended national distinctions and conventional political categorization. Like the anticipated war experience itself, Zarathustra symbolized the longing for transcendence, for the exceptional, and for the heroic.

While the Nietzschean sensibility helped to mold a positive disposition towards the coming war, the Great War reshaped the Nietzschean myth in terms of its own needs. Almost with the outbreak of hostilities, Zarathustra seemed to lose his individualistic and transnational characteristics. Nietzscheanism underwent rapid politicization and nationalization that far outstripped its pre-war pace. Cosmopolitan and individualist motifs were increasingly drowned out by inflamed nationalist passions. Fraternal transnational moments, such as Herbert Read serenely discussing Nietzsche with a captured German, minutes after almost killing him in trench combat, became increasingly rare. The French and Anglo-American demonization of Nietzsche was only one side of this coin. In Germany Nietzsche was linked to the war effort and celebrated as a national inspiration, the incarnation of the best within German culture. Some voices did contest this tendency—out of respect for Nietzsche or because they continued to despise him—but in the din of battle they were increasingly muffled. Indeed, the changing content of the canonization of Nietzsche faithfully mirrored the various stages of the German war experience as it evolved from militant enthusiasm through bewilderment to despair and defeat.

At the beginning of the war British commentators blamed Nietzsche for its outbreak; German writers invoked him as the most effective way of fighting it. In Germany, too, there was a dramatic increase in sales of Nietzsche’s works. Together with Goethe’s Faust and the New Testament, Zarathustra was the most popular work that literate soldiers took into battle for inspiration and consolation. The “beautiful words” of Zarathustra, one author wrote, were especially apt for the Germans, who “more than any other Volk possessed fighting natures (Kampfna-turen) in Zarathustra’s sense.” About 150,000 copies of a specially durable wartime Zarathustra were distributed to the troops. Even Christian commentators were struck that Zarathustra had taken its place alongside the Bible in the field. Indeed, this very combination was a key way for interpreters to integrate the notorious author of the Antichrist into respectability. Ernst Wurche, the hero of Walter Flex’s highly successful Nietzschean war novel, Wanderer Between Two Worlds (1917), claimed that such apparently contradictory books were like people in the trenches. They could be as different from one another as they liked: “they must only be strong and honorable and be able to hold their own; that makes for the best comradeship.” In his war tract Karl Joel declared that the fact that German soldiers went to battle with the Bible, Faust and Zarathustra constituted the best possible evidence to demonstrate the “idealist” nature of the German people and the best reproof to those who reproached the Germans as “barbarians.” Others exalted Zarathustra as eminently suitable for German troops. So much a part of national life, it surely fitted one’s potential hour of death.

Beyond this, of course, Nietzsche’s emphasis on heroism and will suited the challenge posed by war. What Ernst Wurche most admired about Zarathustra, for instance, was the constant reminder that man was “something to be overcome.” The war was the Zarathustrian abyss and the ultimate test of self. This, at least, was how the makers of the German Nietzschean war myth presented it to their readers.

We simply do not have accurate evidence indicating how many soldiers in fact read that book. Critics of the nationalist appropriation argued that they did not do so in great numbers. Whatever the case, one may legitimately be skeptical about how many soldiers in the field really experienced Zarathustra as a living guide to an ecstatic war experience. A preliminary perusal of war letters, diaries, and memoirs indicates that in the harsh reality of the trenches the Zarathustrian theme did not always strike a major chord. It was not easy to blend the sordidness of the Somme with the elevated Nietzschean mountain landscape. The Zarathustrian praise of war for its own sake, one caustic critic observed, had been a disastrous recipe. Had the troops not been told that the German cause was a good one and that the struggle constituted its own justification they would never have embarked upon the war.

Some soldiers did experience a species of Zarathustrian transportation. Usually, however, when they perceived the war through Nietzschean lenses they tended to do so in a rather trivialized and detached way. A 1915 field letter written by a student of theology describing his Superman commander demonstrates the personalization of such perceptions. Here was a fearless officer who regarded Christianity as a religion of the weak and who was supremely indifferent to the opinions of others: “I don’t know much about Nietzsche, but I should think that he must have been just like that. I don’t want to set myself up as a judge, but when I am with him it is quite plain to me that I am one of the weaklings.” If there was a superman most soldiers did not regard themselves as such; he was displaced onto more remote figures. Alternatively, Nietzschean categories filtered perceptions according to more idiosyncratic criteria. The painter Franz Marc, for instance, domesticated Nietzsche for his own professional purposes. The idea of the eternal recurrence became the metaphor for Marc’s wartime observation that there were only a few standardized human types that kept on reappearing. This was hardly heady ideological stuff.

It is probably safe to conclude that in the field Zarathustra was not as popular as proponents of the Nietzschean myth claimed. But this very claim is crucial to an understanding of Nietzschean discourse both during and after World War I, for it centrally informed public mythmaking and political symbolic mobilization. This propaganda facilitated the adaptation of Nietzscheanism for the essentially nationalist and establishmentarian goal of winning the war. Equally significantly, Nietzscheanism gradually became incorporated into an emergent, radicalized right-wing politics.

This was a new development. As we have seen, prior to 1914 most Nietzscheans were not particularly patriotic in their outlook. Indeed, virtually the only connecting link between the pre-war strands of Nietzscheanism was an anti-establishment, anti-Orthodox stance. The war provided the grounds for a more plausible construction of a nationalist Nietzsche. Moreover, it rendered the progressive version less appealing. It became increasingly difficult for liberationist circles to believe that Nietzsche was after all a suitable champion for their cause.

Arnold Zweig is an interesting case in point. Before the war he was a confessed Nietzschean. Nietzsche had been his aid in the expression of discontent with Wilhelmine materialism and philistinism and provided the hope for a Dionysian deliverance from this plight. Moreover, with the outbreak of war Zweig regarded himself as a militarist on Nietzschean grounds. In the midst of the war he wrote that the German spirit was distinguished by its essentially “musical—political” nature, which Nietzsche exemplified. The greatness of the war was that it reawakened this creative spirit. But Zweig did not stay with these notions for very long. The massive destruction and waste of human life transformed him into one of the great antiwar critics in Germany. He correspondingly changed his attitude towards Nietzsche. As he wrote later to Sigmund Freud: “You know that ever since the end of the war I have turned bitterly away from this idol of my youth.”

Zweig recognized what was common to Freud and Nietzsche: the daring new perspective on antiquity, the reversal of values, the critique of Christianity, and the thoroughgoing réévaluation of civilization. But, in Zweig’s postwar view, what distinguished Freud was his fusion of such insights with humanism and rationalism. The war made such a fusion essential for it had brought into relief the problem of the release of the instinctual without the mediating control of the rational. Zweig Behold the good and the just! Whom do they hate most? The man who breaks their tables of values, the breaker, the lawbreaker; yet he is the creator. Behold the believers of all faiths! Whom do they hate most? The man who breaks their tables of values, the breaker, the lawbreaker; yet he is the creator. (Kaufmann, Portable Nietzsche, 135—136)

See Der Fall Toller: Kommentar und Materialen, ed. Wolfgang Friihwald and John M. Spalek (Munich and Vienna: Carl Hanser, 1979), 54.

put it thus to Freud: “you have avoided his [Nietzsche’s] distortions and follies, just because you have invented analysis and not Zarathustra.” When the Nazis came to power, Zweig argued that in the war the future national-socialist elite had received their vulgarized Nietzschean education. The acoustics of battle had provided resonance for Nietzsche’s ideas of the glorification of “the blonde beast”; his struggle against ratio, enlightenment and reason; ... his highly charged negation of bourgeois ideals, Christian morality, and the slow ascent of the socialist masses; and above all his hysterical discarding of mercy and neighborly love.

French predictions during the Great War were now realized: whoever philosophized with a hammer destroyed all values.

Contemporaries were aware that events were pushing Nietzsche in a new symbolic direction. As Erwin Piscator, the radical producer of German political theater, lamented, before the war Nietzsche had been the “scourge of the middle classes,” helping him shed his “petit bourgeois background.” The war, however, produced a new Nietzsche in the wave of mass nationalist hysteria:

The entire intellectual elite of Europe rose as one man in the defense of their “Cherished Heritage” which they had till then viewed with some skepticism... They rose against “enemies” like Tolstoy and Dostoevsky and Pushkin and Zola and Balzac and Anatole France and Shaw and Shakespeare, and went to war with Goethe and Nietzsche in their knapsacks. And so this generation set the seal on its own spiritual bankruptcy. Whatever they may have thought and whatever they may have done it became evident on August fourth that all they had thought and done was as nothing.

In this jingoistic atmosphere, opposition to the war on Nietzschean grounds was unlikely to evoke an enthusiastic response. In any case, how was it possible to oppose the war from a Nietzschean viewpoint? The example of certain German expressionists is instructive. Prior to 1914 their Nietzsche was the artistic creator who was a law unto himself and quite removed from conventional social and patriotic considerations. Thus, in Gustav Sack’s 1914 drama Der Refraktair (The objector), the hero Egon, a penniless writer, refuses to leave Switzerland and join the German army when war is declared. Egon’s objections, as Walter Sokel has reminded us, are not Quaker, socialist, or Tolstoyan but Nietzschean and are explicitly opposed to humanitarian pacifism. His objections center entirely around the artist’s self. Egon has only contempt for the masses to whose fate he is indifferent; he believes they deserved this war. Here the Nietzschean objection is not to war as such but against this petit-bourgeois one based upon the demeaning search for profit.

Before 1914 expressionists welcomed visions of a Nietzschean apocalyptic war arising out of a combination of boredom and nihilistic disgust. Such a war would presage the death of bourgeois society from whose ashes a nobler world would arise. In Sacks’s first novel, Ein verbummelter Student (1910), his protagonist loudly proclaims: “Let war come! It’s lurking about in glittering spires of clouds—: let a star awaken and arouse it from its lurking slumber ... ! Nation against nation ... nothing but one raging storm, a twilight of mankind, a rejoicing destruction—! oh, perhaps then something higher [will be born].” Expressionists of this ilk came to regard the Great War as a capitalist enterprise, not the Nietzschean one they had anticipated.

More significantly, as the war’s grotesque realities became clearer, many expressionists became leading opponents of the war, adopting increasingly pacifist and humanitarian positions. It was thus consistent that the radical expressionist journal Die Aktion passionately objected to the wartime Germanization of Nietzsche. Its editor, Franz Pfemert, lashed out at this transformation of the philosopher into a great patriot, this Nietzsche “whose Prussian and German hate cannot be outdone by any foreigner.”

Stefan George had also spoken longingly of a future holy war. In his 1914 poem, “Der Stern des Bundes,” he elaborated on how such a war would purify the spiritually moribund society of his time. Yet the same poem made it clear that the impending European war was far removed from George’s heroic, Nietzschean vision of regeneration. Nietzsche is portrayed as the man who labored mightily to avert the coming catastrophe:

One man arose who, sharp as lightning, cracked open the clefts and steel-like, severed camps, creating a Beyond, inverting your old Here— who roared your madness into you so long with so much force that his throat burst. And you? Some dumb, some clever, false or genuine, perceived and looked as if nothing had happened— You go on speaking, laughing and conspiring. The warner went—the wheel that hurtles down toward emptiness no arm attempts to tackle.

George’s 1917 war poem, “Der Krieg,” unmistakably recognizes that this was no holy Nietzschean war. There the “hermit on the mountain” (George, Nietzsche, and Zarathustra rolled into one) looks askance upon the battle and declares, “I take no part in the struggle as you experience it.”

These, however, were marginal responses. Far more important was the mobilization of Nietzsche for nationalist and military purposes. Of course, many who opposed this appropriation did so not because they thought the war was too sordid for Nietzsche but rather that Nietzsche was too sordid for the war! Hinton Thomas has argued that Nietzsche was actually not generally welcomed as part of the war effort, that nationalists, annexationists, and propagandists continued to make anti-Nietzsche pronouncements and that therefore the Nietzsche legacy remained safely in the hands of progressives throughout the war. While Nietzsche was never the exclusive preserve of one political faction, Hinton Thomas’s view simply does not hold up: Nietzsche’s nationalization and annexation by an increasingly radicalized right during World War I is unmistakable. Indeed, this tendency was confirmed and bitterly opposed both by certain progressive intellectuals, some pro-Communist circles and, more significantly, unrelenting anti-Nietzscheans of the right. Theodor Fritsch, for example, protested in terms more outraged than ever. Nietzsche himself, he declared in ironic Nietzschean language, “must be overcome.” But Fritsch’s objection was a barely audible response to an overwhelmingly celebratory tendency.

The war finally bestowed success on the long-term project of Förster-Nietzsche and her associates at the Weimar Archives. She was, after all, the foremost proponent of a patriotic, conservative version of Nietzsche. At the beginning of the war her sanitized image at last fell on fertile ground. Her articles appeared throughout the war. Significantly, one of her first contributions appeared in the important liberal newspaper, the Berliner Tageblatt, in September 1914. “The ‘Genuine Prussian’ Friedrich Nietzsche,” written in support of Werner Sombart’s piece in the same paper, reinforced the perception of Nietzsche as the embodiment of all that was finest in the Prussian tradition. His ideals incorporated the noble Prussian values of discipline, breeding, order, and duty. This was the “true” Nietzsche who had little to do with the version that riff-raff coffeehouse intellectuals were purveying.

Beginning with the biography of her brother (1904), Förster-Nietzsche tirelessly presented him in terms of the Prussian experience. Nietzsche was a patriot and a martial man—very much a reflection of Förster-Nietzsche’s own penchant for marching soldiers and bright uniforms. It was perhaps portentous that an extremely völkisch Ernst Wachler summed up Förster-Nietzsche’s contributions to the Nietzschean heritage in Germany. If the nation, he wrote, had become increasingly permeated with Nietzsche’s spiritual treasures (Geistesschätze), this was due to Förster-Nietzsche’s noble efforts. Wachler’s Nietzsche as mediated by Förster-Nietzsche was not all that far from the heroic, political, nazified Nietzsche that Alfred Bäumler and others were soon to construct.

Militant nationalism at the beginning of the war coincided with Nietzsche’s seventieth birthday. This provided a convenient forum in which to rapidly absorb Nietzschean categories into the new war reality. These reflections appeared regularly not simply in academic and fringe journals but in the popular and national press. They presented a Germanic Nietzsche attuned to the needs of a nation at war.

Rhetoric linking Germanic with Nietzschean heroism emanated from the liberal press. What linked them was an affirmative philosophy of struggle and heroism in which discipline and suffering (rather than the superficial English utilitarian goal of happiness) could lead to Geist and greatness. These difficult tasks demonstrated that Nietzsche’s “famous and defamed ‘Superman’ bears a thoroughly German imprint.” The same author, while nationalizing the Nietzschean superman, also quoted from The Twilight of the Idols in order to also provide the requisite anti-English, antiliberal and antidemocratic ideology:

And war educates for freedom. For what is freedom? That one has the will to assume responsibility for oneself. That one maintains the distance that separates us. That one becomes indifferent to difficulties, hardships, privation, even to life itself. That one is prepared to sacrifice human beings for one’s own cause, not excluding oneself. Freedom means that the manly instincts which delight in war and victory dominate over other instincts, for example, over those of “pleasure.” The human being who has become free— and how much more the spirit who has become free—spits on the contemptible type of well-being dreamed of by shopkeepers, Christians, cows, females, Englishmen, and other democrats. The free man is a warrior.

Nietzsche, it was stressed, was not an academic thinker but one who dealt with larger issues intimately bound with German destiny. One such vital question was the meaning of individual and national death. It was easy to harness Nietzsche to this theme. He was typically portrayed as “the philosopher of the World War” because he had educated a whole generation towards “a life-endangering honesty, towards a contempt for death, ... to a sacrifice on the altar of the whole, towards heroism and quiet, joyful greatness.” These emphases socialized Zarathustra and, consonant with the galvanizing for war, transformed Nietzschean overcoming into a moral glorification of personal and collective death.

This Nietzsche was diffused to soldiers and the public in a flood of publications. He was one of the first figures in the Illustrated Library of Heroes; special war issues of various journals carried readings from Nietzsche and the Will to Power. Poems were written exhorting people to imitate his martial Germanism. At least 20,000 copies of Hermann Itschner’s Nietzsche anthology, presented as an inspirational guide for great times, were distributed. The themes of heroism, patriotism, and will were meshed with Nietzsche as the great yea-sayer and prophet of a great postwar regeneration.

For certain radical right, völkisch and Youth Movement circles, the war fused martial values with the vision of a grand, national cultural, and spiritual transformation. Nietzschean metaphors crucially informed this vision which became integral to the armory of Weimar’s conservative revolution. Here Nietzsche could function as an effective counterfoil to Marx by emphasizing the cultural over the material and the spiritual over the economic. To be sure, in certain circles this emphasis predated the war. Eugen Diederichs’s neo-Romantic group centered around Die Tat, for example, had from its beginnings based its ideal of German cultural renaissance upon the Nietzschean influence. The war simply heightened their expectations. Its commentators insisted that through the crucible of the war the breakthrough to a new national Nietzschean authenticity was indeed possible.

For other important völkisch groups, however, it was the war itself which prompted a new attitude towards Nietzsche. Hermann Popert’s youth movement, the Vortrupp, which had dismissed Nietzsche as profoundly dangerous to a healthy national outlook, made a total about-face. The war transformed Nietzsche into their guiding völkisch star. Paul Schulze-Berghof (later an active disseminator of the Nazi Zarathustra myth) exemplified the Vortrupp’s new attitude by naming Nietzsche “The Culture Prophet of German World Empire.” Nietzschean self-redemption, in the last resort, was “the self-redemption of German humanity as a nation.” Zarathustra’s tablets were to the Germans what the Mosaic tablets represented for the Israelites. The war was the baptism of fire that had revealed Zarathustra to be “the great storm song of our time, the Eroica of our Volk-soul, Germany’s own Heldenlied.”

The radical right, nationalist revolutionaries who mushroomed during the Weimar Republic, was by no means an obvious force before 1918. Still, during the war signs of its presence began to dot the cultural landscape. The war, of course, provided the basis for its main themes and goals. Nietzschean images emphasizing masculinity, will, heroism, and struggle permeated their political vocabulary. Commentators like Max Brahn combined these values with an emphasis on Nietzsche as “a teacher of organization.” This politicized Nietzsche stressed the state as a vital means towards the realization of the ultimate Nietzschean goal, the Übermensch. While this alliance was later characteristic of annexations by the right, their emphasis was still upon ideals of a new culture steeled by the war experience. In certain esoteric right-wing journals Nietzsche influenced a germinating proto-Fascist outlook. Der Panther: Deutsche Monatsschrift für Politik und Volkstum, for instance, consistently presented Nietzsche as the champion of cultural totality resulting from the fusion of aesthetic and heroic values, as opposed to the splintered, liberal, intellectualist and moralistic world. This cultural totality, moreover, could only be created through struggle and strength. Der Panther's Nietzsche foreshadowed the Nietzsche of the postwar radical right, transformed politics into the problem of will, and sought to nationalize Nietzsche’s will to power into a fearless German will to power and self-assertion.

Nietzsche was domesticated into national respectability through his incorporation into the patriotic war experience. Karl Joel, not unexpectedly, argued that Nietzsche’s pro-French orientation was misleading and that “in reality” he was part of the German “manly” line characterized by the unity of thought and deed. In this vein the subtle links between Bismarck and Nietzsche were stressed. Both favored the warrior spirit and struggle; “blood and iron” and the Übermensch were complementary not contradictory. Similarly, Max Scheier’s The Genius of War and the German War and Ressentiment, both from 1915, praised ennobling aspects of war written in the spirit of Nietzschean Lebensphilosophie. Scheier sought to reconcile the Christian with the warrior ethic; it was not the Christians who, as Nietzsche claimed, were carriers of the slave morality or of despised ressentiment ideas but the bourgeoisie.

The critique of the bourgeoisie was never a monopoly of the left in German political culture. From Wilhelmine times traditional conservatives as well as the disaffected völkisch right participated. This was an idealized national self-representation in a society not yet reconciled to its own capitalism. Before 1914 and after 1918 the Jewish— bourgeoisie equation channeled this discontent. During the war itself, however, it was the English who were often cast as the real bourgeoisie, merchants who embodied the negative traits of a ressentiment mentality. Nietzsche thus became a convenient hook on which to hang this negative labeling of the enemy. No one did this to greater effect than Werner Sombart in his extremely popular Merchants and Heroes (1915). Sombart, like many other champions of the conservative revolution, reduced empirical socioeconomic phenomena to hy-postatizations of Geist. Merchants and Heroes merely transposed onto the English what Sombart had previously written about the Jews. The juxtaposition of merchant and heroic spirits was not, according to Sombart, a mere question of individual temperament but reflected the distinction between the English and the German Volkseele (national soul). This conceptual framework had clear Nietzschean resonances. Sombart’s Nietzschean emphasis on the centrality of will and heroism slid easily into his hypostatized types; while the English represented merchant types, the Nietzschean spirit imperceptibly metamor-phosized into the German heroic spirit.

When foreigners philosophize over the present war, strangely they always return to the same thought: the 1914 war is Nietzsche’s war. Germany had called him forth and Germany’s soul was filled with the Nietzschean spirit. This, apart from the lie that we alone desired the war, is correct, but only partially. As much as one calls this Nietzsche’s war, one can also call it Frederick the Great’s, Goethe’s, Schiller’s, Beethoven’s, Fichte’s, Hegel’s, or Bismarck’s: for it is the German war. And Friedrich Nietzsche was only the latest singer and visionary who, coming from heaven, brought us the tidings that from us the son of God would be born, which in his language he called the Übermenschen.

For Sombart, German militarism was only the outward expression of an internal heroic spirit, Potsdam and Weimar in the highest unity, and the “Faust and Zarathustra and Beethoven-Partitura of the trenches,” as he called it. Yet he also had to deal with Nietzsche’s putative antinationalism. He argued that the Nietzschean heroic life necessarily led to a nationalist, völkisch outlook, for there could be no heroism without a fatherland and the superman was a condition of national existence. Indeed, did not Nietzsche’s own Zarathustrian teachings contradict his doctrine of the transnational “good European”? A metanational Übermensch was an absurdity.

All proponents of the nationalist Nietzschean war myth were equally constrained to explain away Nietzsche’s many anti-German diatribes. Typically, distinctions between the real or the deep and the merely apparent Nietzsche were made. In contradistinction to Fritsch, radical Nietzschean anti-Semites argued that it was necessary to discover the true Germanic Nietzsche whom Jews had systematically hidden from public consciousness by monopolizing his mediation within Germany. They had distorted him into a nihilist and internationalist consonant with their own destructive interests. Others argued that 1914 would have marked a drastic transformation in Nietzsche’s attitude toward the fatherland. One critic believed Nietzsche would have turned out to be a second Fichte, grasping the greatness of the struggle and rising in passionate defense of Germany. For others, Nietzsche’s vitriolic criticism implied love and passionate commitment. Like the Jewish prophets, he was an organ of his Volk, driving it to ever greater heights by his castigations.

Nietzsche was a major resource for the creation of charged and changing political meanings as events unfolded. His changing canonization mirrored the stages of the war. At first, as we have seen, he was the great mobilizer providing the heroic rationale and triumphalism necessary for battle.

As the war drew to its end and defeat seemed imminent, bewilderment and anxiety replaced that buoyant triumphalism. German reflections of 1918 were characterized less by self-confident proclamations of the unity of thought and deed than by consciousness of national insecurity, failure, and incompletion. The traditional spectre of culture (Kultur) threatened by an alien Western civilization was realized. Nietzsche became the central figure in the attempt to provide a consoling and galvanizing account of the moment. This new Nietzsche was at once the embodiment of the torn German condition itself and testament to its still-evolving nature.

The most sophisticated constructions of Nietzsche to emerge from the war were Thomas Mann’s Reflections of a Nonpolitical Man and Ernst Bertram’s Nietzsche: An Attempt at a Mythology, which both appeared in 1918. They articulated a mood and pointed to a shared vision characteristic of many intellectuals of the time. While both men recognized their affinities, they later went their separate ways: Mann revised his antidemocratic posture and became a champion of the Weimar Republic; Bertram turned increasingly to the right, to the point of sympathizing for a time with the National Socialists. During the war and its aftermath, however, the men were close friends and in agreement about Nietzsche’s Germanic and symbolic significance. As Mann recorded in his diary:

After supper finished Bertram’s Nietzsche. Gratifying to think that without Tonio Krüger and Death in Venice this book would not have been possible, neither in certain specific turns nor certainly as a whole. Moving to see how it stands as something dignified, prudent, magisterial, unassailable, irreproachable, yet brotherly alongside my imprudent, untutored, stammering, and compromising artist’s book... Truly I am as proud of this work as if I had written it myself.

It is Germany’s looming defeat that both these works capture and seek to transcend. Mann’s outraged polemic, as he later reported, was informed by a desperate defense of his own conservative burger heritage in the full knowledge that the cause he opposed would be victorious. Bertram’s far more lyrical work portraying Nietzsche as a tortured cultural hero did not even mention the great conflagration. Yet his lofty reflections were clearly a coded, sublimated product of that event at its critical turning point. His declared neo-Romantic, antirationalist aim was to create a “mythology of the last great German,” to grasp Nietzsche “in the historical moment of the present.”

Our post facto knowledge of the “good” Thomas Mann should not blind us to his virulently antidemocratic, anti-Western posture prior to the Weimar Republic or, indeed, its complex ambiguities well after. In Reflections of a Nonpolitical Man Nietzsche was the central justifying figure around which he built his anticivilization arguments. His overtly political use of the philosopher was especially ironic given his constant berating of those “Latins” who had politicized Nietzsche: “The politicization of Nietzsche is nothing else than the disfiguring of Nietzsche, and if this war has actively brought about anything intellectual at all, it is this: the inability of the Latins to keep philosophy and politics apart.”

But Mann himself clearly had some difficulty keeping them apart: “The colossal manliness of his [Nietzsche’s] soul, his antifeminism, his opposition to democracy—what could be more German? What could be more German than his contempt for ‘modern ideas,’ for eighteenth century ideas, for ‘French ideas’ which, he insisted, had English origins?”

For Bertram, Germanism was essentially a different aesthetic and psychic mode of being expressed through the metalinguistic medium of musicality:

The identity of music and Germanism which the young Nietzsche sensed everywhere enabled him to perceive this Germanism as the most serious and eternal opponent of everything that was mere civilization... (The idea of the polarity between civilization and culture is as typically Nietzschean as it is typically German.)

Both Mann’s and Bertram’s Nietzsche transcended the more static representations of the past. In the face of defeat both stressed paradox, process, and duality. Thus Mann’s Nietzsche (in many ways a reflection of his own ambivalences) possesses complex and contradictory attractions: Nietzsche is split into “aesthetic” and “power” components as opposed to his “ethical” and “ironic” sides. (Mann clearly opted for the latter qualities.) His Nietzsche, moreover, becomes complicit in the conflicting heritages over which the war was being fought.

Without detriment to the deep Germanness of his spirit, Nietzsche, with his deep Europeanism, has contributed more than anyone else to Germany’s education in criticism, to her intellectualization, psychologization, literarization, radicalization, or, not to shun the political word, to her democratization... The powerful strengthening of the literary-critical element in Germany that Nietzsche brought about signifies progress in the most dubious, most political sense, in the sense of “humanization,”—progress toward Western democracy, and that to be educated by him is not exactly what one could call an education in the spirit of preserving German tradition.

Nietzsche’s personal example was even more important for Mann; “the ethical tragedy of his life, of this immortal European drama of self-conquest, self-discipline, and self-crucifixion with the intellectual, sacrificial death as a heart-and-brainrending conclusion.” Bertram’s Nietzsche was similarly characterized by this Zwiespalt. The work is structured in a pre-set pattern of polarities (culture versus civilization, the North versus the South, and so on). Nietzsche becomes the epic embodiment of Germanic destiny, its soul caught between opposing spiritual states. These conflicts were encapsulations of the German experience at its most sublime; as a result Nietzsche’s Germanism paradoxically achieved its most profound expression at the moment of radical self-critique.

For all the commonalities between Mann and Bertram their differences provide a key to the distinction between the old and the emerging new right. Mann’s was a transitional document, torn by contradictions, filled with ambivalence, but nevertheless molded by and committed to the old, vanishing order. His vision remained quietist, ironist, and profoundly conservative. “Radicalism,” he wrote, “is nihilism. The ironist is conservative.” Not surprisingly Mann depicted Nietzsche’s radicalism as antiradicalism “in a sense and to a degree that was up to then unheard of.” Here his “German character came to an unparalleled primeval eruption. For antiradicalism ... is the specific distinguishing, and decisive quality or peculiarity of the German spirit.”

But those radical power elements rejected by the ironic, conservative Mann characterized the emerging new German right. Irony was the last thing that interested these Weimar radicals. While Mann was unable to resolve the contradictions he felt so acutely as the historical epoch drew to a close, Bertram pointed forward, resolving conflicts by integrating Nietzsche into the framework of a rounded and positive völkisch mythos. Standing at the threshold of a new age, Bertram’s work was crucial to the post-1918 nationalist appropriation of Nietzsche and his transfiguration into what Bertram called the climactic German, the embodiment of Überdeutschtum. His Nietzsche transcended duality and became both metaphor and agent of the redemptive hope of Germany itself.

Authentic Germanism, according to Bertram, lay in a kind of continuous Nietzschean process of transcendence and creative becoming. Nietzsche was the deepest expression of Germanness and its longing for self-realization at ever-higher levels. In the midst of defeat and bewilderment here indeed was a consoling message. Transcendence was still possible and the intensity of despair and suffering was part and parcel of the redemptive process.

This regenerating breakthrough (Durchbruch) could be achieved through the Nietzschean power of will. Here both Nietzschean ideas and Nietzsche as heroic personality served to fuse the mythos with the aspirations of the Volk. Nietzsche, Bertram exclaimed, represents “the self-knowledge of the Volk at the moment ... of its greatest inner danger—and is simultaneously an awakening and development of the saving instincts and the saving will.”

Bertram’s Nietzsche also exemplified the frankly irrationalist epistemology which was to become a hallmark of the Weimar radical right. Like the elitist, antidemocratic Georg Kreis of which he was an associate, Bertram insisted that history had to be made into an explicitly mythmaking task. Objectivity was both unattainable and undesirable: only intuition and activating knowledge were of value. “All events strive towards image, everything living towards legend, all reality toward Mythos.” Nietzsche now became the incarnation of the timeless Nordic experience, a metaphysical presence transcending historical limitations and a continuing metaphor for the ongoing German confrontation with the world. Bertram and Mann emphasized Nietzsche’s love for Albrecht Dürer’s famous painting Knight, Death, and Devil, which in the völkisch worldview symbolized the Nordic plight and exhorted heroic action. The Nietzschean mythos became fused with the Germanic knight. His qualities of will, endurance, and courage were precisely those needed in the Germany of 1918.

It was hardly surprising that as the war ended and Germany’s plight became visible the radical right seized upon this mythologized Germanic Nietzsche. He was to dominate German representations from the beginning of the Weimar Republic through the end of nazism.

This political marriage was novel, made possible only by the transformation of both Nietzsche and the right. While Nietzsche had undergone widespread nationalization, the right underwent a corresponding radicalization to become modernized and loosened from its traditional moorings with church, monarchy, and aristocracy. They adopted an oppositionalist dynamic whose agenda could then be enriched by selective scavenging of the Nietzschean universe. The war and its immediate aftermath had indubitably accomplished this interdependent transformation. The old tension between the establishmentarian right and the subversive Nietzsche was wiped out. Both were now radical dissidents disdainful of the status quo and in search of a revolutionary and yet unclassifiable future. Both contributed to and reflected the increasingly brutalized atmosphere of the Weimar Republic.

We need waste little time establishing the centrality of Nietzsche for the Weimar radical right between 1918 and 1933. A few dissenting voices notwithstanding, he was its most authoritative and inspirational source. As its sympathetic chronicler Armin Mohler put it, the “conservative revolution” would have been “unthinkable” without Nietzsche. In his protean works the new right discovered a remarkably plastic, almost inexhaustible, source for enunciating a radical worldview and for locating both its enemies and positive ideals. In 1931 Friedrich Hielscher, an active publicist on the radical right, summed up Nietzsche’s multiple functions for this political universe: “Nietzsche stands as questioner, as fighter, as the solitary one. He stands for the Reich as protector of the past, as crusher of the present, as transformer of the future.”

Nietzsche provided essential tools for the themes that distinguished

a virulent critique of Weimar liberalism, Marxism, and mass culture; and contours for its heroic, post-bourgeois, New Man of the future.

Perhaps most critically, Nietzsche furnished the right with the most fecund arsenal for a Lebensphilosophie undergoing unprecedented politicization. The radical right constantly reiterated a transvalued Nietzschean vision of a postrationalist, post-Christian social order “beyond good and evil.” Nietzsche moreover provided the vitalist criteria for identifying healthy, life-affirming forces and diagnosing those decadent and degenerate anti-life (Lebensfeindlich) elements deemed unworthy of propagation.

In a period of radical dislocation and polarization, detailed blueprints of the ideal future Nietzschean order mushroomed. Friedrich Mess’s massive 1930 work, Nietzsche: The Lawgiver, was only the most systematic of many attempts. “Just as canonical law derived from the Bible and the writings of the Church fathers,” Mess proclaimed, “so must the lex Futurana Europearum be built upon Nietzsche’s wisdom.” In such commentaries—and in later Nazi ones—a new conception of law and morality was formulated. Nietzschean jurisprudence, Mess insisted, was neither abstract nor a codification of immutable reason but a function of what enhanced life. Both law and morality were represented as instruments in the life of the Volk, placed at the service of the nation’s (or race’s) needs. The struggle for national self-assertion and the heightening of power was the source of both law and morality and shifted according to changing needs. Nietzschean law was dynamic, not static. In every such rendering Nietzschean society was presented in antitranscendent terms: immanent, renaturalized, and demoralized.

This anticultural Nietzsche immediately rendered anachronistic Hermann Hesse’s 1919 invoking of a different understanding of the philosopher. His “Zarathustra’s Return” was couched in the prewar cultivated language of Bildung, appealing to German youth through that tradition of critical thought. But in Weimar’s highly politicized, polarized postwar climate the old nonconformist, libertarian, and internationalist Nietzsche had lost his resonance. Despite some counterindications (a perturbed Forster-Nietzsche noted that when the revolution broke out some 25,000 copies of the cheap edition of Zarathustra were sold in four weeks!) a quite different Zarathustra of the right had already replaced him.

The new Zarathustra must be seen within the context of a certain brutalization that spilled over from the war and became an inbuilt part of postwar attitudes. The subsequent cheapening of life, the infusion of greater linguistic and physical violence into the public realm, and the depersonalization may have been a generally European phenomenon, but in Germany it was exacerbated by defeat, revolution, and the persistent socioeconomic crisis. It increasingly provided the space for politically extremist alternatives.

It goes without saying that both the radical right and this brutalization would have emerged without Nietzsche. Social Darwinism, doctrines of violence, anti-Semitism, and racism were quite independent influences. But Nietzsche could supply both the philosophical legitimacy and the larger vision with which to channel such sentiments. This also involved a process of constant selective scavenging and reinterpretation—a casting of Nietzsche into the required brutalized mold.

From 1918 to 1933 the Right comprised over 550 clubs and 530 journals. The radical right was never monolithic and ranged from the supposedly conservative Deutschnationale Volkspartei to the Nazis, but it was never limited to any single political party. While it was a malleable sensibility compatible with a large number of organizational affiliations and ideologies, even in its more modest and conservative forms, Nietzsche played a guiding role. There were always some who remained suspicious. Nevertheless he remained crucial for numerous völkisch circles; Dionysian irrationalists; certain expressionists; cultural and political regenerationists associated with Eugen Diederichs and Hans Freyer; various offshoots of the German Youth Movement; and even elitist Christian radical rightists such as Edgar Jung.

The Weimar Archives played a pivotal role within this radical-right construction. Its Nietzscheanism was disseminated through its publications and festivities featuring luminaries like Oswald Spengler. One dismayed observer aptly summarized the result in 1932: “Inside the Archive everyone from the doorkeeper to the head is a Nazi.” But Nietzsche’s penetration into German political culture was always far wider and more spontaneous than this single institutional expression. We must, therefore, return to the most radical and symptomatic of these postwar new-right eruptions.

These eruptions were most clearly evidenced in their positive notions and ideal types. For Hitler and Mussolini, for example, war and conflict became normative, the model for everyday life and politics. Political circumstances now provided real outlets for violence. In a sense the Freikorps, made up of soldiers who fought on after the war had ended, was the earliest political manifestation of an updated nationalist—nihilist Nietzschean praxis. It embodied Zarathustra’s cry that the good war hallowed the cause. Members of the Freikorps described themselves in caricaturistic Nietzschean terms: a band of ruthless men enamored of struggle and action for its own sake whose task it was to “become hard” and “live dangerously.” Intensely nationalist and anti-Bolshevist, they nevertheless regarded themselves as bereft of ideology. “What we wanted we didn’t know,” wrote Ernst von Salomon, the minstrel of the Freikorps and an accomplice to Walther Rathenau’s murder, “and what we knew we didn’t want. War and adventure, insurrection and destruction, and an unknown, agonizing ... yearning.” They portrayed themselves as a uniquely constituted community in a novel form of human bonding and steeled by the trench experience. The postwar era, Salomon declared in 1930, had “created a unique new race, a new type of warrior. No order can tolerate them but none can be created without them.” The prewar quest for moral and personal purification, for overcoming the bourgeois malaise and its accompanying hypocrisy, was increasingly replaced by a vision of the unleashing of the instincts.

In 1930 Werner Best, later to become an important functionary in the extermination of European Jewry, formulated this Nietzschean vision in terms of what he believed would be the judicial norm of the future. War, he wrote, was not a sin against nature nor was there a universal law transcending the rights of nations as the liberal rationalist would have it. War did not contradict life but was, indeed, its most essential element. Life after all had no ultimate goal—and here Best invoked Nietzsche’s dictum, “If the world had a goal, it must have been reached.” What remained was only the eternal, dynamic struggle and the need in the face of this nihilist predicament to adopt an attitude of “heroic realism.” That attitude, overcoming nihilism through will, formed the center of Bäumler’s 1931 Nazi transmogrification of Nietzsche into the thinker of great politics, whose will to power ushered in the great postliberal, postbourgeois age. It also formed the philosophical basis of Heidegger’s attachment to the radical right during the early 1930s.

The multiplicity of calls for a tough, masculine elite to solve the postwar predicament was saturated with Nietzschean vocabulary. Oswald Spengler’s unfolding vision of a neobarbarian elite, his 1931 call for a “beast of prey” (Raubtier) whose will had not yet been castrated by the feminizing impact of bourgeois and Christian morality, was only one variation on that theme.

Yet the Weimar radical right tempered this appropriation in two characteristic and interrelated ways. In the first place, it fundamentally transmuted Nietzschean individualism. Nietzsche’s New Man ceased to be solitary or even possess unique characteristics and was instead almost utterly typologized. This depersonalization was another symptom of the aforementioned brutalization. In the second place, Nietzsche’s dynamic was also regimented, subordinated to the service of a tightly controlled nation. These framing processes were essential before Nietzsche could be made serviceable to the radical right.

Ernst Jünger best illustrates these tendencies. He articulated a vision of the naked Nietzschean dynamic, of combat waged as an aesthetic and redemptive masculine form of creation. In very popular works—most notably his 1919 Storm of Steel—he portrayed his vision of violence. Jünger moreover transposed the thrill of violence from the battlefield into civilian life. But, like all German radical-right Nietzscheans, he poured his aesthetic of postwar Nietzschean man into an abstract mold and tamed him within larger containable frameworks. When Jünger’s Zarathustra emerged from the trenches, his unique face had been transfigured into an interchangeable cog. There is little disparity between this and Hitler’s physical description of the newly emergent storm pioneer that would constitute the elite of central Europe. This is an abstracted new race characterized not only by its tough will but also by its own stereotyped physiognomy: “Lithe, lean, sinewy body, strong-featured face, eyes hardened by a thousand shocks under the helmet [in battle].”

The individualistic Nietzschean dynamic recedes as Jünger places his fighter into a national and industrial frame, into a mobilized society where the energy and dynamism of war is defused through disciplined, obedient subordination.

This subordination occurred within an explicitly modernizing industrial context, quite removed from older conservative images of a backward-looking, rustic pastoralism. Jeffrey Herf has perceptively demonstrated how the Weimar radical right incorporated the new industrial and technological dimension into its worldview. Nietzsche—despite his utterly unindustrialized Zarathustrian landscape—was crucial to this exercise. Jünger put it thus:

Yes, the machine is beautiful; its beauty is self-evident to anyone who loves life in all its fullness and power. Nietzsche might well have been writing of the machine (though it did not yet have a place in his Renaissance landscape) when he argued that life was more than Darwin’s wretched struggle for existence, but a will to higher and deeper goals. The machine must be made more than a mere means of production to satisfy our pitiful basic needs; it should provide us with a higher and deeper satisfaction. When it begins to do so, many a question will be resolved; the creative artist will suddenly perceive the machine not as a pragmatic collection of iron parts but as a totality; and the strategist will be released from the spell of the war of production. These men will be as active as any technician or socialist in this process of solution.

The most sustained example of the attempt to render Nietzsche as the philosopher of both the technical and even the post-technical age was contained in Georg Förster’s 1930 tome, Machtwille und Maschinewelt. There was no aesthetic Renaissance landscape here. Nietzsche was not a tragically torn, lonely thinker but a burningly relevant “mediator of technology, pioneer of the machine, herald of a new iibernaturhafter reality.” Förster explicitly aimed to modernize and collectivize the Nietzschean will to power within an industrial frame, tying the birth of the Übermensch to a creative mastery of technology and the possibility of planetary control. The material basis of the Übermenschen “is not pale, self-referential ... thought but the iron world of technology.” Jünger’s worker similarly had nothing to do with the traditional feudal order in the nineteenth-century sense. Jünger envisaged him as a new man who would not experience himself as an end, but only as a means, a carrier of the elemental will to power.

Such reflections appeared throughout the Weimar Republic despite the criticisms that the Nietzsche-technology marriage elicited. Early on, skeptics noted that one could not have it both ways. One had “the choice to live (or rather to die) in a Dionysian way without technology or to live a technologically ordered life without the Dionysian. No synthesis is possible here.”

But this was not an optimal time for skeptics. Indeed, Nietzsche not only informed the right’s positive revolutionary images of a rejuvenated humanity but, perhaps more fatefully, also its antitheses. A politicized Nietzschean Lebensphilosophie could easily be employed to identify ressentiment and antilife enemies and to prescribe appropriately ruthless measures for dealing with them. It possessed a new salience in a dislocated society where the notions of regeneration and degeneration had become common coinage and where the demand for corrective action against external and internal enemies grew ever more shrill.

The better-known figures of the radical right, theoreticians such as Spengler and Möller van den Bruck, usually labeled the enemy arche-typally and left it at that. Jünger’s omnipresent bourgeois is the most obvious example. What we need to note, however, is the veritable explosion of lesser-known Rassehygiene, anti-Semitic and anti-Commu-nist literature that circulated at all levels of Weimar society and which was diffused not just by the Nazis. It appeared not only as crude, paranoid street pamphlets but also in more sophisticated form, penetrating the supposedly elevated world of scholarship. Many of these sentiments would doubtless have emerged in any case, but the Nietzschean rationale gave it a broader meaning and a certain legitimacy. For those who needed it, Nietzsche supplied a vocabulary that rendered Weimar’s dehumanizing impulses respectable.

The new practice of labeling political enemies, unwanted outsiders, and deviants as Untermenschen provides one linguistic example of such dehumanization. The word, it is true, derived from the late eighteenth century, and Nietzsche used it infrequently and in quite another context. Within the Weimar Republic, however, its brutalized connotations and connections to a related Nietzschean Übermensch and anti-egalitarianism were clear. These connections were indeed brought to their logical conclusion under the Nazis a few years later.

Vitalist immoralism was eminently suited to the postwar ground swell advocating racist and eugenicist options. Ernst Mann’s 1920 pamphlet, The Morality of Strength, typified the trend in its most blatant form. “What is good,” he wrote in tandem with Nietzsche, “is what increases the mental and physical strength of [the] people. Evil is that which weakens [such] strength.” Here Nietzsche’s exhortations to prevent procreation of anti-life elements and his advocacy of euthanasia is restated as crudely as possible. “All the weaklings and the sick,” Mann wrote, “must be exterminated.” He included tuberculosis and mental patients, all cripples, and the blind; all those who lent society a pessimistic tone and were unable to contribute to the society would have to give up their lives. Their destruction was the precondition for the development of healthy, strong people. “Manly men” were the most valuable members—homosexuals thus had to be wiped out. As in nature, the human beast of prey had to act as “health police” (Gesundsheitspolizei:) the exterminatory instinct of the strong would have to reassert its morality over its weak, ressentiment underminers.

Brutalization meant both extending and radicalizing the scope of exclusion. The title of Franz Haiser’s 1926 Nazi work, The Jetvish Question from the Standpoint of Master Morality, is self-explanatory. It advocated a literal and operationalized reading of what Nietzsche had said in The Antichrist and The Genealogy of Morals about the Jewish denaturalization of all values, of morality itself. The degeneration and racial chaos of Weimar and Europe was the result of Jewish rule and the concomitant weakening of the Herrenmensch. The return of the original Herrenmensch and his elevation to the status of worldly Übermensch was a biological imperative. To achieve this a massive Nietzschean conflagration between Aryan Nordics and their Jewish and other enemies was necessary.

Works like these and Arno Schickedanz’s 1927 Socialparasitism in the Life of the Nations rendered such a Lebensphilosophie war ever more stark and apocalyptic. The world was poised between the forces of healthy Aryan light and Semitic darkness. The Nietzschean imperative to “be oneself” was invoked as the holy cornerstone of a fundamental confrontation: “We stand,” wrote Schickedanz, “at the point of world change. If the nature of Judaism is continuous destruction, ours is uplifting life. There is only one ‘holy’ law of being, to be what we are!”

The degree to which late-Weimar anti-Semitism resonated with Nietzschean themes and inspiration was quite extraordinary, one startled Jewish commentator noted. Discussions of the Jewish question included heavily edited selections (naturally from The Antichrist and The Genealogy of Morals!) accompanied by comments that these passages proved that Nietzsche was the most radically anti-Jewish thinker imaginable.

These tracts were typically associated with head-on attacks on traditional and Kantian notions of morality. Dependence on ethical conscience, wrote one Rudolf Klages in 1918, is “the stigma of those ... whom Nietzsche called ‘slave men.’ ... The anthropologist recognizes in the phenomenon of morality only one factor: the spiritual expression of inferior blood... But the principle of all sin against life is the so-called categorical imperative. The teacher of morality is unconsciously a systematic sinner against life.”

This kind of thinking also penetrated more scholarly circles. One journal saluted Nietzsche as a founder of racial hygiene and for his usefulness in the class struggle. As E. Kirchner put it, Nietzsche’s “enmity against the proletariat” was a vital and healthy response, for

“the growth of the traditionless proletariat leads to degeneration of the race.” In 1920 Karl Bindung and Alfred Hoch published The Release of Unworthy Life in Order that it Might be Destroyed (Die Freigabe der Vernichtung Lebensunwertes Leben), a work applauded by one commentator as the “creative solution” to problems posed by Plato, Thomas More, and Nietzsche. It provided an answer to Nietzsche’s observation that “the sick person is a parasite of society.” From then until its Nazi implementation, the Nietzschean celebration of euthanasia was constantly invoked by its proponents and its later practitioners as an essential ingredient in the creation of a healthy society.

When the Nazis came to power, the building blocks of a Nietzsche-inspired vitalistic, renaturalized, elemental society had been implanted, in many cases by sources that remained outside or even opposed to national socialism. Having taken over the machinery of the state, these positive and negative messages could be removed from the realm of rhetoric and put into practice.

World War I and the experience of Weimar graphically illustrated that the Nietzsche heritage both molded and was molded by the dominant cultural, political, and ideological perceptions of the day. Nietzsche was also bound to interact with the other great unresolved issues of the time: socialism, religion and, thereafter, nazism.

6. Nietzschean Socialism: Left and Right

Poor, poor Nietzsche ... these Messrs. Socialists are trying to pull their little red cap on that giant genius’s head.
Chaim Weizmann

Socialism is a moral question inasmuch as it provides the world with a new way of judging all human actions, or—to use Nietzsche’s famous expression—with a total revaluation of things.
Georges Sorel, “Bases de critique sociale”

Nietzsche’s biting, elitist contempt for leveling and despotic socialism as well as for the masses and their life-negating ressentiment morality is well known. The enemies of socialism were certainly aware of it and often employed Nietzsche for their attack on the left. As one conservative British commentator put it in 1909: “John Bull is a patient just now. Nietzsche is the only doctor who can help him, for his greatest disease is socialism... Dr. Nietzsche either cures his patients radically or kills them.” In the 1890s Franz Mehring began a tradition that stated the orthodox Marxist attitude just as clearly. Nietzsche was the anti-egalitarian “philosopher of advanced capitalism,” both symptom and spokesman of an irrationalist post-Hegelian philosophy that refleeted the interests of the bourgeoisie and capitalism in its most aggressive forms. Totally ignorant of scientific socialism, he was the great enemy of the proletariat.

In this light, what possible meaning could the expression Nietzschean socialism possess? The answer will reveal a snapshot of a highly volatile political consciousness which, after 1890, routinely regarded itself as being in crisis. Throughout the political culture, distinctions between left and right were constantly challenged and blurred; perceptions of political and mental boundaries were rendered increasingly permeable by activists and thinkers in search of novel modes of identification. Nietzschean categories contributed to the general sense of fluidity, loosened traditional moral and intellectual definitions, and helped to construct more elastic political postures.

These developments affected socialist self-understanding as much they did other sectors of the cultural and political spectrum. Throughout Europe the strict Marxist definition of socialism was challenged by various dissident tendencies within the left. Determinedly anti-orthodox, anarchist, syndicalist, and revisionist formulations mushroomed on the political landscape. The idea of socialism—outside of a generalized identification with the working classes and some form of egalitarian commitment—became ever more vague and susceptible to external influences and counterinterpretations. Nietzsche often served in these exercises as an important resource for articulating many of these dissident concerns.

We should not forget that in the minds of some of his early detractors, as Count Kessler recalled, Nietzsche “was reckoned as a revolutionary and almost as unpatriotic a fellow as the Socialists.” In popular consciousness the two were sometimes simply equated. In the relatively obscure play Kinder by Robert Misch (1906), for instance, one character declares: “Nietzsche is nonsense ... [he is a] Social Democrat!”

Some of Nietzsche’s celebrators made equally loose connections. Reporting from Moscow for the French Communist daily L’Humanité in Spring 1921, Isadora Duncan prefaced her report on the revolution with Zarathustra’s “I love the man who creates higher than himself and perishes in this way.” She concluded that this was the “shining vision of the future. The prophecies of Beethoven, of Nietzsche, of Walt Whitman are being realized. All men will be brothers, carried away by the great wave of liberation that has just been born here in Russia.”

To many the Nietzsche-socialism association seemed entirely natural and unproblematic. Helene Stocker’s Nietzscheanism accompanied not only her feminism but also her unaffiliated leftist and increasingly pac-ifistic stance. For her, Nietzsche and socialism shared the ultimate goal of an “emancipated humanity.” Each, she did admit, had their own particular bias. Social reformers were so busy with everyday life that they neglected the heights, while Nietzsche from “his perspective of eternity” had perhaps not paid enough attention to external conditions. Nevertheless, she asked, would “it not be insane to demand of the prophet of the Superman that he should also study economics and social science in order to identify the exact path that one must take to reach his goal?” In her 1939 autobiographical fragment she explained her lifelong conception of the relationship:

The two poles of human evolution, the striving for social justice and the urge for the highest personal development, for me always remained inextricably connected. This for me has for perhaps the last half-century been expressed by the words “Nietzsche and Socialism.”

Radicals were attracted to Nietzsche because of his devastating indictment of the bourgeoisie and because he provided a counterlanguage, a rhetoric of total regeneration of the New Man which could channel the revolutionary impulse, while keeping the content of that impulse vague and unclassifiable.

When the radical right sought to appropriate socialism for their own purposes, Nietzsche was a central enabling force in the transition. That the new right chose to designate itself as socialist was perhaps a paradox, but it did reflect an awareness that the term had become an essential catchword in modern mass politics. In the eyes of the radical right, it was extremely important to wrest both the socialist constituency and its definitional monopoly from the left. In forging its own notion of socialism it stripped the concept of almost all Marxist landmarks and made any precise grasp of its contours even more elusive.

The right now offered a national socialism as a counterweight to the Marxist idea of international proletarian revolution. Its ideologues could proclaim themselves socialists not only because they assigned to the state authoritarian powers to regulate socioeconomic life along quasicorporate lines but also because they couched their analysis of society in a biting critique of the bourgeoisie and accorded to the lower classes a major role in their visions of national regeneration. Nietzsche provided a fruitful source for these themes. His radicalism was easily molded into the framework of a new right that, unlike its older conservative counterpart, put a premium on the national mobilization and integration of the working classes. Socialism here referred to the conflation of the national with the social. It aimed at inclusiveness and participation of the working masses within the broader whole. Dedication to the nation would create a socialism of the Volksgemeinscbaft, a viable substitute for the socialism of class.

The Nietzschean impulse in the socialism of both the left and right can only be understood within the context of this crisis of political revaluation. Although it took on numerous guises and was often the work of opposed circles, these were all nonconformist expressions of dissent from conservative tradition, bourgeois respectability, or leftwing orthodoxy. Nietzschean socialism was part of an ongoing quest for new forms of politicocultural integration, providing suggestive images of an idealized future transcending conventional class categories.

Although we will only be concerned here with the German case, variants of Nietzschean socialism appeared throughout Europe. It ranged from the individualist ethics transcending obligatory norms and emancipatory communism beyond good and evil, as expounded by prerevolutionary Russian Marxists such as Anatol Lunacharski and Stanislav Volsky, to the Zionist socialism of Bitania. It informed Viktor Adler’s infusion into Austrian social democracy of Dionysian impulses designed to arouse the nascent proletariat to a willful consciousness of its own power It vitally influenced syndicalism and its transmutation of Marxism into a glorification of violence and dynamic activism. Georges Sorel, transposing Nietzsche’s elitism to a new aristocracy of revolutionaries who would lead the proletariat first to class war and thereafter into a heroic, postdecadent civilization, is perhaps the most famous example of this trend. It encompassed Mussolini’s pre-1914 Lebensphilosophie Marxism with its emphasis on will, energizing vitality, and its warrior relationship to reality.

We must, however, concentrate on Germany. Nietzsche’s presence began to manifest itself seriously within German social democracy in the 1890s, coinciding with his general popularization and the emergence of various Nietzsche cults. Nietzschean language and categories then became part of the vocabulary of the organized socialist world. Regardless of their political separatism, neither the socialist movement nor the working class were immune to broader cultural influence. It is true that certain elements of Nietzschean terminology became part of a system of negative catchwords, a mode of condemning one’s political enemies. Socialist propaganda increasingly disparaged opponents for their self-aggrandizing “will to power,” labeling the bourgeoisie as ruthless Übermenschen or Gewaltmenschen, beasts of prey and the like.

But Nietzschean terms also began to assume more affirmative meanings. Positive socialist goals of worker emancipation were formulated within a Nietzschean frame. J. Karmeluk’s 1904 Proletarian Sermon from the Mount: An Intermezzo from the Transvaluation of Values, for instance, was a socialist counterliturgy based upon explicitly Nietzschean inspiration. Here was a socialist gospel affirming the worker’s will to power and arguing that only struggle and rebellion would bring about the worker’s paradise. Socialism and the Antichrist in tandem were the keys to the new earthly liberation.

The degree to which the Nietzschean presence infiltrated actual working-class communities is unclear due to the paucity of evidence. Nevertheless, some scattered indications are available. That Nietzsche had begun to make inroads at least among literate workers is demonstrated by an 1897 survey of Leipzig workers’ libraries. Its author reported that Nietzsche’s works had been far more widely borrowed than those of Marx, Lasalle, or even Bebel. In 1914 Adolf Levenstein produced the results of a survey complete with letter-interviews in which he sought to examine both the scope and nature of the influence. His Friedrich Nietzsche in the Judgment of the Working Classes demonstrated not only that many educated workers were acquainted with the philosopher but that, in the overwhelming majority of cases, Nietzsche fulfilled a positive function. Only two of the interviewees rejected Nietzsche but even they admitted to being stimulated by him. Levenstein suggested that in their lives, their tragic isolations, and their compensatory attempts to cultivate an “inner life” there was an unexpected affinity between workers and Nietzsche. Both were quintessential outsiders. This explained the paradox, as one reviewer put it, that the most centrifugal of all philosophies worked so strongly and bindingly on the most neglected core of society. For our purposes the responses to Levenstein’s questions demonstrated a degree of proletarian familiarity with Nietzsche; whether positively or negatively received, Nietzsche had become a recognized point of reference. Nevertheless, the historical importance of Nietzschean socialism does not depend upon Nietzsche’s purported impact on daily working-class attitudes. Rather, its significance derives from how it functioned for leading activists and theoreticians as both a critical and visionary tool, a mode of advancing alternative, postorthodox representations of socialism. The adventures of the Nietzschean idea within the German Social Democratic party almost always manifested itself as a form of dissent—whether leftist or rightist. Its numerous versions were expressions of the developing crisis within Marxism. Defenders and attackers of the faith were quite aware that Nietzschean impulses within social democracy were almost by definition heretical.

The very articulation of the orthodox line by Franz Mehring declaring Nietzsche to be “the philosopher of capitalism” was in reaction to the importation of Nietzsche into the Social Democratic party during the 1890s by a group of radicals who became known as the Jungen. Led by Bruno Wille, this circle accused the party of accommodationist em-The utopian and anarchist strains within this critique were inspired and legitimized by a Nietzschean-based individualism. Wille’s play An Enemy of the People, produced by the Freie Volksbühne in 1890, and a series of polemic works forcefully brought home the Jungen’s point: Nietzsche was the ideal champion for a critique of party mindlessness and conformity which stifled all possibilities of creative expression. This individualism did not, the Jungen claimed, entail a repudiation of socialism. Nietzschean ideals had to be universalized, made integral to the socialist endeavor. Proletarians did not have to be part of an anonymous mass; they too could be “higher men.” Personal freedom and socialism were reconcilable.

The Jungen’s direct attack on the party leadership inevitably resulted in a struggle that could only lead to their defeat. Many of its adherents left the party and became independent socialists. Their journal, Der Sozialist, soon took on an anticentralist, antistatist hue. Nietzschean volition informed their anarchic socialist vision of the future. No one worked out the bases of this Nietzschean anarchism more radically than the one-time editor of Der Sozialist, Gustav Landauer (1870—1919).

Landauer, as Eugene Lunn has demonstrated, was able to harness Nietzschean irrationalism and voluntarism and point them leftward. He created an anarchism based on a form of vitalism and the notion of an individual and collective willful self-transformation. Landauer filtered Nietzsche’s negation of human solidarity and community out of his system while incorporating the philosopher’s critique of materialism and suspicion of the state. Landauer insisted that social questions could best be solved through willful transformations of consciousness. As Landauer put it in his Aufruf zum Sozialismus (1911): “Socialism is possible and impossible at all times; it is possible when the right people are there to will it and to do it; it is impossible when people either don’t will it or only supposedly will it, but are not capable of doing it.” Nietzschean anarchic socialism thus served as an alternative to a cold, determinist Marxist orthodoxy. Landauer explicitly upheld the Nietzschean insistence that life and culture required illusion. Viewed from this perspective, socialism was a consciously generated antihistoricist myth of perpetual self-creation.

Although the Jungen affair caused a great outcry at the time, its only lasting effect was to reinforce the party leadership’s skepticism toward fashionable intellectuals. Mehring approvingly quoted Kurt Eisner’s characterization of the Jungen (and the naturalism they often espoused) as “decadent youth, exploiters of rot, and rummagers in ruins,” the kind of people who “boast about syphilis to prove their manhood.” In his 1892 tome on Nietzsche, Eisner perceptively observed that the radical chic of these Nietzsche cults rendered the older radicalism of socialism trivial, dull, and outmoded.

Yet the Jungen and Landauer were not freak phenomena. Although they never became normative, the history of German socialism was punctuated by such challenges from various directions. While Landauer and the Jungen forged a leftist radical critique, a similar Nietzschean impulse emanated from a particular section of the revisionist right. In 1893 Eduard Bernstein did dismiss the literary Nietzscheans and the Jungen as elitist advocates of a simple Nietzschean Herren-Anarchis-mus. Nevertheless, reformists aligned with the independent Sozialistische Monatshefte, and its editor, Joseph Bloch, annexed Nietzsche as principal authority and inspiration for their brand of socialism (illus. 12). Again Nietzschean images and metaphors guided another internal socialist heresy, and one quite different from the Jungen’s. The Monat-shefte's Nietzsche legitimized a new conception of working-class integration in Germany and abroad. There was little of the fiery, revolutionary rhetoric that had attended Wille’s and Landauer’s Nietzscheanism. The Monatshefte fostered a revisionist Nietzschean nationalization of the masses.

This nationalization was to be achieved in two ways. Domestically it entailed a Nietzschean individuation that would gradually differentiate a too homogenous and isolated working class and provide it with an opportunity to enter the mainstream of national life. As Willy Hellpach wrote in 1900, this was the stage of socialist and proletarian development in which Nietzsche could be crucial. Despite Nietzsche’s own dissociation, he had to be regarded as a prophet of socialism. Hellpach was indulging in a casuistic exercise familiar to all branches of Nietzscheanism. Just as feminists feminized him, Jews Judaized him, and völkisch circles nationalized him, so too did Hellpach seek to demonstrate Nietzsche’s incipient socialism.

Nietzsche had opposed political democracy, Hellpach argued, because it only encouraged herd feeling and mass leveling. Economic democratization, however, would simply amount to the application of the Nietzschean principle of Individualität to proletarians, making them aware of the feeling of selfhood. Slowly, individuals would be able to rise through their own efforts, which would increase class mobility. Socialists had to adopt Nietzsche’s aristocratic principle as their own. To the degree that the working class became differentiated, proletarians too would be able to qualify for membership in that elite that Nietzsche idealized as lawgivers of the future.

The Monatshefte reserved its martial Nietzsche and the associated imagery evoking conflict, courage, and hardness for the propagation of an expansionist foreign policy. The worker was also to be integrated into German society through Germany’s imperialism. The journalist Karl Leuthner was the energetic spokesman for this line. Leuthner schooled his readers in the ecstatic Nietzschean language of the will to power, forging and collectivizing it into a national instrument. He harnessed Nietzsche’s vitalism and emphasis on struggle to form a socialist politics of imperial expansion linked to the interests of the working class.

Just as party leaders dissociated themselves from the leftist Nietzscheans, so too did they distance themselves from such notions. Leuthner’s name, wrote Karl Kautsky, had become a byword for “German völkisch arrogance” and a “pan-German outlook, which in him outweighs other considerations.” Otto Bauer accused Leuthner of “contaminating broad sectors of the people with a cynical nationalist ideology of the overlord (Herrenideologie) which flies in the face of all ethics.”

During the Weimar period, the Monatshefte published one more excursus metamorphizing Nietzsche into a “socialist imperialist” but in a quite different spirit. There was no doubt, Regina Barkan wrote, that Nietzsche’s will to power was grounded in an imperialist philosophy. But his imperialism had nothing in common with the aggressive national politics of conquest and expansion. It was grounded in his conception of the world as one, his affirmation of a Gesamtnatur and the desire to overcome all dualities. This was not an imperialism of material acquisition, of having more but rather of becoming more. This was Nietzsche’s great politics: a conception of European and world unity bound by a project of common human creativity. Consolidated world economic and political structures, Barkan declared, were mere forms serving the realization of deeper Nietzschean creative processes. “With such an imperialism before our eyes one should define the will to power in social life as a will to community. ... Such an imperialism is one with the foreign politics of applied socialism. (Despite everything, Nietzsche already darkly intuited the connection.)”

Still other sections of the party assumed fluid and evolving Nietzschean positions. Before World War I men like Max Maurenbrecher (1874—1930) sought practical ways of reaching the working classes through the establishment of a post-Christian socialist Nietzschean faith. Maurenbrecher was both a Protestant pastor and a political activist. Both his politics and religion were extremely volatile. He was prominent in Friedrich Naumann’s Nationalsozialer Verein until it disbanded in 1903 when he joined the Social Democrats. He left the evangelical church in 1907 and linked up with the new free religious communities that, although independent of the official socialist apparatus, attempted to wean the workers away from traditional sources of religious inspiration. Nietzsche was Maurenbrecher’s paradigm for a modernist secular religiosity, and Zarathustra the model of godlike selfcreation of the world.

Significantly, Maurenbrecher conceived of his Nietzscheanism as a complement to the Communist vision. As he put it, his work was dedicated “to the interflow between Marx and Nietzsche.” Maurenbrecher stressed their common secular components. Both Marx and Nietzsche shared the anticlericalism of the Enlightenment, rejected Christianity, and strongly maintained the idea of worldly redemption.

But that was the Maurenbrecher of the pre-World War I era. During the war he rejoined the Church and veered from Marx and social democracy to a Deutschnational position. Yet all these changes did not entail a lesser commitment to Nietzschean values. Heroism, will, and tragedy all sat comfortably on either side of the political fence.

Maurenbrecher was by no means the only Nietzschean socialist to change positions, often on explicitly Nietzschean grounds. We have already discussed the Nietzschean feminism of Lily Braun. As an active member of the Social Democratic party, Braun originally came to feminism from within Marxism. To the chagrin of the party leadership, her Marxism was always highly unorthodox, reformist, and based not on Kantian, Christian, nor Hegelian but on Nietzschean grounds. She opposed dogma, bureaucratic control, and regimentation and emphasized creativity. Whether or not Alfred Meyer is correct in regarding Braun as a major radical forerunner of a post—World War I Western Marxism, she undoubtedly sought a species of humanist socialism and a heroic “self-transcendence through revolutionary praxis” that derived from Nietzsche. “Socialism,” she wrote, “is the necessary precondition for individualism just as much as individualism must be the necessary complement to socialism.” The emphasis on human community was never to subordinate but rather to underpin the free development of the human personality. Her emphasis on aesthetics similarly lent a Nietzschean tinge to her Marxism. Although she did not ignore socioeconomic oppression, the coming revolution was to be equally spiritual and aesthetic: the working classes were to share the joy of aesthetic appreciation and creation.

Braun insisted upon the “spirit of negation” (Geist der Verneinung) as the principle for a rejuvenated socialism. That spirit explicitly excluded Kantianism as a guide to socialism. Nietzsche was to be its prophetic force for “he gave to socialism what we need: an ethical foundation.”

All his great ideas live in us: the drive to personality, the transvaluation of all values, the yea-saying to life, the will to power. We need the flashing weapons from his armory... With the ideal of the greatest happiness for the greatest number ... we create only a society of phlegmatic petitbourgeois. ... Do you not sense the spirit of negation in everything that today is vital and seeks forward movement? ... If your flags were fully unfurled the cowards would be separated from the courageous, the strong from the weak and everything with youthful spirit, that has a future within it, would flow towards you. We will only find the way to our goal when the idea of a moral revolution lends wings to the idea of economic transformation.

As with Maurenbrecher’s, Braun’s Nietzsche was compatible with both a Marxist-cosmopolitan and a nationalist—patriotic purpose. The same categories of heroism, will, aestheticism, and self-transcendence that informed her radicalization of orthodox Marxism animated her later intense nationalist commitment to World War I; her antipacifism and support for German annexationist aims; and even her turn to an authoritarian cult of the state and the yearning for an inspired young leader. Braun’s wartime Nietzsche was not very different from the themes of the previous chapter: the philosopher of heroism, the collective and individual mobilizer, the visionary of a culture that went beyond everyday bourgeois concerns, and the affirmer of martial, virile values.

Although she remained consistently anti-Christian, the war aroused religious longings within her. In quite un-Marxist fashion she now called for a Nietzschean hero who would bring with him a Nietzschean religion commensurate with the needs of the ongoing war:

If a new savior were to come who found the right word to give form to all our longing, in order to proclaim—right now, in the face of death—a religion of life (I do not mean this in the usual trivial sense of a religion for daily life, but one of creative, eternal life forever—giving new birth to itself), it would be the axe which would cut Christianity out at its root.

Braun’s fluid Nietzscheanism was not entirely the work of an isolated eccentric. In 1903 she and her husband Heinrich formed an independent institutional base, the controversial journal Die Gesellschaft, in which they and their circles expressed their iconoclastic views. In the face of party opposition (which may account for its sporadic and shortlived nature) dissidents formulated alternative and sometimes unexpected positions. In “The Tactics of the Weak and the Tactics of the Strong” by Franz Laufkötter, Nietzscheanism was employed both as a radicalizing and a moderating factor. In this application of Nietzschean ideas to the class struggle, Laufkötter portrayed a proletariat characterized by its strength, courage, and preparedness for struggle. It possessed such characteristics because it was a rising not a decadent class, embodying life and the will to power. But Laufkötter’s guidelines for militant trade unions and party tactics within Germany also advocated scrupulous dealings with the class enemy. Workers had to be honest, for dishonesty was a ressentiment weapon of the weak. The proletariat sought the Nietzschean goal of a higher, nobler culture: their behavior had to conform to this ethic.

Even where it did not explicitly invoke Nietzsche, the journal diffused attitudes that dovetailed with his emphases: its disbelief in the iron laws of historical materialism; its greater emphasis on the role of the individual in history; its growing skepticism towards the masses; and its stress on will.

The topic of “Nietzsche and Marx” or “Nietzsche and socialism,” however, went well beyond these relatively organized Social-Democratic streams. Throughout the history of Nietzsche-reception, the epochal and somehow interrelated nature of these two thinkers has been recognized. Kulturkritik reflections have become almost a separate genre whose quality and depth ranged from the philosophically differentiated to the vacuous. Critics and practitioners across the political spectrum have sought either to highlight the negative or positive affinities—the revolutionary thrust, the anticlericalism, the unflinching critique of ideology, the antibourgeois impulse, the common goal of a free humanity—or to accentuate their unbridgeable differences.

From early on certain socialist intellectuals were aware that Nietzsche had posed some of the ultimate questions concerning modern culture. He represented a crucial post-Marxist modernist challenge that would help to deepen socialism. Nietzsche, wrote Samuel Lublinski in 1905, belongs among those “genuinely valuable enemies who force us to ever more sharply and finely formulate our problems and thereby deepen and lend them even greater force and strength of conviction.” Nietzsche had to be internalized while being overcome: “It would be a noble and powerful revenge of socialism on Nietzsche if it proved to be his only heir.”

Indeed, traces of this irony were visible even in socialist exercises specifically designed to dismiss Nietzsche. The best example lies in Kurt Eisner’s Psychopathia Spiritualis, written many years before he became a leader of the ill-fated, postwar, Bavarian revolution. On the one hand, Eisner’s criticisms were clear enough. Nietzsche provided nothing more than a romantic dream while socialism was rational and practical. Nor could this Kantian socialist accept the Nietzschean ethic. One could not, Eisner remarked, build an ideology on an egocentric lack of compassion nor on purely negative notions such as antifeminism or anti-Semitism. Moreover, the Nietzschean imperative to become hard caused degeneration. The philosopher of the future would, unlike Nietzsche, cry: “Become tender (weich)!”

Yet even more significant than the criticisms was the fact that this work was written as an explicit act of self-liberation from Nietzsche, almost as an exorcism. Eisner quite openly admitted Nietzsche’s powerful and almost uncanny influence. Nietzsche was an obsessive temptation of the time: only through direct confrontation, he wrote, could “the Nietzsche problem” be mastered (bewältigen können). He was attracted to Nietzsche’s magical lyricism, intoxicating speech, and “narcotic style,” and respected his insightful criticism of contemporary shallowness and mediocrity. Eisner’s skepticism concerning historical materialism must have helped to make Nietzsche more compelling than the dogmatic certainties of the party line. His Kantianism, rather paradoxically, drew him to sympathize with Nietzsche’s stress on free and maximal individual development.

This ingredient rendered Eisner’s exorcism only partially complete, for in the end his critical vision of socialist self-liberation retained a Nietzschean core. Socialists, Eisner believed, could still selectively learn from Nietzsche. While Nietzsche’s overbearing cult of egocentricity had taken him beyond socialism, it was nevertheless necessary to fuse the Nietzschean aristocratic principle and the imperative of selfhood with democracy and socialism. Eisner’s socialism called for the democratization of Nietzsche’s aristocratic principle—an aristocratization of the masses. Democracy would become a “pan-aristocracy” in which the meaning of aristocracy would reveal itself as altruism rather than ruthlessness and selfishness.

Eisner’s thinking was part of a larger endeavor. The 1890s marked the beginning of a project amongst European socialist theoreticians and activists to fashionably synthesize Nietzsche with Marx. Its most common form revolved around the perceived need to reconcile the imperatives of community with selfhood, the free development of the individual with the just society. Nietzsche had, to be sure, specifically warned against such efforts:

One should not judge the solitary type in terms of the herd; and the herd in terms of the solitary. Seen from above: both are necessary, in the same way their antagonism is necessary, and nothing should be more outlawed than the “desirability” to develop a third way out of both.

Needless to say, those interested in effecting such a union blithely ignored the warning.

This exercise operated on numerous levels and at times within quite unexpected circles. As late as 1925 in an article entitled “What Is Nietzsche to Us?” the journal Heimstunden lyrically adopted Nietzsche as a latterday Communist prophet. His psychologically grounded insights, his atheism, and his affirmation of life were at one with socialism. Most important, his aristocratic type, whose task it was to overcome nihilism, resembled not the traditional elites but the “proletarian aristocracy” of which Leon Trotsky had spoken. Was not Lenin far more the embodiment of Nietzschean “personality” than the old feudal oligarchies? There was a world of difference between the pseudo-individualism (Schein-Individualismen) of the hereditary aristocracy and the plutocracy and that of the “worker’s aristocracy” which emerged from the skilled sectors of the proletariat, genuine individualists who were to play the future, decisive, revolutionary role. Moreover, although Nietzsche was officially frowned upon, he also occasionally insinuated himself into the Socialist Democratic party’s authorized publications. In a 1911 anthology they published, he was included in a collection of revolutionary bourgeois and proletarian poets. The self-conscious proletarian novelist Karl Henckell dedicated an adulatory poem to the philosopher and introduced a militantly Nietzschean tone in his call to arms against the bourgeoisie. In a work—dedicated to Franz Mehring!—Alfred Klineberg proclaimed that Nietzsche’s criticism had made him next to Marx “perhaps the greatest intellectual midwife of our German present” whose work had helped prepare for the future classless society. Even Mehring acknowledged a certain function for Nietzsche as “a transition to socialism.”

In some cases, Mehring’s description was perfectly apt. With individuals like Clara Zetkin and Erich Mühsam, for instance, the Nietzsche fascination was merely a passing phase in their development. Similarly, Georg Lukacs’s early Lebensphilosopie and his advocacy of a tragic worldview was influenced by and mimicked the master he was later to reject. Ironically, he espoused precisely the same kind of Nietzschean romantic anticapitalism that he later so virulently condemned in the philosopher.

For other unorthodox socialists, however, the Nietzschean impulse was longer lasting, crucial in the construction of free-wheeling post-Marxist visions. We examined Kurt Hiller’s Nietzschean Expressionism in chapter 3. For Hiller it was not so much individualism as a frankly espoused elitism that had to be wed to socialism. His journal, Das Ziel, was populated by radicals of all kinds critiquing the absence of Geist in bourgeois society and calling for a social revolution. Its main aim was to abolish the barriers erected against the constitution of a necessary elite, the natural aristocracy of intellectuals which would be replenished by fresh proletarian blood. He founded the short-lived Council of Brain Workers at the end of 1918 in order to further the combined goals of socialism, pacifism, and intellectual aristocracy. Nietzsche was central to his eclectic “logocratic” vision: “It is the mission of the century to allow the intellectual line that leads from the Sermon on the Mount to the Communist Manifesto to converge with that other mighty line: Plato—Nietzsche.”

For some, the socialist—Nietzschean temptation did not die even after the experience of nazism. Thomas Mann, in typically sublimated and conserving form, advocated a variation as late as 1947. His new Nietzsche, no longer champion of the old antidemocratic order, now became a guide to Mann’s own patrician and spiritualized conception of socialism. He declared Nietzsche’s aestheticism to be ultimately incompatible with the ethical outlook of socialism. Nevertheless, he insisted, there were points of significant contact, which the pre-democratic Mann would not have been particularly interested in making. Nietzsche, wrote Mann, had been concerned about making “private property more moral,” was aware how “dangerous is the man who possesses too much,” had called for the international powers to “practice world perspective,” and had, indeed, predicted as unavoidable the future unified economic administration of the earth.

The socialist flavor in his vision of the post-bourgeois life is just as strong as the one we might call fascist. What is it after all when Zarathustra exclaims: “I beseech you, my brethren, remain true to earth! No longer bury your heads in the sand of heavenly things, but carry it freely, ahead of this earth, creating the sense of earth! ... Guide our dissipated virtue back to earth as I do—yea, back to life and love: that it may give a sense to the earth, a human sense!” It means the will to pervade the material element with the human one, it means materialism of the spirit, it is socialism.

Here and there his concept of civilization shows a strongly socialist, certainly no longer a bourgeois coloring. He stands against the cleavage between educated and uneducated, and his youthful discipleship of Wagner signifies this above all: the end of the Renaissance civilization, that great age of the bourgeoisie, an art for high and low, no more delights that would not be common to the hearts of all.

It does not testify of enmity against the workers, it testifies to the contrary when he says: “The working men should learn to feel like soldiers: a recompensation, a salary, but not payment. They shall live one day like the middle-class now, but above them, distinguishing itself by its lack of needs, the higher caste, i.e., poorer and simpler, but possessed of the power.”

Mann’s idiosyncratic thinking, however, remained dislocated from the traditional political or ideological frameworks of Marxism and socialism no matter how broadly conceived. In order to discover the most important post—World War 1 traces of the leftist Nietzschean impulse we must therefore turn to what has become known as Western Marxism. In that body of cultural and increasingly postorthodox thought—especially in the work of Ernst Bloch and the Frankfurt school—Nietzsche played a crucial role. In a far more sustained and sophisticated manner than the piecemeal prewar challenges we have examined thus far, and in the light of multiple crises (October 1917; the abortive German revolutions; the unanticipated consolidation of advanced capitalism; totalitarianism in its Fascist, Stalinist, and Nazi forms) this diverse heterodoxy both challenged and sought to revise normative Marxism. Nietzsche was part inspiration and part beneficiary of an “essential readiness,” as Martin Jay has put it, “to draw on non-Marxist intellectual currents to make up deficiencies (or develop incipient leads) in the inheritance from the nineteenth century.” Whether such eclectic cross-fertilizations enriched and rejuvenated the tradition from within, as its adherents claimed, or whether it undermined or superseded it, transforming it into a quite different non-Marxist animal as its critics claim, must remain here unanswered. Certainly, however, this became a Marxist tradition ever more critical of its own naive rationalist and progressive underpinnings. Its warily sophisticated ruminations, its premises and epistemology, sense of breakdown, and sometimes desperate search for renewal cannot be fully comprehended outside of its tortured dialogue with Nietzsche.

Benjamin’s writings are in a crucial sense post-Nietzschean, unthinkable without that astonishing iconoclasm; yet he knew also that there are traditions of political struggle, “earlier meanings” that, if only they could be remembered, would blow Nietzsche’s own crass politics into the historical rabble he had himself created. (Walter Benjamin: Towards a Revolutionary Criticism [London: Verso, 1985], 66).

temporary culture and his essentially musical sensibility, it was Nietzsche’s willful “overcoming,” the critical-revolutionary impulse, that he integrated within his esoteric Marxism. In Bloch’s vision, the Dionysian dynamic was radicalized into “a subversive countermovement of the subject” against alienating objectivity and became a universal symbol of human redemptive capacity.

Unlike Bloch, the Frankfurt school grew increasingly skeptical of these totalized redemptive possibilities. The experience of their generation perhaps rendered them suspicious of inclusive ideologies and systems, a Nietzschean predilection. Their post-Marxist Ideologiekritik and sensitivity to Nietzschean epistemology disallowed easy schemes of a progressive historical teleology and rendered assumptions of an ultimate object-subject union problematic. The Frankfurt school was able to place the critique of ideology at the center—rare in the history of politicized Nietzsche appropriation—because they increasingly distanced themselves from total political programs. Instead, they regarded themselves as engaged in the salvaging project of critical theory. Such emphasis on critical negation bespoke not the days of fiery hope that animated Bloch, but the dark years of the 1930s and 1940s. Critical theory was preoccupied with opposing the constant falsity of the whole, although they did clutch at the slim hope of eventual universal human emancipation. Less concerned with the mechanics of progress than with the sources of an all-encompassing modern barbarism and increasingly skeptical of finding human agents of redemption, the Frankfurt school nevertheless also operated, as one scholar recently put it, with a paradoxical hope for the saving of the hopeless. The road to its realization, of course, became increasingly blurred, and the signposts to utopia were presented in increasingly abstract terms—transformed, in the words of Martin Jay, into “a nuanced defence of theory as itself a form of nonresigned practice.”

There were, of course, a range of influences working on the Frankfurt school (the humanist Marx, Hegel, Freud, Heidegger, and so on). Nevertheless, theirs was, as Reinhart Maurer has recently persuasively argued, a Nietzschean neo-Marxism. Both the creators of critical theory and later scholars have been aware of the relationship. Certainly, it was a very revised Marxism that could prompt the later Max Horkheimer (in an interview with the Italian paper L’Espresso) to declare that Nietzsche was most probably a greater thinker than Marx.

Nietzsche played a complex role within critical theory, fulfilling both manifest and latent functions. At the most obvious level, he was attractive to the Frankfurt school precisely because he challenged all orthodoxies, because he insisted upon the necessity and complexity of interpretation, and because of his refusal to countenance partisan and simplified formulae. “God knows,” Theodor Adorno chided the more orthodox Walter Benjamin, “there is only one truth... Ultimately there is more of that one truth in Nietzsche’s Genealogy of Morals than in [Nikolay Ivanovich] Bukharin’s ABC of Communism.” They also admired Nietzsche’s unflinching critical spirit and his dissociation, as Adorno put it, “from complicity with the world.” Indeed, for Adorno, Nietzsche’s negativism exemplified the mission that critical theory had set for itself: it was a “unique demonstration of the repressive character of occidental culture” and “expressed the humane in a world in which humanity had become a sham.”

The Frankfurt school’s admiration for Nietzsche was often expressed through their comments about his vulgarizing, reactionary disciples. “Nietzsche’s hymn to the human beast of prey,” Horkheimer noted in 1933, “always maintains a socially critical (gesellschaftkritischeri) undertone .... Several tendencies of the Enlightenment remain alive in him.” His endorsement was even more powerful in 1937 when he wrote of Nietzsche: “The independence that is expressed in his philosophy, the freedom from enslaving ideological powers is the root of his thought.”

Such critical independence was crucial for a Marxism minus a proletariat in which theory itself became praxis. Even the pessimistic Herbert Marcuse of One-Dimensional Man could regard this as “the liberating air of Nietzsche’s thought, cutting into Law and Order.” In his earlier—and for critical theory quite uncharacteristically optimistic—Eros and Civilization (1955), Marcuse provided a concrete demonstration of such liberational Nietzschean possibilities. That work, with its emphasis on the liberating power of remembrance, contained the critical seeds for socially redemptive action—something which the Freudian concept of repression as a psychic need to forget individual pain and trauma could not. Nietzsche’s conception of repression as a response to life-negating external social pressures, however, gave it a clearly sociohistorical and therefore reversible character:

Nietzsche saw in the training of memory the beginning of civilized morality—especially the memory of obligations, contracts, dues. This context reveals the one-sidedness of memory-training in civilization: the faculty was chiefly directed toward remembering duties rather than pleasures; memory was linked with bad conscience, guilt, and sin. Unhappiness and the threat of punishment, not happiness and the promise of freedom, linger in memory.

Marcuse’s Nietzsche “had exposed the gigantic fallacy on which Western philosophy and morality were built—namely, the transformation of facts into essences, of historical into metaphysical conditions”; the Nietzsche whose “total affirmation of the life instincts, repelling all escape and negation” represented “a reality principle fundamentally antagonistic to that of Western civilization.” Marcuse’s critique of Western civilization included the official manifestations of Marxism. Indeed, he regarded its orthodox assault on Nietzschean and other “bourgeois irrationalisms” as revelatory of “traits common to the Soviet and Western rationality, namely, the prevalence of technological elements over humanistic ones.” Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, the vitalists, and so on explode the technological rationality of modern civilization. They do so by pointing up the psychical and biological forces beneath this rationality and the unredeemable sacrifices which it exacts from man. The result is a transvaluation of values which shatters the ideology of progress—not by romanticist and sentimental regression, but by breaking into tabooed dimensions of bourgeois society itself. This transvaluation acts upon precisely those values which Soviet society must protect at all cost: the ethical value of competitive performance, socially necessary labor, self-perpetuating work discipline, postponed and repressed happiness.

Though Nietzsche’s positive programme was never central to critical theory, it did thus play a certain role. Horkheimer also occasionally hinted at the affirmative social content of Nietzsche’s vision and not just his individualistic critical thrust. Through a greater control over nature Nietzsche’s goal for the future consisted of the liberation of an indeterminate number of human powers. His notion of Übermenschen designated such a situation and was not as individualistic as may have appeared. “Despite everything,” Horkheimer wrote, “he [Nietzsche] knew that there would be many ‘Übermenschen’ or none at all.”

We cannot elaborate here on the multiple parallelisms. Those of style and form are patently obvious. Adorno’s Minima Moralia, for instance, clearly replicated the aphoristic Nietzsche of the middle period. His frame of reference was similarly Nietzschean: there Adorno characterized his “negative dialectics” (in which the negation of the negation did not lead to a new positive position but rather to an inclusive nonidentity of subjects) as “melancholy science,” an explicit contrast to Nietzsche’s Gay Science. The relationship of critical theory to Nietzsche must, however, also be identified at a deeper, latent level: in relation to the underlying Fragestellung, its operating categories, and its methodological and philosophical assumptions and concerns.

The Frankfurt school’s overwhelming interest in superstructure and culture derived from numerous sources in addition to Nietzsche. Nevertheless its analysis of the philistine, dehumanizing, and leveling nature of modern mass culture possessed an indelible if updated Nietzschean stamp. There was too a Nietzschean element in the determined aestheticism and individualism—rather than class-centered nature—of critical theory. “If art ‘is’ for any collective consciousness at all,” Marcuse opined, “it is that of individuals united in their awareness of the universal need for liberation—regardless of their class position. Nietzsche’s Zarathustra dedication ‘Für Allé und Keinen’ [For All and None] may apply also to the truth of art.”

Together with the critique of mass culture and aestheticism went a certain sympathy for Lebensphilosophie. It represented, Horkheimer argued, a genuine protest against advanced capitalism with its inexorable leveling of individual existence and growing rigidity of abstract rationalism. The Frankfurt school, unlike Lukacs, made distinctions between various kinds of irrationalism. They sought to identify useful critical potentials amongst these doctrines and separate these from reactionary versions. Nietzsche’s vitalism was an example of the former, and the Lebensphilosophie of the 1930s, designed to reconcile people to the irrationality of the prevailing order, an example of the latter.

Moreover, the Frankfurt school’s awareness of the breakdown of the moral and epistemological certainties of the Western tradition and its central insight into the “dialectic of enlightenment” owed much of its acuity to Nietzsche. He most radically applied the subjective relativism and perspectivism of the Enlightenment and turned it against the Enlightened subject. Critical theory radicalized this even further by applying it in an undifferentiated manner to the dark totalitarian experiences of the 1930s and 1940s: Stalinism, fascism, and American consumer capitalism. Critical theory considered itself an overall Ideologiekritik, conceived as “an enlightenment of enlightenment” and radically critical of culture criticism! Adorno was obsessed with the ironic, inner dynamic of these processes.

Despite these influences, the Frankfurt school also voiced a certain critical ambivalence toward Nietzsche (most clearly expressed in the Dialectic of Enlightenment'). This ambivalence served as a reminder of the Marxist origins of critical theory. In this mood Nietzsche remained, despite all, a bourgeois philosopher unable to recognize the importance of society in his analyses, and one who did not develop sufficiently his insights into the dialectic. Horkheimer’s materialist yet respectful 1935 critique clearly exemplifies this argument:

The only great spirit who, in the face of the gross thickening of this fog which has taken place since the middle of the last century, has achieved the freedom from illusion and the comprehensive view which are possible from the standpoint of the big bourgeoisie, is Nietzsche. It must indeed have escaped him that the intellectual honesty with which he was concerned did not fit in with this social standpoint. The reason for the foulness against which he fought lies neither in individual nor national character, but in the structure of society as a whole, which includes both. Since as a true bourgeois philosopher he made psychology, even if the most profound that exists today, the fundamental science of history, he misunderstood the origin of spiritual decay and the way out, and the fate which befell his own work was therefore inevitable.

Evaluations of critical theory and its Nietzschean connection, of course, differ drastically. Some like Maurer have accused it of lacking the courage of its Nietzschean convictions. For Maurer, Nietzsche represents the ultimate antiutopian whose Ideologiekritik sets everything into question including the muffled utopianism of the Frankfurt school. In this view Nietzsche remains more consistently radical than critical theory. This, in a sense, may illuminate George Friedman’s comment that the Frankfurt school was “too Nietzschean without being Nietzschean enough.” For other critics the problem with critical theory was not an insufficiency but rather a hopeless overdose of Nietzsche. As J. G. Merquior has recently put it:

Underlying most of Adorno’s subsequent ideal of a negative dialectic was the shadow of Nietzsche, the master of misology, i.e., of the attack on logic and reason. In his Genealogy of Morals (1887) Nietzsche contended that “only that is definable which has no history”; now, as has been noticed, Adorno tried to make the same point about society, the medium of history. Consequently he denied himself the stability of a conceptual grasp of social structure and cultural process. Therefore his negative dialectic lacked not only direction but even content, in [Siegfried] Kracauer’s shrewd remark.

It is instructive that in Jürgen Habermas’s endeavor to reconstruct socialist humanism, a respectful criticism of the Frankfurt school has been combined with a fundamental rejection of its Nietzschean component. This relates above all to Habermas’s search for a coherent rationality that the Frankfurt school—succumbing to the Nietzschean temptation—had conspicuously failed to provide: “Horkheimer and Adorno ... surrendered themselves to an uninhibited scepticism regarding reason, instead of weighing the grounds that cast doubt on this scepticism itself.”

Twenty years ago, Habermas commended Nietzsche’s linkage of “knowledge and interests,” without accepting the philosopher’s inclination to psychologize such connections and radicalize skepticism to encompass all knowledge, especially the most refined conceptions of reason. This was Ideologiekritik that went well beyond its traditional, redeeming functions. “Nietzsche carried to its end the self-abolition of epistemology inaugurated by Hegel and continued by Marx, arriving at the self-denial of reflection.” For Habermas this was no longer dialectic of enlightenment but simply a form of late bourgeois irrationalism; he has of late updated his conviction to include the most recent “Nietzscheanisms” manifested in neo-Heideggerianism, Foucaultian poststructuralism and Derridean deconstructionism.

Despite Habermas’s efforts, it is dubious whether at this late stage of postmodernist consciousness Nietzsche can indeed be simply written out of radical, leftist, or even Marxist formations. He is certainly at the justifying center of current French radical conceptions of culture characterized by heterogeneity, an emphasis on play and laughter, pluralism, contradiction, desire, difference, and a belief that the erosion of belief in a stable and unified truth constitutes a form of liberation. Like so many other Nietzschean projects their political pedigree is elusive. While Habermas has denounced these currents as forms of political irrationalism, they have variously been pronounced as post-Marxist continuations of leftist radicalism, as nihilist anarchism, and even as conservative quietism incapable of envisaging even the possibility of meaningful change.

The often-confused attempt to combine Nietzsche with Marx still continues, but as far as the organized socialist movement of the left is concerned, the Nietzschean influence was never central. Although it bore various manifestations and functioned as a protean and re-evaluative irritant, it could not become part of the mainstream.

This was not true for the numerous ideologies of German socialism developed by polemicists of Weimar’s radical right. There Nietzsche was pivotal in an attempt by conservative revolutionaries to reappropriate the socialist monopoly from the left and put it to right-wing ends. In this exercise Nietzsche acted as the authoritative counterfoil to Marx and as a prophet who both incarnated and enunciated authentic German Geist and values. The authors of this exercise, of course, ferreted only those images, categories, and metaphors from the Nietzschean storehouse which suited their purpose. They formulated a transfigured conception of socialism which left behind all its Marxist associations. Many of the makers of German socialism regarded only Nietzsche as prophetic and revolutionary enough and capable of providing the armory of necessary concepts, the idiom of heroic struggle and power, to give shape to an attractive and modern counterconception of socialism.

Although there were differing strands in the German Nietzschean socialism of the right, a few basic commonalities can be identified. It too had to indulge in casuistry. Nietzsche’s hatred for social goals, wrote one commentator early in the Nazi period, was mere foreground. In reality he prescribed a union between socialist strivings and masterful leadership: moreover, he would welcome the fact that the struggle between the classes was over, making way for the tasks of a great politics. In essence he distinguished between “a good and bad socialism. Democracy is socialism elevated to a goal in itself, while for Nietzsche socialism is a means, a necessary fundament from which great leaders could erect new peoples out of stratified structures.”

These Nietzschean socialisms of the right were enamored with an explicitly irrationalist Lebensphilosophie that depicted the abstract rationalism of Marxism and liberalism as hopelessly unsuited to capturing the authentic sources of life. Since the right was held to embody life, it stood above rational scrutiny. Politics was viewed as essentially an aesthetic matter. Fused with a volitional conception of action, politics became transformed and socialized into a national Nietzschean will to power. This conception of socialism was inextricably tied to the themes and mythology of World War I. It sought to replace the language of class with that of the masculine community at war. This was to be the basis of a new integration of the worker into society for which Nietzscheanism was eminently suited.

In 1919 as a direct response to the German revolution and as an attempt to redefine its goals, Arthur Moller van den Bruck announced the union of Nietzsche and socialism. He first enunciated the bases of this viewpoint in the popular magazine Illustrierte Zeitung in an article appropriately entitled “Nietzsche and Socialism.” Nietzsche, van den Bruck asserted, had begun to sense that socialism had a positive as well as a negative potential. When socialism was properly understood, it could be the “will to affirmation of life.” All revolutions when properly steered could be creative and result in new human powers that could strengthen the nation. This too could be applied to present events. Van den Bruck quoted Nietzsche’s prediction (the same one later invoked by Thomas Mann): “One day the worker will live like the bourgeois; but above him, the higher caste characterized by its frugality: thus poorer and simpler, but in possession of power.”

Nietzsche’s vision, the elitist van den Bruck wrote, was already partially true for the workers. But at this stage of the revolution they had to decide which values to choose: either the materialism of a merely political socialism, or an idealist, “spiritual socialism” whose ethical consequences Nietzsche had made clear.

In 1923, when the threat of a workers’ takeover seemed to have waned, van den Bruck published his famous Das dritte Reich in which he formulated a less-urgent conception of German socialism and expanded upon his previous ideas. Van den Bruck’s socialism combined individualist and corporatist notions of a more open social structure with a massive dose of anti-Marxism and a clearly patronizing view of the working classes he sought to liberate. Nietzsche, van den Bruck insisted, sought to bring new individuals from the proletariat into the nation. Presently they were undeniably without ideals, material people in an economically regulated world who were part of a proletariat that still lived an animal existence. Despite their materialist and amorphous condition, they could be gradually incorporated into the life of the nation through shaping and spiritualization. Was not Nietzsche thinking of worker dignity when he proclaimed: “There must be no relation between pay and accomplishment. Each individual according to his gifts must be so placed that he does the best that is in him to do.”

Nietzsche’s was a nobler interpretation of communism, van den Bruck declared, for he substituted the leveling idea of equality with that of equality of rights on a higher moral plane. He recognized only one measure of human values and demanded that the proletariat attain it. Van den Bruck’s conception of socialism was also inextricably linked to the nation; when workers placed themselves within its framework their actions would be transformed from mere force into creative power. Socialism acquired meaning only when it embraced the whole people and their economic necessities. Worker inclusion was the basis of national regeneration: “This New Socialism must be the foundation of Germany’s Third Empire.” His socialism began where liberalism and Marxism ended, one that was indissolubly tied to a national regeneration couched in explicitly Nietzschean terms: “The manpower of sixty million,” van den Bruck wrote, “must be transformed into the will to power of sixty million... This will is the only thing we can surely count on.”

Nietzschean socialists of the right also employed Nietzsche for the analysis of decadence and the road to recovery. Hugo Fischer, an associate of the radical conservative circle around Hans Freyer, commended both Marx and Nietzsche as analysts of the decadence of bourgeois society: nevertheless, Nietzsche was the superior thinker. He had placed decadence at the very center and, unlike Marx, was able to distinguish between merely symptomatic and real decadence. The socialism of the right was engendered by the search for a healthy, post-decadent, and anti-bourgeois New Man.

Nietzschean values of heroism, struggle, and power were paramount to a solidarity based not on factory lines but on the community of the trenches. Perhaps the most repeated quote emphasizing this form of socialism was Nietzsche’s dictum regarding the future of the worker: “Workers should learn to feel like soldiers. An honorarium, an income, but no pay!”

Werner Sombart argued that there was a fundamental distinction between materialistic Marxist socialism marked by a calculating merchant spirit and an idealistic and heroic German socialism that preferred being a lion for the day to being a sheep for the century. It was the antithesis of the labor cult whose whole ideology rested upon a foundation of thorough ressentiment.

This socialism of the right was meant to counter Western hedonism, progress, and utility, values associated with the rejected Marxist and liberal worldviews. These values were to be replaced by a tragic Nietzschean antihistoricist vitalism that would encourage a socialism of duties as well as rights and that stressed sacrifice for a supra-individual goal. Typically this goal was transposed from the international proletariat to the nation.

Not all advocates of some form of national socialism were Nazis. Yet the attempt to reduce the social to the national and vice versa increasingly characterized all segments of the German radical right. As Hitler put it in 1932:

Every true national thought is in the last analysis social... [H]e who devotes himself wholly to his people ... he who comprehends our great anthem “Deutschland, Deutschland über alles,” that nothing in the world stands higher for him than this Germany ... is a socialist. That was and is the socialism of the Front, of Adolf Hitler, and was and is the socialism of the Steel Helmet.

The various versions of this socialism were able to substitute Prussian for Marxist traditions as constitutive of “true” socialism. Their major socialist virtues were courage, discipline, order, and obedient subordination. Nietzsche provided an updated masculine vocabulary for such values. But even further, he was also able to provide what one commentator described as the dynamic “revolutionary element in socialism” while discarding its “democratic-economic element.” What was valuable above all in socialism and in need of diversionary tapping was its revolutionary energy. Moreover, suprahistorical Nietzschean values of life and the will to power were integrated into a socialism that centered on the working classes without explicitly attacking the institution of private property or promising an end to economic inequality.

Nietzschean socialists of the right began their analyses with diagnoses of present decadence, stating that Germany was sinking into a state of hopeless degeneration; only radical, even apocalyptic socialist measures could bring about the required revitalization. The exceedingly popular Oswald Spengler—Nietzsche’s “clever ape,” as Thomas Mann dubbed him—articulated both these themes.

It is significant that in his first volume of The Decline of the West (1918) Spengler combined his analysis of socialism as a cultural phenomenon with the book’s only full discussion of Nietzsche. At this stage, Spengler exhibited an ambivalent and critical attitude toward both Nietzsche and socialism. Socialism was portrayed as part of the late Western condition, a universal and ultimate expression of Faustian ethics in its declining and negative stage. Like science, it lacked the creativity of the Faustian ethic as it manifested itself during the higl period of Kultur; it was practical, soulless, and lacking all metaphysica. qualities. It reduced everything to an external, social character, intolerantly intent on socializing everything into its own mold. As such it was a universal, inescapable part of modernity:

If we allow that socialism (in the ethical, not the economic, sense) is that world-feeling which seeks to carry out its own views on behalf of all, then we are all without exception, willingly or no, wittingly or no, socialists. Even Nietzsche, that most passionate opponent of “herd morale” was perfectly incapable of limiting his zeal to himself in the classical way. He thought only of “mankind,” and he attacked everyone who differed from himself... The Nietzschean Zarathustra—though professedly standing beyond good and evil—breathes from end to end the pain of seeing men to be other than as he would have them be...

Socialism—in its highest and not its street-corner sense—is, like every other Faustian ideal, exclusive... When Nietzsche wrote down the phrase “transvaluation of all values” for the first time, the spiritual movement of the centuries in which we are living found at last its formula. ... It is just this, the general transvaluation, that makes ... —using the word in a novel and deep sense—socialism.

Nietzsche, wrote Spengler, did not have the courage to draw his own conclusions. It was left to George Bernard Shaw, he claimed, to complete the argument that Zarathustra had been too fastidious to make. His Man and Superman and Major Barbara gave practical and precise forms to these vague Nietzschean impulses. Shaw pursued Nietzsche’s notion of breeding the superman. In doing so he recognized the Darwinian nature of the project; he also perceived that Nietzsche had in essence demanded “the transformation of mankind into a stud-farm.” Ironic as it may have seemed, Spengler argued, Nietzsche’s master morality with its scheme of systematic breeding—“a completely materialistic and utilitarian notion”—-“derived ... from that source of all intellectual modernity, the atmosphere of the English factory.”

Such heady, critical stuff entirely changed the conventional meanings of socialism. Yet already Spengler hinted here at the positive evaluation he would later give to Nietzschean socialism. Frederick William I of Prussia, he declared, was “the prototype of the socialist in the grand sense.” Socialism, moreover, was not a system of compassion, humanity, peace, and kindly care, but one o will-to-power. Any other reading of it is illusory. The aim is through anc through imperialist; welfare, but welfare in the expansive sense, the welfare not of the diseased but of the energetic man who ought to be given freedom to do, regardless of obstacles of wealth, birth, and tradition.

Although Spengler did not mention the relevant passage, Nietzsche had indeed outlined a similar conception:

Socialism is merely a means of agitation employed by individualism: it grasps that, to attain anything, one must organize oneself to a collective action, to a “power.” But what it desires is not a social order as the goal of the individual but a social order as a means for making possible many individuals: this is the instinct of socialists about which they frequently deceive themselves.

Spengler’s socialism becomes the freedom to rise beyond one’s own class and allow the suitably gifted the opportunity to express the will to power. In the second volume of The Decline of the West (1922) he went considerably beyond this position. He depicted a cosmic struggle in which capitalism played the role of the destructive money powers. Socialism was instead the hard-working, self-sacrificing, caring servant of the state, “suddenly the focus of immense life-forces.” It was, indeed, nothing less than “the will to call into life a mighty politico-economic order that transcends all class-interests, a system of lofty thoughtfulness and duty-sense that keeps the whole in fine condition for the decisive battle of its history.”

The Decline of the West was, however, a quasi-scholarly tome, and the theme of socialism was apt to get lost in its labyrinthine meander-ings. This was not the case with Spengler’s 1920 polemic Preussentum und Sozialismus. There, socialism becomes simply identical with the Prussian virtues of leadership, courage, discipline, and obedience. These were the keys to the integration of the working class into the wider community and the basis for national regeneration. In this volume Nietzsche is hardly mentioned by name, yet his spirit, language, and values permeate Spengler’s vision. Socialism, wrote Spengler, had nothing to do with the contradiction between rich and poor but with the capacity to dominate life:

I turn to the youth... Become men! We do not need ideologues any more, no speeches of Bildung and the spiritual mission of the Germans. We need hardness, we need a fearless scepticism, we need a class of socialist mastermen. Once again: socialism means power, power, and yet again power.

It was in Ernst Jünger’s Der Arbeiter (The Worker, 1932) that this tendency found its apotheosis. Jünger’s lines between left and right became quite blurred. In the late 1920s, he had expressed sympathy for the Communists and their positive, militant will to power. During the 1930s he became associated with national bolshevism and the search for common ground with Russia against the West. Der Arbeiter, that radical attempt to foresee the coming order and rethink the meaning of the worker, was to have been the manifesto of the National Bolsheviks. Precisely because of their capacity for total mobilization and for creating a new order, Jünger could admire both Italian fascism and bolshevism.

Jünger’s Der Arbeiter took to its limits a radical vision where a novel conception of labor becomes the principle of all of society. In his transmutation of Nietzsche and his peculiar image of nationalized socialism, the worker becomes the center of all life—the very basis of existence and its capacity for regeneration. Yet Jünger’s worker in no way resembles the familiar, everyday proletarian. He is a stylized prototype. The worker is regarded not through socioeconomic categories but as a metahistorical type, a deindividualized gestalt. This gestalt had its basis in a kind of aesthetic politics and was beyond good or evil, neither false nor true. Rather, it was a phenomenon comprehensible only in its own terms. One either experienced its dynamic or did not.

In unmistakably Nietzschean language, Jünger’s postwar Weimar vision of the future worker society sought to make the Kriegserlebnis part of everyday modern life. The worker and the new order emanated a pure will to power, one that was quite removed from all previous bourgeois expressions. Indeed, the worker represents the antithesis of the bourgeois whose whole project had been to deny the elemental and the dangerous as essential to life. The war, wrote Jünger, had reestablished their centrality and had relegated the bourgeois order to the past. The new order of the future could already be apprehended: “It has become unnecessary to occupy oneself with the transvaluation of values—it is sufficient to see the new and participate in it.”

The new age seemed nothing less than the actualization of Nietzsche’s exhortation to live dangerously. Jünger without Nietzsche is unimaginable. As he put it in Das Wäldchen 125: “Almost everything that most strongly moved us ... we owed to the lonely Nietzsche.” His entire corpus breathes the spirit of Nietzsche, updated in a peculiarly impassioned way. Der Arbeiter seemed to herald the Nietzschean age, a society created in Nietzsche’s dynamic and nihilistic image.

Yet Jünger tamed that dynamic by socializing the worker into a highly disciplined world. He typologized and collectivized his Nietzschean man and harnessed him to an impersonal national and industrial framework. Nietzsche was put on the workbench, transforming Zarathustra into a faceless cog in an industrial machine bent on total mobilization. The primitive and the sophisticated came together in Jünger’s fantasy by making will the mediating force. The sense of power and discipline were combined through the willed control of technology and production. Labor was always a key to the totality of things. Through their elemental capacities and their labor, workers were destined to become the regenerative and ruling force.

The creation of a new humanity was the goal of the worker. This had nothing to do with classical Marxist ideas. Based upon the principle of heroic realism, the new order represented the death of the individual and the rise of the type. Jünger’s New Man would not experience himself as an end but only as a means, a carrier of the elemental will to power. As in war, where individual character counted for less than collective, mechanized action, the new age would render individual character obsolete. The apparatus of the modern industrial state would be an expression of the worker’s will to power.

In this new society, the laws of war and total mobilization were to be applied to all areas of life and the distinction between combatants and noncombatants expunged. Freedom was no longer conceived as an expression of individual independence but as an act of becoming part of the totality. It was a world in which the workers’ will to power made freedom and obedience identical. In the final version of a right-wing Nietzschean socialism, Nietzsche’s individualism was entirely submerged by its postwar brutalization. On the eve of the rise of the Nazis, both Nietzsche and socialism underwent their ultimate transfiguration.

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  1. Ernst Moritz Geyger’s illustration of Nietzsche’s parable “The Giant” (1895). Pan 1, no. 2 (1895/96), p. 91.

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  1. Etching by Hans Olde (1899). Pan 5, no. 4 (1899/1900), p. 233.

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  1. Anonymous. Nietzsche with a crown of thorns. Bookplate for Georg Lapper (ca. 1900). Courtesy of the Goethe-Schiller Archive, Weimar.

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  1. Nietzsche writing a testimonial for Bersons. Die Fackel, no. 5—6 (January 1914), pp. 391-392.

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  1. House in Darmstadt by Peter Behrens: vestibule mosaic with four stylized eagles. Tilmann Buddensieg, “Das Wohnhaus als Kultbau,” in Peter Behrens und Nürnberg (Munich: Prestel, 1980), p. 39. Courtesy of the Germanisches National Museum, Nürnberg.

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6. Bruno Taut, Alpine Architektur (Hagen: Folkwang, 1919).

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  1. Fritz Schumacher, design for Nietzsche Monument (1898). Fritz Schumacher, Studien (Leipzig: Baumgärtner, 1900), table 1.

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  1. Arnold Kramer, sculpture of Nietzsche in sick-chair (1898). Exhibition in the renovated Nietzsche archive. In the background is an unknown work featuring Nietzsche with Zarathustrian symbols of the snake and the eagle. Courtesy of Goethe-Schiller Archive, Weimar.

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  1. Fidus (Hugo Hoeppener), marriage ceremony combined with a Zarathustra citation (1906). Jugend 11 (1906), p. 369.

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  1. Alfred Soder, picture of Nietzsche naked in the mountains. Bookplate for Friedrich Berthold Sutter (1907). Courtesy of the Goethe-Schiller Archive, Weimar.

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  1. Anonymous. Postcard with vegetarian citation. Woodcut of Nietzsche after Hans Olde (ca. 1900). Courtesy of the Goethe-Schiller Archive, Weimar.

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  1. Drawing of Nietzsche from Sozialistische Monatshefte, no. 10 (October 1900), p. 626.

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  1. Max Klinger, bust of Nietzsche. Die Tat I, no. 1 (April 1909).

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  1. “Two Subhumans” (Untermenschen) and “Two Humans.” Der Untermensch (Berlin, 1942).

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  1. Hitler next to a bust of Nietzsche, 1934. Courtesy of the Goethe-Schiller Archive, Weimar.

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  1. The eighty-eight-year-old Elisabeth Förster-Nietzsche receiving Hitler at the entrance of the Nietzsche archives. Courtesy of the Goethe-Schiller Archive, Weimar.

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  1. “The Return of a Philosopher: Nietzsche the Thinker, Hitler the Perpetrator.” Cover of Der Spiegel 35, no. 24 (8 June 1981). Courtesy of Der Spiegel: Das Deutsche Nachrichten-Magazin.

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7. After the Death of God: Varieties of Nietzschean Religion

And how many new gods are still possible! As for myself, in whom the religious, that is to say god-forming, instinct occasionally becomes active at impossible times—how differently, how variously the divine has revealed itself to me each time! ... Is it necessary to elaborate that a god prefers to stay beyond everything bourgeois and rational? And, between ourselves, also beyond good and evil?
Nietzsche, The Will to Power

It is a commonplace that Nietzsche and his disciples were key contributors to a fundamental crisis of Christian faith in Europe from the nineteenth century onward. No one, however, has as yet charted the complex ways in which generations of Nietzscheans simultaneously sought to surmount that crisis by redirecting and regenerating the religious impulse rather than obliterating it. The creation of a number of alternative counterreligious conceptions constituted an essential ingredient in the assimilation of Nietzscheanism into European, especially German, culture. Our task here will be to present an anatomy of these surrogate faiths, to place them within an ideological context, and to examine some of their political implications in Germany from the 1890s through the Third Reich.

Nietzscheanism was part creator and part beneficiary of a general erosion of traditional belief and dissatisfaction with the established church. For many this dissatisfaction, far from quenching the thirst for religion, gave it renewed impetus. In fin-de-siecle Germany there were diverse attempts to either rejuvenate or graft a self-consciously secular form upon religious consciousness. The growing 'discredibility of dogma and the resultant spiritual loss—exacerbated by the process of rapid and intense industrialization—spawned a multitude of reformist tendencies (both within the Church and without), naturalist religions, and occult and mystic societies. Many of these had a crackpot, fringe quality about them, but they pointed to the existence of new configurations of faith in which the religious and the political realms increasingly intermingled. The forms and content of these alternative religions were inevitably eclectic and, like other areas of Nietzschean endeavor, blurred traditional lines of political demarcation. Acolytes of the new cults, groping for new forms of spiritual self-representation, were thus often ideologically ambiguous and politically mobile.

The fact that those in search of religious faith often took their inspiration from the most radical of all atheists was an irony that typified Nietzsche appropriation. Nevertheless, the construction of Nietzschean religiosity was never entirely arbitrary—plausible projections could be selectively mined from the master’s works, as the opening quote of this chapter demonstrates. The death of God, Nietzsche argued in places, did not necessarily presage the age of nihilism and the end of religion as such. “It seems to me that the religious instinct is indeed in the process of growing powerfully—but the theistic satisfaction it refuses with deep suspicion.”

Those who sought a religious Nietzsche could find allusions throughout his work. The very language and style of Also sprach Zarathustra (by consensus one of the great lyrical achievements in the German tongue) breathed the biblical spirit. The religious dimension, of course, far transcended matters of language and style. It informed Nietzsche’s entire project. His insistence on the creation of new tablets, his elevation of Dionysian divinity in direct juxtaposition to (and at the end, in combination with) the crucified, his doctrine of eternal recurrence, and his vision of the Übermensch as an earthly inheritor of the old God, all encouraged Nietzschean religious constructions.

These constructions spanned the politico-ideological spectrum. Nietzschean religious themes appeared in various left-wing guises, inspiring the imagery of countless neoromantic and völkisch groupings as well as purportedly apolitical spiritualist, literary, and intellectual circles.

For all the variety, some basic elements made up most Nietzschean religions. All fostered a humanist Nietzschean universe of voluntarism, will, vitalism, myth, and heroism. All sought to disseminate to different Christian or post-Christian constituencies a regenerative sensibility in which Nietzsche was the central presence.

The dissemination began in a startling way. The escapades of Nietzschean religion in Germany began as a force within the faith, seeking to revitalize not to destroy Christianity! Essentially a Protestant phenomenon, it was spearheaded by a number of critical but committed pastors and theologians who invoked the Nietzschean religious impulse in the struggle to revive the authentic Christian message.

We know how most Christians viewed Nietzsche. Was he not the man who had savaged their faith and defined himself as the antichrist? Much of his infamy derived from his ruthless condemnation of Christianity as a life-negating force and fount of an ongoing and debilitating ressentiment slave morality. In place of the effeminate, decadent ethics of Christianity which had poisoned the innards of Western civilization, he proposed an immoralist world beyond good and evil.

Not unexpectedly many Christians responded in kind. Nietzsche, they argued, was an immoral man advocating doctrines that were blasphemously anti-Christian and socially dangerous. His proclamation that God was dead and that all was now permitted possessed demonic dimensions. His teachings, like his mind, were insane, destructive, and diseased.

There were, however, significant others who dissented. At a time of great inner malaise, a number of Protestants found the Nietzschean language of regeneration and life-affirmation particularly appealing. Protestantism, itself the product of a break with a powerful normative tradition, had always been especially receptive to external, modern influences. This capacity for innovation notwithstanding, the incorporation of Nietzsche into Christianity demanded even more than the usual casuistry. The numerous attempts testify to the attraction of the Nietzschean vision and shed some light on the extremes of Protestant self-representation since the 1890s.

As early as 1896 the theologian Hans Gallwitz provided Protestantism with a clear Nietzschean thrust. For him, Nietzsche’s manly, warrior values were not only worthy of emulation but also constituted the heart of original, authentic Christianity. The masculine, heroic virtues of Nietzscheanism and “real” Christianity were virtually indistinguishable. So close were they, indeed, that Gallwitz (writing in that bastion of respectable German opinion, the Preussiche Jahrbücher) propagated “Friedrich Nietzsche as Educator towards Christianity.”

If one penetrated the “paradox” of Nietzsche’s thinking and arrived at the core of his ethics, Gallwitz proclaimed, one would discover that Christ and the antichrist had advocated the same values and truths. Armed with quotes from the New Testament and the Nietzschean one, Gallwitz demonstrated the affinity. In this exegesis Christ was metamorphized into a Nietzschean. The savior’s own conduct was characterized by the equation of goodness with feelings of power while the bad was identical with weakness. When Christ proclaimed (in Matthew 10:34): “Do not think that I have come to bring peace on earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword,” he was fully in accord with the Nietzschean vision. Their commonalities were there for all to see: both had sought to awaken their exhausted age with new life energy; both had loved truth; and their affirmation of self and distaste for cowardice bound them together.

Of course Nietzsche had been wrong in his assessment of Christianity; it was not at all a pitiful ressentiment religion. Far from fostering egalitarianism and sickly mediocrity, original Christianity had posited recovery from a false, sterile reality to one based on nature, strength, and beauty. Paul’s attack on pagan reason and Jesus’s scorn for pharisaic legalism, in Gallwitz’s view, were akin to earlier versions of Nietzsche’s Lebensphilosophie, part of the return to the Sinn der Erde.

In an age where manliness was increasingly identified with normalcy and national definition, Gallwitz’s attempt to refashion Christianity in terms of a Nietzschean ethic of power, heroism, and masculinity becomes more comprehensible. Outraged Catholic critics regarded this Nietzscheanization of Christianity as a reflection of the Protestant condition. Lacking any mission and bereft of authority, it was quite understandable that Protestants would begin to regard themselves as Übermenschen. This overturning of traditional morality for a vitalism which produced a creature beyond sin and to whom nothing was forbidden was radically evil.

There were other ways in which the attempt to Nietzscheanize Protestantism—and to Protestantize Nietzsche—proceeded. There was a growing recognition of Nietzsche’s indispensability as a critic who raised issues of fundamental importance for modern culture. Protestants who borrowed from Nietzsche usually did so as part of their critical sense of the Protestant condition. They applied the neoromantic language of decadence and regeneration to their own Christian predicament. Nietzsche’s role was here conceived as lulling Christianity out of its deceptive sleep, alerting it to its own situation and shortcomings, and thus paving the way towards a more authentic, rejuvenated religiosity. Nietzsche was harnessed to Protestantism in crisis.

In order to do this effectively, Nietzsche required a legitimate pedigree. The philosopher, a Protestant critic wrote in 1900, could teach Christians important lessons because his whole life was suffused with spirituality. His pietist background, his lifelong engagement with theological issues, and his own unswervingly religious nature made him an important source for modern Christians. Nietzsche’s purported atheism betrayed a palpable yearning for faith: had not Zarathustra cried out that God himself had converted him to Godlessness? Nietzsche’s countermessage of eternal recurrence was unacceptable to Christians, the Nuremburg pastor F. Rittelmeyer declared, but his message remained profoundly religious. Was not his invocation of a correspondence between thought and being an implicit admission of belief in a “hidden God” who brought order to the world?

In appropriating Nietzsche, Protestants followed the familiar pattern employed by all who yoked the philosopher to a particular cause: the real, the deep Nietzsche had to be discovered. Thus, as the theologian Theodor Odenwald insisted, a true Christian harnessing of Nietzsche entailed differentiating it from the myriad of shallow, sensationalist cults surrounding him. Nietzsche, he argued, could not be exploited as a symbol of a general anti-religiosity; his negation of Christianity flowed from his yearning for it. Indeed, Nietzsche was comprehensible, Odenwald delighted in arguing, only in “that totality of European spirituality that was always bound up with Christianity.” In Nietzsche’s system of thought the Catholic, Protestant and mystic streams of Christian experience all found their place.

This domestication of Nietzsche into an expression of the European religious intellectual tradition served an important function. Once integrated, Nietzschean goals could be legitimately pursued. Odenwald could thus fuse Christianity into the overall process of transvaluation (Umt&ertungsprozess). Nietzsche could be a central figure inspiring Christianity’s own transvaluation process, its struggle to treat faith in worldly terms, and its move from dogma and fixed forms to an emphasis on dynamic deeds. Nietzsche’s confrontation with Christianity, Odenwald insisted, was one with “our struggle for a new understanding of Christianity.” Nietzsche’s quest for regeneration had to become normative for those concerned with the future of a viable religion. His struggle against his own time and the Christianity of his age constituted “the anticipation of our own struggle, Nietzsche’s inner tension, from which his spirit sprang, is our tension.”

The most influential and active purveyor of Nietzsche in the Protestant church was the colorfully idiosyncratic Bremen pastor Albert Kalthoff (1850—1906). As one critic discerned, here was a man, supposedly serving an evangelical community, who subversively smuggled Nietzsche and Nietzscheanism into the Church. The critic was referring to Kalthoff’s series of addresses that he gave to his congregation and which he published under the title Zarathustra Sermons. Kalthoff talked wherever possible to working-class audiences. Although he remained within the Protestant fold, his activities resembled those free-religious preachers fashionable in the 1890s who founded congregations outside the Church.

Kalthoff’s eclectic thinking and career were symptomatic of those seekers attracted to Nietzschean religion in one form or another. He fused monism, socialism, and Nietzscheanism without too much anguish. Like other Nietzscheans, he dissented from mainstream positions and indulged in a free-floating radicalism that expressed itself through heretical positions. Given their Marxist bent, his writings on Christianity created sensations. The primitive Church, he wrote, had given the world “the widest communist manifesto ever framed” while Jesus had never in fact existed. He was rather the mythical embodiment of the needs and desires of the underclasses of the ancient world.

Kalthoff’s Marxist-based rejection of Jesus was linked to Nietzschean vitalist antihistoricism. A man who had lived in another historical period could not be made into an absolute law for one’s own time. Those who looked to the past for salvation, Kalthoff asserted, were misguided. Only future-oriented solutions that merged religious consciousness with the imperatives of modern life would bring deliverance. Like most Nietzscheans, he adumbrated the myth of the man as an integral part of redemptive Nietzschean ideas. Nietzsche, Kalthoff wrote, was the embodiment of his age and its possibilities, its disease, and potential for recovery. Consciously or not, Kalthoff proclaimed, “we all carry part of him within us.”

The Church could appropriate its greatest enemy, Kalthoff held, once it realized that this thinker had “more morality, this antichrist more Christianity than those who blaspheme him.” The basis for the recovery of Christianity was the recovery of its original radicalism. Primitive Christianity had shared with Nietzsche such a radical drive. It too had transvalued all the old values of faith and morality. Had Christianity remained true to itself it too today would have been dissatisfied with the divine, it too would have become a “conspirator of the future.”

Kalthoff formulated an explicitly modern religious sensibility virtually interchangeable with Nietzschean categories. It had to be liberated from the shackles of debilitating history. Free individual appropriation, not external proscription, was the way to both a positive life and an affirmative Christianity in which the Church too would become free. Following Nietzsche’s example, the new religion would have to be entirely “untheological, unchurchly” and take its stand “beyond belief and unbelief.” It would emerge not out of sterile scholasticism but from the creative sources of one’s own life.

Most dissenting fin-de-siècle ideologies projected their positive visions onto an idealized New Man of the future. Kalthoff found his model in a Nietzscheanized Protestant Übermensch who would incarnate a new religious consciousness affirming the interconnectedness of the world and overcoming the fragmentation of bourgeois-commercial society. The new person would achieve an integrity that went beyond the usual individualist or socialist categories.

Kalthoff’s Nietzsche—the prophet of this new man and new culture—was emancipationist. Nietzsche had foreseen a culture that promised the realization of the still-unfulfilled potential of a free humanity. This new Christianity would take on an essentially Nietzschean shape, positing humanity its goal, beauty as its form, and life as its law, creating eternity in the present.

Like many other progressive Nietzscheans Kalthoff integrated what we today view as a more problematic eugenic element. His new Protestant sought a world “in which everything unliving, unfree, dying, weakly, and sick in man is eliminated.” Here was a Christian utopia with subversive premises designed to render older conceptions of Christian morality and action outmoded. It sought to inculcate into Protestant life a vitalist, Lebensphilosophie aesthetic that would overturn the “sterile, life-negating ethics” of scholastic Christianity.

The harmonization of Nietzsche with Protestantism took on a more clearly defined political direction, however, when the Nietzschean impulse became selectively integrated into that part of the völkisch movement concerned with the construction of a specifically Germanic form of Christianity. Nietzsche thus became a force in the wider nationalist annexation and redefinition of religion.

Nietzsche was by no means an obvious candidate for sainthood in the thrust to create a Germanic Christianity. He appeared, after all, to oppose both the Germanic and the Christian components. Paul de Lagarde was a far more likely champion. Yet Nietzsche, assuming increasing cultural authority, expressed enough useable and inspirational themes to become part of that pantheon. His unmatched radical critique of contemporary culture, his emphasis on the play of mythical and irrational forces, and his concern with vital, regenerative impulses appealed to central figures in the Christian völkisch revival.

Key popularizers, such as Arthur Bonus, infused Germanic Christianity with a Nietzschean texture that they did not always fully acknowledge. Germanic religion, Bonus declared, opposed the Jewish-Greek emphasis on knowledge. It was instead predicated upon the centrality of shaping and creating (Schaffen). It was concerned with the individual and with the freedom of the personality; its very essence was contained in the Nietzschean title of one of Bonus’s books, Religion as Will. The basis, Bonus argued, for the Germanization of Christianity was masculine. This nationalization of religion would replace the old, timid, and cowardly spirit of Christianity with that of a “courageous, just, and free” Germanism (Deutschtum).

Bonus, to be sure, was critical of various Nietzschean notions. Nietzsche’s Übermensch was informed by an essentially Roman worldview. The German alternative, embodied in Dietrich of Bern, represented a quite different ideal. But even if he questioned the content of the Übermensch ideal, the idea remained central and was integrated into a conception of religion where Nietzschean will was the primary locomotive. Indeed, Bonus’s almost taken-for-granted, pre-reflective use of Nietzschean categories and terms for his own purpose marked the depth of Nietzsche’s impact.

Bonus’s Übermensch construction buttressed his own point of view. Inverting the accepted understanding of the term, he argued that it was really only the Übermensch who could engage in a proper relationship with God. Far from being the incarnation of the breakdown in belief, his Übermensch now became the exemplar of authentic belief! For Bonus, Luther and Ernst Moritz Arndt represented such a human type. “The German Christian,” Bonus wrote, “does not fear even the most boisterous Übermenschen. Overflowing with defiant strength he feels himself an Übermensch and because of that loves and fears God, whom he knows has given him strength.”

This emerging faith entailed a new moral-religious determination designated by Bonus as an “unbending will to power” that would create the disposition to experience God as an ally rather than as an enemy. Germanic Christianity would be based not on fear but on feelings of power and strength. Even God in this view was invested with Nietzschean characteristics. There had to be a symmetry, Bonus declared, between the personality of the Germans and the God they worshipped. They would either discover a strong and free God who in turn would make them strong and free or they would turn entirely from him. German atheism was thus not godless. It was, rather, only rent from that God who willed slavish self-renunciation and who denied the power of will and creative this-worldly affirmation.

All these religions had to channel Nietzsche’s potentially anarchic notions of will, vitalism, immoralism, and individualism into manageable sociopolitical and intellectual frameworks. The adherents of a völkisch Germanic Christianity did this by placing the Nietzschean dynamic within the bounds of the nation. Interestingly, this provided room for both the expression and the containment of the radical drive.

The Germanic Christian Nietzsche was linked to his general domestication, as typified by Karl Joel’s Nietzsche and Romanticism. As he put it, Nietzsche’s life work was a sustained expression of conscience, written as the “inheritor of German religiosity of the millennia.” Mirroring his nationalization, the Germanic Christian Nietzsche became ever more dominant as a result of World War I. The consecration of Zarathustra as a holy national book went together with commentaries like Paul Schulze-Berghof’s describing the “metaphysical ether of Zarathustra” as fully in tune with German mystic Christianity.

Völkisch circles often argued that such a German mysticism provided access to a higher reality beyond superficial reason and mechanistic Enlightenment thinking. Schulze-Berghof not only assimilated Nietzsche into that tradition but also recast that mysticism into fundamentally Nietzschean molds. Thus the great German mystic Jakob Böhme (1575—1625), like Nietzsche, had denied the absolute distinction between good and evil. He too had affirmed life in all its wild beauty. Indeed, even before Böhme, Schulze-Berghof maintained, the mediaeval mystic Meister Eckhart (1260-1327) had in Nietzschean fashion located divine creativity within humanity. German Christian mysticism, Schulze-Berghof wrote, unlike biblical religion, recognized that human powers constituted the basis of redemption. Nietzsche had to be understood as the apotheosis of this tradition. His ideal of the Übermensch was an expression of this emphasis on the godly humanity.

The process linking Meister Eckhart with Nietzsche, another commentator wrote, was part of the unfolding secularization of God or the deification of man. This fostered a far deeper religiosity characterized by a love for the dangerous which sought to come to grips with life-in-itself. Those who formulated such a Nietzschean Germanic Christianity, then, did not divert the Nietzschean dynamic into quietistic mystical forms. They tried rather to tap its “revolutionary” implications while channeling this neo-irrationalism within the nationalist frame for völkisch purposes.

Not surprisingly, Ernst Bertram made full use of the Nietzschean religious theme in his war-associated, mythmaking Nietzsche. Nietzsche’s religious problematic, according to Bertram, was central to his whole project. The great man was a “believing doubter, ... a God-seeking blasphemer,” and “an extraordinary phenomenon within the history of Nordic Christianity.” Here Nietzsche even becomes an integral part of Church history. Hero of the Volk, he was the climactic expression of all its positive, immanent forces. Or, at least, everything in Nietzsche that was creative and good derived from his “Lutheran, reformational, Nordic, Romantic heritage.” Intoxicated though he may have been with the classical and southern worlds, Bertram wrote, Nietzsche’s entire ethical impulse flowed from his Nordic Christianity. He was the last and quintessential expression of Protestantism.

The Lutheran and Zarathustrian heritages, Bertram proclaimed, were opposed in superficial, external ways; at a deeper level there was a profound inner relationship. Who more than Nietzsche exemplified protest? An examination of his work would demonstrate, moreover, that this great atheist had by no means completed his odyssey with Christianity. Was not his paradoxical vision of Dionysius on the Cross evidence? Nietzsche’s life and work was nothing but “the last fulfillment of an eternal Nordic yearning for a Yes-saying Christianity.” The eternal Dionysian Yes of the recurrence teaching was of Pascalian, not Greek, origin. It was the Yes of the Christian to an endlessly prolonged wager and an ever-renewed self-overcoming. Both the man and his thoughts were legendary representations of a faith which assumed external betrayal but which in fact constituted a saving of the divine through the murder of God, at least in his Eastern-Jehova aspect.

In Bertram’s view, if Nietzsche incarnated the conflict between the Socratic, individualist, and destructive drives on the one hand with the prophetic, communitarian, and mystic will on the other, he also glimpsed their resolution, his own being elevating these antinomies into a higher transpersonal reality. Ultimately Bertram’s Nietzsche assumed mythical, even Christlike dimensions.

Clearly, not all those involved with the Nietzschean religious impulse confirmed the death of God. Those who enunciated the numerous shadings of a Protestantized Nietzscheanism sought not to bury but to resuscitate the Christian God and to provide him—and his followers— with a transvalued face etched with Nietzschean features. These exercises typically were made possible only by uncovering his deeper, hidden essence. In this way Nietzsche was co-opted as a crucial agent of Protestant regeneration, which had a double effect. It integrated Nietzsche as a respectable part of German culture and tradition while allowing the purveyors of this current to facilitate the seepage of radical and irrationalist ideas into various Protestant forums.

Nietzsche performed a crucial function precisely because there was a sense of crisis and because he seemed to provide both the appropriate diagnosis and means for recovery. These Protestant circles were indeed living refutations of Nietzsche’s own dictum that: “All the possibilities for a Christian life, the most single-minded and the most superficial, the silliest and the best thought out, have been tried out: it is time to discover something new.”

Nietzschean Christians were overwhelmingly Protestant, but some Catholics also felt the temptation. We have already mentioned the case of Max Scheier. The Munich bohemian Ludwig Derleth and his circle provides perhaps the most exotic example. Derleth proposed the creation of a latterday Übermensch monastery. This, of course, was not intended to be an ordinary community. His 1904 Proclamations envisaged a new world-renouncing, elite order based upon a strong Caesarian principle in which a strict dichotomy between leader and followers would obtain. The Caesarian principle was important, as Derleth regarded himself as the realization of Nietzsche’s definition of the Übermensch as “the Roman Caesar with Christ’s soul.” Munich wags did not take Derleth seriously and made up verses about the “Jesus Bonaparte!” Nevertheless, his Proclamations earnestly advocated a transvaluation of values on Christian soil and the creation of a Dionysian Catholicism. One contemporary described Derleth as “a religious Catholic with Nietzschean ideas! His dream was to reform and purify the church and to shape a new theocracy in which he himself would occupy a high position.” Idiosyncratic as they may have been, Derleth’s activities demonstrated that even believing Catholics were not entirely immune to the Nietzschean temptation.

The other side of Nietzschean religion was concerned with those who accepted Nietzsche’s onslaught against Judeo-Christianity while seeking to recapture the redemptive impulse outside of traditional supernaturalism and the familiar modes of monotheistic religion.

By no means all of the post-Christian surrogate faiths that had mushroomed since the 1890s amongst scientific monists, anarchists, socialists of various hues, neoromantic prophets of national cultural regeneration, naturalists, bohemians, and völkisch racists were Nietzsche inspired. Yet, as one avant-garde journal put it, Nietzsche’s work was particularly satisfying to the contemporary longing for a genuine religiosity that transcended conventional denominational and confessional religion.

For the many emergent harbingers of renewed spiritual meaning, those “barefoot prophets” of the time, Nietzsche could fulfill a variety of functions. Most such prophets disappeared into obscurity, although some achieved enduring fame, such as Rudolf Steiner (1861—1925). His anthroposophy has been so attractive because it appears to democratize spiritualism by removing its initiate quality. Steiner argued that the supersensible, spiritual world behind the material world was as real as the material world and that it was generally accessible through simple training. Nietzsche, as Steiner’s biographer Colin Wilson has noted, would hardly have countenanced this notion of separate but equally real physical and metaphysical worlds. Steiner was nevertheless powerfully drawn to the philosopher, working for a time at the Nietzsche Archives (and inevitably wrangling with Förster-Nietzsche). In Nietzsche the young Steiner probably perceived himself. The title of his early, full-length work on the master described equally well his self-conception and sense of mission: Friedrich Nietzsche, A Fighter against His Time. Steiner regarded Nietzsche as both critic and visionary, a man who like himself understood that people created their own realities and had foreseen the future of human existence devoid of religious illusions.

Steiner’s encounter with the ill philosopher in Naumburg confirmed everything he had previously intuited about the nature of the spiritual world; Nietzsche embodied its deeper truth:

The inner shock I experienced led to what I can only describe as an insight into the genius of Nietzsche whose gaze, though directed towards me, did not meet mine. The very passivity of this gaze, resting upon me for a long time, released my inner comprehension. ... In inner perception I saw Nietzsche’s soul as if hovering over his head, infinitely beautiful in its spiritlight, surrendered to the spiritual worlds it had longed for so much but had been unable to find before illness had clouded his mind... Previously I had read Nietzsche. Now I saw the actual bearer of ideas from the highest spirit realms, ideas that even here shone in their beauty despite having lost their original radiance on their way. A soul who had brought from former lives on earth golden riches of great spirituality but was unable to let it shine fully in the present life. I admired what Nietzsche had written; now I saw his radiant spirit behind what I so greatly admired.

The various cults and surrogate faiths of the time were linked to a widespread perception that the age was particularly empty, materialistic, and despiritualized. Many defined their projects as directly Nietzschean in nature, responses to the famous proclamation that God was dead. These post-Christian Nietzschean faiths have been labeled “religious atheism,” “secular polytheism,” and “pan-cosmic religion without transcendence.” However one defines them, they abounded in number and demonstrated an adaptability to a range of divergent political and cultural tendencies.

Even where Nietzsche came under bitter attack his categories formed the basic assumptions of discourse for progressive intellectuals in search of new forms of religiosity. Julius Hart’s The New God provides an excellent example. His analysis of the crisis and supersession of Christianity, his construction of a New Man to replace the old divinity, his emphasis on dynamic becoming and human creativity, and his style were all, as a contemporary critic hastened to point out, inseparably part of the Nietzschean heritage.

The content of Hart’s new religion, however, was at times defined in explicit contradistinction to Nietzsche. Like Nietzsche Hart rejected Nazareth, but he also decisively dismissed Hellas. Nietzsche, Hart argued, was backward-looking while the new religion had to be dynamic, progressive, and based on a unifying, pantheistic principle. This was, Hart claimed, the very opposite of the Dionysian principle that, far from uniting God, nature and humanity, stood for chaos and negation. Nietzsche’s Übermensch in addition represented the “southern Aryan” principle of ruthless egoism, which was antithetical to the “northern Aryan” or Germanic morality that free and joyful spirits possessed. These men would create a blooming, harmonious culture, rather than a Nietzschean wasteland, in which the strong would not dominate but sustain the weak. Ironically, Hart’s northern Aryans replicated the Nietzschean ideal. They were men of deeds, “men of will, happy in struggle and work, affirming Life and Earth ... sensing its tragedy but overcoming it.” The new culture would overcome the fragmentation of the nineteenth century and replace it with constant creativity and transformation.

The Nietzschean influence was palpable. Hart declared, “Why do you seek the thing in itself and then declare it inscrutable, unfathomable? You are the thing in itself! You are God—the hub of the universe—the center of the sun—the core of matter—substance!” Paul Mendes-Flohr has demonstrated that this was in essence a Dionysian— Heraclitean outlook culled from Nietzsche. Through the notion of eternal flux Hart, like Nietzsche, sought to overcome the debilitating duality of the world by fusing unity and multiplicity. In the recognition of the infinite fluidity of the world itself, as in the vision of the eternal recurrence, unity and plurality became as one. In Hart’s vision, this in no way implied a passive stance:

You should know that you are not created spirits, but rather you are creating spirits... We are always nature, and in that we create, we reveal and disclose the essence of matter—and the wine of substance flows into the goblets of creative forms (Gestalten). ... In that we [create], we need not seek truth, for we are truth.

Hart’s views reflected those of the Neue Gemeinschaft, an intellectual circle he founded with his brother Heinrich. Here was a group of searching, radical, bourgeois intellectuals imbued with the desire to refound a meaningful community outside of conventional liberal, Marxist, or Social Democratic paths. They blended their inchoate longings for Gemeinschaft with a receptivity to Nietzsche and the antipositivist, neoromantic currents of the time. Many of the group’s associates (which included the anarchist Erich Mühsam and the Zionist Martin Buber) had vague leftist instincts that combined with a humanist völkisch nationalism. What united them and gave their activities a clearly Nietzschean tinge—which they couched in self-consciously liberational terms—was their insistence on dynamic process and the centrality of each individual’s self-determining role as creator.

One member of this circle was the socialist, völkisch anarchist Gustav Landauer. His anarchistic communitarianism incorporated elements of a left-leaning, humanist, Nietzschean religious vision. We have already discussed the outlines of Landauer’s Nietzscheanism. Here we must merely emphasize the centrality of religion and will to Landauer’s vision. God, wrote Landauer, was not an external, transcendental being but rather the goals that people set for themselves. The God we believe in is the “God we want to become and will become.” This was nothing if not a clear appropriation of the Nietzschean Übermensch mission combined with a conception of religion as an active, transformative process of constant becoming.

Landauer was also attracted to the Nietzschean call for myth as an energizing factor of culture and history. His socialist anarchism thus incorporated elements of Nietzsche’s skeptical epistemology, a perspec-tivism, that expelled objective truth. New and self-created illusions, Landauer wrote, were preconditions for the constant revitalization of human activity. Whereas the Marxist tradition emphasized demystification, Landauer’s Lebensphilosophie of the left posited illusion as the rejuvenating principle of social life. In words resonant with Nietzsche’s proclamation in The Birth of Tragedy on the renewing capacity of myth, Landauer wrote: “Illusion—an idea in which we believe, a holy goal—has up to now created the spell of all Voelker, of all Kultur.”

While Landauer harnessed the Nietzschean religious impulse to enunciate a clearly non-Marxist socialism, Ernst Bloch employed it as one necessary current for the salvaging of the Marxist tradition. Bloch insisted that the mythical, mystic, and religious dimensions all had a legitimate place in that tradition. This Marxist metaphysician with his messianism of “forward hope” and his visions of “a strangely vibrant and explosive eternity” was obviously drawn to Nietzsche for at least part of his apocalyptic dream. Within his system, Nietzsche, Dionysius, and Christian heresy combined to form a powerful message of potential human redemption:

The true “Antichrist” in the Dionysian sense, of the Escrit sicut Deus [“You will become like God,” Gen. 3:5], is—Jesus. This is “Dionysus, the crucified one,” it is on this that the only realization insists, from the depths of Christian heresy, and in fact of the oldest, “ophitic,” snake-informed one, which does justice to the “resurrection and the life.” This Christ is the preacher of an unknown human glory. ... He is the conquest of the human glory even behind the smallest and most unexpected window, and precisely there, precisely in the paradox of the utterly unexpected, not in the contented measure of the already appeared, ruling, and satiated into which the Church has falsified and defused him. The Jesus of the heretics ... in this image of Jesus there is also the life of Dionysus or the draught of a kingdom which is neither of this (become) world nor of that (far from human, fateful) one. Such allusions and “ophitic” memories, hostile to St. Paul, suppressed in the history of “victorious” Christianity, were highest of all in Nietzsche’s last visions, in “Dionysus, the crucified one.”

But the idiosyncratic visions of intellectuals like Bloch and Landauer were not likely to have a major impact on organizations. There were other circles, however, that actively sought to instill Nietzschean religion in the socialist movement. This innovative thrust was not limited to Germany.

In fact, in Russia between 1903 and 1913 the most elaborate form of Nietzschean socialist religion emerged in the left-wing of the Bolshevist faction of the Marxist Russian Social Democratic party. This counterfaith, as formulated by Maxim Gorky (1868—1936) and Anatoli Vasilyevich Lunacharsky (1875-1933), bore the unmistakably Nietzschean name of God-building.

Gorky and Lunacharsky argued that socialism should harness the positive and creative aspects of historical religion while jettisoning what socialists regarded as ideologically false. In socialist religion traditional supernaturalism would have no place, but followers would retain a sense of communion with the world and incorporate the yearning for self-transcendence.

There was a clear Feuerbachian element here, but the collectivized Nietzschean dimension was both explicit and seminal. God was to be replaced by a self-conscious and creative humanity, the individual Übermensch transmuted into a Marxist Übermenschentum. The true creator of God was the proletariat and the revolution was regarded as a fundamental emancipationist act of God-building. Lunacharsky proposed an act of faith in the self-created collective future in which the working class became “a co-participator in the life of mankind, a link in the chain which stretches towards the overman, towards a beautiful creature, a perfected organism.”

Lenin, needless to say, rejected these approaches: “The Catholic priest who seduces young girls is far less dangerous than a priest without a frock ... a democratic priest who preaches the building and creating of God.” His centralism and hard-boiled emphasis on social engineering brooked none of this neoromantic fantasy. Therefore, after 1917 few traces of Nietzschean God-building remained in the new Bolshevik order.

Clearly, all socialist Nietzschean religions were also expressions of dissent. In Germany, the closest equivalent to a fully developed Nietzschean socialist religious alternative came from Max Maurenbrecher who created what amounted to a revisionist socialist Nietzschean religion and who, as we have seen, sought to spread the word to working-class, free-thinking congregations.

His most systematic formulation of this theology appeared in Das Leid (1912). Like other advocates of a nontranscendental Nietzschean religiosity, Maurenbrecher argued for both the redefinition and retention of the creative essence of religion. For Maurenbrecher, religion was essentially tragi-Dionysian, inextricably tied to the human condition of pain and suffering. Life, in all its hardness, he argued in clearly Nietzschean terms, had to be lived and loved. The test of authentic religion was its ability to creatively transform suffering into active joy, into an affirmation of life in all its fullness. Maurenbrecher explicitly juxtaposed facile Enlightenment optimism with his religion couched in a tragically affirmative Lebensphilosophie.

In this view churchly religion had lost its capacity for authenticity. What was now at issue was which religion was most suited to satisfactorily replace it. The measure of authenticity was also conceived in quasi-Nietzschean terms. The age of axiomatically accepted tradition, Maurenbrecher declared, with its objective, historical, and communal character, had dissolved. Now, self-conscious individuals had to appropriate beliefs that were consistent with obviously Nietzschean standards: “Every myth, every ethic, every cult has significance for us, only as it leads us towards the shaping and energy of our will to life.“ Only a myth or religion freely chosen and personally lived could be valid in the twentieth century. Informing such choices, Maurenbrecher declared, was a new, secular tradition: the thought of men like Goethe, Spinoza, Marx, and Nietzsche. They had achieved the great insight that struggling human beings were themselves the goal of life.

Nietzsche occupied a special role in this religion partly because of his heroic transcendence of Schopenhauerian pessimism. The socialist dimension of such affirmation was linked to the fact that pessimism could never be transcended fully when regarded purely as a private, individual matter, but only “when we regard the social process as the real content and essence of all that happens.” Technology, science, and organization had provided the basis for hope in a better future for which one could now work. Existence now had a will.

For all that, Maurenbrecher warned, suffering and tragedy were inevitable, part and parcel of development itself. One could escape suffering by denying willing and becoming, but, as a Nietzschean voluntarist, Maurenbrecher dismissed such an alternative. Instead, he argued, the affirmation of suffering, allowing life to develop, constituted the true transcendence of pessimism. Unlike the first generation of socialists, Maurenbrecher proclaimed, the new generation understood that their hopes of instant utopia would have to be deferred, that the process of social transformation would last a long time.

This socialist religion, Maurenbrecher emphasized, required no sacraments, churches, priests, or holy places. It needed rather a Nietzschean heroic mode and the daily exercise of will. The new breed of socialist, far from experiencing the end of suffering, would “not want to experience it, either for himself or for some conceivable future for humanity, because for him suffering is none other than the precondition for creative strength and growing will.”

We have already noted Maurenbrecher’s political and religious mobility and his usage of Nietzsche as an inspirational guide within all these guises. His Nietzsche, however, consistently stressed suffering and hard values, which clearly facilitated Maurenbrecher’s transference from left to right. Prior to World War I, to be sure, his post-Christian Nietzschean religious reflections had been noticeably free of völkisch content (for which he was castigated by fellow Nietzschean neopagans). Still, all his other biases pointed to the masculine, hard Nietzsche. His socialist emphasis on the need to breed the Übermensch could be reconciled equally with radical-right and with socialist notions. That same masculine, antiliberal postrationalist Nietzsche accompanied Maurenbrecher when he returned to the Protestant church. His sermons to his Dresden congregation—perhaps a trifle apologetically after his years of godlessness—restated these themes but now very much in the nationalist Protestant Nietzschean idiom with which he began.

Maurenbrecher’s Nietzschean religion had either allied socialism with radical anti-Christianity or advocated völkisch nationalism in tandem with a regenerated Protestant piety. He never articulated a religion that was simultaneously nationalist, anti-Christian, and avowedly pagan. This nationalist pagan turn was significant, and some variations were later associated with a Fascist and National Socialist outlook.

Prior to World War I, it was around Die Tat (established in 1909), that fount of neoromantic thought, that this nationalist pagan tendency was most systematically advanced. The Die Tat circles were associated with the doyen and publisher of the fin-de-siecle neoromantic revival, Eugen Diederichs. A writer and activist, Diederichs advanced the ideas of diverse groups interested in national regeneration, especially in its religious and spiritual forms. Indeed, he published many of the Nietzscheans discussed here: Kalthoff, Bonus, Maurenbrecher, Joel, Julius Hart, and others. Diederichs had no doubt that Nietzsche constituted an inspiring, prophetic presence for these spiritual purposes. Imbued with the mystic and mythical realm, indeed, the force and role of the “irrational” itself, Diederichs’s ideas fused völkisch themes with an almost dazzling variety of “creative” cultural and religious regenerative projects. His own un-Christian metaphysical ideas were adopted by the enthusiastic youth who formed the Sera circle in Jena and who, under the publisher’s guidance, engaged in heathen rituals, celebrated the changing of the sun, reveled in pseudoclassical settings, and indulged in wild Dionysian dance.

It was, however, the brothers August and Ernst Horneffer—fervent Nietzscheans and editors at the Nietzsche Archive—who were the foremost champions of a neopagan Germanic Nietzscheanism. In their hands, Die Tat’s Nietzsche was decisively heroic, simultaneously the scathing critic of a fragmented and decadent bourgeois culture and a prophet who promised its overcoming on the basis of a new and higher totality. The lost classical unity of form and content would again be captured.

It is no coincidence that Die Tat's premier issue, subtitled “Paths to a Free Humanity,” featured a heroic bust of Nietzsche by Max Klinger on its frontispiece (illus. 13). The Nietzschean drive was explicit, but so too was the drive to frame him within social and national form. As Ernst Horneffer (1871—1945) posited, Nietzsche was to be the cornerstone of religious and cultural renewal, but his one-sided individualism had to be overcome. The realization of genuine Nietzschean values required a collective framework: “The detached individual whose values and aspirations find no echo in the greater whole,” he wrote, “is not the strong but the weak individual.” This new, “strong” individual would be self-determining and appropriate a personal religion, but within a larger, meaningful whole.

In his “Pagan Life Course” August Horneffer made the nationalist, masculine nature of the new religion even more explicit. The state was the proper basis for the proposed neopaganism, he argued, because it believed not in God but in itself and, unlike organized Christian religion, its activities were earthbound. Nietzsche’s invocation to remain true to the earth was possible only when anchored in community life. The community that Horneffer envisaged had Nietzschean contours. It would be a community not of “ ‘compassion’ for the poor and the sick, ... not that of Christian neighborly love, but rather the community of creation, brotherhood in arms, and mutual elevation and fructification.” It was thus only within a special community that the Nietzschean vision could be realized. Seldom was the socialization of Nietzsche into the German Männerbund tradition, that predilection for male friendship and association, more clearly spelled out.

In his Religion of the Future, Ernst Horneffer laid bare the underpinnings of his worldview. Europe, he proclaimed, had been alienated by Christianity. Matching Nietzsche’s withering scorn, Horneffer declared that Christianity, far from molding the European spirit, constituted its very violation. Only recently through secular philosophy was Europe beginning to discover itself after a long process of self-estrangement.

For Ernst Horneffer, again echoing Nietzsche, the genuine European spirit resided in the Greeks. Their emphasis on movement, change, and freedom stood in marked contradistinction to Oriental, and therefore Christian, immobility, stagnation, fatalism, and fanaticism. Only slowly were Europeans awakening to their own inner truth. Luther had freed the layman from the yoke of the priests and the external compulsion of the Church while he had retained the idea of divine revelation. Kant had greatly furthered the process by freeing moral law from religious faith, arguing that faith was instead dependent upon the categorical imperative. But Kant still held that morality remained a self-sufficient law of reason, its content set.

With Nietzsche, Ernst Horneffer wrote, the European revolution of ethics was accomplished and the struggle for theoretical and practical freedom was realized. This was Nietzsche’s historical deed: he had provided the conditions by which men could forge their own ideals in accordance with their own nature. People could now form and follow their own morality, determining the content of the law out of their own free will. Nietzsche was the last and most radical German “liberator of conscience” (Gewissenbefreier).

Ernst Horneffer’s Nietzschean—a self-determining creator of an unshackled naturalistic morality—thus appeared to radically unleash the dynamic while placing it clearly under national control. The turn away from organized religion, he argued, did not leave one in a void, for in the construction of an alternative, the materials were to be found in “the great creations of our Volksgeist... the heroic acts, the manifold struggles in which the Volk have been put to the test.” Such a religion looked upon life as a wager. Essentially pagan and Nietzschean, it was constructed for heroes and the strong, not for cowards, the weak, and the broken who had ruled for too long. Such neopaganism, Horneffer maintained, consisted of the fundamental belief in the self-redemptive capacity far removed from traditional notions of religion.

Though willed self-redemption was based upon the Greek example, Ernst Horneffer rendered the Nietzschean will to power subordinate to what he termed the “will to form.” The Nietzschean will, Horneffer maintained, could not really affirm joyously when its essence was one of eternal struggle, ceaseless movement, and even mutual enslavement. Such a will willed only its own development, and so was devoid of clarity and order. Form was required which would provide will with a stable framework. The will did have a goal after all: shaping itself into form. It sought to bring unity, sequence, and consequence out of chaos.

This did not necessarily mean that the Nietzschean dynamic was to be tamed or “aestheticized,” rather that it would have to be nationally channeled and politically structured. As Horneffer put it: “Only through concentration, ordering, and organization can the will come to its fullest expression, can it fully exhaust itself.”

The Horneffers’ prewar Nietzschean neopaganism with its radical anti-Christianity, its unshackling of morality from traditional constraints, and its heroic national mode, while integrating older, conventional notions of the Volk, also incorporated a modernist thematic similar to futurism. The New Man became part of the nation to the degree that he achieved “personal self-realization” and “self-determining” freedom. This nationalism purportedly aimed at providing space for individuality and personality, Nietzschean priorities. Ernst Horneffer and his successors made sure, however, that these requirements were contained within the framework of the spirit of Germanism. Indeed, when the National Socialists came to power, Horneffer welcomed it as an embodiment of his vision, proclaiming Nietzsche to be the movement’s central prophet.

The Horneffers’ brand of Germanic religion, however, never took off as an independent movement. With the rise of the Third Reich they sublated their neopaganism into nazism itself. This was not so for the Deutsche Glaubensbewegung (German Faith movement). At least during the early years of the Reich, this movement sought to sustain and express the anti-Christian, Nietzschean, German religious impulse. Indeed, here was a movement that claimed to represent the authentic spiritual arm of the Nazi revolution.

Under the leadership of yet another Protestant-trained theologian, Jakob Wilhelm Hauer (1881-1962), this movement was made up of a wide variety of circles and groups. These included the highly nationalist Germanische Glaubenschaft and the Deutschgläubige Gemeinschaft as well as the free-thinking Bund frei-religiöser Gemeinde, a large anticlerical organization which included Marxists in its ranks who joined the movement partly as shelter (from the Nazis). In Scharzfeld in 1934 they merged.

In the early years of the Reich, the Glaubensbewegung’s membership grew impressively; its high point occurred in 1935. Gatherings were held throughout Germany climaxed by a mass meeting held at the Berlin Sports Palace in April. It never again achieved such prominence. The movement’s mixed fortunes were only partly a function of its heterogeneity. Its fate ultimately depended upon the Nazi party’s attitude towards it. It thrived only when the party wanted to counter Church influence. Hitler was prepared to make political use of the organization, but it could not weather his well-known antipathy to cultist cliques. Of the Glaubensbewegung he is reported to have said: “These professors and mystery men who want to found Nordic religions merely get in my way. Why do I tolerate them? Because they help to disintegrate, which is all we can do at the moment.” More fundamentally, national socialism was itself a total political faith and was not prepared to tolerate an independent confessional counterpart, even one that regarded itself as the religious arm of nazism. The Glaubensbewegung was thus gradually brought under National Socialist control, in effect losing its separate identity.

Despite Nazi disavowals there were numerous ideological affinities, especially concerning the absurdity of trying to Germanize Christianity. Whatever the similarities and differences, the Glaubensbewegung regarded itself as the spiritual expression closest to the new reality of national socialism. The movement, Hauer wrote, was “an eruption from the biological and spiritual depths of the nation.” It was brought about by those “primal forces whose nature is symbolized by the words Blood, Soil, Empire. Thus the German Revolution is for us an event born of the nation’s primal will, an event in which eternal powers are revealing themselves by the accomplishment of newer and greater things.”

The ideologues of the Glaubensbewegung (including Ernst Bergmann and Hans Günther) created a Germanic religion that transposed Nietzscheanism onto a racial—national base. Nietzschean qualities were simply projected onto idealized depictions of the Nordic race. Indo-Germanic religion was the antithesis of Judeo-Christianity, and was purely a worldly affair. Its ethic, devoid of fear and anxiety, produced men who embodied Nietzsche’s vision of grand health and who affirmed life in all its tragic reality.

Nietzsche permeated every aspect of the Glaubensbewegung’s counter-religion. He was the central authority behind its attack on Enlightenment reason, liberalism, and socialism. But he was also the major force behind its positive vision for the future. For Hauer (who discovered Nietzsche in a dentist’s waiting room!) he was simply the decisive destiny, the model for the inner breakthrough that every German had to accomplish. This Germanic racial religion simply nationalized the familiar Nietzschean counterfaith of immanence, heroism, and vitalism. Nietzschean morality was transposed into Germanic religious morality. Good and evil were still measured by their lifeenhancing capacities but the Volk rather than the individual had become its repository. What was good, Hauer insisted, was that which corresponded to the highest wishes of the Volk, and that which went against its will was evil. Such a Germanic morality was inevitably juxtaposed to its Christian equivalent. As one example of the differences between the two, Hauer cited the issue of sterilization. Whereas Christians regarded it as a violation of the divine law, German faith looked upon it positively: “Can there be a higher value than the health of a Volk which unconditionally demands the extermination of bad instincts and criminal drives?” The Volk, Hauer proclaimed, “according to its deepest will wants to be pure, strong, and good.”

The Glaubensbewegung’s nationalized vitalism went naturally with a form of dynamic Nietzschean ethics. Good and evil were malleable instruments serving life and therefore in need of constant renewal. This was the meaning, Hauer preached, of Nietzsche’s breaking of the old tablets. His dynamic conception had thus facilitated the liberation of Germanic genius from its chains. Nietzsche could never himself have founded a new Decalogue, for that went against the grain of German being. But he did provide the conditions for Germans to recognize anew their proper mode: only on the basis of this particular racial makeup could German morality develop.

Such open-endedness was evident in the way Hauer constructed his new German liturgy. In his formulation of the Germanic religion’s modes of worship he did invoke the German past and ancient Germanic myths, but he gave greater emphasis to the dynamic by which Germanic being and blood constantly renewed itself. Germanic religion was based upon a pagan inheritance revolving around sun and nature festivals, but it moved ever more from lower to higher forms in which the heroic and creative Dionysian elements were increasingly central.

With the demise of Hauer’s movement the harnessing of Nietzsche for specifically religious purposes exhausted itself. Nietzsche, as we shall presently see, influenced and penetrated national socialism in a number of crucial and complex ways, but his annexation had to be direct, and cut off from any independent religious impulse. This was made clear by a Nazi ideologue, Hans Schroder, in his critique of the Glaubensbewegung. Had Nietzsche been alive, Schröder wrote, he would have scoffed at Hauer-like cults, much as he had in 1873 at David Friedrich Strauss’s New Faith in his Untimely Meditations. Hauer had merely advocated changes in faith and dogma. But national socialism did not limit itself to confessional matters; it was bringing about total revolution. One of its great tasks was the overcoming of decadence and Christianity, opposed as they were to the healthy, völkisch life principle. Hauer had regarded Christianity simply as racially alien (rassenfremd'). But this was to misunderstand Christianity; Christianity was not the expression of a different race principle but rather the antithesis of the principle itself. Christianity, argued Schröder in a fusion of the racial with the Nietzschean worldview, threatened the very fabric of the race principle because it exemplified Unrassigkeit— race mixing and ensuing decline and decadence. Only the harnessing of a Nietzschean heroic, masculine, biocentric culture, imbued with the German racial mission, would overcome it.

Few of the makers of the various Nietzschean religions took seriously Rudolf Pannwitz’s elitist admonition that Nietzsche was “no prophet for the Volk but rather a prophet for the prophets.” They all sought to channel these new configurations of faith into wider communal and ideological settings and to fuse the religious and political realms. If Nietzsche’s writings were inherently elitist, this was lost upon his acolytes. Cognizant of the great crisis of religion, they sought to harness, socialize and institutionalize Nietzscheanism. Nietzschean religion, by definition, was a culturally and politically mediated affair, for only thus could its constituencies be reached.

Significantly, the attempt to create a “pure” Nietzschean religion, unsullied by ideology and resistant to all annexation, was forged not in Germany but in France, by Georges Bataille (1897—1962) where it assumed a politically deconstructive, disintegrational character. Bataille’s religious vision, which like the rest of his Nietzscheanism instinctively sought the extreme edge, pursued the unconditional and unconditioned dynamic for its own sake. For Bataille violence, death, sexuality, and evil became central ingredients in humanity’s immanent search for “sovereignty” and “totality” as a completely unsubordinated realm. In this guise, Nietzsche was not the philosopher of the will to power, but “the philosopher of evil” conceived as a liberating agent, as “concrete freedom, the troubling break with taboo.” Bataille’s Nietzschean religion was explicitly designed not as one of self-realization but rather a “signal dissolution in totality... ‘the man whose life is an unmotivated feast’; it celebrates in every sense of the word, a laughter, a dance, an orgy which knows of no subordination, a sacrifice heedless of purpose, material, or moral.” In his conception of that “atheological god which denies the transcendental, logocentric formations represented by Western deities”—Bataille’s Nietzschean religion found its suitable and most inappropriable expression.

There were no such expressions of Nietzschean religious nihility in Germany: there it inevitably attached itself to mediating positive external and political goals. Nevertheless, it would be an error to explain away Nietzschean religion in Germany by reducing it purely to its political functions. Its wide-ranging nature (including its penetration into various Marxist streams) renders dubious Georg Lukacs’s assertion that Nietzschean religious atheism functioned to preserve “the vague religiosity that mattered to the preservation of capitalist society” and as such constituted “another manifestation of indirect apologetics.” This reduction of religiosity to the imperatives of capitalism bypassed the major historical impetus behind the Nietzschean religious moment: the great crisis of Protestantism and the search for alternatives.

A quite disproportionate percentage of those who articulated the various versions of Nietzschean religion were Protestants or ex-Protestant pastors and theologians. They all took the crisis of religion seriously and sought to resolve it in a quasi-Nietzschean redemptive idiom. But, of course, Nietzschean religions were also designed to go beyond Protestantism. They constituted one of the important vehicles by which Nietzschean notions entered the political marketplace. Völkisch, nationalist, and right-wing groups harnessed it, but progressive, avant-garde and leftist intellectuals also found its thematics compelling. Like so many aspects of the Nietzsche legacy, the cultural significance of the Nietzschean religious impulse cannot be simplistically dismissed as an expression of “reactionary irrationalism” as against “progressive rationalism.”

Various critics have argued a deeper point. It was, they claim, precisely the pseudoreligious language of the antichrist, its naturalistic view of man, and its accompanying desacralized amoralism which stood at the core of the murderous and genocidal impulse of our times. Nietzsche’s atheism, George Lichtheim has insisted, “had nothing whatever in common with that of pre-Marxians such as Feuerbach, for whom humanism had replaced theism.” This argument holds that, unlike Marxism, the Nietzschean critique of organized Christian religion was made not in protest against its historical inhumanities but rather because it had not been cruel enough.

Whatever the merits of this position, insofar as Nietzsche contributed to Europe’s brutalization, he did so in inevitably mediated guise. “The liturgical language of the religion of the antichrist” was always canalized and expressed within larger organizing political frames. Nietzscheanism was effective as a public force only when it was structured by mediating systems and ideologies. No naked or pure Nietzschean nihility existed. All the versions we have discussed in some way nationalized or socialized the Nietzschean thematic, placing it at the service of other goals. This had the effect of taming or limiting its dynamic or selectively controlling and deploying it. Such ideologies, far from dispensing with transcendence, simply redefined it, and stayed firmly within their self-created sacred boundaries.

These processes applied especially to the Nazi case. We must now therefore proceed to a direct examination of the multiple mediations and the complex deployments by which the Nietzschean and the Nazi universes were made to meet.

8. Nietzsche in the Third Reich

From now on there will be more favorable preconditions for more comprehensive forms of dominion, whose like has never yet existed. And even this is not the most important thing; the possibility has been established for the production of international racial unions whose task it will be to rear a master-race, the future “masters of the earth.” The time is coming when politics will have a different meaning.
Nietzsche, The Will to Power

“Nothing is true, all is permitted”: thus I spoke to myself. Into the coldest waters I plunged, with head and heart ... Alas, where has all that is good gone from me—and all shame, and all faith in those who are good?
Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra

Because both Nietzsche and national socialism are central to the twentieth-century experience and because both retain their symbolic explosiveness, the disputed nature of their relationship has become a defining part of the cultural and ideological landscape, one index to our perceptions of the modern world. The controversial history of their imputed connection well predates the Nazi takeover. From the beginning some regarded the affinity as natural (or at least comprehensible) while others were appalled at the very suggestion. Since then and through our own time, various divergent readings and judgments of Nietzsche have determined the preparedness to implicate him in nazism. Conversely, particular interpretations of national socialism have governed the readiness to include him within its contours. The issue, with its ideologically vested interests and shrill tones, has generated endless controversy.

What, at this late stage, can the historian contribute to this vexed question? Most useful, perhaps, would be clarification: identifying and critically analyzing those levels most relevant to claims concerning this relationship. In this chapter we deal with the most straightforward yet strangely underexamined empirical dimension of the relationship: locating and analyzing the ways in which Nietzsche was integrated into or banished from Nazi discourse, and the various functions Nietzsche-anism fulfilled within the Third Reich.

That Nietzsche was incorporated into the Nazi pantheon of Germanic giants and that he became an integral part of National Socialist self-definition is a matter of empirical record. There is no way, of course, to accurately assess the degree to which his integration affected everyday popular attitudes. It is certain, however, that Nietzsche assumed importance in the official culture of the Third Reich. We need to examine the connections between this construction and the regime’s own self-image.

Recognition and analysis of Nietzsche’s role within the realm of Nazi culture, ideology, and indeed policy must proceed independently of whether or not we believe that this usage distorts Nietzsche’s thought or faithfully reflects it. This typically has been the level at which the issue has been discussed. As we have been emphasizing throughout this book, however, ideological appropriation itself becomes the major relevant datum—not the question of the truth or falsity of such appropriation. That this entailed selective reading, casuistic interpretation, and even frequent suppression and expurgation of potentially embarrassing material makes an understanding of the process even more imperative. If Nietzsche’s nazification—and the Nietzscheanization of nazism—is well known, the internal strategies involved in this transmutation and the extent of its diffusion have to date still not been systematically analyzed.

The Nazi Nietzsche was facilitated by the broader postwar annexation of the philosopher by the radical right; the “philosophical” nazification of Nietzsche well predated the takeover of power. By 1931 Alfred Baumler—later to become the Reich’s authorized Nietzsche scholar and professor of philosophy at the University of Berlin—had spelled out the major thematics of Nietzsche’s Nazi transmogrification. Baumler emphasized the power components of the philosopher’s thought. His Nietzsche was essentially a political thinker, a man who foresaw the postliberal, postbourgeois age of Great Politics. The Nietzsche that Baumler emphasized was the one who in Beyond Good and Evil had written:

To acquire one will by means of a new caste that would rule Europe, a long, terrible will of its own that would be able to cast its goals millenia hence—so the long-drawn-out comedy of its splinter states as well as its dynastic and democratic splinter wills would come to an end. The time for petty politics is over: the very next century will bring the fight for the dominion of the earth—the compulsion to large-scale politics.

Baumler explicitly rejected what he regarded as the passive doctrine of eternal recurrence. He dismissed it as an unfortunate and philosophically irrelevant whim. The authentic Nietzsche was interested in the unlimited flux of becoming; the notion of eternal recurrence denied that possibility. Nietzsche was the philosopher of the will to power, a dynamically Heraclitean rather than Dionysian thinker. He was the philosopher of heroic realism whose politics no longer accepted the idea of a stable world of norms and values but posited in its place a universe of constant flux and conflict. This entailed a turn from rationalist consciousness, objectivist ethics, and traditional transcendental logic, and the rejection of the decadent forms of democracy and “theoretical man.” He promoted a naturalized “aesthetic of the body,” a reassertion of warlike, heroic male values and community, and a vitalist ethos of struggle.

Baumler was never alone in this enterprise. Well before 1933, official Nazi organs were proclaiming Nietzsche as their own. By the time of the Nazi takeover, it seemed self-evident to portray Nietzsche as a central forerunner of the movement. Gottlieb Scheuffler’s 1933 Friedrich Nietzsche in the Third Reich was typical of this genre, portraying the great “natural aristocrats,” Mussolini and Hitler, as Nietzsche’s spiritual descendants. Of course, he was not considered the sole ideological pillar of national socialism. Paul de Lagarde and Houston Stewart Chamberlain were just as apt to be invoked as immediate precursors.

These other purported forerunners did not, however, possess anything like the stature that Nietzsche had come to possess. The particular Nazi emphasis on Nietzsche derived from his peculiar capacity to legitimate them. Of course, the Nazis also relentlessly enlisted other cultural giants—Herder, Schiller, Goethe—for similar purposes. The difference, however, was that Nietzsche’s uses went beyond the merely occasional or decorative. Here was a German thinker with what appeared to be genuinely thematic and tonal links, who was able to provide the Nazis with a higher philosophical pedigree and a rationale for central tenets of their Weltanschauung. As Franz Neumann noted in 1942, Nietzsche “provided National Socialism with an intellectual father who had greatness and wit, whose style was beautiful and not abominable, who was able to articulate the resentment against both monopoly capitalism and the rising proletariat.”

His protagonists insisted that Nietzsche’s placement within the pantheon went well beyond cosmetic legitimation. The visionaries of national socialism, one commentator made clear, could not be conceived passively and distantly. For a “movement” possessed by an “idea” there were no “forerunners,” only creators, cocombatants and active participants. In his 1934 Nietzsche as Portender of the Present, the veteran Nietzschean Ernst Horneffer (now suitably decked in Nazi garb), couched this in ultimate mythopoeic form: Nietzsche does not belong to his own “but our time. It is as if he lingered (on) living amongst us.” In the new social reality Nietzsche was resurrected into a living, active presence.

An appropriately fashioned Nietzsche was diffused not only explicitly but also subliminally—and thus, perhaps, more powerfully— through the integration of Nietzschean slogans into everyday Nazi rhetoric. National Socialist vocabulary was saturated with a suitably transfigured Nietzschean phraseology. Since Nietzsche was often not mentioned as their author, the slogans could assume a natural, taken-for-granted quality. This heroic language of will doubtless had its (politically activating) effect. So too did its opposing, dehumanizing nomenclature. Heinrich Himmler, for instance, regularly described Russians and Slavs as bestial Untermenschen and the Jews as the “decisive leader of the Untermenschen.” These notions, moreover, received enormous coverage in Schutzstaffel (SS) publications such as Der Untermensch. This pamphlet was translated into fifteen languages and four million copies were printed (illus. 14). These forms of subliminal influence doubtless played a role, but because they are notoriously immeasurable, we should return to safer ground and examine the more explicit ways in which Nietzscheanism was mediated in the Nazi world.

Nazis transformed Nietzsche into a prescient prophet—the isolated individual who in the period of hopeless liberal decline alone embodied the spirit of true Germanness that was so powerfully unfolding in the new Reich. Nietzsche was presented as the genius who began to think in new, comprehensive ways and who presaged both the coming crisis and the way out of it. For many he was the major presager of national socialism, foreseeing in the realm of ideas what nazism was to realize in practice. In critical matters of policy and sensibility, Nietzsche was to serve as guide and inspiration.

At the same time, these National Socialist mediators proffered a reciprocal sociology of knowledge: if Nietzsche had enunciated Nazi ideas, he himself had become comprehensible only because of a particular unfolding of historical events and the creation of a new social reality. It took World War I and the advent of national socialism to reveal his proper meaning. As a revolutionary struggling against his own time, Nietzsche was bound to be misunderstood, proclaimed Alfred Rosenberg; only “in our time” was true appreciation possible. Moreover, a positive commitment to national socialism appeared to be the prerequisite for such an understanding: “Whoever stands outside of this revolution,” wrote Hans Kern, “and does not know what it wants and where it comes from, will never be able to grasp Nietzsche.” “I am convinced,” an authorized spokesman wrote, “that only a conscious National Socialist can fully comprehend Nietzsche.”

What did this “proper Nazi grasp” of Nietzsche entail? What were the crucial Nietzschean materials that had either given birth to national socialism or from which, at least, it could creatively draw? How was nazism itself understood as a Nietzschean project? What were the minimal, necessary contours, the agreed content of his nazification?

Almost all presentations portrayed him as defining nazism’s major goals, both its affirmations and negations. First of all, the philosopher radically rejected bourgeois society, liberalism, socialism, democracy, egalitarianism, and the Christian ethos. His antiuniversalist themes were constantly hammered home, finding their way into almost every nook and cranny of the Nazi world. Equally important, however, was the emphasis on Nietzsche as a crucial force of regeneration and central to the construction of the movement’s promise of a thoroughly transvalued world. These aims were typically represented as total alternatives to the world that both Nietzsche and nazism had rejected. The decadent and feminized nineteenth century was to give way to a new masculine warrior age, one that regarded Nietzsche as a pioneer of the “German rediscovery of the body.” Such an age would exchange materialist and mechanical conceptions for organic, healthy ones. They explicitly hoped to supersede the libertarian Nietzschean conception of the body as focus of social and erotic emancipation, with that of a physical regeneration channeled into a disciplined völkisch and soldierly framework. An instinctual, renaturalized, vitalistic, and tragic culture would replace the “transcendental” (and therefore life-threatening) rationalist worldview. The old bourgeois ethos of security was to be rendered anachronistic by the emergence of hard personalities animated by the joy of living dangerously. Here the individual and collectivized Übermensch acted as a countertype (Gegenbild) to shallow post-Enlightenment humanity.

It goes without saying that Nietzsche was harnessed to the struggle against Marxism and bolshevism which, as Richard Öhler put it, Nietzsche regarded as his greatest future opponent, the very embodiment of nihilism. Nietzsche’s solution to that nihilism—the creation of higher men of the future animated by the will to power—had already become real under national socialism. Nazism was the great protecting wall against nihilism, the proposed Nietzschean counterweight. “Nietzsche, like Hitler, sees the only possibility of countering the will to destruction of nihilism in the renewal, intensification, and creation of the healthy, out of the source of the great, naturally produced values.”

In a spate of publications, nazism was variously depicted as the realization of the Nietzschean vision, as crucially inspired by it, or as thematically parallel. Had the master not called for the creation of a biologized, hierarchical, Lebensphilosophie society; the breeding of a higher, soldierly New Man unfettered by the ressentiment chains of traditional morality and an antilife rationalist intellect? Was not the present reality the fulfillment of Nietzsche’s vitalist vision? Nazism was, after all, a regenerationist, postdemocratic, post-Christian social order where the weak, decrepit and useless were to be legislated out of existence.

The marriage between Nietzsche and national socialism was authorized and consummated at the highest of levels and accompanied by fanfare and publicity. Together with Hitler’s Mein Kampf and Rosenberg’s Myth of the Twentieth Century, Zarathustra was placed in the vault of the Tannenberg Memorial (commemorating Germany’s victory over Russia in the Great War). Much to the delight of its minions, the union was publicly sanctified within the official home of the cult— the Nietzsche Archives. “We are drunk with enthusiasm,” wrote Förster-Nietzsche in May 1933, “because at the head of our government stands such a wonderful, indeed phenomenal, personality like our magnificent chancellor Adolf Hitler.” Already by 1932, those entrusted with the Nietzsche legacy at the Archives—from the head to the doorkeeper—were, according to Count Kessler, overwhelmingly and enthusiastically Nazis. Förster-Nietzsche had, of course, always advocated a rightist, patriotic Nietzsche, and vehemently opposed the Republic. When in 1923 she heard of the nascent national resurrection led by Ludendorff and Hitler, she declared that had she been younger she would have joined them in their march on Berlin. Just prior to the Nazi power takeover, it is true, she regarded herself more nationalist than Nazi. At first she admired Hitler as a religious rather than as a political leader, although this would soon change. Elisabeth’s rightwing proclivities were in any case never all that finely tuned. She openly identified with Mussolini and his Fascist regime. (Mussolini responded more tangibly in 1931 with his gift of twenty thousand lire.) Hitler visited the Archives in autumn 1934 and posed next to a bust of Nietzsche of which only one half of the head, ironically, was visible (illus. 15). He agreed to provide money for the construction of a Nietzsche memorial auditorium to be constructed by Schultze-Naumburg. Albert Speer, who accompanied Hitler on this visit, reported that the chemistry between Hitler and Förster-Nietzsche was quite unsatisfactory: “This solitary, eccentric woman obviously could not get anywhere with Hitler; an oddly shallow conversation at crosspurposes ensued” (illus. 16).

The unsatisfactory private meeting counted far less than the public validation. Förster-Nietzsche’s funeral in November 1935 was conducted with great pomp and circumstance and was attended by local and national dignitaries, including Hitler, and she was gushingly eulogized in official Nazi sources. Such authorized participation continued. The 1944 Nietzsche centenary, for instance, was held under the patronage of Rosenberg, acting as Hitler’s official representative.

Nietzscheanism in the Third Reich went well beyond these high-level rituals. It would be a mistake to simply focus on these and the efforts of its better-known proponents such as Bäumler and Rosenberg, and miss the dense and broad diffusion through which suitably adapted Nietzschean notions became a differentiated and integral part of Nazi self-definition. For its proponents, the Nazi—Nietzschean vision was meant no less than to remold the order of things. Suggestive blueprints for its detailed implementation were to be found at myriad levels of social organization.

In the first place Nietzsche was made an integral part of Nazi ideological training, becoming the primary legitimating champion of the new education. Nietzschean illiberalism, antihumanism and a politicized Lebensphilosophie were placed at the center of the new educational philosophy. Innumerable and sometimes critical discussions applying Nietzschean principles of renewal were sprinkled throughout the educational journals. The philosopher’s critique of traditional education, academic antiquarianism, and life-destroying rationalism; his imputed linking of the Greek principle of paidea with that of political education; and his emphasis on life and cultural totality became pillars of the proposed pedagogical revolution.

These notions applied also to revised conceptions of science and knowledge in general. In his rectoral address at Königsberg in October 1933, the philosopher Hans Heyse proclaimed that “we are standing at a fateful turning point of the ages,” one that demanded a Nietzschean transvaluation of all values and that would overcome the modern conception of science, “that expression of a broken existence which, as an untrue existence, leads by necessity into catastrophe.” Nietzsche, another commentator wrote in Volk im Werden, had demonstrated the tyranny of objectivity and the “sick sovereignty” of smug, self-satisfied science. He had shown that there was no absolute truth, only the need to create one’s own culture.

If we take Nietzsche as the intellectual Führer to a new culture, we should, yes we must, say: German culture must be a unity: that is, all its components must be German. And that also includes Wissenschaft. The first steps to a new culture are education to struggle and education to unity through blood and deed.

Was not the political soldier at the university the first step to the heroic, conception of knowledge of which Nietzsche spoke?

The elevation of Nietzsche to the status of jurisprudential reformer, legislator, and prophet of a new legal order went back well into the Second Reich. While not racist in the National Socialist sense, Friedrich Mess’s 1930 Nietzsche: The Lawgiver was explicitly acknowledged as seminal by later Nazi commentaries. Like Mess, they argued that future European social structures had to be built upon Nietzschean foundations. Who better provided the outlines for the desired post-Christian, post-Enlightenment, anti-Kantian society? Nietzsche had to be considered the legislator of the future, wrote H. Specht in the 1939 journal of the Criminal Biological Society. Unlike the sick Christian-Jewish mode, his was no closed system. The Nietzschean legal mode was designed to restore one to life, predicated on the non-Christian assumption of the innocence of being (Unschuld des Daseins) and upon fundamentally transvalued conceptions of good and evil. Nietzsche did not seek to abolish punishment but to demoralize it and loosen it from the stranglehold of priestly law. Punishment existed only to serve the life-enhancing, hierarchical order, based, as it would be, on the will to power and the urge to create a higher, stronger being. The philosopher had foreseen a social system founded on the relation between leaders and led, with an aristocracy of blood and merit. With “a sure historic-political instinct,” Specht added, Nietzsche “knew the future and consciously prepared the way for it.” The place of race, Volk and state were unclear in Nietzsche’s system, Specht admitted, but it was evident that he opposed the dissolution of these values.

In Kurt Kassier’s Nietzsche and the Law, even these uncertainties were expunged. Nietzsche, he wrote, recognized “the strong, unbreakable tie of the law to the power-political necessity of every Volk.” Law for Nietzsche was not an abstract codification of immutable reason. It was a dynamic instrument in the life of a Volk and an integral part of its biological and anthropological development which served its political needs and its will to power (Machtwillens). Proper law flowed from a healthy, völkisch life: “universal” human law was both “life-estranged and an unhistorical, utopian conception.” Nietzsche’s rejection of equal rights—had he not written, “We feel all rights to be conquests”?—was closely linked to his hierarchical alternative.

The struggle for self-assertion and heightening of power was the source of mutable law. There was no reason of law or natural law. Nietzschean law followed life, not vice versa; it was not transcendental but immanent, dynamic, anthropological, and biological.

Nietzsche, Kassler continued, was the first thinker to perceive the centrality of race and racial hygiene and to consciously apply its imperatives to social life. Was he not determinedly against the procreation of the unworthy? The promulgation of National Socialist laws concerning racial hygiene and its protective measures against hereditary dispositions and illness (“zur Verhuetung erbkranken Nachwuchs und zum Schutze der Erbgesundheit des deutschen Volkes”) in effect constituted the implementation of Nietzsche’s vision.

Kassler was by no means alone in using Nietzsche as the explicit justification for Nazi measures aimed at the incurably ill and sexual offenders. And there was no shortage of appropriate Nietzschean recommendations advocating what he called “holy cruelty”:

The biblical prohibition “thou shalt not kill” is a piece of naivete compared with the seriousness of the prohibition of life to decadents: “thou shalt not procreate!”—Life itself recognizes no solidarity, no “equal rights,” between the healthy and the degenerate parts of an organism: one must excise the latter—or the whole will perish.—Sympathy for decadents, equal rights for the ill-constituted—that would be the profoundest immorality, that would be antinature itself as morality!

We have already seen how Nietzsche influenced advocates of euthanasia and was integrated into earlier eugenic thought. In the new legal order of the Third Reich medical practitioners of child euthanasia— such as Dr. Werner Catel—rested on Nietzsche as justification for their work. The force of this influence is not reduced by the ironic fact that, as Ernst Klee has pointed out, Nietzsche’s insanity would have rendered him an eminently suitable victim.

The envisaged Nietzschean social order also entailed a positive eugenic programme to create the suitable masterly type. Breeding and selection in the service of higher development, Kassler reminded his readers, permeated all of Nietzsche’s writings, and was linked to his deep concern with decadence, degeneration, and decline. To be sure, Nietzsche was wrong to believe that there were no original pure races— only races that had become pure. Yet he still led the struggle against the deterioration of European blood.

Kassler did not deny the difficulties but argued that Nietzsche was nevertheless useful in articulating the outlines of a race society. For those interested in the fusion of Nietzsche and a right-wing politics of racial hygiene, the differences were overwhelmed by the commonalities. If Nietzsche had no closed racial system in the current sense, wrote another Nazi commentator, he was still a powerful pioneer of race culture. It was he who had rediscovered biology for philosophy. The biological viewpoint did not necessarily have a racial starting point but it did push open “a row of mighty doors that led to a racial view of life.”

His promoters highlighted Nietzsche’s reassertion of instinct, his discovery of the body, and above all his naturalistic transvaluation in which the biological ethic replaced the moral one. Nietzsche’s comments on the Jews were particularly relevant. The philosopher was hailed for performing a service to the history of the world with his insight into the history of Israel as “the denaturalization of natural values” (der Entnaturlichung der Naturiverte). Nazism was clearly the countermovement leading the drive to renaturalization.

Nietzsche, such commentators stressed, had dismissed the “race swindle” because he dissociated himself from those who then represented race theory. But, in his own way, he “was the most acute anti-Semite that ever was: he was the most radical discoverer of the unholy role that Judaism played in the spiritual history of Europe.” His demonstration that Christianity was the ultimate Jewish consequence and that it engendered the spread of Jewish blood poisoning made the Jews the most fateful people of world history. Through this road Nietzsche was brought to the race problem, opening the door to racial hygiene in an attempt to break the degeneration of a thousand years.

Nazified Nietzscheanism performed multiple functions and was diffused along the broad spectra of Nazi society. After appropriate editing, the philosopher’s works were published and distributed at a dizzy pace. They were integrated into the general school system and served the particular needs of a variety of special-interest organizations.

Nietzschean themes permeated everyday life. They informed the defining ideological contours of elite SS journals such as Das Schwarze Korps: “The soldier of the front,” read one such article, “was the unity of Nietzsche, worker, peasant, and those bourgeois youth who were driven by race to a new configuration.” They formed the subject of rarefied university seminars; were broadcast on the airwaves in popular radio lectures advocating, for instance, Nietzschean conceptions of the role of labor in the new social order; and presented in lionizing talks to miners’ and workers’ organizations.

Nietzsche’s inspiration was invoked not only as the warp and woof of national socialism’s soldierly Weltanschauung and its injunction to “live dangerously” but as a personal mobilizing myth in the conduct of battle itself. If Nietzsche figured centrally as an inspirational force in World War I, by World War II he was officially enshrined in the state’s war-exalting ideology. Under national socialism German youth, as one writer put it, was putting the Nietzschean conception of war as healthy liberator into practice. Both Nietzsche’s thought and deed had living mythical import for the destiny of the German present: “Arm in arm he marches with every victim.”

As the tide went against Germany (especially on the Eastern Front) Nietzsche was increasingly called upon in the apocalyptic struggle against the pernicious forces of bolshevism and world Jewry. With defeat looming, his injunction to “Love your destiny” (Liebe dein Shicksal)—to be prepared for sacrifice—became a leitmotif. “Nietzsche is the herald of the Either-Or. He hates compromise and affirms the unavoidable authentic decision. He is called to give us strength in this total war.” The official October 1944 Nietzsche centenary ceremonies were conspicuously less joyful and Dionysian than the archive festivals of the past and centered around fate, loneliness, and Nietzsche’s dictum that whatever did not destroy one made one stronger. Alfred Rosenberg’s paean to Nietzsche on that occasion was clearly informed by the desperate situation of the German war machine. National socialism, Rosenberg proclaimed, stood before the rest of the world in exactly the way Nietzsche had confronted the forces of his own time. What distinguished Nietzsche from other thinkers was his ability to think in radical extremes, to philosophize in warlike and soldierly terms, and to conceive of ultimate scenarios like the present war. Two principles—the destructive Bolshevik Jewish and the rejuvenative National Socialist European—were locked in mortal combat, the stakes a massive experiment around nature and life.

Nietzsche fulfilled other important functions. His elevated stature and his cultured writings enabled certain members of the German intelligentsia to make the turn to nazism and to employ him as inspiration and rationalization. For the most famous amongst them, Gottfried Benn, Nietzsche had always been a central pillar, whom he naturally called upon in his polemics against the German intellectual exiles. In response to Klaus Mann’s imprecations against Nazi “barbarism,” for instance, Benn handily invoked Nietzsche who had posed the problem: “Where are the barbarians of the twentieth century?” and preceded it with the dictum: “A dominating race can grow up only out of terrible and violent beginnings.” After Nietzsche only one criterion for the historically authentic existed: “the appearance ... of the new type, and he, one must say, is here... An authentic, new, historical movement is at hand ... typologically neither good nor evil, it is now embarking on its being... History does not proceed democratically but elementarily and its turning points become ever more elemental.”

The Nietzschean factor was probably even more marked for the self-consciousness of many of the intellectual foreign collaborators and for those French and Belgian volunteers who joined the Charlemagne Brigade and the Waffen SS. Their nazism was rationalized in terms of the vision of an aesthetic new European order led by a sleek elite of authentic and hard new men, Übermenschen capable of the most radical acts. Christian de La Maziere describes his induction into the Waffen SS, for instance, in caricaturistic Nietzschean terms: “... these men fascinated me and I wanted to incorporate myself there. I perceived them as strong, generous and pitiless: beings without weakness who would never putrefy.” As a propagandist in the SS, Marc Augier reflected:

These people thought the world anew. One felt as if one had arrived at the outermost periphery of the Nietzschean thought world and its creative passion. ... A victory of the SS (which did not necessarily signify a victory for Germany) would have given birth to a world that, though certainly considerably shocking, would have been totally novel and probably truly great. ... In this Hildesheimer cloister ... Nietzsche’s transvaluation of all values was being prepared. It is the only example in history of a philosopher who had such a following of armies, armored vehicles, airplanes, doctors, knights, bureaucrats, and hangmen. The SS brought about the hatred of the world because it posed a real danger to the present order.

This theme appears constantly in the conceptions of non-German sympathizers. As Marcel Deat put it: “Nietzsche’s idea of the selection of ‘good Europeans’ is now being realized on the battlefield, by the LFV and the Waffen SS. An aristocracy, a knighthood is being created by the war which will be the hard, pure nucleus of the Europe of the future.”

The Nazis were able to capitalize on Nietzsche’s European dimension as part of its own conception of a continental order. Nietzsche’s European thinking—on the surface a deficiency for a nationalist movement—became a distinct advantage: indeed, there was no other authority from whom the Nazis could draw sustenance for their imperial vision. Even when the differences between the Nietzschean and the Nazi idea of a united Europe were carefully spelled out—for instance by Kurt Hildebrandt—the thematic similarities remained: German leadership of a regenerated European culture and politics and the breeding of an aristocratic caste organized on the basis of vitalistic antidemocratic and anti-Marxist principles.

Nietzsche turned from Germany to Europe, Hildebrandt wrote later, because he knew it was only the Germans who possessed the greatness to implement its rebirth. After The Birth of Tragedy Nietzsche became far more realistic and political. His goal became ever more clear—not pacifism and world citizenship, but “great war” and, above all, the war for the leadership of Europe and the challenge to the German Volk to create it anew. For Nietzsche, therefore, modern nationalism was too provincial. His vision of a Great Politics was far grander than that. Today’s “good Europeans,” proclaimed Rosenberg, were Germans because they were carrying out Nietzsche’s vision of continental, revolutionary regeneration.

Those most closely associated with the nazification of Nietzsche were fully aware of the casuistic need to selectively channel him into its collective and Germanic imperatives, to both unleash the Nietzschean dynamic and keep it under control. For a nationalist, anti-Semitic, and racist movement the exercise was unavoidable. The need for some kind of interpretation was openly acknowledged to be necessary because the “real” Nietzschean message had either been previously misunderstood or willfully distorted by Nietzsche’s earlier, literary, and nihilist—usually Jewish—devotees.

Collectivizing Nietzsche went on apace. Ernst Horneffer insisted that Nietzsche, far from preaching individualism, was interested in setting up a new society based on new bonds and new collective values. The Übermensch was “not a singular concept but a racial and species one [Art—und Gattungsbegriff] ... the fruit of an immense, uninterrupted human breeding project.” The fact, wrote Hildebrandt, that Nietzsche had attacked the Hegelian deification of the state did not make him an antinationalist individualist. “He wanted to oppose the cold instrumental state and soulless organization not with the disconnected individual but with authentic Volksgemeinschaft.”

The move from the individual to the collective Nietzsche, Bäumler argued, was difficult but necessary. The propelling force of Great Politics, he declared, was the feeling of power “which, out of un-vanquishable sources, burst forth from time to time not only in the soul of the individual but also in the humble classes (niederen Schichten) of the Volk.” After all, Nietzsche had written in The Will to Power: “We are more than the individuals: we are the whole chain as well, with the tasks of all the futures of that chain.” Whoever like Nietzsche took the body as guide, Bäumler proclaimed, could not be an individualist; nor could anyone who thought historically. One only had to consult the Genealogy of Morals to see that Nietzsche talked in historical categories such as species, races, nations, and classes. The collective from which the individual sprang and derived his strength was not generalized humanity but always a concrete entity: a race, a Volk, a class.

In innumerable discussions, minor and major mediators of Nietzsche clarified the “real” nature of his relationship to Germany and the Germans. Was not Nietzsche insistent upon the core distinction between what was Deutsch (i.e., the Roman and Christian influences upon Germany) and what was Germanic (i.e., its freedom-loving, warlike nature) ? Was not Zarathustra a Germanic figure who had taken up the Germanic mission to protect the rights of the Volk? Were not Nietzsche’s radical criticisms and biting comments an index of his pain, commitment, and hopes for this people of becoming? These commentators loved to quote Nietzsche’s words from 1885: “So far, the Germans are nothing, but they will become something... We Germans desire something from ourselves that has not yet been desired from us—we desire something more!” Only now was the realization dawning that Nietzsche and authentic German destiny were inextricably united. Friedrich Nietzsche as German Prophet and Nietzsche and German Destiny were typical of this genre. The theme took on an incantatory quality. By 1942 few were startled to learn that Nietzsche’s mission was essentially völkisch and racial: Zarathustra was a mystical vehicle designed to create a new myth for Deutsch-Germanische Menschheit.

Nietzsche’s pro-Jewish comments and biting contempt for anti-Semitism clearly needed special explanation. Anyone familiar with Nietzsche, wrote Bäumler, knew how opposed to the Jews he really was. His philo-Semitic comments were an attention-gaining device— playing the Jews against the Germans was part of his strategy to get the Germans to listen to him! More important, as numerous commentators stressed, Nietzsche had only opposed nineteenth-century forms of conventional and Christian anti-Semitism because he stood for a newer and far more radical form. Nietzsche only dismissed that anti-Semitism which was limited to the confessional, economic, and social domains, overlooking the biological dimension. He really regarded Jews as nothing less than a “parasitic species” (parasitäre Menschengattung) endangering the very survival of the Nordic race. And, of course, Nietzsche became a crucial source for that radicalized drive designated by Uriel Tai as “anti-Christian anti-Semitism.”

Socratism functioned like Christianity. As Nietzsche demonstrated in On the Genealogy of Morals, Christianity was a Jewish invention, a fiendishly clever way of infecting the hearts of other Völker with the world-endangering spirit of Judaism. Socratism was merely Christianity’s préfiguration. Plato’s moral fanaticism had, after all, destroyed paganism. What was Christianity if not “Platonism for the Volk”? For Nietzsche there was a common völkisch essence to both the Greek and German experience: tragic culture. The precondition for its re-creation lay, as Nietzsche had uncompromisingly made clear, in the overcoming of Christianity. Christianity represented the victory of the antivölkisch principle over nations. Judaized Christianity was racial decline and decadence: “the antiracial principle applied against the racial.”

The regeneration of tragic culture and the fighting community (Wehrgemeinschaft) was thus dependent on the simultaneous overcoming of Jewish Christianity and other forms of theoretical man. This and other Nietzschean völkisch schemes—positing, for instance, radical distinctions between Graeco-Jewish logocentric and Graeco-Germanic biocentric principles—abounded in the Third Reich. The point of such naturalizing schemes was to create alternatives to humanism and transcendence, principles which undermined life. Irrationalist, tragi-Dionysian Nietzschean culture counteracted traditional conceptions of Western morality and rationalist Enlightenment and Marxist notions of progress.

The demonstrable thickness and ubiquity of the Nietzschean presence should not blind us to the complexities of Nietzsche’s image and functions within Nazi discourse. Besides unadulterated veneration, mindless blending, and ideological matchmaking, there were those who maintained distinctions, voiced qualifications, and demurred from claiming total identity.

This was certainly so for Heinrich Härtle’s official Nietzsche and National Socialism (a work published by the central Nazi publishing house). This much-quoted exercise explicitly defined and differentiated “the boundaries, relationships, and contrasts between Nietzsche’s political thought and national socialism.” Given the multivalent nature of Nietzsche, Hartle argued, National Socialists had to engage in a self-conscious sifting out of “fruitful” Nietzschean ideas from less acceptable ones. Härtle enumerated the problems—the advocacy of racial mixture, the critique of the state, and individualism—but concluded nevertheless that Nietzsche’s ideas were the building blocks of a future National Socialist philosophy.

All those discussed so far proclaimed the integrity of the Nietzschean-Nazi nexus. There were, however, numerous critics who voiced a dogged opposition to his annexation and maintained an anti-Nietzschean position throughout. Unimpressed by the casuistry and ideological tailoring, they kept on arguing what many on the unpersuaded right had been saying since the 1880s. Much like Nietzsche’s liberal defenders they insisted that a terrible mistake was being made. As Ernst Krieck, professor of pedagogy at the University of Heidelberg and a prominent Nazi ideologue, caustically remarked: apart from the fact that Nietzsche was not a socialist, not a nationalist, and opposed to racial thinking, he could have been a leading National Socialist thinker! There was no way that Nietzsche could be considered a National Socialist; Nietzsche, one Nazi commentator exclaimed, was not the solution to but a manifestation of Europe’s decay.

Dietrich Eckart, the homespun Schwabing völkisch philosopher who seminally influenced Hitler, dismissed Nietzsche early on as simply a case of inherited mental disease. Elements of the völkisch movement remained unrepentant in their rejection. It was the height of absurdity, they argued, to present Nietzsche’s hatred of the Germans as a form of “angry love”; he was an avowed antinationalist and the great maligner of the German Reich and of Germanism itself. What could this advocate of egoistic individualism possibly have in common with Nazi communitarianism or the goal of a völkisch organic racial totality? Nietzsche had unequivocally condemned what he called the “race-swindle,” had only contempt for anti-Semitism, and was indeed something of a Jew-lover.

Nietzsche could be criticized and berated because he was not a living functionary of the Reich but a dead philosopher. Thus Christian circles and churches responding to attacks by Alfred Rosenberg and affiliated neopagan groupings could freely polemicize against Nietzsche as a means of opposing Nazi religious policy in general and Rosenberg’s ideas in particular. The nationalist and racist tenor of the times were deeply imprinted in these polemics—especially the Protestant ones. As one neopagan commentator pointedly noted, these protests condemned Nietzsche not for his anti-Christian ideas but for his lack of nationalist fervor and his blaspheming of the German Volk! Ironically, in their advocacy of a Christian Germany, these Christian polemicists railed against Nietzsche’s antinationalist, antiracist, and pro-Jewish positions as unbecoming of the new society in which the churches too sought to play a role. Such religious polemics did not hesitate to invoke racist arguments in their opposition to Nietzsche. A Catholic opponent railed that Nietzsche’s Polish origins rendered him not Nordic but Mongolian!

Certain secular critics argued in similar ways. In Alfred von Martin’s 1941 essay on Nietzsche and Burckhardt, for instance, a work that clearly favored the latter’s conservative humanism over the revolutionary politics of the former, Nietzsche’s philo-Semitism was defined as a form of anti-Germanism."

All this did not exhaust the functions of such discourse. Sophisticated thinkers frequently used Nietzsche as the foil for what Jerry Muller has termed Aesopian criticism. By 1937, for instance, a disillusioned Hans Freyer rediscovered Nietzsche’s stress on the neglected role of culture and spirit and the need for critical and untimely meditations in the Third Reich. Martin Heidegger similarly claimed (in 1966) that his mammoth lecture series on Nietzsche between 1936 and 1940 constituted an essential part of his confrontation (Auseinandersetzung) with national socialism.

But all these scholarly presentations, the head-on criticisms, oppositional polemics, Aesopian deployments, indeed, the very employment of Nietzsche as a foil for coming to terms with national socialism demonstrate the normative nature and the centrality of that thinker as definitive of the Nazi order. This was as true for the more critical and nuanced approaches as it was for the crudely adulatory ones. Many perceived that the present revolutionary epoch had to be defined, grasped, and even opposed through such a confrontation with Nietzsche.

Philosophical surveys of the day routinely described Nietzsche as “belonging to the present.” Nietzsche was clearly transformed into a touchstone for critical reference. This is best illustrated in terms of what one recent scholar has called the “metadiscourse” of German philosophy under national socialism, the ways that various schools competed to interpret and justify nazism and the political moment in terms of their own philosophical agendae. All the surviving philosophical streams indulged in this exercise. The neo-Kantians, for instance—a group that survived exceedingly well during the Third Reich—argued that the great idealist tradition and “the theory of objective values” was the appropriate philosophy of the German revolution.

Startling as the notion of a Kantian nazism may be, those advocating such a position were impelled to do so vis-à-vis the perception that Nietzsche constituted the prevalent standard of reference. The leading neo-Kantian, Bruno Bauch, had to argue that values were not Nietzschean in nature but objective, “that which gives our subjective lives their content and determination.” There was a difference between values and purposes. Purposes existed only insofar as one posited them; possessed of no fixed being, they were a becoming that “fitted into the totality of the realm of value.” This, Bauch argued, was the real meaning of Nietzsche’s transvaluation of all values. He had not preached relativism but that every pursuit of values was a process of approximation to the objective realm. Nicolai Hartmann employed a similar tactic: he criticized Nietzsche yet sought to integrate him into the objectivist vision, to fuse him with Kant. Nietzsche was praised for his demonstration of the plenitude of values and for demonstrating that morality and Christianity were not identical. The material ethics of the day required a “synthesis of the Kantian apriority and timelessness of moral demands with Nietzsche’s recognition of the manifold of values.”

The neo-Kantians were arguing that only on the basis of a more stable and objective scheme of values could national socialism be firmly grounded. Nevertheless they, like so many others, were fully aware of Nietzsche’s axial role in the political and philosophical reality of the Third Reich. The debate had to be conducted in his terms.

It was thus hardly fortuitous that the great minds of the time— especially Jaspers, Jung, and Heidegger—all chose Nietzsche for sustained analyses. If little united their aims, approaches, and conclusions, their use of Nietzsche as a relevant filter and their intense engagement with him was in itself significant. All were complex works inevitably stamped by, and revealing attitudes towards, the novel experience of nazism.

This certainly applies to Karl Jaspers’s patently non-Nazi Nietzsche of 1936 with its impassioned plea for a nonideological Nietzsche who demolished all finite positions. The significance of this Nietzsche 257 resided not in the positive content of his philosophy but in the courageous mode of his philosophizing. For Jaspers, Nietzsche’s greatness consisted of the ordered whirl of his thinking, an operation that incorporated contradiction in such a way that confusion gave way to a form of thought that rendered the contradictions themselves meaningful.

Contemporary pro-Nazi critics within Germany such as Kurt Hildebrandt, exiled opponents without, and later commentators such as Walter Kaufmann criticized Jaspers for his purely epistemological Nietzsche shorn of any positive vision or system. Hildebrandt upbraided Jaspers for his distance from the regime, while Kaufmann reproached him for a stress on ambiguity that precluded such an interpretation from becoming a rallying point of any opposition.

In his extended 1936 critique, Hildebrandt sought to maintain Nietzsche’s timely and positive role. The existentialist Jaspers, he wrote, had portrayed the most unexistential picture of Nietzsche possible. While Nietzsche opposed transcendence, Jaspers wanted to return to a softened version of it. Jaspers had left out the connection between Nietzsche’s life, work, passions, and values. He had moreover neglected seminal texts such as Zarathustra and The Genealogy of Morals: “Nietzsche is inspired by the passion for knowledge, but higher than that knowledge stands creativity, the new valuation, the new legislation.” Nietzsche had provided a philosophy in which meaning derived from constant, creative struggle, as “norm and power of an emergent world-epoch.” For Hildebrandt this was not “free-floating,” as Jaspers had argued. Rather it was a dynamism that resolved itself into a normative system and a positive community.

Even if Jaspers’s Nietzsche carried with it no positive ideological countercontent, in the context of the Third Reich the emphasis on freedom of thought, “the systematically conscious domination of one’s own thinking,” was both courageous and immediately meaningful. As he later argued, one could plausibly ground a Nazi position “down to every detail, upon Nietzsche; just as one can see the exactly opposite position represented by Nietzsche with equal vehemence.” What was most important at the time was “demonstrating the factual movement of Nietzsche’s thinking as a room-making, illuminating, dialectically daring, never fixating kind of thinking.”

The same shaping context, the looming background of nazism, helps to explain the marathon 1934-1939 Zurich seminar Jung held on Zarathustra. Jung’s remarkable and sustained reflective project—with its deliciously detailed analysis of the inner workings and psychological structure of the Zarathustrian symbolic world—laid bare Zarathustra as an example of the creative and demonic gyrations of the collective unconscious. Moreover, it employed Nietzsche and Zarathustra as illustrations and affirmations of his own psychological system and sought to uncover some of the deeper, hidden connections between Nietzsche and national socialism. After initial hesitations, he told his students, I myself agreed to risk the analysis of Zarathustra, chiefly because it is a very modern piece of work which has much to do with what is happening in our time; I thought it might be of great interest to look into the actual workings of the unconscious mind, which has anticipated all the great political and historical events of our days.

Towards the end of the seminar Jung formulated its rationale in even blunter terms:

Modern people follow Zarathustra. But he did not see that he was really anticipating the whole future development, that there would be a time when what he says here would come true. It is as if the whole world had heard of Nietzsche or read his books, and had consciously brought it about. Of course, they had not. He simply listened in to that underground process of the collective unconscious and he was able to realize it—he talked of it, but nobody else noticed it. Nevertheless, they all developed in that direction, and they would have developed in that direction even if there had been no Nietzsche. For they never understood it. Perhaps I am the only one who takes the trouble to go so much into the detail of Zarathustra—far too much, some people may think. So nobody actually realizes to what extent he was connected with the unconscious and therefore with the fate of Europe in general, for it is the same trouble all over the world.

In its comparatively short history, Nietzsche commentary has spawned a few classics. Typically these creative works have told us as much about the author as their subject. Nietzsche the man and his protean works is splendidly made to light up Jung’s own vision, a densely projective confirmation of his own psychological system. Zarathustra, proclaimed Jung at the opening session, had a great revelatory character. It poured out of Nietzsche as an almost autonomous production, an expression not of the personal but of the collective unconscious, “a condition of possession where he himself practically no longer existed.” Grasping it required a sophisticated psychological sense. But, Jung emphasized, it took “the experience of the war and of the postwar social and political phenomena to get an insight into the meaning of Zarathustra.” Nietzsche was, if anything, proof of the existence (and vitality) of the Jungian collective unconscious. He “tickled something in the unconscious; for he tried to formulate what is actually happening in the collective unconscious of modern man, to give words to that disturbance.”

Jung’s Zarathustra seminar was a sprawling psychological investigation of virtually every aspect of the work; the implicit links to national socialism were brought to the fore only intermittently. Yet, when made explicit they illuminated both Jung’s reading of Nietzsche and what he regarded as the ontology of nazism. His ambivalent views on nazism can be gleaned from the following:

Well, we are not judges, we simply make statements. You know that there is nothing so evil that something good could not come out of it.... One cannot help admitting that Fascism has done any amount of good for Italy; it is a different country. And so there are plenty of people, foreigners (the Germans themselves are inclined to be prejudiced), who have seen and praised what has happened in Germany, and even in Russia, as a higher tendency. So it is exceedingly difficult to judge. From one aspect things are positive, and from another, quite negative.

Over time he modified his view; nevertheless in a qualified—and changing—sense Jung consistently regarded nazism as a kind of Nietzschean project. Were not the SS schools at Ordensburgen (and the Communist party in Russia) projects in molding Nietzsche’s new nobility? Nietzsche had foreseen exactly that, although, Jung hastened to point out, he meant “a real nobility—not one that is made but one that creates itself.”

Nietzsche’s conception of life as amor fati, self-sacrifice, Jung argued, is the attitude now prevailing in Germany, it is the inner meaning of National Socialism. They live in order to live on—or to die. When you hear the really serious people talk, you realize that Nietzsche simply anticipated that style. They praise the attitude of being ready, and naturally any rationalist asks, for what? That is just the point—nobody knows for what. Therefore, they have no program; they have no mapped-out scheme which should be fulfilled. They live for the moment. They don’t know where they are going. Very influential and competent people of that party acknowledge that they don’t know, but one thing is certain: they are going, there is no return, they must risk it. Then the rationalist asks: Risk what? The answer is, Risk it... This is of course pure madness from a rationalistic standpoint, and this is what Nietzsche means. One can say it is all pathological, or that it is a divine or a demoniacal madness, but that is exactly the madness Nietzsche means. So Nietzsche is in a way the great prophet of what is actually happening in Germany.

For Jung, this purported psychological affinity between Nietzsche and the German people served also as an example and validation of his own theory. Nietzsche, he declared, anticipated, through his sensitivity, a great deal of the subsequent mental development; he was assailed by the collective unconscious to such an extent that quite involuntarily he became aware of the collective unconscious that was characteristic of his time and the time that followed. Therefore, he is called a prophet, and in a way he is a prophet... [HJis life and fate, one could say, was a collective program; his life was a forecast of a certain fate for his own country.

In Jung’s system the conventional notion of the forerunner underwent metamorphosis, replaced by a theory of involuntary, anticipatory intuition:

You see in how far Nietzsche is a forerunner. But the Germans of his generation and the next generation and all the following generations are not so gifted that they would learn it from Nietzsche; it just happens to them. And Nietzsche could foretell it because it happened to him; in a certain way he anticipated in his own life and his own body what the future of his people would be.

But Jung did not simply reduce Nietzsche to a préfiguration of nazism as an expression of the German collective unconscious. There were times when Jung was explicitly critical of nazism, portraying it as a misapplication of the Nietzschean world that to be properly comprehended entailed special preparation. It is worth quoting this in detail:

Nietzsche himself would be highly astonished to hear such news. He surely never dreamt that he would be called the father of all this modern political evil. That really comes from the misunderstanding to which Nietzsche is exposed. For he made one considerable mistake which of course would not be generally considered a mistake. But I call it a mistake that he ever published Zarathustra. That is a book which ought not to be published; it should be reserved for people who have undergone a very careful training in the psychology of the unconscious. Only then, having given evidence of not being overthrown by what the unconscious occasionally says, should people have access to the book. ... If a man reads Zarathustra unprepared, with all the naive presuppositions of our actual civilization, he must necessarily draw wrong conclusions as to the meaning of the “Superman,” “the Blond Beast,” “the Pale Criminal,” and so on.

Jung was quite aware that what Nietzsche had said in the chapter “The New Idol” could “be used in favor of a Fascist, National Socialist, or a Communist state, and it also can be used as the best argument against all these creations.”

For Jung, in effect, both nazism and Nietzsche were expressions of important, deep levels of the collective unconscious. As the seminar progressed, however, he indicated that he regarded the Nazi appropriation less salutary than the Nietzschean one. He illustrated this in his discussion of the passage where Nietzsche predicts: “Ye lonesome ones of today, ye seceding ones, ye shall one day be a people: out of you who have chosen yourselves, shall a chosen people arise: and out of it the Superman.” Jung interpreted the psychohermeneutic dynamics of this passage thus:

You see, the Superman really is “a people,” not one man; that can be understood very literally. For if these lonely or seceding ones integrate their unconscious, they are of course different from other people insofar as their consciousness is more extended, and then it is as if they were uniting the statistics of a whole people in one psychology. ... If one extends one’s consciousness so that one sees that one is many things besides one’s ego, one approaches a certain realization of the self. But it is also true in another way: namely, if an attempt at an extension of consciousness appears somewhere and is not realized, then it causes a sort of mental infection ... or it causes a mental epidemic such as one sees actually happening in Germany. That is the Superman on the level of non-realization; the whole people is like one man and one man is shown as an emblem or symbol of the whole nation. That is the substitute for the integration of the consciousness of one individual. You see Germany should be one individual but with an integrated consciousness; instead of that there is just no integration of the unconscious, but the whole people is integrated into one sacred figure—which nobody fully believes could be sacred. That is the unfortunate thing.

Whichever way one reads it, Jung’s Zarathustra of the 1930s left little doubt of the relationship between that document and the apocalyptic politics of his own time and about the complex relations pertaining between Nietzsche and national socialism. Martin Heidegger was similarly concerned with this mutual complicity. We will not enter into the current debate about Heidegger and national socialism nor the purported links between his politics and his philosophy but shall limit ourselves here to the Heidegger-Nietzsche relationship.

Nietzsche and Nietzschean themes, especially the critique of values and reason and the concomitant emphasis on an overcoming heroic mythology, were among Heidegger’s chief preoccupations from the 1930s. His Nietzsche—contained in the lectures (1936—1940) and adjoining treatises (1940—1946)—reflected his changing understanding, expectations, and evaluations of both Nietzsche and national socialism. Equally important, the “shattering” confrontation with Nietzsche generated what Heidegger considered to be a crucial shift in his own thinking, which provided, as he put it, the key to the mental road he had traversed from 1930 to his 1947 “Letter on Humanism.”

In Heidegger’s self-description Nietzsche assumed a core role in these philosophical and political permutations. In an open letter to his friend and fellow radical-right Nietzschean Ernst Jünger many years after the war, he claimed that it was Nietzsche “in whose light and shadow all of us today, with our ‘pro-Nietzsche’ or ‘contra-Nietzsche’ are thinking and writing.” Indeed, (at least in his self-presentation), Heidegger’s affirmation and later negation of national socialism was causally connected with his initial adoption and subsequent rejection of Nietzsche.

Nietzsche is a relatively minor presence in Being and Time (1926), although the book deals with a Nietzschean problem, since it revolves around the anxiety attendant upon the recognition of nihilism and the sense that there can be no “objective” grounding for ethics. Be that as it may, Heidegger’s explicit turn to Nietzsche coincided with his attraction to the antidemocratic, radical-right thought of the Weimar Republic in 1929. Awareness of the contemporary crisis drew Heidegger ever closer to Nietzsche and it was then, if some major Heidegger scholars are to be believed, that these kinds of political and ideological motifs “entered into the heart of Heidegger’s philosophy itself.”

The reasons for the shift to Nietzsche, however, are less important than the fact that, throughout the 1930s and 1940s, Heidegger’s categories and thematics, his Fragestellung and metadiscourse, depended on the Nietzschean frame. Heidegger inherited Nietzsche’s conviction that the history of philosophy had come to an end and that a new era was emerging. Nietzsche’s formulation of the nihilist predicament remained the core issue from the 1930s. Moreover, Heidegger’s initial solution for the overcoming of nihilism—through a heroic, existential, self-affirmative will—was unexceptionally Nietzschean. If later he chose to dissolve self-assertion and metaphysics in complete submission to the Voice of Being, his problematic nevertheless remained cast within the radical Nietzschean critique of reason and the end of Western philosophy.

The predicament of, and proposed solution to, European nihilism was the explicit basis of the Heideggerian meditations on the “inner truth and greatness of national socialism.” Heideggerian existentialism flowed from a particular radical analysis of this historical situation and the experience of nihilism. As Karl Löwith had already noted in 1939, the perception of decline and impending European catastrophe with its concomitant “will to rupture, revolution, and awakening” was not an idiosyncratic Heideggerian whim, but part and parcel of the post-1914 radical-right stock-in-trade, integral to the conservative revolutionary mentalité. Löwith regarded Heidegger as an even more radical formulator of the German Revolution than its official ideologues (such as Ernst Krieck and Alfred Rosenberg). To be sure, Heidegger’s metadiscourse of national socialism was quite different from its Kantian or Hegelian versions. What was essential was not the objective grounding, the national, social, or racial content of the movement, but the dynamics of the resolve as such—“existence reduced to itself and resting on itself alone in face of nothingness.” Here only the radical will to the essence of being counted. It was this, argued Löwith, that had attracted Heidegger to the Nietzsche who “prefers to will nothingness than to will nothing at all.”

At that stage Heidegger could still approve of Nietzsche’s conception of will as “in itself simultaneously creative and destructive.” His Nietzsche posited nihilism not simply as a phenomenon of decay but as the intrinsic law of Western history. It contained a new unconditioned principle of revaluation that would no longer be based upon the lifeless, suprasensory world. Nihilism was here conceived as an intrinsic part of Nietzsche’s ideal of superabundant life.

These Nietzschean concerns, Heidegger made very clear, related directly to the German Revolution under way. In his famous 1933 rec-torate speech “The Self-Assertion of the German University,” the great transformation of German being (Dasein) was linked to the creative possibilities of the nihilistic moment—“if what the passionate seeker of God and the last German philosopher, Friedrich Nietzsche, said is true: ‘God is dead.’ ”

Apart from the defining predicament, Heidegger’s linguistic tonalities and suggested resolution reverberated with (a suitably nationalized) Nietzsche. German science and the fate of the Volk were affirmed as a unity in their single essential will to power (Wesenswillen zur Macht.) German students and teachers were to establish a fighting community (Kampfgemeinschaft) whose combative will to service in knowledge would take them to the outpost of the most extreme danger of human existence. In the face of European decay nothing less than the most radical, self-affirming will was necessary:

No one will even ask us whether we do or do not will, when the spiritual strength of the West fails and the joints of the world no longer hold, when this moribund semblance of a culture caves in and drags all that remains strong into confusion and lets it suffocate in madness.

Whether this will happen or not depends alone on whether or not we, as a spiritual-historical people, still and once again will ourselves. Every individual participates in this decision, even he, and indeed especially he, who evades it.

But we do will that our people fulfill its historical mission.

We do will ourselves. For the young and the youngest strength of the people, which already reaches beyond us, has by now decided the matter.

Even if his activist solution was later replaced, Heidegger accepted the redemptive possibilities inherent in the nihilist predicament. “We experience precisely the most extreme nihilism not as a complete downfall but as the transition to new conditions of human existence,” he wrote in 1940. Initially, Heidegger explicitly regarded both fascism and nazism as potentially positive transitions to such new conditions. They were essentially Nietzschean projects—the most radical attempts to date to overcome Western nihilism: “The two men,” Heidegger proclaimed in his 1936 lectures on Schelling, “who each in his own way, have introduced a counter-movement to nihilism—Mussolini and Hitler—have learned from Nietzsche, each in an essentially different way. But even with that, Nietzsche’s authentic metaphysical domain has not yet come into its own.”

Heidegger, to be sure, openly juxtaposed his conception of Nietzsche’s “authentic domain” with that of Baumler who, he proclaimed, “does not grasp metaphysically but interprets politically.” It was precisely the simplistic and politicized Nazi Nietzsche, one sympathetic commentator has argued, who provided “the context in which Heidegger had to address the students attending his lectures. What they heard from Heidegger was something different—it was in fact totally out of context.”

“No Nazi hoodlum, to my knowledge,” George Steiner correctly comments on Being and Time, “ever read or would have been capable of reading it.” In the same way Heidegger’s Nietzsche was unquestionably written on a higher level than any Nazi rendering could muster. Certainly many of its insights into the critique of reason were enduring. But these lectures must have equally impressed and perplexed his bemused students. Nietzsche often became unrecognizable as he was ingested into the Heideggerian system of thought and framed within its heady vocabulary. The Übermensch, Heidegger told his students, “lives because the new mankind wills the Being of beings as will to power. It wills such Being because it is itself willed by that Being—the Being that is absolutely left to itself as mankind.”

These lectures were the putative crucible for Heidegger’s switch. He grew doubtful, we are told, of the related redemptive powers of either Nietzsche or national socialism. This growing skepticism is usually represented as the major “context” and significance of these lectures. But within the contours of the Third Reich and Nietzsche’s authorized role, the very use of Nietzschean categories and terminology formed part of an already-charged political context informing the audience’s receptivity and predispositions. Students, like other Germans, had after all been repeatedly told that this was Nietzsche’s time. It is unclear how they understood Heidegger’s messages. While he obviously distanced himself from Bäumler-like interpretations, from simplistic equations of nihilism with bolshevism and from biologism, these were nevertheless dangerously connotive political categories that required greater critical analysis. This aside, the radical tone of Heidegger’s language and his choice of quotes appeared at times to render Nazi reality as somehow tame in terms of the Nietzschean vision that Heidegger seemed to commend to his audience:

Man is beast and Ouerbeast: the higher man is Nonman and Overman: these belong together. With every growth of man in greatness and height, there is also growth in depth and terribleness: one should not will the one without the other—or rather: the more radically we will the one, the more radically we achieve precisely the other.

Whether or not the intention was critical, many passages could have been taken as validating the regime’s self-conception and aims. Heidegger’s analysis of the Übermensch as the new embodiment of the will to power expressed in “domination of the earth” was stated, after all, within a metadiscourse tailored to the prevailing political reality. The Übermensch, Heidegger emphasized, belonged to the “grand style” of human breeding and social organization in which the “sole meaning of the one who as legislator first posits the conditions of domination over the earth consists precisely in not being defined by such conditions.” Formulated within the actuality of the Third Reich in 1939—1940, Heidegger’s acute description of the Nietzschean project must have had an immediate resonance that, given his purported critical intention, surely required further critical analysis.

He maintained his ambiguous language throughout: sifting the critical from the functionally necessary elements of the contemporary Übermensch and his domination over the earth became a delicate exercise indeed:

We today are witness to a mysterious law of history which states that one day a people no longer measures up to the metaphysics that arose from its own history; that day arrives when such metaphysics has been transformed into the absolute. What Nietzsche already knew metaphysically now becomes clear: that in its absolute form the modern “machine economy” ... demands a new kind of man who surpasses man as he has been hitherto... [O]nly the Overman is appropriate to an absolute “machine-economy”: he needs it for absolute dominion over the earth.

We must, however, return to the barometric role that Nietzsche played in the self-consciousness of the period. Heidegger’s selfdescribed réévaluation of both national socialism and his own thought was intimately bound up with his prolonged encounter with Nietzsche. Heidegger initially greeted the Nietzschean transvaluation of values as the proper philosophical answer to the nihilist predicament and the activist will to power of the Nazi revolution as the appropriate political countermovement to nihilism, the proper (völkisch) human means to force Being to surrender its secret. His rejection of crucial elements in national socialism, his work and Nietzsche’s, and his abdication of will and self-assertion in the face of Being was brought home to him through the devastating, shattering realization that Nietzsche’s philosophy of the Will-to-power was only the nihilistic culmination of something inherent in the very nature of the metaphysical tradition of the West as it had developed from Plato onwards. The realization that in his own philosophy, deliberately seeking to “overcome” metaphysics, this will, this nihilistic canker, was still a powerful driving force, standing between him and Being—the goal of his entire quest—seems to have led to the collapse of this will and to a complete surrender to the “Voice of Being.”

Since then, Nietzsche, despite his profound critique of philosophical humanism, came to represent not the overthrow but the last embodiment of the Western tradition of metaphysics. Nietzsche’s will to power was based on an exaltation rather than a renunciation of the will. Henceforth, Nietzsche was not only unable to provide an antidote to nihilism, he even became an expression of it:

Nietzsche understands his own philosophy as the countermovement to metaphysics, and that means for him a movement in opposition to Platonism. Nevertheless, as a mere countermovement it necessarily remains, as does everything “anti,” held fast in the essence of that over against which it moves. Nietzsche’s countermovement against metaphysics is, as the mere turning upside down of metaphysics, an inextricable entanglement in metaphysics, in such a way, indeed, that metaphysics is cut off from its essence and, as metaphysics, is never able to think its own essence.

Heidegger substituted his original positive evaluation of the will to power as a lever to disclose Being for one that equated it with simple domination and the triumph of subject-centered technology, indeed, with the misguided self-asserting cultural project of modernity itself. Initially the Nietzschean frame of reference validated the Nazi enterprise—later the dismissal of the Nietzschean worldview formed the basis for the critique of nazism. As Richard Wolin succintly puts it:

National Socialism, which originally presented itself (in Heidegger’s eyes) as a counter-movement to the nihilism of the Western “will to techne,” and thus as a world-historical alternative to the “nihilism” so reviled by Nietzsche, in the end proved to be only a different historical manifestation of that same nihilism, in the same way that Nietzsche’s strident critique of metaphysics itself ultimately rested on metaphysical foundations. The equation according to which Heidegger proceeds, therefore, is: National Socialism = Nietzscheanism = metaphysics.

Ultimately, both Heidegger’s self-proclaimed acceptance and rejection of national socialism were based upon a Nietzschean frame of reference. In a memorandum composed at the time of his denazification proceedings, his distantiation was formulated wholly within this latterly formulated critique of the universal rule of the will to power within history, now understood to embrace the planet. Today everything stands in this historical reality, no matter whether it is called communism, or facism, or world democracy. This reality of the will to power can be expressed, with Nietzsche, in the proposition: “God is dead.” ... Had things been different, would the First World War have been possible? And even more, had things been different, would the Second World War have been possible?

For Heidegger the original Nietzschean notion of the will to power became synonymous with subject-centered, dominating global technology and was employed as a means of obfuscating nazism’s particular historical reality and reducing it to an undifferentiated indictment of modernity. His multipurpose, monolithic will to power encompassed everything and dully equated motorized agriculture with the gas chambers, the extermination of six million Jews with Allied treatment of East Germans. Indeed, as George Steiner has suggested, Heidegger’s refusal to come to terms with the Holocaust stemmed from his refusal to derive ethical principles from the “thinking of Being.” Heideggerian thought in all its prodigal richness and diversity “neither contains nor implies any ethics.” This too, perhaps, must be regarded as part of Heidegger’s radicalization of the Nietzschean enterprise, a project whose stated task was, after all, to think in terms of categories beyond good and evil.

During the Third Reich, then, Nietzsche and Nietzschean categories were fundamental axes around which grasping, defining, and critiquing the era revolved. Even when the relationship was adversarial, there was a perceived need to confront its claims, to conduct arguments within its terms. A widespread sense prevailed that, in a profound if inchoate way, Nietzsche’s “authentic metaphysical domain” was somehow bound up with the essence of the Nazi project. These hermeneutical questions and the nature of the Nietzsche—Nazi relationship have been the subject of heated and unresolved debate and reflection from the 1930s through our own time. They hold up a mirror to Nietzsche’s ongoing role as a peculiarly sensitive symbol and seismometer of our own crucial existential and cultural concerns.

9. National Socialism and the Nietzsche Debate: Kulturkritik, Ideology, and History

Hitler ... : [that is] the mob that has read Nietzsche.
Alfred Kerr, Die Diktatur des Hansknechts

At tea spoke ... about the decline of Europe, the phenomenon of the debasement of once authentic spiritual and historical phenomena, as illustrated by the relationship of Spengler to Nietzsche and Schopenauer, or National Socialism to the Reformation. It would seem that we no longer have real history, but only mock semblances and degenerate epilogues, counterfeit history.
Thomas Mann, Diaries, 1918-1939

What philosopher was hailed by Hitler and Mussolini as the prophet of authoritarianism?
Friedrich Nietzsche.
Trivial Pursuit—American Parlor Game.

One commentator in Switzerland wrote in 1935:

Friedrich Nietzsche is held to be the pioneer, the ideological founder of the Third Reich. With no other thinker does National Socialist ideology feel so closely related, so internally linked as with Nietzsche. The leading spirits of the Third Reich call upon him incessantly. Striking and most strange, however, is the fact that the grimmest opponent of national socialism also rests with such partiality on no other thinker as on Friedrich Nietzsche. How is that possible and who is right? Are both camps perhaps correct, or neither?

Diametrically opposed answers were already being provided at the very moment that both the Italian Fascists and the Nazis appropriated Nietzsche. The voluminous debate has been going on ever since. It is an argument that eludes resolution, entailing, as Jean Starobinski has pointed out, a “labyrinth of unverifiable hypotheses.” From our perspective this vast hermeneutic subliterature must be integrated into the contours and functions of changing Nietzsche discourse, linked to broader political and ideological questions, and regarded as part of a larger Kulturkritik in which Nietzsche became the prism through which to address the great issues surrounding secularity, modernity, and even the nature of humanity. Implicit in all this was the sense that Nietzsche and Nietzscheanism were bound up with the novel liberating and cataclysmic potential associated with the twentieth century. Although the debate over what Crane Brinton in 1941 dubbed the “gentle” versus the “tough” Nietzsche went back, as we have seen, to the beginnings of Nietzsche reception itself, the Nazi experience added even more intensity to the question.

What would the thinker have thought, what might he have done, had he still been alive? Would he have agreed with those who thought he was on their side? If so, then he would be guilty of having supplied them with their weapons. But there is no way of knowing if he would have done so. On the other hand, if he had not been their precursor, at least in part, then how could they have appropriated him to such an extent. The argument goes on ad infinitum.

(“Rousseau in the Revolution,” New York Review of Books [12 April 1990], 47) tion. Its brutalized chauvinism, racism, and anti-Semitism would have been incomprehensible to the thinker whose favorite author was Heinrich Heine! Others on the left, like Ludwig Marcuse writing in Das Tagebuch, stressed that the problem was not Nietzsche but those on the right who systematically falsified his message. Walter Benjamin’s contemptuous 1932 attack on Förster-Nietzsche and the Archives relayed a similar message.

Still, as the Nazi political takeover grew closer, for many of the most nondoctrinaire leftist thinkers Nietzsche had become a problem. Thus in 1929 Kurt Tucholsky, the free-wheeling political satirist of the radical Weltbühne, could still casually credit Nietzsche for having “given the Germans prose again.” In 1932 he still insisted upon clearly distinguishing the philosopher’s works from the distorting machinations of the Archives. He was aware too of the ease with which Nietzsche could be appropriated for virtually any cause:

Some illiterate Nazis who want to be considered part of the Hitler intelligentsia because they once smashed the head of a political opponent with a telephone book, claim Nietzsche for their own. Who cannot claim him for their own? Tell me what you need and I will supply you with a Nietzsche citation ... for Germany and against Germany; for peace and against peace; for literature and against literature—whatever you want.

Nevertheless, Tucholsky caustically observed, the more one read Nietzsche the more strongly one felt that something was amiss. The only thing that one did not find in him was that for which he was endlessly cited: strength (Kraft). “What I possess to a high degree,” Tucholsky wrote, “is a mistrust against false heros and I hold Nietzsche to be a secret weakling. He heroizes like one masturbates.”

Tucholsky voiced his suspicions satirically. He certainly would never have enunciated a systematic theory indicting Nietzsche as the most crucial, shaping, ideological influence on the genesis and disposition of national socialism. That work was undertaken after the Nazi rise to power, by Hans Giinther and far more extensively by Georg Lukacs. Both were actively involved in official Communist-party circles during the late 1920 and early 1930s, both contributed to Linkskurve, and both emigrated to the Soviet Union in 1932 where their ruminations on the Nietzsche—Nazi connection were published. These were animated by the official theory that fascism was a manifestation of monopoly capitalism under pressure and the guidelines for the anti-Fascist struggle established by the Seventh World Congress of the Communist International. Working within this authorized framework they reinforced the Nietzsche—Marxist orthodoxy that was sustained in the Soviet Union until its demise.

In contrast to Lukacs, Giinther is only beginning to emerge from obscurity. His important “The Case of Nietzsche” was published in 1935. Giinther insisted that only the historical-materialist method would successfully unravel the Nietzsche mystery and decode the development of his thought. This consisted essentially in unmasking its ideological and class functions. Nietzsche, Giinther argued, was not simply the ideologist of the ruling classes but specifically “the philosopher of Germany’s ruling class.” Giinther, like Lukacs, adopted a Sonderweg theory of German history. The German ruling class was essentially backward: Nietzsche’s thought was an ideational expression of that condition. Nietzsche’s brutal thought reflected Germany’s economic and political retardation.

Nietzsche’s critique of decadence, nihilism, and Kaissereich modernity, Giinther argued, offered a merely symptomatic analysis of capitalism without ever penetrating to its social and economic foundations. Here was a romantic anticapitalism that, while posing as revolutionary, defused real revolutionary activity and upheld the status quo. Nietzsche’s ambivalent longings—reaching backward into the past and forward into the future—encouraged the substitution of psychology and myth for philosophy and sociology.

In Günther’s view, however, what remained constant in Nietzsche’s simultaneous affirmation and critique of capitalism was his demand for an oppressive class society. Here Günther established the Nazi connection. Nietzsche’s panaceas of war and brutality, the reliance on primitive instinct, and the ideal of the Übermensch were all close to the spirit of national socialism and fodder for its propaganda machine. The Nazis admittedly interpreted their ideological forefather too narrowly— Nietzsche stood high above these pitiful Nazi phrasemongers—but his philosophy of paradoxes supplied the perfect model for Nazi ideology. The Nietzschean and the National Socialist spirit were one in the belief that power stood as the foundational principle of all social and historical life. Both, moreover, camouflaged “the most brutal reaction as the most radical revolution.”

Georg Lukacs, however, most systematically forged the Marxist Nietzsche—Nazi link in essays written during the 1930s and 1940s which culminated in his famous, controversial, postwar The Destruction of Reason. Lukacs sought to analyze the forms of reactionary bourgeois irrationalism and to document “Germany’s path to Hitler in the sphere of philosophy ... how this concrete path is reflected in philosophy, and how philosophical formulations, as an intellectual mirroring of Germany’s concrete development towards Hitler helped to speed up the process.” Such a process, Lukacs insisted, occurred whether or not individual thinkers were aware of their sociohistorical functions. Ideas had their “historically necessary influence. In this sense, every thinker is responsible to history for the objective substance of his philosophizing.”

Lukacs was in no doubt about the objective and ultimately progressive nature of the historical process. Much of his virulent opposition to Nietzsche was in reaction to the philosopher’s negation of progressive historical development. Lukacs espoused a Marxist teleology that reduced the Nietzschean (and indeed the modernist) epistemological crisis of truth and reason to its symptomatic, self-sustaining, reactionary bourgeois class functions. Nietzsche’s retreat into the sphere of myth, his substitution of interpretation for knowledge, and his denial of the existence of an objective external world, knowledge of which could point the way to human redemption, were nothing but reflections of a class situation and not inherently worthy philosophical truths.

Lukacs attempted to put this into historical perspective. At its best, he wrote, bourgeois thought possessed a universal and progressive Hegelian thrust reflected in its systematic endeavor to comprehend the world’s totality. This was observable when the ascending bourgeoisie opposed the reactionary aristocracy. After 1848, and especially after 1871, bourgeois thought increasingly lost these positive characteristics. In the face of the rising proletarian threat and its accompanying progressive Marxist philosophy, it gradually turned to an ever more radical, conserving, anti-objectivist, mythologizing irrationalism. Modern irrationalism was, indeed, the primary emergent counterrevolutionary ideology upholding monopoly capitalism, imperialism, and eventually fascism itself. As the alternative to the emerging socialist, proletarian worldview of dialectical and historical materialism, its denial of objectivity and rationality directly translated into opposition to social progress.

Lukacs insisted that the issue—systematically blurred by Nietzsche— had to be grasped within a starkly simple framework: “to side either with reason or against reason decides at the same time the character of a philosophy and its role in social developments.” This did not mean, of course, that irrationalism had no coherent structure or deflective social functions. Its ideas amounted to a clearly reactionary political programme comprised of the “disparagement of understanding and reason, an uncritical glorification of intuition, an aristocratic epistemology, the rejection of socio-historical progress, the creating of myths.”

Antisocialist irrationalism for Lukacs was an international phenomenon of the imperialist period. Given the delayed development of German capitalism it was most developed there and exemplified by “Nietzsche, who became the paradigm in content and methodology of irrationalist philosophical reaction from the U.S.A, to Tsarist Russia, and whose influence could not and cannot be rivalled by a single other reactionary ideologist.”

Nietzsche’s “most fundamental intellectual attainment”—the myth-icization of history in nature and society—facilitated the self-annulment of evolution and diverted attention from objective reality and the socialist belief in progress beyond capitalist society. It resembled Ernst Mach’s later irrationalist subversion of scientific thinking. By means of the crassly self-contradictory doctrine of eternal recurrence, Nietzsche reduced all becoming and historical events to manifestations of eternal principles. This was “the philosophical expression of the fact that, after subjective idealism and irrationalism had triumphed over Hegel, bourgeois philosophy became incapable of any dialectical linking of becoming and being, freedom and necessity; it could express their mutual relationship only as an insoluble antagonism or an eclectic amalgam.”

Through a coarsening popularization, Lukacs noted, Nietzschean ideas percolated to thousands who had never heard of Nietzsche and were quite unaware of the “immediate source of corruption.” Regardless of the coarsening, for Lukacs the continuity was clear enough: “Everything that had been said on irrational pessimism from Nietzsche and [Wilhelm] Dilthey to Heidegger and Jaspers on lecture platforms possessed considerable philosophical gifts: for instance a high capacity for abstraction, and not in a formalistic sense, but a flair for conceptualizing living phenomena, for building a mental bridge between immediate life and the most abstract idea and taking with philosophic seriousness phenomena of Being which only existed in embryo, (ibid., 197)

Yet these gifts were willy nilly devoted to the cause of a “future sweeping power,” bourgeois reaction, for whose advent, growth, and crucial symptoms he “had a decided flair, the faculty of intellectual clairvoyance and anticipatory abstraction.” and in intellectual salons and cafes, Hitler and Rosenberg transferred to the streets.”

In order to make Nietzsche constitutive of this new, virulently antisocialist, proto-Nazi ideology, Lukacs had to resort to special explanations. Thus he argued that although Nietzsche had never read a line of either Marx or Engels he nevertheless knew “instinctively” what he had to defend “and where the enemy lurks!” His “whole life’s work was a continuous polemic against Marxism and socialism ... for the reason that every philosophy’s content and method are determined by the class struggle of its age.” The fact that he had stopped writing before the imperialist age began, far from being a hindrance, offered a favourable opportunity to conjecture and to solve in mythical form—on the reactionary bourgeoisie’s terms—the main problems of the subsequent period. This mythical form furthered his influence not only because it was to become the increasingly dominant mode of philosophical expression in the imperialist age. It also enabled him to pose imperialism’s cultural, ethical and other problems in such a general way that he could always remain the reactionary bourgeoisie’s leading philosopher, whatever the variations in the situation and the reactionary tactics adopted to match them.

Moreover, because he lacked all grasp of capitalist economics, Nietzsche’s mythicizing always remained on the level of the “symptoms of superstructure.” His uncommon gift was the ability to project, on the threshold of the imperialist period, a counter-myth that could exert such influence for decades. Viewed in this light, his aphoristic mode of expression appears the form adequate to the socio-historical situation. The inner rottenness, hollowness and mendacity of the whole system wrapped itself in this motley and formally disconnected ragbag of ideas.

Moreover, it succeeded in maintaining a revolutionary tone and in replacing the merely external, social revolution with cosmic and biological notions that precluded the need for any real break.

Lukacs viewed nazism as virtually indistinguishable from its Nietzschean philosophical reflection and expression. Nietzsche’s call for the transvaluation of all values, his cry to unleash the instincts, his belief in barbarity as a savior were all examples. Nietzsche “anticipated in theory the true course of developments. Most of his statements on ethics became a dreadful reality under the Hitler regime, and they also retain a validity as an account of ethics in the present ‘American age.’ ”

The Destruction of Reason also traced the other manifestations of post-Nietzschean German irrationalism. Yet Nietzsche remains its most paradigmatic figure:

Hitler, in bringing irrationalism to practical fulfillment, was the executor of Nietzsche’s spiritual testament and of the philosophical development coming after Nietzsche and from him... Inevitable it was that the irrationalism in Nietzsche should turn against socialism... For all the difference in level between Nietzsche the philosopher and Hitler the demagogue in intellect and culture—and, as we have stressed, this too expresses the inevitability of the historical development—, there was precious little difference in their knowledge and understanding of the adversary on precisely the cardinal issue. It was, one may safely say, as good as non-existent. And in Hitler’s politics, we can see the translation of irrationalist philosophy into practice.

If Lukacs’s work enduringly defined the orthodox Marxist Nietzsche as the philosopher of fascism, many non-Marxist circles and critics of the time concurred with the Nietzsche—Nazi linkage, although they proceeded from different methodological assumptions and reached diametrically opposed political conclusions. Perhaps the most illustrious example was Thomas Mann who in 1943 described fascism as a kind of Nietzschean escape from “everything bourgeois, moderate, classical, [Apolline].” Mann’s notes for the period describe fascism in directly Nietzschean categories:

Intellectual-spiritual fascism, throwing off of humane principle, recourse to violence, blood-lust, irrationalism, cruelty, Dionysiac denial of truth and justice, self-abandonment to the instincts and unrestrained “Life” which in fact is death ... Fascism as a Devil-given departure from bourgeois society which leads through adventures of drunkenly intense subjective feeling and super-greatness to mental collapse and spiritual death, and soon to physical death.

Both in America and Western Europe, similar sentiments were voiced by journalists, polemicists, politicians, religious critics, philosophers, and historians during the 1930s and 1940s. The popular press proposed the connections in sensationalist headlines. “Hitler War Urge Blamed on Insane Philosopher: Nietzsche Nazi Chief’s Favorite Author, Catholic Women Told,” proclaimed a Boston paper. Before that, a subeditor at the Liverpool Evening Express declared, “Nietzsche is the pre-Hitlerian man.”

Such attitudes were also expressed in more august assemblies. In 1935 Sir Herbert Samuel told the House of Commons that “among the things responsible for the difficulties in Europe are Germany and the Nietzschean philosophy.” In exile, the conservative former mayor of Danzig and ex-Nazi Hermann Rauschning wrote highly influential works presenting national socialism and Hitler himself in terms incomprehensible outside of Nietzsche’s towering presence. The very title of his famous The Revolution of Nihilism was unmistakably Nietzschean. In Rauschning’s description Hitler’s worldview was inconceivable without Nietzsche. Rauschning too was the source of Hitler’s much-quoted neo-Nietzschean proclamation that “conscience is a Jewish invention.”

Historians and critics seeking to plumb the depths of this new German phenomenon also gave Nietzsche central prominence. The French historian Edmond Vermeil, for instance, posited that, although on a higher plane, Nietzsche—elitist, “true racialist,” and advocate of planning that would transform European labor into a giant automation— was “the exact préfiguration of the Germany of the Third Reich.” Similarly, Maurice Samuel’s perceptive 1940 study of anti-Semitism— the “core and centre of Nazism-Fascism as a revolutionary ideal”— identified the anti-Christian nature of revolutionary Nazi anti-Semitism and insisted upon Nietzsche’s central shaping role. Without supporting sources, Samuel indicted Nietzsche for the far more coarsened version of his ideas which crude anti-Semites, including Hitler, had been sprouting for years:

The school of Nietzsche would have it that the Jews themselves never entertained a non-force philosophy, but invented it for the undoing of the rest of the world, while they themselves clung steadfastly to the belief in their own destiny as the ruthless master people. The cells which they projected into the Roman empire were groups of fifth column operators entrusted with the mission of paralysing the will-power of the enemies of the Jewish people by preaching a Christian doctrine which the Jews themselves despised.

Analyses of Nietzsche often comprised an integral part of a larger history of German ideas, a Sonderweg that pointed towards a teleologically inevitable Nazi culmination. These studies typically constructed a hypostatized German Mind. During the 1930s and 1940s works with titles such as From Luther to Hitler and Germany the Aggressor Throughout the Ages appeared. In varying degrees of intensity and sophistication they portrayed Nietzsche as somehow both archetypal and maniacal, a man whose “poisonous fallacies” were fed to the German people, “whose extreme credulity, mental docility and moral servility has made them the victims of countless false prophets, among whom in recent times Nietzsche, Treitschke, Bernhardi, Houston Stewart Chamberlain, Ewald Banse, and Adolf Hitler stand eminent.”

Those diagnoses posited an unbroken German continuity and did not overly concern themselves with historical context. These works emphasized Nietzsche’s typicality rather than his originality, viewing him less as cause than as reflection, an expression and symptom of the wider German culture that had produced him. Nietzsche’s inner tensions and contradictions were a precise replication of German mental structure.

Rohan Butler’s The Roots of National Socialism, 1783-1933 (1941) exemplified this approach:

For when the theory of national-socialism is viewed in relation to German political thought of the last century and a half it is seen to be stale stuff, stale and adulterated... The exaltation of the heroic leader goes back through Moller van den Bruck, Spengler, Lamprecht, Chamberlain, Nietzsche, Lassalle, Rodbertus, and Hegel, back to Fichte’s Zwingherr zur Deutschheit.... The Nazis say that might is right; Spengler said it; Bernhardi said it; Nietzsche said it; Treitschke had said as much; so had Haller before him; so had Novalis.

Yet even here Nietzsche was often accorded a special place. As Butler concluded, the “real design” of the Nazis “was nothing less than the Nietzschean transvaluation of values, the education of Germans in Ger-manity, the nihilistic revolution which would not stop at smashing countries, but would wreck the very hearts of men and utterly destroy the civilization of the west.”

The perception of the Nietzsche—Nazi relationship, of course, went well beyond apparently disinterested historical diagnostics. Conservative and religious critics such as the Catholic personalist Nicolas Berdyaev and Walter Schubart integrated the connection into their respective brands of moralistic Christian Kulturkritik. In their reflections on the secular evils of the contemporary age, for instance, Marx and Nietzsche were common sources of problems inherent in a modernity that led to either bolshevism or fascism. Like Marx, Nietzsche was indicted as a modern godless thinker whose influence actively moved towards the dehumanization of culture and society. The movement, wrote Berdyaev, “toward super-humanity and the superman, toward super-human powers, all too often means nothing other than a bestial-ization of man. Modern anti-humanism takes the form of bestialism. It uses the tragic and unfortunate Nietzsche as a superior sort of justification for dehumanization and bestialization.” The world was witnessing a form of bestialism far removed “from the old, natural, healthy barbarism”; it was now “conscious, deliberate, the product of reflection and civilization, self-justified.” In such works the solution to modern bestialization was linked to the renewal of a spiritualized and humanizing Christian piety.

There were numerous representations that painted the obverse picture and denied any possible relationship whatsoever. Peter Viereck’s 1941 study, Metapolitics: The Roots of the Nazi Mind, for instance, rendered nazism as a Wagnerian affair. Nietzsche was the radical antithesis of both Wagner and nazism. The “soul,” Viereck wrote, “which most of the greatest Germans ended by choosing, from Goethe through Nietzsche to Mann, is not the one Hitler claims to incarnate.”

There was also unclassifiable Nietzscheana, esoteric literature produced by exiles. This is perhaps best illustrated by the Hamburg jurist Alfred Rosenthal, a long-standing Nietzschean. His pamphlet, Nietzsche and Europe, and his book, Nietzsche’s “European Raceproblem”: (“The Struggle for World Domination”), written in Holland during the 1930s, presented a Spenglerian Nietzscheanism advocating a The masses must receive the impression that a mighty, indeed invincible force of will is present; at the least it must seem to be present. Everyone admires strength of will because no one has it and everyone tells himself that if he did have it he and his egoism would no longer know any limitations... [T]he great man possesses all the qualities of the masses: they are thus all the less embarrassed in his presence, thus he is all the more popular. He is violent, envious, exploitative, scheming, fawning, cringing, arrogant, all according to circumstances. (Human, All Too Human, 168)

Despite the simplistic treatments of Nietzsche, a considerable amount of the mainstream literature written during the war did paint relatively complex portraits of him, whether negative or positive. Crane Brinton’s 1940 study, sensitive to the dynamics of ideas mediated by political culture, was not alone in its consciousness of the complexity. As he put it: “Nietzsche wrote much the Nazis find delightful; he also wrote much they cannot bear to hear, and certainly cannot bear to have repeated.” Heinrich Mann, whose passionate relationship to Nietzsche constantly changed, was aware of Nietzsche’s complex contrariness, the brutal dangers as well as the lasting value in the mature re-evalution he wrote for Mass und Wert. And in 1941 Karl Löwith subtly enunciated the vexed complexities of the question of Nietzsche as forerunner:

To see the abyss which separates Nietzsche from his latter-day prophets, it suffices to read his writings against Wagner and his remarks on the Jewish I did not then, and do not now maintain that Nietzsche was a “proto-Nazi,” that he was directly responsible for Nazi “ideology,” let alone that he helped the Nazis to power. How he would have hated the whole lot. But the use the Nazis made of much that Nietzsche wrote is an interesting and to some, one may hope, instructive case history of what can happen to the words of a subtle intellectual once they are common property. Nietzsche wrote in his final madness in Ecce Homo, “I am not a man: I am dynamite.” But dynamite explodes somewhat unselectively. (p. vii)

Brinton added: “I find Nietzsche as a human being unpleasant and his influence on the whole regrettable” (p. ix).

Most bourgeois treatments of the 1930s and 1940s, even if they were nuanced, nevertheless presented static, balance-sheet analyses. To varying degrees Nietzsche was either indicted for or absolved from Nazi complicity. These studies were usually static because they lacked any explicit theoretical and critical political framework into which both a creative analysis of fascism and nazism and a complex reassessment of the Nietzschean impulse within these constellations could be made.

The most innovative efforts were undertaken neither by bourgeois critics nor orthodox Marxists but by dissidents from both worlds: the Western Marxists. In 1939, Ernst Bloch complained that anti-Fascists could talk of Nietzsche and Wagner only in terms of the Nazi connection. Yet Bloch himself exemplified the creative spurts, the boundlessly renewable forms Nietzsche discourse could assume even under—perhaps because of—these circumstances. This process of radical and unorthodox rethinking, as Jürgen Habermas has reminded us, was clearly a product of the times:

The victory of the Fascist movement in Italy and the National Socialist takeover of power in the German Reich were—long before Auschwitz— phenomena from which issued waves not only of irritation but also of fascinated excitement. There was no theory of contemporaneity not affected to its core by the penetrating force of fascism.

Few such radical theories could be undertaken without reference to nazism and to Nietzsche. Within this process of rethinking, often a positive side of Nietzsche emerged, one from whom selected materials for an anti-Fascist position could be mined.

If Nietzsche had been crucial in defining the age for the right, he performed a similar function for neo-Marxists like Bloch, Adorno, Horkheimer, and most idiosyncratically Georges Bataille. These thinkers adopted an approach that differed drastically from that of Lukacs. Lukacs’s Destruction of Reason, Adorno declared, revealed most clearly the destruction of Lukacs’s own. In a highly undialec-tical manner, the officially licensed dialectician sweeps all these irrationalist strands of modern philosophy into the camp of reaction and Fascism. He blithely ignores the fact that, unlike academic idealism, these schools were struggling against the very same reification in both thought and life of which Lukacs too was a dedicated opponent. Nietzsche and Freud are simply labelled Fascists and he could even bring himself to refer to Nietzsche, in the condescending tones of a Wilhelmian school inspector, as a man “of aboveaverage abilities.” Under the mantle of an ostensibly radical critique of society he surreptitiously reintroduced the most threadbare cliches of the very conformism which that social criticism had once attacked.

These thinkers were certainly aware that any simplified notion of irrationalism overlooked the rationality often present in irrational protest, and that irrationalism was often to be found in reason. They were all critical of reason itself or, at least, of what they termed “instrumental reason.” In addition, they were wary of a simplistic progressive teleology that assumed an untroubled eventual union of subject and object. They also acknowledged a potentially creative role for the irrational. Such predispositions contained a bias favorable to Nietzsche; they were grist for the Nietzschean mill. These ruminations on both national socialism and Nietzsche constituted a broad cultural criticism that revolved around the more generalized problems of capitalism, secularity, and modernity. Indeed, they often equated the specific historical experience of nazism with these phenomena.

If for Lukacs irrationalism, and Nietzschean irrationalism in particular, was simply the ideational equivalent of fascism, the maverick Ernst Bloch adopted far more complex attitudes towards these questions. His irrationalism possessed negative and positive as well as reactionary and progressive components that had to be carefully sifted, its creative possibilities and redemptive future-oriented impulses identified. “It is necessary,” he wrote, “everywhere to occupy the dream areas of the imagination instead of neglecting them altogether and thereby abandoning them to those who are bent on deception and the destruction of reason.” Indeed, he proclaimed: “There won’t be a muffled, or indeed even a real, revolution in this Germany which is not anointed with a drop of the oil of irrationalism.”

Bloch’s philosophical confrontation with nazism and fascism, Erbschaft dieser Zeit (Heritage of Our Times), was published in his Zürich exile in 193 5. It posited the central notion of Ungleichzeitigkeit (dis-simultaneity): the present contains social and cultural structures of the past together with those “pregnant with the future.” The work, composed in an appropriately expressionistic montage, sought to salvage from the contradictory inheritances of the past a usable cultural heritage for the capitalist and Fascist present. He castigated Marxists for rejecting irrationalism, thus allowing the Nazis to monopolize it. This enabled the Nazis to annex the positive, authentic elements of noncontemporaneity as well as the more destructive ones. The task was to harness such forces for progressive rather than reactionary purposes.

In this context Bloch reexamined Nietzsche’s still-untapped positive potential. If Nietzsche enunciated reactionary themes—which Bloch recognized—he nevertheless also stood for dynamic forward movement, for utopia. Although notions such as the Übermensch had dehumanizing, brutalizing effects, Nietzsche had intended something different. He had painted the portrait of future, unconditioned man, a vision of liberating Dionysian Ungleichzeitig potential:

At the zero-point of mechanical existence there are not only the various übermenschlichen beasts, there is also a recollection of Dionysus. The predator in tropical, not cold terms, the Thracian forest against the cold reified bourgeois citizen. Dionysus as a symbol of abstractly fantastic escape into anarchy; only here do we grasp Nietzsche’s serious impact on the age. Only here did Nietzsche express his age in watchwords, in watchwords of an indistinct countermovement of the “subject.” ... Dionysus ran amok against all “domestications,” however, remote... Thus Dionysus is also not merely the unrestrained reflex of the capital which causes discipline, moderation, justice, and bourgeois virtue to be dismantled in good time, but he is a formal dissipation into an indeterminate being beside oneself, being-outsidetime per se.

This Dionysus was the man who had still not yet become himself; one who smashed false forms, not at any closed point of advanced capitalism, but always within the unexpected eruptions, the turning points of history. Bloch Marxified Nietzsche by projecting onto him visionary language more Blochian than Nietzschean. His Nietzsche sought a worldliness forged in utopian fire, and preached the end of the static, closed worldview far removed from eternal recurrence. Bloch’s Dionysus was, in fact, Nietzsche’s mythological name for the historically repressed Subject, who had still not realized its historical role. This undetermined Dionysian side of Nietzsche, Bloch argued, Fascist interpreters like Bäumler wanted to replace with an emphasis on the role of force (herrschender Gewalt). For redemptive traces of the Nietzschean vision were apparent even in the ruins of the present. Dionysus was not the night into which reaction fled but rather the fiery serpent placed on the flags of revolution, the utopian flash of lightning.

Adorno and Horkheimer’s classic 1944 Dialectic of Enlightenment was similarly a confrontation with national socialism and fascism and the roots of contemporary barbarism that refused to be contained within those self-defined historical boundaries. As Marxists they also indicted the bourgeoisie, but in quite un-Marxist fashion equated enlightenment with the entire imperial project of Western thought. Considered thus as a project of totalizing, “instrumental reason” aimed at making “man master”—enlightenment could be traced as far back as Genesis. Elsewhere, Horkheimer even rendered Marx himself, with his reduction of man to an animal laborans and his reification of nature as a field for human exploitation, complicitous. From this perspective Adorno and Horkheimer could regard nazism not as a revolt against enlightenment but as an integral part of its own intolerant, totalizing dialectic.

This entailed not only the analysis of fascism but also what Jürgen Habermas has described as the desire “to enlighten the Enlightenment about itself in a radical way.” In this context Nietzsche emerged as “the great model for the critique of ideology’s totalizing self-overcoming.” In all probability, the Nietzschean strain also predisposed them to dismiss the rational content of modernity and to insist upon the pervasive links between reason and domination, power and validity.

Adorno and Horkheimer turned to black writers of the bourgeoisie, the Marquis de Sade and Nietzsche, in order “to conceptualize the Enlightenment’s process of self-destruction.” They stressed that Nietzsche stood virtually alone in his time in grasping the dialectic of the Enlightenment: both as a demystifying expression of antipathy to domination and as a tool for such domination. At the same time they identified the ironic proto-Fascist consequences of this critique in the hands of Nietzsche’s reactionary followers:

Nietzsche was one of the few after Hegel who recognized the dialectic of enlightenment. And it was Nietzsche who expressed its antipathy to domination: “The Enlightenment” should be “taken into the people, so that the priests all become priests with a bad conscience—and the same must be done with regard to the State. That is the task of the Enlightenment: to make princes and statesmen unmistakably aware that everything they do is sheer falsehood...” On the other hand, Enlightenment had always been a tool for the “great manipulators of government (Confucius in China, the Imperium Romanum, Napoleon, the Papacy when it had turned to power and not only to the world)... The way in which the masses are fooled in this respect, for instance in all democracies, is very useful: the reduction and malleability of men are worked for as “progress”!

The revelation of these two aspects of the Enlightenment as an historic principle made it possible to trace the notion of enlightenment as progressive thought back to the beginning of traditional history. Nevertheless, Nietzsche’s relation to the Enlightenment, and therefore to Homer, was still discordant. Though he discerned both the universal movement of sovereign Spirit (whose executor he felt himself to be) and a “nihilistic” anti-life force in the enlightenment, his pre-Fascist followers retained only the second aspect and perverted it into an ideology. This ideology becomes blind praise of a blind life subject to the same nexus of action by which everything living is suppressed.

For Adorno and Horkheimer, Nietzsche’s critique of enlightenment was not simply a creative insight. If it contained the seeds of its own misappropriation, it was also—and this was reminiscent of Bloch—the site of potential liberation in the darkest of times:

Not to have glossed over or suppressed but to have trumpeted far and wide the impossibility of deriving from reason any fundamental argument against murder fired the hatred which the progressives (and they precisely) still direct against Sade and Nietzsche. They were significantly unlike the logical positivists in taking science at its word. The fact that Sade and Nietzsche insist on the ratio more decisively even than logical positivism, implicitly liberates from its hiding-place the utopia contained in the Kantian notion of reason as in every great philosophy: the utopia of a humanity which, itself no longer distorted, has no further need to distort. Inasmuch as the merciless doctrines proclaim the identity of domination and reason, they are more merciful than those of the moralistic lackeys of the bourgeoisie. “Where do your greatest dangers lie?” was the question Nietzsche once posed himself, and answered thus: “In compassion.” With his denial he redeemed the unshakable confidence in man that is constantly betrayed by every form of assurance that seeks only to console.

Horkheimer and Adorno did add some critical reservations. If Nietzsche had perceived the dialectic of enlightenment, the same pitfalls were detectable in his own work. At the same time that Nietzsche formulated his incisive critique of enlightenment—like de Sade and even Kant before him—he contributed to its calculating, instrumental logic, that formal rationality which had led to the horrors of twentieth-century barbarism. Nietzsche’s will to power like Kant’s categorical imperative sought independence from the constraints of external forces, and in its desire to control nature and to make humans the measure of all things was an integral part of the catastrophe. The German Nietzsche, they wrote makes beauty dependent on extent; despite all the twilight of the idols, he cannot abandon the idealistic convention which would accept the hanging of a petty thief and elevate imperialistic raids to the level of world-historical missions. By raising the cult of strength to a world-historical doctrine, German Fascism also took it to an absurd extreme. As a protest against civilization, the master’s morality conversely represents the oppressed. Hatred of atrophied instincts actually denounces the true nature of the task-masters— which comes to light only in their victims. But as a Great Power, or state religion, the master’s morality wholly subscribes to the civilizing powers that be, the compact majority, resentment, and everything that it formerly opposed. The realization of Nietzsche’s assertions both refutes them and at the same time reveals their truth, which—despite all his affirmation of life—was inimical to the spirit of reality.

Paradoxically this theme of human hubris and critical theory’s deemphasis of man’s total autonomy resembled the religious conservative critique of Nietzsche that we have confronted throughout this work. Both after all were forms of Kulturkritik and not really concerned with differentiated historical analyses of national socialism and fascism. Critical theory finally subsumed or integrated nazism into its broader ongoing concerns: the general Western tendency to domination and instrumental rationality and a capitalism that leads towards the total administration of things.

In the final analysis, Dialectic of Enlightenment never resolved its overall ambivalence towards Nietzsche who combined the roles of culprit, symptom, critical diagnostician, and liberating visionary. At all times, however, his salience and symbolic centrality was quite unmistakable.

Critical Theory, for all its insistence on a standard against which the irrationalities of the world might be measured, was not really a radical humanism at heart. Horkheimer’s interest in religion, which surfaced in later years, was thus not as fundamental a departure from the premises of his earlier work as might appear at first glance. (Dialectical Imagination, 266)

After he had been the impossible one, fascinated by everything he could discover about what was really unacceptable ... he expanded his field of vision ... and, in the consciousness that a human being is only really a human being when, in this state of being without measure or standard, he seeks his own standard, he made himself into the man of the impossible, desirous of reaching the point where above and below become blurry in a Dionysian vertigo and where the distance between totality and nothing is eliminated.

Bataille, in Jürgen Habermas’s phrase, “tried to take up the impossible heritage of Nietzsche as critic of ideology.” He envisaged a variety of Nietzschean forms (in constantly changing, small political groupings) which by definition were meant to sunder rather than stabilize organized frameworks. Here was a Communist intent not on creating but breaking limits, obsessed with the Nietzschean rebellion against system itself, and aspiring to what he termed the realm of heterogeneity: all those elements that resisted assimilation into everyday bourgeois life and eluded science but were revealed in moments of fascinated shock while shattering confident perceptions of the subject and his world.

Bataille’s penchant for radical critique, his desire to shock and transgress the respectable bourgeois world made him not all that distinct from the heterogenous fascism he analyzed and purportedly sought to critique. During the 1930s, for instance, Bataille’s political group of intellectuals, Contre-Attaque, was labeled as “sur-fasciste,” and Bataille later admitted that he and his friends had shared a certain “paradoxical fascist tendency.”

For all that, Bataille’s Nietzsche was presented as the quintessential counterfoil to fascism and national socialism. What distinguished Bataille from bourgeois commentators, who similarly rejected the Nietzsche—Nazi identity, was the determinedly radical and irrationalist Nietzschean basis upon which he did it. For Bataille, after all, fascism and nazism were ultimately forms of taming control that constricted human possibility. Nietzsche was instead “the fiercest of solvents,” the unique apostle of the most radical, even violent, will to autonomy, and the visionary of a previously unimagined limitlessness. “This total liberation, as he defined it,” Bataille wrote later, “of human possibility, of all possibility, is surely the only one not yet attempted.” (Bataille parenthetically qualified this by adding “Except by myself”!)

The pathos-laden nature of Nietzsche’s experience and his lab-rynthine thought—“without any hope of appeal”—could not possibly be integrated into any political system, and so had to be suppressed by it. To make Nietzsche “the collaborator in causes devalorized by his thought,” Bataille insisted, “is to trample upon it, to prove one’s ignorance even as one pretends to care for that thought.”

Fascism and Nietzscheanism are mutually exclusive, and are even violently mutually exclusive, as soon as each of them is considered in its totality: on one side life is tied down and stabilized in an endless servitude, on the other there is not only a circulation of free air, but the wind of a tempest; on one side the charm of human culture is broken in order to make room for vulgar force, on the other force and violence are tragically dedicated to this charm... There is a corrosive derision in imagining a possible agreement between Nietzschean demands and a political organization which impoverishes existence at its summit, which imprisons, exiles, or kills everything that could constitute an aristocracy of “free spirits.”

Bataille’s anti-Fascist Nietzsche was not sterilized or endowed with liberal respectability: his central categories were violence, sexuality and evil. And, like the Fascist politics he attacked, the revolt against the domination of rationality remained constitutive. In order to escape that domination the self had to be “fully lost in immanence to establish the whole man as a completely unsubordinated realm.”

Bataille’s Nietzsche was thus not the philosopher of the will to power but “the philosopher of evil” conceived as “concrete freedom, the troubling break with taboo.” Here was the extreme edge of Nietzscheanism, purposely cut off from all bounded frames, pursuing the unconditional and unconditioned Nietzschean dynamic for its own sake. This obviously contradicted the harnessed Nietzsche reception within German political culture. It was a free-floating radicalism that would later characterize the potent postwar French appropriation of Nietzsche in all its radical, if politically indeterminate, poststructural variations. Bataille’s Nietzsche is de-instrumentalized and de-ideologized. Far from aiming at constructive political constitution this was a vision that desired “signal dissolution in totality.” At the same time Bataille attempted to sketch the outlines of his essentially Nietzschean anti-Fascist community: “The only society full of life and force, the only free society is the bi- or polycephalic society that gives the fundamental antagonisms of life a constant explosive outlet, but one limited to the richest forms.” Bataille argued that the very essence of what he desired, universal community, lay in its unlimited and dynamic Nietzschean nature: only fear of these characteristics had prevented its realization thus far. Lack of courage had produced the more familiar, particularistic ones. The very possibility of (a properly conceived) universal community emanated from the Nietzschean predicament and would be the outcome of an authentically Nietzschean engagement:

The search for God, for the absence of movement, for tranquility, is the fear that has scuttled all attempts at a universal community... For universal existence is unlimited and thus restless: it does not close life on itself, but instead opens it and throws it back into the uneasiness of the infinite. Universal existence, eternally unfinished and acephalic, a world like a bleeding wound, endlessly creating and destroying particular finite beings: it is in this sense that true universality is the death of God.

It was not merely the radical nature of this vision that rendered it politically untranslatable. There was also an internal irony here. The universal Bataille—Nietzschean community was heterogeneous. Yet, as Allen Weiss has pointed out, heterogeneity is naturally incommunicable. Bataille’s authentic Nietzschean community is thus ultimately condemned to self-contradictory silence or betrayal. In political terms, at least, there could be no such thing as “pure” Nietzscheanism.

We must therefore return from these dissident intellectuals to the mainstream, and from France to Germany. As the war ended, Nietzsche’s role within the politics and culture of Germany underwent thorough revision. If under national socialism he represented the normative core, those now at the defining center regarded him as an altogether suspect figure. No longer prophet and incarnation of the national destiny, he was typically metamorphized into an antithesis of what was required for the reconstruction of a “democratic,” anti-Fascist German identity.

This new Nietzsche mirrored larger transformations of political, cultural, and intellectual life wrought under occupation between 1945 and 1949. Scholars have variously described this process, designed to create a more “rational” political culture, as one of “de-ideologization” and “de-radicalization.” The Nietzsche legacy was exceedingly adaptable, but it could hardly thrive in a culture in which deradicalization was at a premium.

As in the past, Nietzschean themes retained their centrality, located still within the frame of larger questions of national history, identity, and collective moral purpose. But now, as with his early detractors, the philosopher and his world were incorporated as an essentially negative, dangerous part of the German inheritance. In the immediate postwar climate Nietzsche could not again assume the mantle of inspirational national authority.

The philosopher appeared everywhere in the flood of self-reflective Schuldfrage writings—discussing national guilt—fulfilling a variety of functions. In the shadow of the immediate past he was overwhelmingly portrayed as somehow complicit and “responsible,” a cause or at least a major contributor to the catastrophe. It was simple to make him part of a general German self-indictment or to externalize and deflect national guilt onto him. If Nietzscheanism had created the catastrophe, the solution was to be found by emphasizing opposing values. Thus, many of the suggested remedies for the German Problem were formulated within explicitly anti-Nietzschean frames; antidotes were found in Enlightenment, rationalist, liberal, and Christian themes suppressed during the Nazi period.

The reassessment began quickly. Already in 1945 in public lectures, Otto Flake, the well-known critic and political commentator, presented a balance sheet, analyzing the relationship between German history, nazism, and Nietzsche. Confrontation with guilt, Flake argued, made it imperative to confront Nietzsche. Had he lived, Flake proclaimed, he would presumably have found himself on the list of war criminals headed for Nuremburg. Nietzsche was, no doubt, a phenomenon of the highest rank, a master of the German language. His gentle nature did not fit with the spirit of the Third Reich. Paradoxically, however, nazism did base itself upon his merciless teachings of human conduct. Nietzsche had summoned up the whole ideality of will in order to deliver the demon of the deed.

In Flake’s view, Nietzsche was not an accidental meteor; he was the most extreme expression of an inherent, postreformationist German tendency, the last consequence of Luther’s “open” spirituality (eröffnete Seelenlage). Both shared the same boundlessness, the renunciation of bonds, the hubris of self-creation, and the undervaluation of reason.

These discussions inevitably reflected on the vexed question of mediation and the nature of the writer’s responsibility for his ideas. All thinkers, Flake wrote, began with something that was given rather than chosen. Still, in practice one had to accept the notion of responsibility in order “to have a norm, a measure of judgment.” Nietzsche, therefore, had to be held accountable for his choice of ideas, the most dangerous being power. Having lived through the wars that Nietzsche had believed were so healthy, one knew now where his renunciation of moderation and ethics led: “Atrocity, bestialization, the desecration of man was the end result of the teaching of the beautiful beast of prey.”

To be sure, Flake admitted, there was a yawning gulf between the writing table and the real world. Praxis inevitably required translation to the masses in whose sphere even the most elevated notions had to operate within organizational structures. Praxis transformed everything into a matter of order, control, and obedience. Anyone who offered a teaching for humanity had to take this into account. The responsibility was grave indeed, for in such contexts ideas became the most dangerous, explosive dynamite in existence. Nietzsche lacked precisely this awareness of responsibility, a fact that distinguished him from those intellects capable of keeping their ideas under control. Flake was not persuaded by Nietzsche’s reflections on the subject: “The thought frightens me that many people who are unauthorized and wrongheaded will cite me as an authority for their actions.”

Flake ironically argued that it was not good enough to categorize Nietzsche as endlessly ambiguous (unfassbar vieldeutig). Nietzsche’s predisposition towards ambiguity had simply reinforced a fateful German tendency to be imprecise and indecisive. This ideological tendency was a component of the German problem. For four centuries the whole nation had increasingly lacked concrete thinking—Nietzsche was the culmination.

Flake, like most Schuldfrage writers, had no sophisticated dialectic of enlightenment. He posited for the new Germany the resurrection of a simple, able reason, “enduring, objective, capable of crystallizing values serving the general populace.” In this postwar German frame Nietzsche was the incarnation of a brutalized radical counter-Enlightenment and the enemy of liberal, humane values essential to the recreation of a civilized society.

Works such as Alfred von Martin’s Intellectual Precursors of the German Collapse typified this kind of literature with its search for culprits, its idealist assumptions concerning the role of ideas in the historical process, and its prescriptions for overcoming these deficiencies. Nietzsche was centrally indicted. Even if he had intended everything “aesthetically” and had only provided his readers with pictures and images, wrote von Martin, they had had a gruesome and dangerous effect. Nietzsche’s radicalized doctrine of the will to power and his atheism had destroyed not only God but the idea of humanness. While other radical critics of religion like Feuerbach and David Friedrich Strauss had left altruism intact, nothing was forbidden to Nietzsche’s Übermensch.

Von Martin was amongst the first to recognize the implications of Lebensphilosophie applied to politics. This politics of “heroic realism” associated with Nietzsche, Sorel, and Jünger, he argued, was tied to the breakdown of the old order and was a key ingredient in the emergence of notions in which “all clear political contours: ‘right’ and ‘left’ merge indistinguishably into an iridescent ... iconoclastic effect. With it political thought assumed an ambiguous and double-edged character.”

Nietzsche, concluded von Martin, believed that nihilism could be overcome and that rebarbarization was curative. Yet what had begun as the great Yes, the dream of an elevated life, had ended up in complete demonism. Friedrich Meinecke’s 1946 overview of Die deutsche Katastrophe was similarly informed by a conception of the demonic in his analysis of Nietzsche and his image of nazism:

In Nietzsche’s realm of ideas, which now began to exert a powerful influence over all yearning and restless spirits, there were gathered together almost all the noble and ignoble desires and self-longings which filled this period—a demonic phenomenon in the disruptiveness of its character and influence. Nietzsche’s superman, destroying the old tables of morality, guided like a mysteriously seductive beacon an unfortunately not small part of the German youth, guided it forward into a wholly dark future which must be conquered.

The most famous and creative example portraying both nazism and Nietzsche in devil-like terms is Thomas Mann’s 1947 epic, Doctor Faustus. In that monumental effort to encompass national socialism and the German catastrophe, Nietzsche is omnipresent. The life of the central character, Adrian Leverkiihn, is patterned on Nietzsche’s, and the Nietzsche motif, as T. J. Reed has pointed out, works out the parallel between pathological and political collapse which is an implied judgement on German politics. It also links the Devil to politics in another way; not only has Germany “sold her soul to the Devil,” but the individual Faust (Adrian) also “is” the thinker whose ideas set the fateful movement going.

Critics in the German Democratic Republic were later quick to point out the problematic nature of the demonic category, labeling it as bourgeois mystification. Even though analysts like von Martin regarded Nietzsche as pernicious, East German Marxists took von Martin to task for appealing to this suprahistorical category that disembodied Nietzsche’s ideas from their concrete social context. As one commentator put it, von Martin transformed Nietzsche’s philosophy into a mere point of contact with a demonic sphere that had always been part of an eternal German national character severed from all specific economic and historical roots.

Whatever the merits and demerits of this analysis, most of these bourgeois writers believed that the antidote to such demonism was clear: renewed and healthy social bonds could be established only on the basis of a return to universal history and some combination of the bourgeois Enlightenment legacy and the Christian tradition.

Organized Christian religions and Christian critics contributed heavily to the post-Nazi onslaught on Nietzsche. “After the German catastrophe in which he was so involved, a thorough reconsideration of Nietzsche is a requirement that we cannot quarrel with, else we would be coresponsible for the confusions that an unexamined Nietzsche would always bring forth.” Nietzsche and his unsupervised followers were coresponsible for both the anti-Christianity that raged during the Hitler years and the accompanying decline of the German spirit. The recurring notion of Nietzsche’s peculiar magical potency again surfaced. In his dark medicine cabinet, the same writer went on, there were prescriptions that were bound to lead to the most atrocious crimes against humanity. National socialism had applied these teachings and had ended up bestializing almost every sphere of life. Anti-Nietzschean (and pro-Kierkegaardian) lessons had to be taught to a disoriented youth who were bereft of notions of good and evil and who, faced with the ideological competition of the four-zone occupation system, were devoid of spiritual bearings.

The title and content of Ernst Barthel’s Nietzsche as Seducer typified these sentiments. Nietzsche’s influence, Barthel wrote, was immense. Whether he was misunderstood was irrelevant; “he was literally the pied piper of Hamlin who seduced us into Europe’s deepest catastrophe around the year 1940.” Barthel’s solution to such sorcery was the conventional fusion of humanity with the teachings of Christ. But he unconventionally endowed Nietzschean sorcery with a divine function. Nietzsche as Antichrist had been “sent into the world so that the ensuing ruthless experiment would provide fruitful soil for Christian teachings in the future.”

For many Christian writers such as Walther Künneth, Hitler was simply designated “the executor of Nietzsche’s Ideenwelt,” rendered possible by Nietzsche’s radicalism of subjective disconnectedness. Such critics naturally opposed Otto Flake’s indictment of Protestantism. Nietzsche was not the last consequence of the Protestant Reformation but precisely the departure from it, the descent from its Evangelium, “the play thing of an antidivine satanic spirit, [who] became the embodiment of the purely demonic man.” In this vision Nietzsche and Hitler were no longer simply linked but fused into an indissoluble entity: “The demonic human type Nietzsche—Hitler—opposite them stands the evangelical, reformational man with his knowledge of the forlornness of our existence.”

Not all Christian analyses were entirely dismissive. Konrad Algermissen in his Nietzsche and the Third Reich stressed the power and continuity of the Christian thematic within Nietzsche and speculated on how the Protestant element in his thought would have ended up had he not gone insane. Some, like Theodor Steinbüchel in his “Christian meditation” on Nietzsche, went even further and edged towards the kind of deepened Nietzscheanized forms of Christianity discussed in chapter 7. Nietzsche had recognized the great crisis of godlessness and immanence that confronted the nineteenth century. He had gone to the root: the question of giving meaning to human existence in the world. He had realized that people alone were responsible for their condition. The apparent loss of transcendence endowed them with their own godlike and demonic potential. Nietzsche’s critique of Christianity went far deeper than the flat eighteenth-century materialist critique. The problem was that he had misunderstood that “real Christianity is not without the demonic that Nietzsche so strongly stressed; it too was not without the devil.”

But such reflections were more the exception than the rule. Under watchful Allied eyes Nietzschean dangers were stressed in the education of teachers who were to guide the newly reconstructed liberal democracy. Nietzsche did not belong to those who could help in “the spiritual reconstruction of our people, for he fought on the other side of the barricades.” Although he was a great poet and penetrating psychologist, it was better to have a small talent serving a good cause than a great talent harnessed to an evil one. Many of these treatments did allude that not all Nazis had been Nietzscheans and that there was much in the Nietzsche corpus that was incompatible with national socialism. Nevertheless, they stressed the affinities and, already in 1946, were fearfully anticipating a Nietzschean revival that would oppose his indictment as a Nazi and offer him as a basis for the cultural reconstruction of Germany.

Numerous voices opposed this dismissal of Nietzsche; their provenance and credibility varied considerably. In 1947, the former head of the Nietzsche Archives, C. A. Emge—who had been appointed to that position because he was “a Nazi professor of legal philosophy at Jena and a prospective Nazi Minister in the Thuringian Government”— could portray the whole anti-Nietzsche mood as scapegoating. Nietzsche, Emge proclaimed, was the convenient whipping boy of the day. Neither Hitler, Mussolini, nor Rosenberg had the right to call on Nietzsche. Indeed, under his tenure not one of these men had ever posed questions to the Archives! Emge not only sought to exculpate Nietzsche from the Nazi connection but also to draw a message that differed considerably from other contemporary reassessments. After Nietzsche there should no longer be any “light-headed rationalism” (leichtsinnigen Rationalismus).

For old members of the Weimar radical right—like Heidegger and the Jünger brothers—the Nietzschean predicament of nihilism and the will to power were again deployed but in such nebulous ways that they served to deflect any particular confrontation with the German Schuldfrage. They explicitly unlocked these categories from the German and Nazi context and universalized them, portraying them as part of the still-unresolved condition of modernity. In 1949 Friedrich Georg Jünger—the first of this circle to write a full-length postwar study of Nietzsche—made it quite clear that the defeat of national socialism had not really resolved any of the basic questions unleashed by the undifferentiated will to power: “The era of world wars, the struggle for domination of the earth (Erdherrschaft) has begun—we are still in the middle of it.” The manifestations were easily identified:

Western nihilism is as a whole no phenomenon of exhaustion (Ermüdungserscheinung), but—as the thoroughly nihilistic consequences of its science and technology demonstrate—the most active and energetic form of the will to power, the most destructive that as yet has been at work, for we have not left nihilism behind us, we are still in the middle of it. But we are at the same time working to overcome it. We find remedies against it. We heal ourselves in the middle of destruction. And we still shall catapult forward through the catastrophes.

The Heideggerian ring was evident. Like Heidegger, Jünger made no attempt to come to grips with the specificities of the Nazi atrocities or with genocide. Instead, all evil was collapsed into the notion of a destructive will to power equated with Western technology. Moreover, the very same circles that had done everything to harness Nietzsche in new and radically nationalist form now represented him anew as a “bulwark of independent mind” unaffiliated with any state or party framework.

There were, however, other early defenders of Nietzsche not associated with the radical right. Pondering on the prospects for Nietzsche’s denazification, the Nietzsche scholar Karl Schlechta was quick to suggest an updated role for the philosopher. It was probably true that Nietzsche was the most dangerous of all the philosophers who had been blamed for the total state. Yet paradoxically that same quality made him indispensable to the postwar present. For, Schlechta insisted, the problem of nihilism which Nietzsche had both diagnosed and confronted had still not yet been overcome. Schlechta provided a novel explanation for the prevalent fear of Nietzsche, conveniently bypassing its recent, obvious cause: “We are afraid of Nietzsche precisely because of his honesty, and the truth is that we are still afraid of truth and prefer authority at any price.” There was no difference between the intoxication of the National Socialist yesterday and the postwar hangover (Katzenjammer). Both atmospheres were grossly removed from the pure air of Nietzsche’s intellectual integrity. The time would come when a discussion of the real Nietzsche would begin again.

Within the German Federal Republic there was no institutional framework for outlawing Nietzsche; the possibility of more sympathetic interpretations always existed. Despite the present negative climate, Schlechta could hold out the hope for a future possible revival. The same could not be said for the German Democratic Republic. In line with long-standing Marxist orthodoxy on the philosopher, Nietzsche was officially proscribed within East Germany and tabooed as the primary philosopher of a brutalized German fascism. The Archives had already been placed under lock and key by the Soviets in their Occupied Zone. They were only reopened to the public in 1991 post-unification Germany.

Nevertheless, already in the East Germany of 1986—well before the Berlin wall came crashing down and when unification was regarded as little more than a utopian fantasy—a far-reaching and sympathetic reconsideration of Nietzsche was under way. This willingness to open up debate and to view Nietzsche in a more complex and positive fashion perhaps signaled a rapidly changing political and intellectual climate. Still, this receptiveness should not be overexaggerated. There were moves to publish carefully selected works—Untimely Meditations and The Gay Science—for the East Germans, but the potential publisher and commentator, Friedrich Tomberg and Renate Reschke, found that the opposition spearheaded by Wolfgang Harich and Manfred Buhr was strong enough to prevent their publication until the unforeseen end of the German Democratic Republic. Little wonder, then, that Nietzsche sympathizers tended to view the postwar Nietzsche less as a pioneer than a victim of national socialism.

Notwithstanding all the changes, the dominant perception of Nietzsche in German popular culture remains to this day closely and uncomfortably bound to the National Socialist experience (illus. 17). Most of the major intellectuals have typically tempered their admiration with a historically conditioned and Enlightenment-oriented wariness. Clearly, the resuscitation of Nietzsche into a European vogue figure required that he emigrate. France and the nascent, politically ambiguous, poststructuralist revolution of the 1970s was tailor-made for him. There Nietzsche has assumed virtually canonic status, but it is no accident that the most vociferous and sophisticated critic of these manifold French Nietzscheanisms is the German Jürgen Habermas.

If progressive circles continue to be wary of the philosopher, the materials and potential for a reactivation of a radical-right German Nietzsche may not be entirely exhausted. There does exist a contemporary German intellectual New Right that incorporates its Nietzsche into obscure magazines like Wir selbst, Aufbruch, Criticon, and Mut: it is propagated by men like Armin Mohler (formerly Ernst Jünger’s secretary), Caspar von Schrenk-Notzing, and Henning Eichberg and is supported by wealthy foundations.

This New Right has incorporated Jünger and Heidegger themselves into the prophetic pantheon and seeks to integrate older Nietzschean themes into the changed historical and intellectual circumstances of what it regards as a hopelessly Westernized post-Nazi Germany. Perhaps the most articulate spokesmen of this romantic anti-capitalist trend, which characteristically merges many themes of the extreme left and extreme right, is Gerd Bergfleth whose writings contain a venomous hatred for the “palavering” and “cynical” Enlightenment. Bergfleth is animated by a seething resentment of Americanization, liberalism, Marxism, and democracy brought to Germany in the wake of World War II. These values, he argues, were reimported by returned Jewish refugees such as Theodor Adorno and Ernst Bloch, representatives of an enlightened cosmopolitan Judaism who had no sense of “German uniqueness, or romantic yearning, the link with nature or the still not extinguished memory of a pagan-German past.” Because the Nazi experience had made such völkisch ideals taboo, this rootless “Jewish left-wing intelligentsia” had been able “to remodel Germany according to their own cosmopolitan standards. In this they have succeeded so well that for two decades there has been no independent German spirit at all.”

In Bergfleth’s eclectic vision, Nietzsche appears as a central figure underlying his tragic Dionysian programmatic prophecy of necessary destruction and decline followed by a postrationalist renewal rendered possible through madness, eros, and especially Death. Bergfleth distinguishes between two different halves of Nietzsche. There is the dubious, nihilistic, great progenitor of “leftist irony” from whom the exhausted post-World War II left has derived its resigned and selfdeluding inspiration. But there is also Nietzsche the tragedian, the philosopher who ultimately stands above nihilism. Here he figures as part of Bergfleth’s revived neoromantic Spenglerian gloss on the Untergang of the Western world and its primal possibilities of post-technological renewal, one characterized by the last possible Zarathustrian recognition of authenticity: “O Zarathustra, everything about me is a lie; but that I am breaking—this my breaking is _genuine.”

The new intellectual right remains a fringe phenomenon that, as Peter Glotz, the former Secretary-General of the SPD, perceptively notes, to date fortunately has not teamed up with its more populist right-wing counterparts. Nevertheless, given the multiple revisionist tendencies at work in contemporary Germany, it would be as grave an error to totally dismiss this phenomenon as it would be to exaggerate its importance. The story of the Nietzsche legacy has not yet run its full course.

10. Nietzscheanism, Germany, and Beyond

I am a Doppelgänger, I have a “second” face in addition to the first. And perhaps also a third.
Nietzsche, Ecce Homo

This study has set out to establish the nature, extent, and dynamics of Friedrich Nietzsche’s impact upon German politics and culture. That impact was always historically conditioned. The history of the Nietzsche legacy, we have argued, must be regarded as the open-ended, dynamic history of its manifold appropriations, the product of an ongoing dialogue between the Nietzschean oeuvre and its various interested mediators acting within diverse institutional frameworks and changing cultural and political contexts. Nietzscheanism in Germany acted as a force upon, while being re-created by, the charged circumstances out of which that country’s turbulent history has been made since the 1890s.

We have sought to assess the philosopher’s imprint on some of the dramatic milestones of late nineteenth- and twentieth-century German history and to analyze the reciprocal ways in which those events themselves helped to shape his changing image and functions. Together with this chronological dimension, we have also examined the role that Nietzschean impulses played within the increasingly fractured, crisis-ridden worlds of German religion and socialism and their multifunctional infusion into a host of currents, marginal as well as central. These included the artistic avant-garde, the Stefan George circle, vegetarians, sexual liberationists, the Youth movements, feminism, Zionism, expressionism, völkisch groups, conservative revolutionaries, and, of course, national socialism.

Most previous studies have sought to press this rich complexity into a narrow essentialist framework, classifying the various deployments either as deviations from or faithful representations of the “real” Nietzsche. Whether such a single, grand metanarrative does or does not best account for Nietzsche’s thought—a methodological problem which itself must be considered part of Nietzsche’s ongoing legacy!—it does not make for good cultural history. No prior, singular (and, in any case, disputed) master interpretation has been able to do justice to the astonishing range of that influence and its pervasive penetration into contradictory areas of political and cultural life. Whether one approves of the fact, a variety of movements and ideologies did annex (or actively resist) Nietzsche. The goal of this work has been to analyze and understand rather than judge and grade the history of these mediated affirmations and negations, their casuistic strategies and transmutive applications. It has sought to enrich our understanding of the manifold ways in which a complex of ideas, catchwords, and images—quite apart from their validity—permeated the cultural and political sensibilities of German society.

The workings of diverse pro- and anti-Nietzschean impulses within Germany were particularly dense, marked, and fateful. What specifically rendered the encounter so fateful in that country? What accounts for the manifold forms of Nietzscheanism and their special resonance there?

The answer, at one level, is obvious enough. Regardless of how passionately he was received elsewhere, Germany was the philosopher’s home. The density of responses, the depths of reverence and antagonism he evoked, and the fact that an encounter with him became almost mandatory was related to this elementary biographical circumstance. Nietzsche was born and died in Germany and articulated a peculiarly German predicament. At any rate, this is how many of his compatriots increasingly viewed the matter. Despite his innumerable anti-Germanic statements, a variously interpreted conception of his “Germanness” became itself an enabling appropriative factor. Deutschtum was thus integrated into the diverse renderings of Nietzsche’s thought, facilitating his incorporation into any number of German movements, ideologies, and institutions.

Still, prior to the 1890s the Nietzschean explosion within German political and cultural life was anything but self-evident. As late as 1888 Nietzsche noted that he had been discovered everywhere—except Germany. Why, then, did Nietzscheanism thrive during the last decade of the nineteenth century and thereafter?

Nietzsche and the Nietzscheans, we have argued, were both makers and beneficiaries of a European-wide antipositivist and modernist shift in sensibility that manifested itself during that decade. But beyond that, and tied in with ideologies of Nietzsche’s putative “Germanness,” there emerged an especially favorable conjunction between Nietzsche’s iconoclastic corpus and central events and developments on the German historical landscape. Nietzschean impulses were especially well equipped and sufficiently flexible to influence and render meaningful some of the “extraordinary” moods and events that characterized German history after 1890: the critical discontent and prophetic intimations pervading fin-de-siecle Wilhelmine society; the modes in which World War I was heralded and perceived; the polarized, increasingly brutalized disposition of the Weimar Republic; the self-representation and policies of national socialism; and finally the need for a negative foil to a “normalized” and “respectable” national identity in the post-World War II era.

Any generalization concerning Nietzscheanism in Germany must remain tentative. One can say, however, that it did tend to thrive in extreme circumstances and in situations characterized by an acute consciousness of political, personal, and institutional crisis. To be sure, there were Nietzscheans of many kinds. But what almost all had in common was a general desire to challenge and go beyond accepted assumptions and conventions. Thus, to take one conspicuous instance, Nietzsche’s subliminal as well as explicit presence pervaded the diverse, probing “masterworks” of the Weimar Republic, ranging from Ernst Bloch’s Spirit of Utopia to Martin Heidegger’s Being and Time, Franz Rosenzweig’s The Star of Redemption, and Oswald Spengler’s The Decline of the West. Despite their obvious differences, all were characterized by an acute sense of rupture and nihilistic breakdown; all explored novel and radical ways in which to conceptualize, and respond to, an unprecedented political, moral, religious, and cultural predicament. Regardless of the institutions to which they belonged and the particular ideologies they professed, Nietzscheans typically championed postorthodox approaches and solutions.

The honesty of a scholar in our day, and even more of a philosopher of our day, can be judged on the grounds of how he defines his relationship to Nietzsche and Marx. He who denies that he would have been unable to achieve the work of both of them, belies himself just as much as the others. The world in which we live in as intellectual beings bears largely the imprint of Marx and Nietzsche. (Eduard Baumgarten, Max Weber: Werk und Person [Tübingen, 1964], 544ff., n. 1).

See Wolfgang Mommsen’s pioneering work Max Weber und die deutsche Politik, 18901920 (Tübingen: J. C. P. Mohr, 1959) trans. Michael S. Steinberg, Max Weber and German Politics, 1890—1920 (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1984). See too Robert Eden, “Weber and Nietzsche: Questioning the Liberation of Social Science from Historicism,” in Mommsen and Osterhammel, eds., Max Weber and His Contemporaries, 405—421; Eugene Fleischmann, “De Weber à Nietzsche,” Archives Européennes de Sociologie 5 (1964), 190ff.; Lawrence A. Scaff, Fleeing the Iron Cage: Culture, Politics and Modernity in the Thought of Max Weber (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1989).

In its various guises, then, Nietzscheanism did tend to nudge political and cultural life into more radical or, at least, nonconformist directions. In fluid tandem with the master’s guidelines, it both undermined and superseded orthodox left-right, progressive-reactionary, and rationalirrational categories and distinctions. It could effect this above all because it was a mediated phenomenon. It acted more as an infiltrating sensibility than a constituting presence. In that sense there was never a pure Nietzscheanism. If it tended to radicalize institutions, it was also harnessed by them. Institutionalization inevitably entailed structuring, a process in which the putative Nietzschean dynamic underwent some form of domestication. Many such annexations did indeed tame, trivialize, or deflect the dynamic, but not always. In the case of the Nazis its lethal potential was unleashed, selectively deployed for murderous uses.

After 1914, mirroring larger developments and tendencies within Germany, the Nietzsche legacy became increasingly identified with its nationalist, radical right, and Nazi versions. But this was always a highly disputed—and for many a quite scandalous—custodianship. There were always Nietzscheans from across the political spectrum who continued to construct competing interpretations of a legacy that was notoriously unamenable to monopoly and homogenization.

If only because of its mediated nature, Nietzscheanism possessed no inherent political personality. It functioned as a historically dynamic phenomenon simultaneously influencing, reflecting, and being reshaped by the fluid political and cultural circumstances of which it was a part. This continues to be the case, and it will be interesting to observe the ways in which German unification will affect the nature and tone of Nietzsche representations.

Whatever these may turn out to be, Nietzsche’s contemporary reverberations go well beyond Germany. Although Nietzsche’s influence in Germany was indubitably profound, it was never limited to that country. The historically mediated renderings of his messages and the rich symbolic meanings and expressive uses of his legacy have always transcended national boundaries.

What has enabled the untimely Nietzsche to be perennially timely? What accounts for the insistently international fascination? In the final analysis, the answer must be sought in his almost uncanny ability to define—and embody—the furthest reaches of the general post-Enlightenment predicament; to encapsulate many of its enduring spiritual and intellectual tensions, contradictions, hopes, and possibilities. If there is one constant in the history of Nietzsche reception it is the continuously reinterpreted perception that Nietzsche was paradigmatic. From the 1890s through to the present, his life and thought have provided an acutely relevant prism through which to express and confront the changing meanings and problems of a generalized and ultimate modernity most radically conceived, in the words of Leszek Kolakowski, as the belief “in the unlimited possibility of mankind’s self-creation.” Precisely because this promise, as well as its interconnected destructive potential, lies at the center of our ongoing concerns, Nietzsche has not been exhausted by any particular political system or cultural time frame.

While his paradigmatic status has not varied, perceptions as to the nature and content of the paradigm have changed in response to shifting intellectual, political, and generational circumstances. Today, for instance, he is regarded as the quintessential prophet of fashionable postmodernity. The notoriously vague and shifting meanings of terms like modern, modernism, and postmodern need not detain us here. For our purposes, these designations may themselves be regarded as landmarks of changing modes of historical self-understanding, and that Nietzsche—the man of multiple faces—has consistently been regarded as the very embodiment of these changing conditions and self-representations.

Nietzsche is perhaps the most crucial shaping force upon the leading poststructuralist and deconstructionist currents of the day. He stands at the center of a French-inspired conception of culture characterized by a radically skeptical perspectivism, a sense of heterogeneity and playfulness, and an emphasis on difference. As pure metaphilosopher, prophet of fragmentation and discontinuity, of power discourse, and of the illusory, metaphorical nature of truth itself, he has keenly influenced and been reconstructed to fit what his present-day champions take to be our own age of radical ideological and epistemological indeterminacy. The traces of a more positive, substantial, and programmatic Nietzsche, once so crucial to the history of his reception, have, for the moment, been virtually erased.

Whatever disputed political functions this ironic Nietzsche may serve, his postmodern guise may not be the last word. It too must be considered part of the ongoing history of interested and selective paradigmatic representations. While we cannot predict its future contours, the Nietzsche legacy will in all probability live on as a dynamic force and assume new forms, responding to the dilemmas and needs of changing times and integrated into our own tentative self-definitions and cultural representations. Because Nietzsche remains the most potent symbol of the variegated, continuously experimental, post-Enlightenment project, his legacy and its seemingly boundless capacity for renewal will persist (as will the opposition to it). Our relationship to him will, surely, continue to confirm Ernst Bertram’s dictum that “great men are inevitably our creation, just as we are their’s.”

Afterword: Nietzsche and Nazism: Some Methodological and Historical Reflections

Unfortunately, man is no longer evil enough. Rousseau’s opponents who say “man is a beast” are unfortunately wrong. Not the corruption of man but the extent to which he has become moralized is his curse.
Nietzsche, The Will to Power

The sick are man’s greatest danger; not the evil, not the “beasts of prey.”
Nietzsche, On the Genealogy of Morals

The hermeneutical question concerning “the real Nietzsche” since 1945 has been indissolubly linked to his relationship with nazism. The issue is still with us. The dominant postwar images—embodied in the opposed representations of Georg Lukacs and Walter Kaufmann—have either condemned Nietzsche as centrally complicit in the Nazi evil or lauded him for being unblemished and opposed to all nazism’s intentions and actions. Both these approaches were less interested in tracing actual historical paths than pursuing their own value-laden interpretations. This may or may not have constituted good philosophy; it certainly did not facilitate good cultural history. Essentially dismissive of the complex mediation of ideas, they produced portraits written in either the condemnatory or apologetic mode. We have already examined Lukacs on this point. At the other end of the spectrum, Walter Kaufmann’s highly influential 1950 Nietzsche portrayed the nazified Nietzsche as a pure distortion, a radical inversion of everything that the prophet of creativity, cultured and critical individualist, and good European had actually stood for. Kaufmann’s “gentle,” sterilized delineation so ignored or denatured the power-political dimensions of Nietzsche, as Walter Sokel has suggested, that readers must have felt baffled that anyone could possibly have attempted to make the Nietzsche-Nazi connection in the first place.

To opt for one of these interpretations would be beside the historical point. For the historian interested in the role, dynamics, and effects of ideas within a political culture, the question of valid or invalid interpretation and applications must be set aside. To argue for the centrality of interested, mediated appropriations does not, of course, render irrelevant the role of the Nietzschean text in this process. Even if, for a moment, we retain the language of “distortion” or “misinterpretation,” approaches such as Kaufmann’s leave us oblivious to the possibility that, as Martin Jay has put it, the potential for the specific distortions that do occur can be understood as latent in the original text. Thus, while it may be questionable to saddle Marx with responsibility for the Gulag Archipelago or blame Nietzsche for Auschwitz, it is nevertheless true that their writings could be misread as justifications for these horrors in a way that, say, those of John Stuart Mill or Alexis de Toqueville could not.

Jacques Derrida has similarly pointedly asked with reference to Nietzschean politics, especially its National Socialist variant: “One may wonder how and why what is so naively called a falsification was possible (one can’t falsify just anything).”

Derrida’s insistence on a degree of complicity derives from a sense of the complex rather than simple nature of the text and flows from an analysis that highlights rather than blurs the distinctions between the master and his National Socialist appropriators:

Nietzsche’s utterances are not the same as those of the Nazi ideologists and not only because the latter grossly caricature the former to the point of apishness. If one does more than extract certain short sequences, if one reconstitutes the entire syntax of the system with the subtle refinement of its articulations and its paradoxical reversals, et cetera, then one will clearly see that what passes elsewhere for the “same” utterance says exactly the opposite and corresponds instead to the inverse, to the reactive inversion of the very thing it mimes. Yet it would still be necessary to account for the possibility of this mimetic inversion and perversion. If one refuses the distinction between unconscious and deliberate programs as an absolute criterion, if one no longer considers only intent—whether conscious or not—when reading a text, then the law that makes the perverting simplification possible must lie in the structure of the text “remaining” (by which we will no longer understand the persisting substance of books, as in the expression scripta manent). Even if the intention of one of the signatories or shareholders in the huge “Nietzschean Corporation” had nothing to do with it, it cannot be entirely fortuitous that the discourse bearing his name in society, in accordance with civil laws and editorial norms, has served as a legitimating reference for ideologues. There is nothing absolutely contingent about the fact that the only political regimen to have effectively brandished his name as a major and official banner was Nazi.

I do not say this in order to suggest that this kind of “Nietzschean” politics is the only one conceivable for all eternity, nor that it corresponds to the best reading of the legacy, nor even that those who have not picked up this reference have produced a better reading of it. No. The future of the Nietzsche text is not closed. But if, within the still-open contours of an era, the only politics calling itself—proclaiming itself—Nietzschean will have been a Nazi one, then it is necessarily significant and must be questioned in all of its consequences.

I am also not suggesting that we ought to reread “Nietzsche” and his great politics on the basis of what we know or think we know Nazism to be. I do not believe that we as yet know how to think what Nazism is. The task remains before us, and the political reading of the Nietzschean body or corpus is part of it.

The implications of the Nietzsche text then are far more complex than the kind of unidirectional original sin Lukacs imputed to it, and more muddied than Kaufmann allowed. The explosive and experimen-tai Nietzsche corpus contained myriad possibilities that profoundly affected almost every vital area of twentieth-century postliberal consciousness and political culture including, quite patently, nazism.

The methodological and substantive difficulties of this question are legion; witness the various and highly contradictory ways in which historians, philosophers and critics have tried to comprehend the relationship. This may relate to Derrida’s assertion that we do not “as yet know how to think what Nazism is.” Moreover, the preparedness to grant a connection in the first place is often a function of a particular a priori attitude to Nietzsche or a particular methodological approach to nazism. Those inclined to structuralist and social history, for instance, are suspicious of any ideational or ideological account (let alone the particular Nietzschean strand), and are very much disinclined to regard nazism as “a particular frame of mind.” Even for those sympathetically disposed to such analysis, the problem of assessing the role and influence, the “causal” force, of ideas in history remains highly controversial. There can be no question here of attempting to resolve the matter. But it would be worthwhile to examine some of the major ways in which historians and critics have subsequently categorized the Nietzsche-Nazi relationship, demonstrated or denied the transmission belts of influence, posited its causal relations, and assessed its overall historical significance.

The problem of assuming this relationship has long been recognized. Already in 1939, Ernst Bloch argued that the Nietzsche (and Wagner) Nazi connection was built upon a method of empty analogy, torn out of its proper historical and ideological context. More recently, Thomas Nipperdey has pointed out the ahistorical nature of analyses that indict Luther, Frederick the Great, Bismarck, Nietzsche, and Hitler in one straight line. “It is a rather petty endeavour to stretch Wagner or Nietzsche or Max Weber on the Procrustean bed of our concept of democracy and to examine them for ‘pre-Fascist’ tendencies or results. This is the tyranny of suspicion.”

Opposition to what has been described as teleological “Nazi pedigree hunting in the realm of ideas” has if anything become more widespread, reinforced by such persistent examples. E. Sandvoss’s 1969 Hitler and Nietzsche posited the relationship as a comparative parallelism that blurred all distinctions between symmetry and causal influence, and that left unexamined the empirical transmission belts through which it must have operated.

In his agonized 1947 réévaluation of Nietzsche, Thomas Mann even managed to reverse the conventional direction of this cause-effect relationship! He unhappily described Nietzsche as “a pacemaker, participating creator and prompter of ideas to European—to world fascism.” In terms remarkably reminiscent of Lukacs’s materialist theory of pre-figurative reflection, Mann added:

I am inclined here to reverse cause and effect and not to believe that Nietzsche created fascism, but rather that fascism created him—that is to say: basically remote from politics and innocently spiritual, he functioned as an infinitely sensitive instrument of expression and registration, with his philosopheme of power he presaged the dawning imperialism and as a quivering floatstick indicated the fascist era of the West.

Criticisms of the Nietzsche-Nazi link have by no means been made only by scholars wary of intellectual explanations. Recently, for instance, Berel Lang, while insisting upon the importance of ideas in grasping nazism, especially its genocidal side, has argued that Nietzsche is specifically exempt from such accusations of affiliation. For Lang it is not to Nietzsche but to the intolerant universalizing aspects of the Enlightenment that one must look. In his view, the links between Nietzsche and nazism are based on unadulterated “misappropriation”:

To be sure, misappropriation has causal consequences no less certainly than does affiliation, and again there is no certain line between the two. But for Nietzsche’s historical aftermath, what is at issue is an instance of misappropriation, not of deduction and not even ... of affiliation. Far from being entailed by the premises underlying Nietzsche’s position, the conclusions drawn are inconsistent with them. To reconstruct in the imagination the events leading up to the Nazi genocide against the Jews without the name or presence of Nietzsche is to be compelled to change almost nothing in that pattern. This contrasts sharply with the results of the same experiment as it might be applied to a number of other ideas and thinkers whose absence would entail significant revisions in the process of Enlightenment affiliation—even, perhaps in its eventual outcome.

For many still in the perplexing process of thinking through what nazism is, Lang’s position is entirely unpersuasive. An exceptionally wide range of contemporary critics, philosophers, and historians continue to sense a profound affinity, positing in various ways and at different levels of complexity the complicity of Nietzschean impulses within nazism. Continuing through the present time no other philosophical figure has been more repeatedly invoked in historical explanation, none has served as a more fruitful springboard for speculative metahistorical notions of nazism and its central murderous drives. Moreover, these exercises at least attempt to confront what much of recent historiography has attempted to duck: the vexed question of Nazi motivation and intent. This view implies that in some meaningful way nazism was, at least in part, a frame of mind and that ideas (in their most general sense) were both central to its disposition as a historical project and to its subsequent comprehension.

What specific Nietzschean sources and causes have been invoked within this general constellation? A few examples will have to suffice. There is firstly an ongoing analysis that argues from a position of historical and ideational affiliation (conscious or otherwise). While affiliation is synonymous neither with identity nor with causation, it does imply a certain common sensibility. J. P. Stern’s Hitler is one example. Stern carefully spells out the differences and qualifications, yet in the final analysis his Hitler is best comprehended as a man animated by a concentrated and politicized ideology of the will derived from and in (parodistic) symmetry with Nietzsche. Karl Dietrich Bracher’s view of nazism as a revolutionary and perverted reversal of ordinary moral values designed to serve an ideological system of terror and extermination is conceived in similarly affiliative Nietzschean terms: “Hitler himself, with his ideological fixation and his sense of mission as saviour of a world doomed by racist decline, was the prototype of such a transvaluation, taking literally Nietzsche’s vision of Umwertung aller Werte and transcending bürgerliche Moral.”

It should come as no surprise that many of the metahistorical musings on nazism focus on the Nietzschean element. As in the past, many of these transmit their own ideological and religious messages. Most recently, for example, the conservative Christian critic Roger Scruton has argued that the fundamental precondition for the death camps of the twentieth century was contained in the Godless naturalizing language and assumptions of thinkers like Nietzsche and Marx:

Those very philosophies which enjoin us to place man upon the throne from which God was taken away for burial, have been the most influential in creating the new image of man as an accident of nature, to whom nothing is forbidden or permitted by any power beyond himself. God is an illusion; so too is the divine spark in man ... the machine which is established for the efficient production of Utopia has total license to kill. Nothing is sacred... Such is the liturgical language of the religion of the Antichrist.

The danger of such secular philosophies, the distinguished philosopher Leszek Kolakowski has argued, consists of their Promethean hopes which undermined Christian assumptions “of our weakness and misery”:

Two great ideas of the nineteenth century which, despite all that separates them, perfectly embodied this Promethean expectation—those of Marx and of Nietzsche—were anti-Christian in their roots, and not as a result of accidental historical circumstances... Nietzsche knew that Christianity is the awareness of our weakness, and he was right. Marx knew this too, and from the young Hegelians, he took over and transformed the philosophy (more Fichtean than Hegelian) of self-creation and futuristic orientation...

The vitality of the Christian idea has certainly weakened in proportion to the universalization of the Promethean hope and in proportion to the growth of people’s belief that their ability to perfect themselves and society knows no limit.... We have witnessed the gradual growth of this hope, and the two versions of it mentioned—Nietzsche’s and Marx’s—produced the ideological cover that served to justify the two most malignant tyrannies that our century has seen.

Nietzsche here serves as a kind of vital, long-term precondition of nazism. It is linked to an argument that holds—without always satisfactorily establishing the empirical connections—that it was the radically experimental, tradition-shattering Nietzschean mode that rendered nazism thinkable. (Such an analysis, of course, implies a certain view of nazism itself.) Proponents of such a reading have little difficulty in locating supporting passages from the master. Because of a newly found courage for experimentation, Nietzsche noted in Daybreak, “Individuals and generations can now fix their eyes on tasks of a vastness that would to earlier ages have seemed madness and a trifling with Heaven and Hell. We may experiment with ourselves! Yes, mankind now has a right to do that.” In drafts for a sequel to Zarathustra and on the basis of his definition of the new Enlightenment’s credo that “nothing is true, everything is permitted,” Nietzsche went even further: “The consequences of your doctrine must wreak fearful havoc: but countless are destined to perish from them. We are submitting truth to an experiment! Maybe mankind will perish in the process! So be it!” Viewed in this way nazism, with its radicalism and vast transformative scale, becomes a consciously applied Nietzschean project. Nietzsche “prepared a consciousness that excluded nothing that anyone might think, feel, or do, including unimaginable atrocities carried out on a gigantic order.”

It is, above all, through this emphasis on a boundless novum that the sense of Nietzsche’s connection to nazism’s most revolutionary and destructive sides persists. Different historians and critics have identified varying aspects of that impulse as complicit in genocide and atrocity. While all assume Nietzsche’s centrality, the explanations for his presence differ decidedly.

For orthodox Marxists the Nietzsche—Nazi fusion reflects the capitalist economy in crisis. It was the ideological expression of an aggressive imperialist bourgeoisie and its barbarizing tendencies and the logical result of a class-sustaining irrationalism bent upon defeating its socialist and other enemies.

Yet for the non-Marxist Ernst Nolte, in his 1963 Der Faschismus in seiner Epoche, nazism represented the ultimate revolt against the bourgeoisie and what he termed its project of transcendence. At that stage of his career, Nolte insisted upon the radical uniqueness of Nazi anti-Semitism and its extermination practices, and maintained that there was an essential unity between the bourgeois and Marxist projects of transcendence. In Nolte’s rendering, Nietzsche is portrayed as the most crucial figure of this ongoing impulse against bourgeois and Marxist realization. He above all incarnates the impetus to the sensuous renaturalization of the world and points to the creation of a new, wholly nondecadent man. The Nietzschean and Nazi projects thus become virtually identical. Hitler, wrote Nolte, “was possessed by ‘something’ which was not trivial.” As the “termination of an age” he was the most radical manifestation of an impulse best articulated by Nietzsche. In this view, the notion of destruction or extermination— Vernichtungsgedanke as Nolte puts it—was bound to become central to Nietzsche’s late philosophy. It is worth quoting him at length:

Nietzsche’s real enemy is obviously the concept of realization; it is at this that he aims such terms as ressentiment, decadence, and “total degeneration.” From a philosophical standpoint there is only one unassailable counterconcept: that of the wholly non-decadent man, the “beast of prey, the magnificent, roaming blond beast lusting for booty and victory,” the magnificent animality of “the pack of blond beasts of prey.” ...

It cannot be doubted that Nietzsche’s whole thought represents a more radical... more persistent countermovement to the Marxist conception and that the idea of extermination (Vernich tungsgedanke) represents the negative aspect of its innermost core. For if history is not an Attentat thousands of years old, then only the extermination of the perpetrator of this crime can restore things to their true balance. Nietzsche is not in a banal sense the spiritual father of fascism; but he was the first to give voice to that spiritual focal point towards which all fascism must gravitate; the assault on practical and theoretical transcendence, for the sake of a “more beautiful” form of “life.”

With no immediate relevance to the political events of the day, the Nietzschean doctrine, which alone permitted the equation of socialism, liberalism, and traditional conservatism, was adopted and developed by a circle of fascistoid authors: the doctrine of the revolt of the slaves and of the impoverishment of life through Judeo-Christian resentment, (p. 22)

The Nazi exterminations were thus best understood as the most desperate (and essentially Nietzschean) “assault ever made upon the human being and the transcendence within him.” Although Nolte himself did not demonstrate the connections, we have already seen that this closely resembled how various Nietzschean Nazi sources defined their own project as the creation of an immanent, renaturalized and antitranscendental society.

In a much later work, Nolte spelled out the specifically Jewish turn nazism gave to this Nietzschean framework. What Hitler meant by the word Jew, Nolte wrote in his controversial The European Civil War, 1917—1945, was that complex of phenomena related to progress, industrialization, and the control of—and estrangement from—nature, emancipation, and individualism that first Nietzsche and then other life philosophers such as Ludwig Klages and Theodor Lessing declared as a threat to life. Hitler therefore had the same world-historical process in mind that for Marx was simultaneously progress and decline, which can be called the intellectualization of the world. But ... Marx, and Nietzsche, Lessing, and Klages were always far from maintaining that this process was attributable to a concrete, human cause. Hitler then made the step, which was a radical overturning of all previous ideologies ... whereby he attributed to a human group the power to bring about a transcendental process.

In Nolte’s new book, Nietzsche and Nietzscheanism (1990), Nietzsche remains the inspirational center of the Nazi exterminatory drive. Nolte focuses on the nature of exterminatory thought and language within the Nietzschean corpus. Once again, Nietzsche’s positive quest for life affirmation is linked to his call for the brutal destruction of those life-denying, emancipatory forms responsible for the prevailing decadence and decline of vitality. Nolte emphasizes a (somewhat neglected) passage in Ecce Homo as a salient example of such intentions:

Let us look ahead a century and assume the case that my attempt to assassinate two millenia of antinature and human disfiguration has succeeded. That new party of life which would take the greatest of all tasks into its hands, the higher breeding (Hoherzuchtung) of humanity, including the merciless extermination (schonungslose Vernichtung) of everything degenerating and parasitic, would make possible again that excess of life on earth from which the Dionysian state will grow again.

The list of Nietzsche’s antilife opponents-Christian priests, vulgar Enlighteners, democrats, socialists, the degenerate masses—is so great, Nolte now argues, that it dwarfs the Nazi “implementation.” “If [Nietzsche’s] ‘extermination’ is understood literally the result must be a mass murder, in comparison with which the later real ‘Final Solution’ of the National Socialists assumes almost microscopic proportions. The ‘purity’ of the conception was far more gigantic than the ‘impurity’ (Unreine) of the reality.”

Both the tone and grammar of this passage indicate that Nolte’s Nietzsche has become neatly embedded within his post-Historikerstreit ideological framework. The philosopher appears as a central protagonist and prophet of Nolte’s all-embracing vision of the twentieth-century world-historical Bürgerkrieg, the war between the dialectically linked forces of bolshevism and national socialism. Nolte’s Nietzsche functions as the “presager (Vorhersage) of the great civil-war and the concept of the indispensable extermination.” He weaves this extermination concept into his substantive chronology of the relationship between these two historic forces and their destructive drives. The cultured Nietzsche, almost despite himself, is driven to “foresee the great world civil-war and create the extermination concept (Vernichtungskonzept) which was the counterconcept to another and more original (ursprünglicheren) exterminatory conception.” Nietzsche is thus ensconced in Nolte’s dubious reduction of nazism and its atrocities to a reaction to an earlier Marxist version of the same thinking, and in which the Holocaust is an anticipatory act of German self-defense against the perception of Jewish genocidal intentions.

In Britain and the United States the perception of Nietzsche as the major force behind the creation of a radicalized, novel, and uniquely murderous form of anti-Semitism has had to contend with Walter Kaufmann’s interpretive hegemony and thus only recently has found its historians. We have already referred to Uriel Tai’s pioneering effort to sift an “anti-Christian, anti-Semitic” strand from other forms. But it has been George Lichtheim and Conor Cruise O’Brien who have linked the philosopher directly to nazism’s atrocities and its ultimate concrete expression: Auschwitz. The fashionable notion that Nietzsche was not anti-Jewish but anti-Christian, they argue, ignores the fact that what Nietzsche most bitterly detested in Christianity was its Jewish origins. As Nietzsche wrote in The Antichrist, the Jews, with their desire to survive at any price, were “the most catastrophic people of world history.” They radically falsified all nature, all naturalness, all reality, of the whole inner world as well as the outer ... out of themselves they created a counter-concept to natural conditions: they turned religion, cult, morality, history, psychology, one after the other, into an incurable contradiction to their natural values ... by their aftereffect they have made mankind so thoroughly false that even today the Christian can feel anti-Jewish without realizing that he himself is the ultimate Jewish consequence.

These writers stress that Nietzsche is the decisive force in the fateful switch from a “limited” Christian anti-Semitism to an unlimited, secular anti-Christian brand, which concretely paved the way towards nazism and the Holocaust. Hitler, O’Brien writes, learned from Nietzsche “that the traditional Christian limit on anti-Semitism was itself part of a Jewish trick. When the values that the Jews had reversed were restored, there would be no limits and no Jews.”

George Lichtheim has argued in a similar vein. The slow percolation of Nietzschean ideas antithetical to the Judeo-Christian inheritance and its humanist offshoots were absolutely essential, he argues, to the genesis and disposition of nazism. Only when such notions successfully gripped certain German minds did Auschwitz become possible. Lichtheim’s Nietzsche is the proto-Fascist who had already written in 1884:

A doctrine is needed powerful enough to work as a breeding agent: strengthening the strong, paralyzing and destructive for the world-weary. The annihilation of the decaying races. Decay of Europe.... Dominion over the earth as a means of producing a higher type.—The annihilation of the tartuffery called “morality.” ... The annihilation of suffrage universel.

This Nietzsche, Lichtheim argued, provided a section of the intellectual elite with the necessary Weltanschauung—including its most radical form of anti-Christian anti-Semitism culminating in the Holocaust. For Lichtheim, Nietzsche’s radical atheism had nothing to do with the Feuerbachian tradition that sought to replace theism with humanism. This antihumanist atheism, moreover, “did away with the old naive and self-contradictory Christian anti-Semitism by indicting the Jews collectively as the original inspirers of that poisonous infection known as belief in Christ.” All this was wholly consistent with Hitler’s long-term aims: “It is not too much to say,” Lichtheim argued, “that but for Nietzsche the SS—Hitler’s shock troops and the core of the whole movement—would have lacked the inspiration which enabled them to carry out their programme of mass murder in Eastern Europe.”

These kinds of explanations, no doubt, also have their shortcomings. Recent functionalist scholarship, for instance, has provided a structural-bureaucratic account of mass murders in which the whole question of psychological motivation and ideological inspiration is virtually bypassed. Clearly, for events as complex and thick as these, there can be no question of a theoretical or methodological monopoly. Nevertheless, explanations that entirely dismiss nazism’s frame of mind and render ideational motivations as mere background leave an essential dimension untapped. In this respect the more conventional modes of historical analysis soon reach their limits and leave one with a sense of frustrating incompleteness. Because such functionalist approaches miss an important core, cultural and intellectual explanations will continue to be attempted despite all the difficulties. Nietzsche will retain a central place in such accounts. There are many reasons for this, but above all he will remain relevant as a key to explaining national socialism’s attraction to the outmost limits, its arrival at a grotesque novum of human experience. Naggingly, the thematic resemblances represent themselves.

Nazism was undoubtedly a multifarious historical phenomenon. Its revolutionary thrust sat side by side with petit-bourgeois and provincial concerns. The perception nevertheless persists that its historical significance resided in its unprecedented transvaluations and boundarybreaking extremities and its emphases on destruction and violent regeneration, health and disease. Nazism in this sense continues to be regarded by many as a politics—however debased and selectively mediated—wrought in the “Great” Nietzschean mode.

The Nazis found that tradition in Nietzsche whom they interpreted as advocating war as therapy for weakness and the cultivation of “that deep impersonal hatred, that cold-blooded murderousness coupled with a good conscience, that communal, organizing zest in the destruction of the enemy” as a path to collective health. Above all, Nietzsche’s vision was one of all-consuming illness and cure. The condition, he declared, was “not ... sickness but sickliness, by which he meant perpetual weakness and concern with morality. Nietzsche went on to declare that “one is healthy when ... one feels that the ‘bite’ of conscience is like a dog biting on a stone—when one is ashamed of one’s remorse,” and one can attribute “more health of soul” to a criminal who “does not slander his deed after it is done” than to the sinner who “abases himself before the cross” (Lifton, Nazi Doctors, 486).

The respective (and always selective) quotes appear in Human, All too Human, 176, and Will to Power, 29-30, 134—135.

The documentation of Nietzsche’s influence began early. See Genevieve Bianquis, Nietzsche en France (Paris: F. Alcan, 1929); Guy De Pourtales, Nietzsche en Italie (Paris: Grasset, 1929).Walter Kaufmann, Nietzsche: Philosopher, Psychologist, Antichrist, 4th ed. (Princeton N.J.: Princeton University Press, [1950] 1974), 9. Nietzsche’s influence on modern thought and his role within the various academic disciplines will be discussed only inasmuch as they affected his broader impact upon German politics, culture, and identity.For a statement on the general nature of reception processes see Hans Robert Jauss, Toward an Aesthetic of Reception, trans. Timothy Bahti, intro. Paul de Man (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1986).On the dynamic nature of Nietzsche’s reception see the comments in Massimo Ferrari Zumbini, “Untergänge und Morgenröten: Über Spengler und Nietzsche,” Nietzsche-Studien 5 (1976), 219. Commentators have long been aware that the representation of Nietzsche’s philosophy was intimately related to the evolving history of Nietzschean interpretation itself.Numerous encounters mentioned in this book—Thomas Mann and Nietzsche, Oswald Spengler and Nietzsche, Gottfried Benn and Nietzsche, Carl Jung and Nietzsche, etc.—have received detailed analysis elsewhere. Here we have had to console ourselves with Nietzsche’s admonitions concerning the limitations of such “infamous ‘and’” studies.For a measure of the size and scope of Nietzsche’s reception within Germany only up to 1918 see the indispensable bibliographic guide by Richard Frank Krummel, Nietzsche und der deutsche Geist, 2 vols. (Berlin, New York: Walter de Gruyter, 1974/ 1983). For a multilingual but far less comprehensive listing that goes beyond 1918 see the compilation by Herbert W. Reichert and Karl Schlechta, International Nietzsche Bibliography (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1960).“The effects or structure of a text are not reducible to its ‘truth,’ to the intended meaning of its author, or even its supposedly unique and identifiable signatory” (Jacques Derrida, “Otobiographies: The Teaching of Nietzsche and the Politics of the Proper Name,” in The Ear of the Other: Otobiography Transference Translation, ed. Christie V. McDonald, trans. Peggy Kamuf and Avital Ronell [New York: Schocken Books, 1985]), 29.To be sure, the historian must be alert to overt invention, expurgation, selective editing, and outright falsification of Nietzsche’s texts; the notorious tampering activities of Elisabeth Forster-Nietzsche are well known.See Kaufmann, Nietzsche, 4. Chapter 10 exemplifies his treatment of the Nazi question.Georg Lukacs, The Destruction of Reason, trans. Peter Palmer (Atlantic Highlands, N.J.: Humanities Press, 1981).Arno J. Mayer, The Persistence of the Old Regime: Europe to the Great War (New York: Pantheon, 1981), 290; see also 275-329. Mayer does not provide notes or documentary evidence to back up such assertions. For more discussion of the relationship between Nietzscheanism and ruling elites see chapter 4.Friedrich Nietzsche, “Why I Write Such Good Books,” in On the Genealogy of Morals and Ecce Homo, trans. and ed. Walter Kaufmann (New York: Vintage, 1969), 262.R. Hinton Thomas, Nietzsche in German Politics and Society 1890—1918 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1983).H. L. Mencken, “Introduction,” in Friedrich Nietzsche, The Antichrist (New York, 1923). Quoted in Bridgwater, Nietzsche in Anglosaxony, 145-146.For a different viewpoint, on the erosion of these distinctions, see Zeev Sternhell, Neither Right nor Left (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1986).“Maxims and Arrows,” in Twilight of the Idols, 25.Nietzsche, “Why I Write Such Good Books,” in Ecce Homo, 265.Kaufmann, Nietzsche, 414; see also p. 250.See Kurt Rudolf Fischer’s comments in the discussion of Robert E. McGinn’s “Verwandlungen von Nietzsches Übermenschen in der Literatur des Mittelmeerraumes: d’Annunzio, Marinetti, und Kazantzakis,” Nietzsche-Studien 10/11 (1981-1982), 611.Exactly this spirit is evident in Martin Buber, “Ein Wort über Nietzsche und die Lebensworte,” Die Kunst im Leben (December 1900), 13.Nietzsche, “On Old and New Tablets,” in Portable Nietzsche, 308.Heinrich Berl, “Nietzsche und das Judentum,” Menorah 10 (1932), 59—69.C. G. Jung, Nietzsche’s Zarathustra: Notes of the Seminar Given in 1934—1939, 2 vols., ed. James L. Jarrett (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1988).Thomas Mann, Reflections of a Nonpolitical Man, trans. Walter D. Morris (New York: Frederick Ungar, 1983), 13.Gerhard Hilbert, Moderne Willensziele (Leipzig: A. Deichert, 1911), 19. This was a very common theme adjusted to suit the proclivities of the particular commentator.Albert Kalthoff, Zarathustrapredigten: Reden uber die sittliche Lebensauffassung Friedrich Nietzsches (Leipzig: Eugen Diederichs, 1904), 4.Georges Bataille, “Nietzsche and the Fascists” (1937), in Visions of Excess: Selected Writings, ed. Allan Stoekl, trans. Allan Stoekl et al. (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1985), 185, 187.Nietzsche, “Why I Am a Destiny” in Ecce Homo, 326.Nietzsche, “On the Gift-giving Virtue” in Portable Nietzsche, 190.Thomas Nipperdey, “War die wilhelminische Gesellschaft eine Untertanen-Gesellschaft?” in Nachdenken über die deutsche Geschichte (Munich: C. H. Beck, 1986), 178-179.This is the chapter title of George Mosse’s excellent analysis of that change in his The Culture of Western Europe: The Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, 3d ed. (Boulder and London: Westview Press, 1988).Amongst many studies investigating these tendencies see H. Stuart Hughes, Consciousness and Society: The Reorientation of European Social Thought 1890-1930 (New York: Random House, 1958).Nietzsche, “The explosive ones,” in Gay Science, 106.Zeev Sternhell, “Fascist Ideology” in Walter Laqueur, Fascism: A Reader’s Guide (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1976), 333—334.The Birth of Tragedy, trans. Walter Kaufmann (New York: Vintage, 1967), 135.Georg Simmel was the most famous representative of this trend. See chapter 4 in Lukacs’s Destruction of Reason for a particular, critical view of both Lebensphilosophie and Simmel.Schorske, Fin-de-Siècle Vienna, xix.Gottfried Benn, “Answer to the Literary Emigrants,” in Primal Vision, ed. E. B. Ashton (New York: New Directions, 1971), 48.William J. McGrath, Dionysian Art and Populist Politics in Austria (New Haven, Conn., and London: Yale University Press, 1974).Brandes’s “Aristokratischer Radikalismus: Eine Abhandlung über Friedrich Nietzsche” appeared for the first time in Germany in 1890 in Deutsche Rundschau 63, no. 7 (April 1900), 52-89.Nietzsche, “Why I Write Such Good Books,” in Ecce Homo, 262.Amongst its members were people who would participate in various streams of the Nietzschean story, including Bruno Wille and Arno Holz. Holz wrote a satirical comedy, Sozialaristokraten, parodying Wille’s brand of individualist, elitist Nietzscheanism.Friedrich Nietzsche to J. F. Overbeck, 24 March 1887, quoted in Karl Löwith, From Hegel to Nietzsche: The Revolution in Nineteenth-Century Thought (New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1965), 423, n. 59.In Krummel’s Nietzsche und der deutsche Geist the entries for the twenty-two-year period up to 1889 cover only 79 pages. Those of the 1890s cover 192 pages!Kurt Eisner, Psychopathia Spiritualis: Friedrich Nietzsche und die Apostel der Zukunft (Leipzig: Wilhelm Friedrich, 1892), 9.Hubert A. Cancik, “Der Nietzsche-Kult in Weimar (II),” in Die Religion von Oberschichten: Religion, Profession, Intellektualismus, ed. Peter Antes and Donate Pahnke (Marburg : Diagonal, 1989), 89, 110-111. I thank Guy Strumsa for this reference.Adolf Levenstein, Friedrich Nietzsche im Urteil der Arbeiterklasse (Leipzig: F. Meiner, 1914).Theodor Fritsch, “Nietzsche und die Jugend,” Hammer: Blätter für deutschen Sinn 10, no. 29 (March 1911), 115. For a continuing emphasis in the Weimar period on Nietzsche’s Polish origins see Karl Kynast, “Der Fall Nietzsche im Lichte rassenkundlicher Betrachtung,” Die Sonne 2 (1925), 533—540, 722—728.Heinrich Rickert, Die Philosophie des Lebens. Quoted in Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 1, 414.Oswald Spengler, “Nietzsche and His Century,” in Selected Essays, trans. Donald O. White (Chicago: Gateway, 1967), 196-197.As one example of this annexation see Franz Haiser, Die Judenfrage vom Standpunkt der herrenmoral: Rechtsvölkische und linksvölkische Weltanschauung (Leipzig: T. Weicher, 1926). He states that while only Germans were capable of grasping Nietzsche in full, they first had to overcome philistinism in themselves (92).The cultivated Nietzschean Count Harry Kessler, for instance, was appalled by Spengler’s ruminations in that lecture: For an hour a fat person with a fleshy chin and brutal mouth … spouted the most trite and trivial rubbish. Any young worker in a Worker’s Educational Association who tried to inform his fellows about Nietzsche’s philosophy would have done better. Not one original idea. Not even false glitter. Everything uniformly shallow, dull, insipid and tedious (The Diaries of a Cosmopolitan: Count Harry Kessler 1918–1937, trans. and ed. Charles Kessler [London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1971], 333–334).Rudolf Pannwitz, Einführung in Nietzsche (München-Feldafing: Hans Carl, 1920), 1.Mann, Reflections, 104.Karl Lowith, Mein Leben in Deutschland vor und nach 1933: Ein Bericht (Stuttgart: J. B. Metzlersche, 1986), 6.Jung, Nietzsche’s Zarathustra, vol. 2, 909-910. Nietzsche’s influence on Jung was early and profound: You see, 1 was a boy when he was a professor at the university. 1 never saw him, but I saw his friend Jakob Burckhardt very often, and also Bachofen, so we were not separated by cosmic distances. Nietzsche’s mind was one of the first spiritual influences I experienced.Ibid., 920ff.Kurt Hildebrandt, “Nietzsche als Richter: Sein Schicksal” in Nietzsche als Richter unsrer Zeit, E. Gundolf and K. Hildebrandt, 65—104. (Breslau: Ferdinand Hitt, 1923), 97.The essays in Untimely Meditations (published only in 1893) had all appeared long before: “David Strauss, the Confessor and Writer” and “On the Use and Disadvantage of History for Life” in 1873, “Schopenhauer as Educator” in 1874, and “Richard Wagner in Bayreuth” in 1876 (Friedrich Nietzsche, Untimely Meditations, trans. R. J. Hollingdale, intro. J. P. Stern (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983)).Harry Graf Kessler, Gesichter und Zeiten: Erinnerungen (Berlin: S. Fischer, 1962), 229, 243.Georg Simmel, “Friedrich Nietzsche: Eine moralphilosophische Silhouette,” Zeitschrift fur Philosophic und philosophische Kritik 2 (1896), 202-215.Kurt Breysig, “Gedenkrede an Friedrich Nietzsches Bahre,” Die Zukunft 32 (8 September 1900), 413-414. We shall later see to what extent the positive myth of Nietzsche was promoted by his death.Friedrich Nietzsche, The Will to Power, trans. Walter Kaufmann and R. J. Hollingdale, ed. Walter Kaufmann (New York: Vintage, 1968), 3.See R. A. Nicholls, “Beginning of the Nietzsche Vogue in Germany,” Modern Philology 56 (1958), 25, 37, for some similar thoughts. I do not accept the conception that the Nietzsche cult divides into two periods and that prior to 1900 the critical works were stressed while thereafter the prophetic ones were emphasized.For some reflections on Nietzsche and modern political and social life see Arthur Ruppin, “Moderne Weltanschauung und Nietzsche’sche Philosophie,” Die Gegenwart 10 (1903), 147ff.Karl Joel, Nietzsche und die Romantik (Jena and Leipzig: Eugen Diederichs, 1905), 68.Hilbert, Moderne Willensziele, 19. It is worth noting that these comments came from somebody who in many ways was quite critical of Nietzsche.That this was both an ongoing predisposition and sometimes literally intended can be seen in the study by the American psychologist Samuel J. Warner in which Nietzsche and satanism are collapsed into identical embodiments of the drive to personal and mass destruction (The Urge to Mass Destruction [New York and London: Grune and Stratton, 1957]).Sander Gilman, “The Nietzsche Murder Case; or, What Makes Dangerous Philosophies Dangerous” in Difference and Pathology: Stereotypes of Sexuality, Race, and Madness (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1985), 59.Wilhelm von Polenz, Wurzellocker (Berlin: F. Fontane, 1902), 7ff. See Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 63—65.Fritsch, “Nietzsche und die Jugend,” 113.For some examples see Wilhelm Carl Becker, Der Nietzschekultus: Ein Kapitel aus der Geschichte der Verirrungen des menschlichen Geistes (Leipzig: Richard Lipinski, 1908), 35ff.Gilman, Difference and Pathology, 73. Gilman provides examples of German court cases and suicides. Even in the 1980s in Israel the mass media went out of their way to stress that Mordecai Vanunu, convicted for leaking photographs of Israel’s atomic reactor installation at Dimona, had read and was influenced by Nietzsche (Nahum Barnea, “A Look Inside the Diary” (in Hebrew), Koteret Rashit (19 November 1986), 11-15).Eisner, Psychopathia Spiritualis. (The work was originally published in Die Gesellschaft in 1891.) Its title was a play on Baron Richard von Krafft-Ebing’s Psychopathia Sexualis.Hermann Türck, Friedrich Nietzsche und seine philosophischen Irrwege (Dresden: Gloess, 1891), 7.Paul Julius Moebius, Uber das Pathologische bei Nietzsche (Wiesbaden: J. F. Bergmann, 1902). The work concludes with the warning: “Be mistrustful, for this man has a brain disorder.” Moebius’s work was highly praised in respected standard psychiatric handbooks like Emil Kraepelin’s Psychiatrie in both the 1903 and 1909 editions. See Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 77—78, n. 63.Joel, Nietzsche und die Romantik, 327.For this immensely influential text see Nietzsche, Gay Science, 181—182.Quoted in Colin Wilson, Rudolf Steiner, The Man and His Vision: An Introduction to the Life and Ideas of the Founder of Anthroposophy (Wellingborough, Eng.: Aquarian Press, 1985), 87—88.Wieland Herzfelde, “Die Ethik der Geisteskranken,” Die Aktion 4 (1914). See also Augustinus P. Dierick, German Expressionist Prose: Theory and Practice (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1987), 206—207.August Horneffer, “Nietzsches Todestag,” Die Tat 2 (1910—1911), 356—360.Isadora Duncan, Isadora Speaks, ed. Franklin Rosemont (San Francisco: City Light Books, 1983), 121.Georges Bataille, “Nietzsche’s Madness,” 3 January 1939 in October 36 (Spring 1986), 44. See too in the same source “On Nietzsche: The Will to Chance,” 55.For a useful history of the book see George Mosse’s introduction in Max Nordau, Degeneration (New York: Howard Fertig, 1968). See too P. M. Baldwin, “Liberalism, Nationalism, and Degeneration: The Case of Max Nordau,” Central European History 13, no. 2 (June 1980).Nordau, Degeneration, 5.J. Edward Chamberlin and Sander L. Gilman, eds., Degeneration: The Dark Side of Progress (New York: Columbia University Press, 1985).Nordau, Degeneration, 15-33.Ibid., 416, 451.Nietzsche, “Thus Spoke Zarathustra,” 187.Nordau, Degeneration, 551. See too the language on p. 556.There were plays of all kinds—critical, satiric and tragic. See J. V. Widmann, Jenseits von Gut und Boese: Schauspiel in drei Aufziigen (Stuttgart: J. G. Cotta, 1893). By 1886 Widmann had labeled Nietzsche’s works dangerous. He was not conservative but progressive, concerned by Nietzsche’s antidemocratic, elitist, and antifeminist views (J. V. Widmann, “Nietzsches gefährliches Buch,” Der Bund 37, no. 326 [1886]). There was also Arno Holz’s satirical Sozialaristokraten. The comedy was written in 1896 and staged in Berlin in June 1897. A later example, staged by the Wagner Society in Berlin in 1912, was Paul Friedrich’s Das Dritte Reich: Die Tragödie des Individualismus (Leipzig: Xenien, 1910). Here Nietzsche’s life history was recounted as a “tragedy for which indirectly we are all guilty.”For a description of the explosion of magazines, journals, and the press in Germany and the diffusion of Nietzsche see Joelle Phillipi, “Das Nietzsche-Bild in der deutschen Zeitschriftenpresse der Jahrhundertwende” (Inaugural diss., Universität des Saarlandes, Saarbruecken, 1970).Harden was an influential mediator of an aggressive, positive Nietzscheana. His important Die Zukunft not only provided a forum for many articles by Elisabeth Foerster-Nietzsche but encouraged Nietzscheanism in general.Emil Ludwig, Geschenke des Lebens: Ein Rückblick (Berlin: E. Rowohlt, 1931), 159ff.Emil Ludwig, Richard Dehmel (Berlin: S. Fischer, 1913), 118ff.Paul Venable Turner, The Education of Le Corbusier (New York, 1978), 56ff.One index of this is the multiple inclusion of Nietzsche-related notions contained in Otto Ladendorf, Historisches Schlagwörterbuch: Ein Versuch (Stuttgart and Berlin: Teubner, 1906). See Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 223.M. G. Conrad, Der Übermensch in der Politik: Betrachtungen Uber die Reichzustande am Ende des Jahrhunderts (Stuttgart: Robert Lutz, 1895). Although this book was unrelentingly critical it was also true that, as editor of Die Gesellschaft, Conrad was a tireless promoter of Nietzsche and the “new” literature.Raoul Richter, “Friedrich Nietzsche und die Kultur unserer Zeit,” rep. in Essays, ed. Lina Richter (Leipzig: F. Meiner, 1913), 112.Nietzsche was routinely described as a thinker with an essentially musical (hence German) sensibility (Bernard Scharlitt, “Das Musikalische Element in Friedrich Nietzsche,” Die Musik 4 [1904], 108-112). By 1901 Nietzsche’s role in German modern music was already quite apparent.Self-conscious musical modernists like Alban Berg were enthusiastic Nietzscheans (Briefe an seine Frau [Munich and Vienna: Längen-Müller, 1965], 16, 31, 88, 123ff).See Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 167 and n. 186.Jürgen Krause, “Märtyrer” und “Prophet”: Studien zum Nietzsche-Kult in der bildenden Kunst der Jahrhundertwende (Berlin and New York: Walter de Gruyter, 1984). As Krause has already covered the topic in full I merely concentrate on some major points which relate to the present work. See too Dietrich Schubart, “Nietzsche konkretionsformen in der bildenden Kunst 1890-1933,” Nietzsche-Studien 10/11 (1981/1982).“Der Riese: Friedrich Nietzsche,” Pan 1, no. 2 (1895), opposite 94. The very first issue opened with a Nietzsche fragment, “Zarathustra vor dem Konige,” (p. 1) and “Das Königslied,” a poem by Paul Scheerbart, pp. 2-3. Max Klinger’s famous bust of “Der Philosoph” was also reproduced.Krause, “Märtyrer” und “Prophet,” has an extensive listing of these attempts and some of the considerations behind them.Krause, “Märtyrer” und “Prophet,” 131, 119—120.Bernhard Zeller, Hermann Hesse in Selbstzeugnissen und Bilddokumenten (Hamburg: Reinbeck, 1963), 32ff.See Krause, “Märtyrer” und “Prophet,“ illus. 10. The quote is rather dubious. See also chap. 4, n. 110.This history is told in Edward Timms, Karl Kraus Apocalyptic Satirist: Culture and Catastrophe in Hapsburg Vienna (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1986), 309.Tilmann Buddensieg, “Das Wohnhaus als Kultbau: Zum Darmstädter Haus von Behrens,” in Peter Behrens und Nürnberg (Munich: Prestel, 1980). My thanks to Christiane Schütz for drawing my attention to Behrens’s Nietzschean connections.Ibid., 44; see too Alan Windsor, Peter Behrens: Architect and Designer (London: Architectural Press, 1981).See Georg Fuchs’s enthusiastic description of Kaiser Wilhelm as the realization of the Nietzschean will to power in his Der Kaiser und die Zukunft des deutschen Volkes (Munich and Leipzig: Miiller, 1906), 72ff; quoted in Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 155.Manfredo Tafuri, Francesco Dal Co, Modern Architecture, trans. Robert Erich Wolf (New York: Harry N. Abrams, 1979), 96.Ibid., 96-97.Nietzsche, “Thus Spoke Zarathustra,” 213. From beginning to end “Zarathustra” is permeated with images and metaphors of heights and mountains. For another instance, see Zarathustra, “The Wanderer,” Third Part, 264—266.Wolfgang Pehnt, Expressionist Architecture (New York and Washington, D.C.: Praeger, 1973), chap. 5. On Alpine architecture see pp. 82—83 and for Nietzsche’s general influence, pp. 41-43. For all Taut’s emphasis on majestic solitude, he also envisaged mass tours of edification for workers who would observe his works from the air (p. 208).Ibid., 208.Walter Hammer, “Nietzsche im Hochgebirge,” Davoser Blätter 37, no. 34 (19 September 1908). See too Ernst Bertram, “Nietzsche und die Berge,” Deutsche Alpenzeitung 11 (1911-1912), 279-282.“Giovanni Segantini,” Pan 1, no. 3 (1895), 193-195.Krause, “Märtyrer” und “Prophet,” 77, especially n. 344.Friedrich, Das Dritte Reich.For an example of this genre see Becker, Der Nietzschekultus. For a Christian critique see Dr. Adelbert Düringer, “Der Nietzschekultus,” Beweis des Glauben im Geistesleben der Gegenwart 5 (1908), 238-242.Nordau, Degeneration, 442, 454—457.Türck, Friedrich Nietzsche, quoted in Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 1, 98.Walter Eckstein, “Friedrich Nietzsche in the Judgement of Posterity,” Journal of the History of Ideas 6 (1945).Hubert Treiber, “Nietzsches ‘Kloster für freiere Geister’: Nietzsche und Weber als Erzieher,” in Die Religion von Oberschichten, ed. Peter Antes and Donate Pahnke (Marburg: Diagonal-Verlag, 1989).George Lichtheim, Europe in the Twentieth Century, 185.Jürgen Krause, “Märtyrer” und “Prophet”: Studien zum Nietzsche-Kult in der bildenden Kunst der Jahrhundertwende (Berlin and New York: Walter de Gruyter, 1984). As Krause has already covered the topic in full I merely concentrate on some major points which relate to the present work. See too Dietrich Schubart, “Nietzsche konkretionsformen in der bildenden Kunst 1890-1933,” Nietzsche-Studien 10/11 (1981/1982).Friedrich Paulsen, “Väter und Söhne: Eine sozialpädagogische Studie aus der deutschen Gegenwart,” Deutsche Rundschau (May 1907), 229-230.“Moderne Sophistik: Ein Wort über den Nietzsche-Kultus,” Allgemeine Evangelisch-Lutherische Kirchenzeitung 30 (1897). Quoted in Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 1, 183.A. Baumeister, “Friedrich Nietzsche, ein gefährlicher Verführer der heranwachsenden Jugend,” Lehrproben und Lehrgänge 1 (1902), 2. Baumeister compared this odious social democracy with the saving graces of Friedrich Naumann’s “humanitarian national socialism.” See too the comparative, pro-Naumann work by Georg Biedekapp, Friedrich Nietzsche und Friedrich Naumann als Politiker (Göttingen: Fritz Wunder, 1901)Ludwig Stein, “Friedrich Nietzsche’s Weltanschauung und ihre Gefahren,” Deutsche Rundschau nos. 6, 8 (March, May 1893), especially no. 6, pp. 376, 380. By locating him within the age-old tradition of cynicism Stein tried to take the sting out of Nietzsche’s originality.Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil: Prelude to a Philosophy of the Future, trans. Walter Kaufmann (New York: Vintage, 1966), 38.Nietzsche, “On the uses and disadvantages of history for life,” in Untimely Meditations, 61.For a late twentieth-century version of this theme, see Peter Sloterdijk, Critique of Cynical Reason, trans. Michael Eldred (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1987). Nietzsche is central in this work and discussed in terms of his own “decisive self-characterization,” as that of a “cynic” (Cyniker)...Stein, “Nietzsche’s Weltanschauung,” 383.Georg Tantzscher, Friedrich Nietzsche und die Neuromantik: Eine Zeitstudie (Jurjew [Dorpat]: J. G. Krueger, 1900), 5.Eisner was referring to such literary Nietzscheans as Ola Hansson, Hermann Conradi, and O. J. Bierbaum; the philosophical excursions of Albert Kniepf; and Julius Langbehn’s völkisch political tract, “Rembrandt als Erzieher,” a title modeled after Nietzsche’s “Schopenhauer as Educator.”For an excellent portrait of Tönnies and his intellectual and political development see Arthur Mitzman, Sociology and Estrangement: Three Sociologists of Imperial Germany (New York: Knopf, 1973).Ferdinand Tönnies, Der Nietzsche-Kultus: Eine Kritik (Leipzig: O. R. Reisland, 1897), 10.Ibid., 109-110.Ferdinand Tönnies, Ethische Kultur und ihr Geleite: [in der “Zukunft” und in der ”Gegenwart”], vol. 1, Nietzsche-Narren, vol. 2, Wölfe in Fuchspelzen (Berlin: F. Dümmler, 1893).See Erich Schlaikjer, “Der Nietzsche-Kultus” and “Zur Psychologie des Nietzsche-Kultus” in Die Hilfe 5, nos. 10, 13 (5 March, 26 March 1899).Becker, Der Nietzschekultus, 99.Ibid., 6-7, 97.On the influence of Nietzsche’s antiscientific bent on the special character of German sociology see Wolf Lepenies, Between Literature and Science: The Rise of Sociology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988). I thank Jerry Muller for the latter reference.See Jürgen Zander, “Ferdinand Tönnies und Friedrich Nietzsche,” in Ankunft bei Toennies: Soziologische Beiträge zum 125. Geburtstag von Ferdinand Toennies, ed. Lars Clausen and Franz Urban Pappi (Kiel: W. Mühlau, 1981), 185—227.Liebersohn, Fate and Utopia, 23—24.Tönnies, Ethische Cultur, 13-24. Quoted in Liebersohn, Fate and Utopia, 37-38.This was apparent already in Simmel’s Über soziale Differenzierung (Amsterdam: Liberae, [1890] 1966). See too K. Peter Etzkorn, ed., Georg Simmel: The Conflict in Modern Culture and Other Essays (New York: Teachers College Press, 1968).Georg Simmel, Schopenhauer und Nietzsche: Ein Vortragszyklus (Leipzig: Duncker and Humblot, 1907). Simmel told Ernst Tröltsch that he considered this his most important book (Tröltsch, Gesammelte Schriften, vol. 3 [Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1922]), 121. Quoted in Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 273, n. 234. On Simmel generally see Liebersohn, Fate and Utopia, chap. 5, and Kurt H.Simmel, Schopenhauer und Nietzsche, 170-192; see too Simmel’s “Zum Verständnis Nietzsches,” Das freie Wort 2 (1902-1903), 9ff.Every enhancement of the type “man” has so far been the work of an aristocratic society—and it will be so again and again—a society that believes in the long ladder of an order of rank and differences in value between man and man, and that needs slavery in some sense or other.Klaus Lichtblau, “Das ‘Pathos der Distanz’: Präliminarien zur Nietzsche-Rezeption bei Georg Simmel,” in Georg Simmel und die Moderne, ed. Heinz-Jürgen Dahme and Otthein Rammstedt (Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 1984), 231-281.Georg Simmel, “Der Nietzsche-Kultus,” Deutsche Literaturzeitung 42 (23 October 1897), 1645-1651.Liebersohn, Fate and Utopia, 142.Paul Ernst, “Friedrich Nietzsche: Seine historische Stellung, seine Philosophie,” Freie Bühne 1, nos. 18, 19 (4 June, 11 June 1890), 489ff, 516-520. With a change in politics came a change in Ernst’s evaluation of Nietzsche as well.Franz Mehring, review of Psychopathia Spiritualis by Kurt Eisner, Die Neue Zeit 10 (1892), 668.Jürgen Habermas, “Zur Nietzsches Erkenntnistheorie,” in Friedrich Nietzsche, Erkenntnistheoretische Schriften (Frankfurt, 1968). Rep. in Kultur und Kritik: Verstreute Aufsätze, Jürgen Habermas (Frankfurt, 1973), 239-263. See too “Conservative Politics, Work, Socialism and Utopia Today,” in Autonomy and Solidarity: Interviews with Jürgen Habermas, ed. Peter Dews, 131—147 (London: Verso, 1986)F. Hermann, “Weltanschauungen und Nietzsche,” Der Türmer 13, no. 2 (November 1910), 228.Richard Öhler, “1st Nietzsche wirklich tot?” Der Türmer 13, no. 4 (January 1911).Franz Serväs, “Kritik und Kunst,” Neue deutsche Rundschau (1895), 165: Nietzsche ist das röteste Blut unserer Zeit, und dieser ist dampfend vergossen werden auf dem Götzenalter der Zeit. Und da soll Nietzsche tot sein, selbst wenn er tausendmal gestorben wäre? Oh, wir werden noch alle trinkem muessen von seinem Blut! Keinem Einzigen von uns wird erspart bleiben.Max Zerbst, Nein und Ja! Antwort auf Dr. Hermann Türck’s Broschüre Friedrich Nietzsche und seine philosophischen Irrwege (Leipzig: C. G. Naumann, 1892). See too Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 1, 110.This included some who also worked at the archives such as Rudolf Steiner and the Horneffer Brothers.Equally distortive would be the total omission of its activities, which R. Hinton Thomas nevertheless manages (Nietzsche in German Politics and Society).Richard Öhler, Die Zukunft der Nietzsche-Bewegung (Leipzig: Armanen, 1938), 12.See, for instance, the varied and often heady contributions in Zur Erinnerung an Friedrich Nietzsche (Leipzig: Druck and C. G. Naumann, 1900). See too Spengler’s speech, “Nietzsche and His Century.”For her sixtieth-birthday celebration see the report in the Berliner Tageblatt (25 July 1906), quoted in Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 252; Alfred Kerr’s “Die Über-menschin” (Tag [27 July 1906]) is a poetic satire on these celebrations. See too the proceedings honoring Forster-Nietzsche on her seventy-fifth birthday, Den Manen Friedrich Nietzsches (Munich: Musarion, 1921).H. F. Peters, Zarathustra’s Sister: The Case of Elisabeth and Friedrich Nietzsche (New York: Markus Wiener, 1985). Kaufmann’s Nietzsche also contains an incisive analysis of her activities and notorious editorial practices.Peters, Zarathustra’s Sister, provides numerous examples of the conflicts, court cases, and scandals in which Forster-Nietzsche became involved. The accounts of her inability to take any criticism, editorial or otherwise—especially to accept even a hint that she was myth-making—as well as her tendency to believe that she was the victim of blaspheming conspiracies are legion.For a useful account of Forster-Nietzsche’s role in the diffusion of the heroic myth of Nietzsche see Phillipi, “Das Nietzsche-Bild,” the section entitled “Elisabeths Nietzsche-Mythos: Nietzsche als Halbgott.”For a full list see Krummel, Nietzsche.Krause, “Märtyrer” und “Prophet,” 155. Ludovici’s Nietzsche and Art (London : Constable, 1911) was a unique attempt to write a Nietzschean history of art in terms of rising aristocratic and decadent-democratic epochs.See the description in Krause, “Märtyrer” und “Prophet,” 199ff.See Hartmut Pogge von Strandmann, ed., Walther Rathenau: Industrialist, Banker, Intellectual, and Politician: Notes and Diaries 1907-1922, trans. Caroline Pinder-Cracraft et al. (Oxford: Clarendon, 1985), 113, n. 107.Harry Kessler to Hugo von Hoffmansthal, 16 April 1911, in Hugo von Hofmannsthal-Harry Graf Kessler Briefwechsel 1898-1929, ed. Hilde Burger (Frankfurt am Main: Insel, 1968), 323ff.Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil, 191.Harry Kessler, Gesichter and Zeiten: Erinnerungen (Frankfurt am Main: Fischer, [1921] 1988), 210.Friedrich Nietzsche, “On Truth and Lie in an Extra-Moral Sense,” in Portable Nietzsche, 46-47; 42-47.Ernst Behler has pointed out that the deconstructionist Nietzsche leaves out the (more difficult) “positive reconstructive” tendencies of his work. “In fact, the deconstructive Nietzsche is a Nietzsche without Zarathustra” (“Nietzsche jenseits der Dekonstruktion,” in Nietzsche und die philosophische Tradition, ed. Josef Simon, 88—107 [Würzburg: Königshausen and Neumann, 1985], 104). This point may, however, need qualification. Recent postmodernist Nietzsche scholarship, as Robert C. Solomon incisively points out, has turned to the problematic fourth book of Zarathustra which, unlike the earlier parts, does not discuss the conditions for the creation of new values but amounts to “an explosion of that very ambition” (“Nietzsche, Postmodernism, and Resentment: A Genealogical Hypothesis” in Nietzsche as Postmodernist: Essays Pro and Contra, ed. Clayton Koelb, 267-293 [Albany: State University of New York Press, 1990], 271; Daniel W. Conway, “Nietzsche contra Nietzsche: The Deconstruction of Zarathustra,” in Nietzsche as Postmodernist; Kathleen Higgins, Nietzsche’s Zarathustra [Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1987] chap. 7).Nietzscheans liked to stress the liberational aspects contained in the will to power rather than the epistemological dangers of perspectivism. Both were present in The Will to Power: That the value of the world lies in our interpretation; ... that previous interpretations have been perspective valuations by virtue of which we can survive in life, i.e., in the will to power, for the growth of power; that every elevation of man brings with it the overcoming of narrower interpretations; that every strengthening and increase of power opens up new perspectives and means believing in new horizons—this idea permeates my writings. The world with which we are concerned is false;... it is ‘in flux,’ as something in a state of becoming, as a falsehood always changing but never getting near the truth: for—there is no ‘truth’ (p. 330).Founded in 1885, Die Gesellschaft's editor, Michael Georg Conrad (1846-1927), was a convinced although discriminating Nietzschean. His journal was often similarly nuanced. Discussions and reviews of Nietzsche—as well as poems and songs dedicated to him—by Leo Berg, G. Ludwigs, A. Sommerfeld, Joseph Steinmayer, Martha Asmus, and Robert Klein were featured. It also originally published Eisner’s “Friedrich Nietzsche und die Apostel der Zukunft: Beiträge zur modernen Psychopathia spiritualis” (vol. 7 [November, December 1891], 1505—1536, 1600—1664).Ernst Blass, “The old Cafe des Westens,” in The Era of German Expressionism, ed. Paul Raabe, trans. J. M. Ritchie (London: Calder & Boyars), 29.Ernest Jones, The Life and Work of Sigmund Freud, vol. 2, Years of Maturity 1901—1919 (New York: Basic, 1955), 343ff. For a detailed examination of Freud’s relationship to Nietzsche see Henri F. Ellenberger, The Discovery of the Unconscious: The History and Evolution of Dynamic Psychiatry (New York: Basic, 1970), 271 ff and the excellent article by Lorin Anderson, “Freud, Nietzsche” in Salmagundi 47-48 (Winter-Spring 1980).C. G. Jung, Nietzsche’s “Zarathustra,” vol. 2, 1354, n. 8. See also “The Contingency of Selfhood,” chapter 3 in Richard Rorty’s Contingency, Irony and Solidarity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989).Phillip Rieff, Freud: The Mind of the Moralist (New York: Harper & Row 1961), 36.Nietzsche was, however, at times accused of being too “materialist,” especially in his belief that humans invented values capable of transcending the instinctual realm. In that sense both Freud and Nietzsche were deemed guilty: It was that old euhemeristic hypothesis that man has invented the gods. So [Nietzsche] followed on in the idea that man has invented morality. That was the materialistic view of his age. And you see, that is Freud’s chief prejudice. He thinks man has invented something which can repress an instinct. Of course nothing can repress an instinct except another instinct; it is a conflict of instincts. Jung, Nietzsche’s “Zarathustra,” vol. 1, 649-650.Ibid., 370-371.R. Hinton Thomas, Nietzsche in German Politics and Society 1890—1918 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1983).Ernst Freud, ed., The Letters of Sigmund Freud and Arnold Zweig (New York: Harcourt Brace, 1970), 23—24.Of these turn-of-the-century circles a dismayed Mann wrote in 1918: “They innocently believed him [Nietzsche] to be the ‘immoralist’ he called himself; they did not see that this descendant of Protestant ministers had been the most sensitive moralist who ever lived, a morally possessed man” (Reflections, 398).Will to Power, 223; see too Friedrich Nietzsche, Daybreak: Thoughts on the Prejudices of Morality, trans. R. J. Hollingdale, intro. Michael Tanner (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982), 18, 100-101, 164.Leo Berg, Der Übermensch in der modernen Literatur (Paris, Leipzig, Munich: Albert Langen, 1897), 269ff. Quoted in Treiber, “Nietzsche’s ‘Kloster,’” 149, n. 39.The catalogue of writers who introduced Nietzschean themes into their work is large. Amongst the better-known ones were Hermann Bahr, Richard Dehmel, Albert Kniepf and Karl Henckell.Der Triumph des Todes appeared in 1899 (Berlin: S. Fischer). His “In Memoriam Friedrich Nietzsche” was also translated (Leipzig: Insel, 1906); it stressed Nietzsche as “a son of the Greeks” and the “barbarian” element. See too Robert E. McGinn, “Verwandlungen von Nietzsches Übermenschen in der Literatur des Mittelmeerraumes: D’Annunzio, Marinetti und Kazantzakis,” Nietzsche-Studien 10/11 (1981/1982), 599See the incisive comments by R. A. Nicholls, “Beginning of the Nietzsche Vogue in Germany,” Modern Philology 56 (1958).See too Grete Meisel-Hess’s 1911 novel, Die Intellektuellen.For a more complete exposition of Gross’s life and thinking see chapter 1 of Martin Green’s fascinating Mountain of Truth: The Counterculture Begins: Ascona, 1900-1920 (Hanover and London: University Press of New England, 1986).For Bachofen’s views on matriarchy, see Uwe Wesel, Der Mythos vom Matriarchat (Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 1980).Otto Gross, “Zur Überwindung der kulturellen Krise,” Die Aktion: Wochenschrift für Politik, Literatur und Kunst 3 (6 December 1913), 384ff.Jung to Freud (25 September 1907), The Freud/Jung Letters (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1974), 90.Wolfgang Schwentker, “Passion as a Mode of Life: Max Weber, the Otto Gross Circle and Eroticism,” in Max Weberand his Contemporaries, ed. Wolfgang J. Mommsen and Jiirgen Osterhammel, 483-498 (London: German Historical Institute, 1989), 484.Otto Gross, “Die Einwirkung der Allgemeinheit auf das Individuum,” in Von geschlectlicher Not zur sozialen Katastrophe, ed. K. Krieler (Frankfurt, 1980), 17. Quoted in Schwentker, “Passion as a Mode of Life,” 485.Eric Hobsbawm, The Age of Empire 1875-1914 (New York; Vintage, 1989), p. 214.While Gross’s Marxist ideas were not as noticeable as his anarchist, Freudian, and Nietzschean impulses, this did not prevent the journal Sowjet (May 1920) from eulogizing Gross as a spiritual proletarian: “Otto Gross had to starve in a bourgeois world, because the logic of his life, which diametrically opposed the logic of that world, would have it so” (quoted in Green, Mountain of Truth, 47-48)Quoted in Schwentker, “Passion as a Mode of Life,” 485.Occult circles in general approved of Nietzsche, citing his deeply religious nature. See the horoscope with detailed illustrations in Friedrich Schwab, “Hinter den Kulissen: Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche,” Zentralblatt für Okkultismus: Monatsschrift zur Erforschung der Gesamten Geheimwissenschaften 1 (1907/1908).Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra, 322.Rudolf Laban, Ein Leben für den Tanz (Leipzig, 1935), 172. Quoted in Green, Mountain of Truth, 102. Ibid., 110-111.Ibid., 110-111.Of these experiments one observer noted disapprovingly the “drumming and dancing to Nietzsche. However, what mattered more to us than the primitive writhing of their beautiful souls was some form of dynamic action against the boring repetitiveness in art and disgust at deep-rooted senile tradition.” Christian Schad, “Zurich/Geneva: Dada,” in The Era of German Expressionism, 163.Rudolf von Delius, Mary Wigman (Dresden, 1925), 32. Quoted in Green, Mountain of Truth, 193.Karl Federn, “Introduction,” in Isadora Duncan, Der Tanz der Zukunft (Leipzig: E. Diederichs, 1903), 7. Not surprisingly it was Eugen Diederichs who published this lecture. He was an ardent supporter of the dance movement which he regarded as part of the overall regenerative thrust away from the overurbanized, alienating elements of imperial Germany (Green, Mountain of Truth, 171—172)Isadora Duncan, My Life (New York: Liveright, 1942), 141.Ibid., 341.Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra, 6.Duncan was combining Nietzsche with Wagner and his “music of the future.” Quoted in Green, Mountain of Truth, 169.Valentine de Saint Point, “Futurist Manifesto of Lust 1913,” in Futurist Manifestos, ed. Umbro Apollonio (London: Thames and Hudson, 1973), 70-74.Ibid., 71.This manifesto is reprinted in Futurism and Futurisms (New York: Abbeville 1986), 602-603.Ibid., 562.For an encyclopaedic overview of futurism and its Nietzschean connections, see ibid.Jeffrey Herf, Reactionary Modernism: Technology, Culture, and Politics in Weimar and the Third Reich (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984).The work by Walter H. Sokel, The Writer in Extremis: Expressionism in Twentieth-Century German Literature (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1959) remains definitive.For the movement’s effect on architecture see Wolfgang Pehnt, Expressionist Architecture, 41-43, 80, 82. Expressionist artists often portrayed Nietzsche himself. Eduard Munch painted him and Otto Dix sculpted him (Krause, “Märtyrer” und “Prophet,” illus. 23, 31). For a discussion of some Nietzschean—expressionist links see Stephen Eric Bronner and Douglas Kellner, eds., Passion and Rebellion: The Expressionist Heritage (New York: J. F. Bergin, 1983). Nietzsche appears throughout but see especially chaps. 1, 8. Nietzsche’s osmotic influence has been argued in Wolfgang Paulsen, Georg Kaiser: Die Perspektiven seines Werkes (Tübingen: M. Niemeyer, 1960), 104. Various monographs have been written on the relationship between individual expressionists and Nietzsche (G. C. Tunstall, “The Turning Point in Georg Kaiser’s Attitude toward Friedrich Nietzsche,” Nietzsche-Studien 14 [1985]; H. W. Reichert, “Nietzsche und Carl Sternheim,” Nietzsche-Studien 1 [1972]). Surprisingly, Hinton Thomas includes virtually nothing of the expressionists even though he had written a book himself on the subject in which Nietzsche was a prominent feature (Richard Samuel and R. Hinton Thomas, Expressionism in German Life, Literature and the Theatre (1910—1924) [Cambridge: W. Heffer and Sons, 1939]).Gottfried Benn, “Nietzsche: Nach fünfzig Jahren,” in Gesammelte Werke, vol. 1, ed. Dieter Wellershoff (Stuttgart: Klett-Cotta, 1962), 482. Translated in Roy F. Allen, Literary Life in German Expressionism and the Berlin Circles (Ann Arbor, Mich.: University of Michigan Research Press, 1983), 26.Kurt Pinthus, “Rede für die Zukunft,” Die Erhebung 1 (1919), 410-412. Quoted in Tibor Kneif, “Ernst Bloch and Musical Expressionism,” in Bronner and Kellner, Passion and Rebellion, 343.“Nietzsche: Nach Fünfzig Jahren,” 488—493.Sokel, Writer in Extremis, 66.Wieland Herzfelde, “Die Ethik der Geisteskranken,” Die Aktion 4 (1914). See also chapter 5 of Augustinius P. Dierick, German Expressionist Prose: Theory and Practice (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1987).“O dass es mir gelingen möchte, mein Leben nun umzugestalten, um ein Pfeil zum Übermenschen zu werden“ (Georg Heym, Dichtungen und Schriften, vol. 3, ed. K. L. Schneider [Hamburg: Ellermann, 1960], 44ff.). See Krummel, Nietzsche und der deutsche Geist, vol. 2, 232.“Der Irre,” in Der Dieb: Ein Novellenbuch (Leipzig: E. Rowohlt, 1913). See the perceptive analysis in Dierick, German Expressionist Prose, 204—208.Die Erhebung 1 (1919), 415ff. Quoted in Samuel and Hinton Thomas, Expressionism, 70.Friedrich Nietzsche, “On the uses and disadvantages of history for life,” in Untimely Meditations, trans. R. J. Hollingdale (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983), 121.See Sokel, Writer in Extremis, 87ff.Quoted in ibid., 94.Peter Jelavich, “Wedekind’s Spring Awakening: The Path to Expressionist Drama,” in Bronner and Kellner, Passion and Rebellion.George L. Mosse, “Literature and Society in Germany,” in Masses and Man: Nationalist and Fascist Perceptions of Reality, 21-51 (New York: Howard Fertig, 1980), 46-47.Hans Johst was aware of this tendency and tried to neutralize it within his works. Upon listening to the hero of The Young Man (1916) proclaim his creed, his adversary Professor Moralclean responds: “You’d do better to study your grammar than declaim a misunderstood Nietzsche!” (in Der junge Mensch: Ein ekstatisches Szenarium, quoted in Sokel, Writer in Extremis, 94).Ibid., 100.Michael Hamburger, “Gottfried Benn,” in A Proliferation of Prophets, 206-243 (Manchester: Carcanet, 1983), 207.George L. Mosse, “Fascism and the Intellectuals,” in Germans and Jews, 144170 (London: Orbach and Chambers, 1971), 154—155.Dierick, German Expressionist Prose, 189.Gottfried Benn, “Akademie-Rede,” in Gesammelte Werke vol. 1, ed. Dieter Wellershoff, 431-439 (Stuttgart: Klett-Cotta, 1977), 436.See Gottfried Benn’s 1933 speech “Der neue Staat und die Intellektuellen,” rep. in Benn’s Gesammelte Werke vol. 1, 440-449. See also Mosse, “Fascism and the Intellectuals,” 155.Kathe Brodnitz, “Die futuristische Geistesrichtung in Deutschland, 1914,” in Expressionismus: Der Kampf um eine literarische Bewegung, ed. Paul Raabe (Zurich: Arche, 1987), 46, 50.This account is heavily drawn from Roy Allen, “Der Neue Club,” chap. 4 in Literary Life.On universal merriment see Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 395.Ibid., 82-83. Hiller’s entire talk, “Das Cabaret and die Gehirne,” appears in his Die Weisheit der Langeweile! Eine Zeit und Streitschrift, 2 vols. (Leipzig: K. Wolff, 1913), 236-239.Nietzsche, Ecce Homo, 245.Ibid., 391.The depth of Nietzsche’s impact on Hiller can be seen in his Leben gegen die Zeit (Hamburg: E. Rowohlt, 1969). See Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 102.For more on this aspect of the new pathos see the remarks by Erwin Löwenson, another member of the club, in his Georg Heym oder vom Geist des Schicksals (Hamburg and Munich: H. Ellermann, 1962), 61, 57ff.Sokel, Writer in Extremis, 173.Heinrich Mann, “Zum Verständnis Nietzsches,” Das Zwanzigste Jahrhundert 6 (1896), 246, 245-251.Heinrich Mann, “Geist und Tat,” in Macht und Mensch (Munich: Kurt Wolff, 1919).On Sorge’s early positive attitude and the division of his work into Nietzschean and post-Nietzschean phases, see Samuel and Hinton Thomas, Expressionism, 20,23. On Odysseus and Prometheus see ibid., 75.Quoted in Sokel, Writer in Extremis, 156. The George Kreis was an initiate community of disciples, a sect with no formal or binding statutes yet utterly under the thrall of its master. The fluid inner circle, this “secret Germany,” probably never exceeded more than forty members.Georg Peter Landmann, ed., Stefan Georg und sein Kreis: Eine Bibliographie (Hamburg: E. Hauswedell, 1976); Landmann, ed., Der George-Kreis: Eine Auswahl aus seinen Schriften (Stuttgart: Klett-Cotta, 1980).Walter Kaufmann has argued that George lacked “sympathetic understanding of what mattered most to Nietzsche” and that “his picture of Nietzsche was highly personal and clearly determined by his own aspirations” (Nietzsche, 9-11). Again, the accuracy of George’s perceptions is not as relevant here as the fact that his portrait of Nietzsche reveals much about himself.Nietzsche, Birth of Tragedy, 20.Blätter für die Kunst (May 1901), 5.Karl Wolfskehl, “Die Blätter für die Kunst und die Neue Literatur,” Jahrbuch für die geistige Bewegung 1 (1910), 1.George L. Mosse, “Caesarism, Circuses and Monuments” in Masses and Man, 104-118. See p. 116 on the politics of George’s aestheticism.Wolfskehl, “Die Blatter,” 4-5.Lepenies, Between Literature and Science, part 3. I follow Lepenies’s account of George here.Nietzsche, Birth of Tragedy, 18.Stefan George, Der Stern des Bundes, vol. 2 of Werke (Munich: Deutscher Taschenbuch, 1983), 167.In Birth of Tragedy Nietzsche wrote: “And science itself, our science—yes, what, regarded as a symptom of life, is the meaning of life at all? To what end, worse from what cause—all science?” Translated in Lepenies, Between Literature and Science, 206.Nietzsche, Human, All Too Human, trans. R. J. Hollingdale (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986), 235—236.Wolfskehl, “Die Blätter,” 5.Friedrich Gundolf, “Wesen und Beziehung,” in Beiträge zur Literatur und Geistesgeschichte (1911), 173. Quoted in Lepenies, Between Literature and Science, 264.Translated in Kaufman, Nietzsche, 10.Heinz Raschel accuses George of distorting Nietzsche and argues that George’s aestheticism was quite different from that of the late Nietzsche; if anything, Nietzsche interpreted the poet ironically in _Zarathustra.Hildebrandt, “Nietzsche als Richter,” 100. His works include Nietzsches Wettkampf mit Sokrates und Plato (Dresden: Sybillen, 1922); Wagner und Nietzsche: Ihr Kampf gegen das Neunzehnte Jahrhundert (Breslau: Ferdinand Hirt, 1924); Gesundheit und Krankheit in Nietzsches Leben und Werk (Berlin: Karger, 1926).George to Gundolf, 11 June 1910, in Stefan George-Friedrich Gundolf Briefwechsel, ed. R. Böhringer and George Peter Landmann (Munich, Düsseldorf: Küpper,Pannwitz, Einführung in Nietzsche, 4; Pannwitz, “Was ich Nietzsche und George Danke,” Castrum Peregrini 38, nos. 189/190 (1989).Lepenies, Between Science and Literature, 268.George’s circle with all its antiacademic bias nevertheless deeply influenced academic trends, especially in the fields of criticism and historiography via two of its most distinguished academic members, Friedrich Gundolf and Ernst Kantorowicz.Friedrich Gundolf, Dichter und Helden (Heidelberg: Weisssche Universitätsbuchhandlung, 1921), 49.Ernst Bertram, Nietzsche: Versuch einer Mythologie (Berlin: Bondi, 1918).Raschel, Nietzsche-Bild, 134. Bertram’s relationship and disillusion with George appears in the published correspondence between Bertram and Ernst Glöckner.Pannwitz, Einführung in Nietzsche, 5—8. Pannwitz created a number of Mythen. Five of his plays, written between 1904—1910, were published in 1913 under the title Dionysische Tragödien, and dedicated to “Nietzsche, the creator of our new life.” As Samuel and Hinton Thomas note, unlike Hugo von Hofmannsthal, Pannwitz did not give his versions of classical themes a modern character. Rather they were Nietzschean reconstructions of Greek plays (Expressionism, 63, n. 3, 73). For his religious interpretations, see Pannwitz, Aufruf zum Heiligen Kriege der Lebendigen (Munich-Feldafing: H. Carl, 1920).For a good treatment of this outlook see J. H. W. Rosteutscher, Die Wiederkunft des Dionysos: Der naturmystische Irrationalismus in Deutschland (Bern: A. Francke, 1947), 223ff.George L. Mosse, “The Mystical Origins of National Socialism,” in Masses and Man, 197-213.The link between the two was also explored in 1929 by the leading Nazi Nietzschean, Alfred Bäumler (“Bachofen und Nietzsche,” in Studien zur deutschen Geistesgeschichte [Berlin: Junker and Dünnhaupt, 1937]).Roderich Huch, Alfred Schuler, Ludwig Klages, Stefan George: Erinnerungen an Kreise und Krisen der Jahrhundertwende in München-Schwabing (Amsterdam: Castrum Peregrini, 1973). See too the autobiographical novel by Franziska Gräfin zu Reventlow, Herrn Dames Aufzeichnungen (Munich: Biederstein, 1958).On Schuler see Mosse, The Crisis of German Ideology, 75—77,211—212; Gerald Plumpe, Alfred Schuler: Chaos und Neubeginn, zur Funktion des Mythos in der Moderne (Berlin: Agora, 1978). For Nietzsche’s influence on Schuler see Schuler, Fragmente und Vorträge aus dem Nachlass, intro. Ludwig Klages (Leipzig: J. A. Barth, 1940), 27f, 33, 34.For a comparative textual analysis see Plumpe, Alfred Schuler, 126—127. But Judea immediately triumphed again, thanks to that thoroughly plebian (German and English) ressentiment movement called the Reformation...Schuler, Fragmente, 170, 244, 275.Ibid., 60ff. Julius Langbehn was another völkisch thinker to try to cure Nietzsche. After winning the confidence of Nietzsche’s mother and his psychiatrist, Otto Binswanger, Langbehn started taking Nietzsche out for long walks. He hoped to obtain funds to set Nietzsche up as a royal child in a household run by Langbehn.Huch, Alfred Schuler, 29-30. For the relationship of this plan to Schuler’s cosmology see Plumpe, Alfred Schuler, chap. 5, especially p. 124.As Karl Lôwith wrote in 1927, there was a veritable Klages cult during this period consisting of Weltanschauungsdilettanten who regarded him as a man of unsurpassed metaphysical depth (“Nietzsche im Lichte der Philosophie von Ludwig Klages,” Reichls philosophischer Almanach 4 [1927], 285).Knowledge of the extent of Nietzsche’s influence on Klages is commonplace as Lôwith attests (“Nietzsche im Lichte”). The usually highly critical Kaufmann gives Klages’s work on Nietzsche particularly respectful—if not concurring—treatment (Nietzsche, 187).Ludwig Klages, Vom Kosmogonischen Eros, 6th ed. (Bonn: H. Bouvier, 1963), 82, 79. The above quotes also appear on pp. 55-58. See also the remarks on The Birth of Tragedy, 224.Lôwith, “Nietzsche im Lichte,” 286.Klages, Geist als Widersacher, xxii.Klages and Jung inhabited a similar universe of discourse. Jung’s comments on Klages in his seminar on Zarathustra are instructive. What Klages understood by Geist is the idea which developed toward the end of the 19th century; namely, intellect in the form of books, science, philosophy, and so on. But never before had Geist meant that; it was merely a degeneration of the original meaning of the word. To Nietzsche, spirit meant the original thing, an intensity, a volcanic outburst, while to the scientific or rationalistic spirit of the second half of the 19th century, it was an ice-cold space in which there were things, but it was no longer life. Naturally if you understand Geist in this way, it is the deadliest enemy of the soul you could think of. “Nietzsche’s Zarathustra,” 1128.Ludwig Klages, Handschrift und Charakter (Leipzig: J. A. Barth, 1921). By 1929 this had already been through thirteen editions. See too the collection that Klages edited, Graphologisches Lesebuch, 5th ed. (Munich: J. A. Barth, [1930] 1954); Ludwig Klages, Die psychologischen Errungenschaften Nietzsches (Leipzig: J. A. Barth, 1926), 9-16, 210. It may be that Klages’s Nietzschean psychology was designed as an Aryan, irrationalist alternative to rationalist Jewish Freudianism.Ludwig Klages, Rhythmen und Runen (Leipzig: J. A. Barth, 1944), 332.Quoted in R. Hinton Thomas, “Nietzsche in Weimar Germany and the Case of Ludwig Klages,” in The Weimar Dilemma: Intellectuals in the Weimar Republic, ed. Anthony Phelan, 71—91 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1985), 82.Klages, Rhythmen, 522.Klages, Psychologische Errungenschaften, 179—207.In another context Gerd Klaus Kaltenbrunner has noted the peculiar mix of progressive and regressive elements in such radicalisms (“Zwischen Rilke und Hitler— Alfred Schuler,” Zeitschrift für Religion und Geistesgeschichte 19, no. 4 [1967], 342).Klages was “the first thinker since Nietzsche in whose works vitalism was overtly creating concrete myths” (Lukacs, Destruction of Reason, 526, 522ff). He was a direct forerunner of national socialism, Lukacs believed, but, given his reservations, destined more for the coffeehouses than the streets.Ernst Bloch, “Romantik des Diluvium,” in Erbschaft dieser Zeit (Zürich: Oprecht and Helbling, 1935), 246, 250-251. See too the new English version, Heritage of Our Times, translated by Neville Plaice and Stephen Plaice (Berkeley, Los Angeles, and Oxford: University of California Press, 1991), 306, 309—310.Hinton Thomas, “Nietzsche in Weimar Germany,” 84-87.“Ludwig Klages can represent for us the Schwabingites who did not come to Ascona (those who might, who should, have been there, because of their ideas)” (Green, Mountain of Truth, 162). The relationship to Ascona may not only have been spiritual; rumors abounded that Klages was the lover of Ascona’s highly influential, emancipating eroticist, Reventlow.Fascism in many ways regarded itself as an avant-garde phenomenon. Certainly many of the intellectuals attracted to it did (George L. Mosse, “Fascism and the Avant Garde” in Masses and Man, 229—245).Nietzsche, Ecce Homo, 266.Emancipation of women—that is the instinctive hatred of the abortive woman, who is incapable of giving birth, against the woman who is turned out well— the fight against the “man” is always a mere means, pretext, tactic.Nietzsche, Zarathustra, 179.Oskar Ewald, “Nietzsche und die Frauen (Die Peitsche Zarathustras),” Wage 6, no. 50 (1903), 1324—1328. See Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 138.Hedwig Dohm, “Nietzsche und die Frauen,” Die Zukunft 25 (24 December 1898), 534-543.Eva, “Nietzsche und die Frauen,” Wiener Sonn- und Montags-Zeitung 40, no. 37 (15 September 1902), 2ff. Quoted in Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 90. Nietzsche did indeed present himself as a thinker who understood women, although the level at which he championed their self-realization was clearly a matter of interpretation:Hedwig Dohm, Wie Frauen Werden—Werde, die du bist (Breslau: Schles, Buch dr., Kunst-v. Verl. Aust., 1894). Quoted in Hinton Thomas, Nietzsche in Gemtan Politics and Society, 89-90. Hinton Thomas’s chapter on the feminist movement is perhaps the best in the whole book.Ibid., 89. Hinton Thomas also discusses the Nietzschean feminism of the very popular writer Gabriele Reuter (ibid., 90—91).Quoted in Alfred G. Meyer, The Feminism and Socialism of Lily Braun (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1985), 31—32; see too 197, nn. 8, 9.For a systematic history and outline of the German feminist problematic see Richard J. Evans, The Feminist Movement in Germany 1894-1933 (London and Beverly Hills: Sage, 1976).Lily Braun, Memoiren einer Sozialistin, vol. 2, Kampfjahre (Munich: Albert Langen, 1911), 585; translation from Meyer, Lily Braun, 103.Meyer, Lily Braun, 141ff.Helene Stöcker, “Frauengedanken,” in her Die Liebe und die Frauen (Berlin, 1908), 24—29; Stöcker, “Friedrich Nietzsche und die Frauen,” Das Magazin für Litte-ratur 67 (1898), 128-132, 153-158.Helene Stöcker, “Nietzsches Frauenfeindschaft,” Die Zukunft 34 (1901), 432.Evans has suggested a relevant biographical reason for this turn. “Stöcker’s views began to change because of an unhappy love affair with a married man” (Feminist Movement, 118). Whereas before she had not disapproved of marriage she now came to regard it as a serious constriction, a matter of property, and even of prostitution rather than the relationship of love that Nietzsche had advocatedMutterschutz: Zeitschrift zur Reform der sexuellen Ethik. See the intensely Nietzschean opening statement by Stöcker, “Zur Reform der sexuellen Ethik” 1, no. 1 (1905).Stöcker, “Frauenfeindschaft,” 432.Nietzsche was again at the center of this antiascetic moment (Helene Stöcker, “Von neuer Ethik,” Mutterschutz 2, no. 1 [1906], 3—4).Helene Stöcker, “Nietzsches Frauenfeindschaft,” in Die Liebe und die Frauen (Munich, 1905), 65ff, vii; translation from Schwentker, “Passion as a Mode of Life,” 495-496, n. 16.Meyer, Lily Braun, 118.For a more comprehensive list see Evans, Feminist Movement, 121-122Ibid., 128.On Lange and the many other critics of the New Morality see Hinton Thomas, Nietzsche, 80—86.Eva, “Nietzsche und die Frauen,” 2ff.Friedrich Nietzsche, The Will to Power, trans. Walter Kaufmann and R. J. Hollingdale, ed. Walter Kaufmann (New York: Vintage, 1968), 3.For more on this völkisch social Darwinian feminist who sought the end of the “capitalist rule of man” and the restoration of matriarchy see Evans, Feminist Movement, 120-122, 159-160.For some reflections on Nietzsche and modern political and social life see Arthur Ruppin, “Moderne Weltanschauung und Nietzsche’sche Philosophie,” Die Gegenwart 10 (1903), 147ff.Marie Hecht, “Friedrich Nietzsches Einfluss auf die Frauen,” Die Frau 6, no. 8 (1898/1899), 486-491; rep. in Literarische Manifeste der Jahrhundertwende 18901910, ed. Erich Rupert and Dieter Bänsch, 543-549 (Stuttgart: J. B. Metzlersche, 1970), 549, n. 16; 545.Holding such Nietzschean views did not entail any inherently political position. Stöcker never joined the Socialist party, although she remained a left-wing intellectual, social reformer, and pacifist. Braun, like Stöcker, could never be dubbed orthodox; she maintained her feminism within an increasingly belligerent, war-affirming, and nationalistic frame.Meyer, Lily Braun, 117.Eugenically oriented social reform was often the work of “enlightened” people, including “Francis Galton (Darwin’s cousin), Herbert Spencer, Cesare Lombroso, Ernst Häckel and Emma Goldmann” (Allan Janik, “The Jewish Self-hatred Hypothesis,” in Jews, Antisemitism and Culture in Vienna, ed. I. Oxaal et al., 75-88 [London and New York: Routledge and Kegan Paul], 84).Hackett, “Helene Stöcker,” 115.“Friedrich Nietzsche und die Frauen,” Bühne und Welt 6, no. 20 (1904), 857-860. Of Nietzsche she concluded: “Vielleicht auf keinem anderen Gebiet, wie auf dem einer höheren und ernsteren Auffassung von Liebe und Ehe, ihrer Bedeutsamkeit fuer die Zukunft der Rasse, für die Erhöhung des Typus Mensch lassen sich sein Wirkungen so sicher und segensreich spüren.”Helene Stöcker, “Zur Reform,” 9. See too Hackett, “Helene Stöcker,” 119, for more on the Nietzschean influence on Stocker’s eugenic thought.Evans, Feminist Movement, 158ff.Simmel was not strictly speaking a Jew. His Jewish father converted to Catholicism and his mother came from a Jewish family who baptized her as a Lutheran. Simmel himself was baptized and married a non-Jewish wife. The perception that Simmel was Jewish nevertheless persisted (Peter Gay, “Encounter with Modernism,” in Freud, Jews and Other Germans [New York: Oxford University Press, 1978], 98)For an Austrian example see “Friedrich Nietzsche und die Modernen,” Deutsche Zeitung, no. 10294 (28 August 1900).See for instance Leo Hirsch on Siegfried Lipiner, “‘Beinahe Echt?’: Nietzsche und der jüdische Prometheus,” Central Verein Zeitung 14, no. 25 (20 June 1935).Jacob Golomb, “Nietzsche and the Marginal Jews” (in Hebrew), Jerusalem Studies in Jewish Thought 4 (1985), 97-143. Since the present work examines the enormous range and intensity of Nietzsche’s appeal to the general literate public, such claims to Jewish exceptionality are problematic.For three recent attempts to examine Nietzsche’s views on Jews and Judaism in relation to his whole philosophy, see Arnold M. Eisen, “Nietzsche and the Jews Reconsidered,” Jewish Social Studies 48, no. 1 (Winter 1986); Willard Mittelman, “Nietzsche’s Attitude toward the Jews,” Journal of the History of Ideas 49, no.Perhaps foreseeing what his Jewish commentators constantly referred to as a European “Jewish Renaissance” this passage is couched in extremely double-edged language (Nietzsche, Daybreak, 124—125).Nietzsche, On the Genealogy of Morals, 33-34; “The Antichrist,” in The Portable Nietzsche, 592. Nietzsche’s pro-Jewish remarks are legion. A little-known, extreme version of this is to be found in a discarded draft for a passage from Ecce Homo:Nietzsche, Genealogy of Morals, 144.For such a diagnosis, see Theodor Lessing, Deutschland und seine Juden (Prague: Neumann, 1933). See too “Nietzsche, ein Opfer des Antisemitismus,” Mitteilungen des Vereins zur Abwehr des Antisemitismus, no. 15 (1901); “Nietzsche und der Antisemitismus,” Mitteilungen des Vereins zur Abwehr des Antisemitismus, no. 14 (1904).Leo Hirsch, “Friedrich Nietzsche und der jüdische Geist,” Der Morgen 10 (1934), 187.On the general history and dynamics of this question see Steven E. Aschheim, Brothers and Strangers: The East European Jew in German and German-Jewish Consciousness, 1800—1923 (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1982).Auguste Steinberg’s “Nietzsche und das Judentum” (Ost und West 3, no. 8 [1903], 547-556) was one of the better-known sources. modern Jewish national self-consciousness. For an example of the more obscure, see the anonymous “Nitzsche und das Judenthum” (Dr. Adolf Bruell’s Populär-wissenschaflichte Monatsblatter 21, no. 3 [1 March 1901], 49—52). (The incorrect spelling remained throughout.) Fabius Schach, “Ost und West,” Ost und West 3, no. 8 (1903), 547—555. See too Gert Mattenklott, “Nietzscheanismus und Judentum,” in Jahrbuch, vol. 1, Probleme deutsch-jüdischer Identität, ed. Norbert Altenhofer and Renate Heuer, 57-71. (Frankfurt am Main: Archiv Bibliographia Judaica, 1985), 60-61. 1 thank Itta Shidletzky for this reference.Quoted in Jacob Boas, “Countering Nazi Defamation: German Jews and the Jewish Tradition, 1933-1938,” Leo Baeck Institute Yearbook 34 (1989), 219.Friedrich Blach, Die Juden in Deutschland (Berlin: K. Curtius, 1911), 42.On that phrase and Seligmann, see George L. Mosse, “The Secularization of Jewish Theology,” in Masses and Man, 257—259 and German Jews Beyond Judaism (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1985), 74—75.Cesar Seligmann, “Nietzsche und das Judentum,” in his Judentum und moderne Weltanschauung (Frankfurt am Main: J. Kaufmann, 1905), 69-70, 76-79. He especially emphasized Nietzsche’s love for the Hebrew Bible and his preference for it over the New Testament.Ibid., 86-89.N. A. Nobel, “Friedrich Nietzsche’s Stellung zum Judenthum,” Die Jüdische Presse 31, nos. 36, 37, 39 (7 September, 14 September, and 28 September 1900), 414,Ibid., 374.Ibid., 413-414.D. Neumark, “Die jüdische Moderne,” Allgemeine Zeitung des Judentums 64, no. 45 (9 November 1900), 536.We should note parenthetically that this equation of Nietzsche as ultimate Judaic prophet persists in the most unlikely incarnation in present-day Israel. Rebbe Arye Weissfisch, a pious hared from the highly orthodox Mea Shearim quarter in Jerusalem has made his life into an obsessive mission to spread the word. According to Weissfisch, Nietzsche’s crowning love was Judaism and the Jews. Post (26 April 1986). In a letter to Weissfisch (10 July 1980), Walter Kaufmann remarked that this position “strikes me as quite odd.” I thank Rabbi Weissfisch for kindly providing me with a copy of this letter.Isaac Heinemann, “Der Begriff des Übermenschen in der modernen Religionsphilosophie,” Der Morgen 1 (1925).Heinrich Berl, “Nietzsche und das Judentum,” Menorah (1932), 59-61, 67-68.Recently Robert A. Cohen has suggested that as much as Rosenzweig praised Nietzsche he also sought to bury him. Whereas he admired Nietzsche’s post-Hegelian and personal approach, there were basic points of disagreement. Rosenzweig, Cohen argues, regarded Nietzsche’s individualism as inferior to Goethe’s. Moreover, both Goethe’s and Nietzsche’s neopagan religious alternatives were inferior to Judeo-Christian options. Rosenzweig’s post-Hegelian sense of subjectivity made him equate revelation with love since both implied the paradoxical meeting of heteronomy and autonomy. Nietzsche’s radical subjectivity had missed this genuine meaning of subjectivity and divorced it entirely from truth. Of course, Rosenzweig’s neo-Orthodoxy rejected key ingredients of Nietzsche. Nevertheless, Cohen’s comments obscure the fact that, as Rosenzweig himself insisted, the influence was seminal (“Rosenzweig vs. Nietzsche,” Nietzsche-Studien 19 (1990), 346-366).Gershom Scholem, “On the 1930 Edition of Rosenzweig’s Star of Redemption,” in The Messianic Idea in Judaism (New York: Schocken, 1972), 320. See too his comments on The Star of Redemption's profoundly revolutionary nature and impact.Nahum N. Glatzer, ed., Franz Rosenzweig: His Life and Thought (New York: Schocken, 1976), 81.N. Glatzer, foreword to The Star of Redemption, by Franz Rosenzweig, trans. William W. Hallo (Boston: Beacon, 1971); Glatzer, Franz Rosenzweig, ix—xxxviiiIbid., 81.Paul Mendes-Flohr, “Franz Rosenzweig’s Concept of Philosophical Faith,” Leo Baeck Institute Yearbook 34 (1989), 368. Mendes-Flohr gives an instructive analysis of Rosenzweig’s conception of the relation between philosophy and theology.Rosenzweig, Star of Redemption, 9.For a superb analysis of this tension see Gershom Scholem, “Zionism: Dialectic of Continuity and Rebellion,” in Unease in Zion, ed. Ehud Ben Ezer (Jerusalem: Academic Press, 1974).Leonard Stein, ed., The Letters and Papers of Chaim Weizmann, collab. Gedalia Yogev, vol. 1 (London: Oxford University Press, 1968), 340—341.Ibid., vol. 1, 95. “When you can read German,” Weizmann promised Vera in a letter of 28 July 1902, “I’ll get a wonderful edition of Nietzsche’s ‘Zarathustra’ for you, but a really wonderful one. So go on, my sweet, and we shall read it regularly and without fail” (ibid., vol. 1, 326). Clearly this was the younger Weizmann; in later years he hardly mentioned Nietzsche.The transvaluative task was admittedly vast and could only be gradual. As Weizmann wrote in his diagnosis of the Jewish problem: The stench of decay hits one at every step. And years will pass, and many will still fall victims to these terrible conditions before creative, constructive work starts. Are we going to see all that? No, I doubt it.Mattenklott, “Nietzscheanismus und Judentum,” 57.The only relevant article to appear was Ernst Müller’s noncommittal “Gedanken über Nietzsche und sein Verhältnis zu den Juden,” Die Welt, no. 40 (5 October 1900).In a conversation with Leo Franckel, Herzl explained that he was “against the democracies”: “‘So you are a disciple of Nietzsche,’ he [Franckel] said. I: ‘Not at all. Nietzsche is a madman. But one can only govern aristocratically’” (Raphael Patai, ed., The Complete Diaries of Theodor Herzl, trans. Harry Zohn, vol. 1 [London: Herzl Press and Thomas Yoseloff], 191).For a treatment of these generational differences see Aschheim, Brothers and Strangers, chaps. 4, 5.See the collection by German and Czech Zionists, Vom Judentum: Ein Sammelbuch (Leipzig: Kurt Nolff, 1913), especially the articles by Moses Calvary and Moritz Goldstein. Even where Nietzsche was not specifically mentioned, the categories were his and the influence palpable.Cited in George L. Mosse, “The Influence of the Völkisch Idea on German Jewry,” Germans and Jews, 96.Hans Kohn, “Nationalism,” in The Jew: Essays from Martin Journal Der Jude, 1916-1928, ed. Arthur A. Cohen, trans. Joachim Neugroschel (Montgomery: University of Alabama Press, 1980), 28. The essay appeared originally in Der Jude 6 (1921-1922), 674-686.For a useful overview see Jehuda Reinharz, “Hashomer Hazair in Germany (I), 1928-1933,” Leo Baeck Institute Yearbook 31 (1986), 173-174.For a history of the group and its activities see Muki Tzur, ed., K’hilateinu (in Hebrew) (Jerusalem: Yad Ben Tsvi, 1988). The flavor of its thinking is most vividly expressed in the article by the remarkable spiritual leader of the group, Meir Ya’ari, “M’toch Hatsisa,” 266-269. 1 thank Rina Peled and David Biale for this reference.For a superb extended analysis of Nietzsche’s influence on Buber, see Paul Mendes-Flohr, From Mysticism to Dialogue: Martin Buber’s Transformation of German Social Thought (Detroit, Mich.: Wayne State University Press, 1989).When he was seventeen, Buber later recalled, Zarathustra took possession of him “not in the manner of a gift but in the manner of an invasion which deprived me of my freedom, and it was a long time until I could liberate myself from it” (“Autobiographical Fragments,” in The Philosophy of Martin Buber, ed. Paul Arthur Schilpp and Maurice Friedman, 3-39 [La Salle, Ill.: Open Court, 1967], p. 12)Martin Buber, “Ein Wort über Nietzsche und die Lebensworte,” Die Kunst im Leben (December 1900), 13.Martin Buber, “Jüdische Renaissance,” in Die Jüdische Bewegung: Gesammelte Aufsätze und Ansprachen, 1900-1914 (Berlin: Jüdischer Verlag, 1920), 10-11.Ibid., 13.Ibid., 14ff.Martin Buber, “Die Schaffenden, das Volk und die Bewegung,” in ibid., 71ff.Theodor Lessing’s general works include Schopenhauer—Wagner—Nietzsche: Einführung in moderne Philosophie (Munich: C. H. Beck, 1906) and Nietzsche (Berlin: Ullstein, 1925). For a general critique see his Geschichte als Sinngebung des Sinnlosen. Oder die Geburt der Geschichte aus dem Mythos, 4th ed. (Leipzig, 1927).Theodor Lessing, Der jüdische Selbsthass (Berlin: Jüdischer Verlag, 1930).Theodor Lessing, “Jüdisches Schicksal,” Der Jude 9 (1928), 17. Machtwille appears in his Deutschland und seine Juden, 14. See too Golomb, “Nietzsche and the Marginal Jews,” 125-126.Menachem Brinker, “Nietzsche’s Impact on Hebrew Writers of the Russian Empire,” in Nietzsche in Russia, ed. B. Glatzer-Rosenthal (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, in press). I am indebted to Prof. Brinker for providing me with a copy of this paper from which I freely draw for the following section.Jehuda Reinharz, Fatherland or Promised Land: The Dilemma of the German Jew, 1893-1914 (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1975); Stephen Μ. Poppel, Zionism in Germany, 1897-1933: The Shaping of a Jewish Identity (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1977).On the differences between the East and West European modes of Zionism see the introduction by Arthur Hertzberg in The Zionist Idea (New York: Atheneum, 1975) and Walter Laqueur, A History of Zionism (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1972).See Brinker, “Nietzsche’s Impact,” for a list of such relevant luminaries as Shaul Tschernikovsky, David Frischman, and Hillel Zeitlin. Perhaps the most sophisticated and critical was Y. H. Brenner who was acutely sensitive to the Nietzschean themes of perspectivism and the fictionality of interpretations.Needless to say, other Zionist writers opposed Berdichevsky’s brand of Nietzscheanism. Yet in refuting him many critics themselves incorporated Nietzschean assumptions, themes, and categories into their own counterarguments. This was certainly true for Berdichevsky’s most prominent critic, Ahad Ha-am (Asher Ginzburg).These are not, alas, available in English (Micha Josef Berdichevsky, Collected Essays [in Hebrew; Tel Aviv: Dvir, I960]).Bin Gorion was reasonably well known in Germany. Many of his works were translated into German.Brinker (“Nietzsche’s Impact”) develops this point well and gives relevant sources.Micha Josef Berdichevsky, “In Two Directions,” translated in Hertzberg, The Zionist Idea, 295.David Biale, Gershom Scholem: Kabbalah and Counter-History (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1979), 37—43.Quoted in ibid., 40.Micha Josef Berdichevsky, “The Question of Our Past,” translated in Hertzberg, The Zionist Idea, 301.Brinker, “Nietzsche’s Impact,” 23. Nevertheless, Berdichevsky insisted that being a holy people entailed a normal national livelihood and framework (“On Sanctity translated in Hertzberg, The Zionist Idea, 301-302).Micha Josef Berdichevsky, Die Sagen der Juden, published in 1913 and 1919, has appeared in English under the title Mimekor Israel (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1976).Biale, Gershom Scholem, 43, 235, n. 23.Hirsch, “Friedrich Nietzsche und der jüdische Geist,” 189.For a good discussion of these tendencies see Roy Pascal, From Naturalism to Expressionism: German Literature and Society, 1880-1918 (New York: Basic, 1973),1 consider the quotation apocryphal since I have been unsuccessful in locating its source; its very spuriousness only makes Nietzsche’s myth-making import greater.Walter Hammer, Friedrich Nietzsche: Der Lebensreformer und seine Zukunftskultur, 2d ed. (Leipzig: Karl Lentze, [1909] 1910).Walter Hammer, “Nietzsche und sein Wille zur Gesundheit,” Gesundes Leben: Medizinpolitische Rundschau (1910), 121—125.Walter Hammer, “Nietzsche und der Vegetarismus,” Vegetarische Warte 46, no. 7, (1913), 10-19.For a general history see Walter Laqueur, Young Germany: A History of the Youth Movement (New York: Basic Books, 1962); Peter D. Stachura, The German Youth Movement, 1900-1945: An Interpretation and Documentary History (London: Macmillan, 1981).Oscar Schütz, “Friedrich Nietzsche als Prophet der deutschen Jugendbewegung,” Neue Jahrbücher für Wissenschaft und Jugendbildung 5 (1929), 64-74. Like many of his contemporaries, Schütz shows Nietzsche’s influence without distinguishing the Wandervogel component from the Freideutsche one.Else Frobenius, Mit uns zieht die neue Zeit: Eine Geschichte der deutschen Jugendbewegung (Berlin: Deutsche Buch Gemeinschaft, 1929), 35ff.Theo Herrle, Die deutsche Jugendbewegung in ihren kulturellen Zusammenhang, 14, quoted in Michael Jovy, Jugendbewegung und Nationalsozialismus (Münster: Lit-Verlag, 1984), 53.For an acute analysis of the völkisch aspect of the Youth Movement, see Mosse, German Ideology, chap. 9.This is the basic thrust of Hinton Thomas’s argument, Nietzsche in German Politics, chap. 8.Gustav Wyneken, “Der Kampf für die Jugend,” Gesammelte Aufsätze (Jena: E. Diederichs, 1920). On Wyneken see Mosse, German Ideology, 184ff; Hinton Thomas, Nietzsche in German Politics, 105 ff.See, for instance, Otto Braun’s poem underlining humanity’s self-creating, heroic, and willful powers, “Why Should There Be Gods?” in Mosse, German Ideology, 186. Orig. pub. in Der Anfang 12 (May 1909).Hinton Thomas, Nietzsche in German Politics, 98-99.Theodor Fritsch, “Nietzsche und die Jugend,” Hammer: Blätter für deutschen Sinn 10, no. 29 (March 1911), 113ff.Führerzeitung, no. 3 (1914), 66. Very shortly after, the Vortrupp made an abrupt and fundamental about-face; during the war it enlisted Nietzsche to its pantheon of Germanic thinkers.Walter Hammer, Nietzsche als Erzieher (Leipzig: Hugo Vollrath, 1914). The work, while admiring, was also critical, especially with regard to Nietzsche’s views on social questions.For details on Gurlitt see Mosse, German Ideology, 157ff.Ludwig Gurlitt, “Friedrich Nietzsche als Erzieher,” Das Freie Wort 14, no. 4 (May 1914), 131-132. Gurlitt also praised Hammer’s Nietzsche als Erzieher in this article. For another example of his positive attitude see his “Friedrich Nietzsche als Philologe und Lehrer,” Die Hilfe, no. 22 (1914).Hinton Thomas, Nietzsche in German Politics, 100.Eugen Diederichs, “Entwicklungsphasen der freideutschen Jugend,” Die Tat 10 (1918-1919), 313-314.Oscar Schütz, “Nietzsche als Prophet,” n. 42, 74—80.Maximilian Harden, editor of the influential Die Zukunft, for example, advocated a politics based on an activist will to power with Nietzsche as its theorist and Bismarck as its manifestation. Die Zukunft -was crammed with Nietzscheana. A full listing can be found in Krummel, Nietzsche.This contradicts Arno J. Mayer in chapter five of his The Persistence of the Old Regime: Europe to the Great War (New York: Pantheon, 1981). He presents Nietzsche as the chief prop of Europe’s aristocracy in their need to bolster a shaky old order in the face of democratizing threats. There is, in fact, little documentary evidence to support Mayer’s assertion.Kessler, Diaries, 426.Heinrich von Wedel, “Friedrich Nietzsche und sein Menschheitsideal,” Deutsches Adelsblatt 20 (1902); quoted in Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 93. Between 1867 and 1918 this journal featured only three articles on Nietzsche, all negative.Georg Biedenkapp, Nietzsche und Naumann, 44-45.Martin Havenstein, Friedrich Nietzsche, ein Jugendverderber? Eine Verteidigungsschrift (Leipzig: J. Zeitler, 1906), 51. On p. 57, however, Havenstein warns that Zarathustra was not meant for unripe children, nor was Nietzsche intended for the general public.Richert, “Ein Wort am Grabe Nietzsches,” Akademische Blätter: Zeitschrift des Kyffhäuser-Verbandes der vereine deutscher Studenten 15, no. 12 (16 September 1900); Reinhard Mumm, “Nietzsche und der Nationalismus im Kyffhäuserverband,” Akademische Blätter 11 (1896/1897), 238f., 255ff. The positive comments appeared within a larger negative whole.Johann Georg Meyer, “Friedrich Nietzsche als Aesthetiker und Patriot,” Burschenschaftliche Blätter 10, no. 9 (1896), 234-240. The quote appears on p. 240.A. Langguth, “Friedrich Nietzsche als Burschenschaftler,” Burschenschaftliche Blätter 12, no. 1 (1 October 1897), 5-10. Quoted in Krummel, Nietzsche und der deutsche Geist, vol. 1, 200.See another of Fritsch’s attacks on Nietzsche’s philo-Semitism written under the pseudonym of Thomas Frey, “Der Antisemitismus im Spiegel eines ‘Zukunfts-Philosophen,’” Antisemitische Correspondenz, no. 19 (December 1887).For biographical details see Mosse, German Ideology, 80-82, 232, 296; Ernst Wachler, “Elisabeth Förster-Nietzsche,” Deutsche-Zeitung, no. 388 (1918). Quoted in Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 647.On Schwaner see Uriel Tai, Christians and Jews in Germany: Religion, Politics, and Ideology in the Second Reich, 1870-1914, trans. Noah Jonathan Jacobs (Ithaca, N.Y., and London: Cornell University Press, 1975), 273, 275, 323, 324.Wilhelm Schwaner, “Friedrich Nietzsche,” Der Volkserzieher 4, no. 35 (2 September 1900), 273.Germanen-Bibel: Aus den heiligen Schriften germanischer Völker, ed. Wilhelm Schwaner (Berlin: Volkserzieher Verlag, 1904), 221-227. For details on this and later editions see Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 181—182.Franz Haiser, Der aristokratische Imperativ: Beiträge zu den neudeutschen Kulturbestrebungen (Berlin-Seglitz: Politisch-anthropolog Verlag, 1913).Adolf Bartels, Die deutsche Dichtung der Gegenwart: Die Alten und die Jungen (Leipzig: Eduard Avenarius, 1897); Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 1, 183-184.Adolf Bartels, Geschichte der deutschen Litteratur, vol. 2, Das neunzehnte Jahrhundert (Leipzig: Eduard Avenarius, 1902), 625-655. See Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 79.Adolf Bartels, “Friedrich Nietzsche und das Deutschtum,” Deutsche Monatschrift für das gesamte Leben der Gegenwart 2 (April-September 1902), 81-82.Ibid., 86, 94.Ibid., 89, 93.Hinton Thomas (Nietzsche in German Politics, chap. 9) makes the rejection clear, mentions the ambivalence without fully examining it, and ignores the more positive appropriations and many of the völkisch and anti-Semitic personalities discussed above.Hentschel was the anti-Semitic associate of Theodor Fritsch, a founder of the extreme Deutschsoziale party, and author of the extremely popular racially anthropological 1907 work Varuna (George Mosse, German Ideology, 112-116).Quoted in Hinton Thomas, Nietzsche in German Politics, 122.Willibald Hentschel, “Irrende Spekulation oder wahre Geistes-Kultur?” Antisemitische Correspondenz no. 45 (17 February 1889), 4ff; quoted in Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 1, 75-76.Willibald Hentschel, Vom aufsteigenden Leben (“Ziele der Rassen-Hygiene),” 2d ed. (Leipzig and Hamburg: n.d.), p. 43; quoted in Hinton Thomas, Nietzsche in German Politics, 112—113.Wilhelm Schallmeyer, Vererbung und Auslese im Lebenslauf der Volker: Eine Staatswissenschaftliche Studie auf Grund der neueren Biologie (Jena: Gustav Fischer, 1903); quoted in Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 106-107.Raoul Richter, “Nietzsches Stellung zu Entwicklungslehre und Rassetheorie,” Politisch-anthropologische Monatsschrift (1906), 544-564, reprinted in his Essays, ed. Lina Richter (Leipzig: F. Meiner, 1913), 137-177; quoted in Krümmel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 254. See also his Friedrich Nietzsche, sein Leben und sein Werk (Leipzig: Dürr, 1903) and his Nietzsche-Aufsätze (Leipzig: F. Meiner, 1917)Richter, Essays, 173.Alexander Tille, “Nietzsche und England,” Frankfurter Zeitung 39, no. 289 (18 October 1894); “Nietzsche als Ethiker der Entwicklung,” Die Zukunft 9, (10 November 1894); “Zarathustras Lehre,” Das neue Jahrhundert 1, no. 5 (1898).Biographical information on Tille may be found in Alfred Kelly, The Descent of Darwin: The Popularization of Darwinism in Germany, 1860—1914 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1981), 10ff; Hinton Thomas, Nietzsche in German Politics, 113—114; Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 1, 134, n. 157.Tille was Ferdinand Tonnies’s central although rare embodiment of Nietzsche-anism’s central function: the justification of the most brutal aspects of capitalism (Tönnies, Der Nietzsche-Kultus, 109—110).Marielouise Janssen-Jurreit, “Sexual-reform und Geburtenrückgang: Über die Zusammenhänge von Bevolkerüngspolitik und Frauenbewegung um die Jahrhundertwende,” in Frauen in der Geschichte, ed. Annette Kuhn and Gerhard Schneider (Düsseldorf, 1979), 60-61.Alexander Tille, Von Darwin bis Nietzsche: Ein Buch Entwicklungsethik (Leipzig: C. G. Naumann, 1895), vii, 10-11.Ibid., 122-123, 214, 225.Ibid., 239-241.Hinton Thomas, Nietzsche in German Politics, 114.R. Μ. Wenley, “Nietzsche: Traffics and Discoveries,” Monist 31 (January 1921), 136. Quoted in Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 1, 134-135. Hinton Thomas himself quotes from this source.Arthur Möller-Bruck, Tschandala Nietzsche (Berlin and Leipzig: Schuster and Löffler, 1899), 47. Although this analysis emphasizes his positive judgments, the pre-Weimar Möller-Bruck clearly still had reservations.Karl Joel, Nietzsche und die Romantik (Jena and Leipzig: Eugen Diederichs, 1905), 68.Joel argues that Nietzsche’s biting criticism of Germanness was itself a German characteristic. Nietzsche was thus no longer the antithesis of Germanism but its incarnation and prophet (ibid., 83-84). Joel’s attitude toward both Nietzsche and Romanticism was critical as well as admiring: “We want to overcome Nietzsche, not scream him down” (ibid., 327).Ibid., 87.Ibid., 133. Joel also stressed commonalities such as their Bacchanalian-Saturnalian mode and their fragmentary, aphoristic style.Georg Tantzscher, Friedrich Nietzsche und die Neuromantik (Jurjew [Dorpat], 1900).Joel, Nietzsche und die Romantik, 10-12.Ibid., 57ff.James Joll, “The English, Friedrich Nietzsche and the First World War” in Deutschland in der Weltpolitik des 19 und 20 Jahrhunderts, ed. Imanuel Geiss and Bernd Jürgen Wendt (Düsseldorf: Bertelsmann Universitätsverlag, 1973), 305. This article contains a useful survey of English opinion during this period. I thank Prof. Joll for guiding me to other bibliographical sources.See the comments by Eric Vogelin in “Nietzsche, the Crisis and the War,” The Journal of Politics 6, no. 1 (February 1944), 177.Herbert Leslie Stewart, Nietzsche and the Ideals of Modern Germany (London: Edward Arnold, 1915), 186, 228.Eric Bentley, The Cult of the Superman (Gloucester, Mass.: Peter Smith, 1969), 248-250.John Cowper Powys, The Menace of German Culture (London: William Rider and Son, 1915); Joll, “The English, Nietzsche, and the War,” 305; Patrick Bridgwater, Nietzsche in Anglo Saxony: A Study of Nietzsche’s Impact on English and American Literature (Leicester, 1972), p. 147.Daily Mail, 27 September 1914; Manchester Guardian, 7 October 1914. Quoted in Bridgwater, Nietzsche in Anglosaxony, 144.J. H. Muirhead, German Philosophy in Relation to the War (London: J. Murray, 1915), 80-81, 78.Romain Rolland, Zwischen den Volkern: Aufzeichnungen und Dokumente aus den Jahren 1914 bis 1919, vol. 1 (Stuttgart: Dt. Vlgs.-Anst., 1954), 145.Kaufmann, Nietzsche, 8.Ernst Barker, Nietzsche and Treitschke: The Worship of Power in Modern Germany (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1914); Canon E. McClure, Germany’s War-Inspirers Nietzsche and Treitschke (London, 1914).“Teutonismus,” The Athenaeum (10 October 1914). Quoted in Joll, “The English, Nietzsche, and the War,” 302—303.Friedrich von Bernhardi, Germany and the Coming War, trans. Allen H. Powles (New York: Longsman, Green, 1914). This had already reached its 6th edition.Numerous examples include Ernst Rolffs, “Treitschke, Nietzsche, Bernhardi,” Die christliche Welt 30 (1916), 857-865, 882-888.H. L. Mencken, “Introduction,” in Friedrich Nietzsche, The Antichrist (New York, 1923). Quoted in Bridgwater, Nietzsche in Anglosaxony, 145-146.H. L. Mencken, The Smart Set, quoted in ibid., 146.William Archer, Fighting a Philosophy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 19141915), 5, 3ff.Ronald N. Stromberg, Redemption by War: The Intellectuals and 1914 (Lawrence: Regents Press of Kansas, 1982).Nietzsche, Gay Science, 145. This was an elaboration of Heraclitus’s fragment 53: “War is the father of all.”Nietzsche, Zarathustra, 159.Michael A. Ledeen, The First Duce: D’Annunzio at Fiume (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1977), 5.Gabriele D’Annunzio, “Il Triofono della Morte,” Prose di Romanzi, vol. 1 (Milan, 1954), 958. Quoted in Ernst Nolte, Three Faces of Fascism (New York: Mentor, 1969), 198, 606, n. 7.Reproduced in Umbro Apollonio, ed., Futurist Manifestos (London: Thames and Hudson, 1973), 21-22.Georges Sorel, Reflections on Violence (New York: Collier, [1908] 1974).For the most thorough treatment of this question, see Ernst Nolte, “Marx und Nietzsche im Sozialismus des Jungen Mussolinis,” Historische Zeitschrift 191 (1960), 249-335.Vladimir Dedijer, The Road to Sarajevo (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1966), 232; Joll, “1914: The Unspoken Assumptions,” in The Origins of the First World War, ed. H. W. Koch (London: Macmillan, 1972), 324.Dedijer, Sarajevo, 238.Bridgwater, Nietzsche in Anglosaxony, 10.Ledeen, First Duce, 10—11.Robert Soucy, Fascist Intellectual: Drieu La Rochelle (Berkeley, Los Angeles, and London: University of California Press, 1979), 45.Jon Glover and Jon Silkin, The Penguin Book of First World War Prose (London: Viking, 1989). Quoted in C. J. Fox, “Bondservants of Destruction,” Times Literary Supplement (February 16—22, 1990).Some academic and nationalist figures remained unconvinced of the desirability of this annexation and Nietzsche’s patriotic credentials. Nietzsche, Ernst Troltsch told Friedrich Meinecke in a wartime conversation, was like rat poison in the guts (Meinecke, Erlebtes, 1862-1901 [Leipzig: Koehler-Amelang, 1941], 184f).Rektor P. Hoche, “Nietzsche und der deutsche Kampf,” Zeitung fur Literatur, Kunst, und Wissenschaft 39, no. 6 (12 March 1916); Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 607.Robert G. L. Waite, The Psychopathic God: Adolf Hitler (New York, 1977), 279; Rolffs, “Treitschke, Nietzsche, Bernhardi,” 859. In 1917 alone 40,000 copies of Zarathustra were sold (Peters, Zarathustra’s Sister, 205).Edelbert Kurz, Nietzsche der Deutsche und tvir Christen (Munich-Gladbach, 1918). See Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 645-646.Walter Flex, Der Wanderer zwischen beiden Welten: Ein Kriegserlebnis (Munich: C. H. Beck, 1918), 9. The book went through thirty-nine editions and sold 250,000 copies in less than two years.Karl Joel, Neue Weltkultur (Leipzig: Karl Wolff, 1915), 88-89.Richard Groper, “Nietzsche und der Krieg,” Die Tat 8 (1916-1917), 25.Oscar Levy, “Nietzsche im Krieg,” Die Weissen Blätter (1919), 277ff.Laqueur comments that Nietzsche’s “ecstatic rhymes did not stand up too well to the great test. Those who had been through the holocaust of Flanders and the mud and ice of the Eastern front knew all they needed to know about the spirit of tragedy” (Young Germany, 9).Ruthardt Schuhmann, “Der Nietzsche Kult und der Krieg,” Bühne und Welt 17 (1915), 354.Hans Leip, Der Widerschein: Eine Rückschau, 1893—1943 (Stuttgart: Cotta, 1943), 42. After reading Zarathustra in 1915 he noted: “Beim Lesen des Zarathustra schreien wir manchmal auf vor Entzuekken. Ich bin erhoben und wieder niedergeschmettert, so dass mir die Seele weh tut” (Kümmel, Nietzsche, vol. 2,597).Phillip Witkop, German Students’ War Letters, trans. A. F. Wedd (London: Methuen, 1929), 42—43.Franz Marc, Briefe, Aufzeichnungen, und Aphorismen (Berlin: Cassirer, 1920), 41.The liberationists never entirely abandoned him. In his address to the assembled Munich workers’, peasants’, and soldiers’ councils, Ernst Toller memorialized his revolutionary colleague Kurt Eisner with a tellingly ironic quote from Zarathustra:Arnold Zweig, Werk und Leben in Dokumenten und Bildern, ed. Georg Wenzel (Berlin and Weimar: Aufbau Verlag, 1978), 61. See Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 358359.For a useful history of the book see George Mosse’s introduction in Max Nordau, Degeneration (New York: Howard Fertig, 1968). See too P. M. Baldwin, “Liberalism, Nationalism, and Degeneration: The Case of Max Nordau,” Central European History 13, no. 2 (June 1980).Nordau, Degeneration, 5.Ibid.Arnold Zweig, Bilanz der deutschen Judenheit 1933: Ein Versuch (Amsterdam: Querido, 1934), 290—291.Erwin Piscator, The Political Theatre: A History, 1914—1929 (New York: Avon, 1978), 11.Walter Sokel, The Writer in Extremis, 67.Quoted in ibid., 68.Franz Pfemert, “Die Deutschsprechung Friedrich Nietzsches,” Die Aktion: Wochenschrift für Politik, Literatur, Kunst 5, no. 26 (1915), 321.Stefan George, “Der Stern des Bundes,” in Walter Kaufmann, Twenty German Poets (New York: Random House, 1962), 167.Patrick Bridgwater, “German Poetry and the First World War,” European Studies Review 1, no. 2 (April 1971), 155—156.Hinton Thomas, Nietzsche in German Politics, 126ff.Pfemert, “Deutschsprechung”; Levy, “Nietzsche im Krieg”; Zweig, Bilanz der deutschen Judenheit, 290—291, 50—52.F. Schwangart describes the German nationalist war propaganda around Nietzsche as “an unforgettable misdeed” (“Was ist uns Nietzsche?” Heimstunden: Proletarische Tribune für Kunst, Literatur, Dichtung no. 5 [May 1925], 145).See Fritsch’s article under the pseudonym F. Roderick-Stoltheim, “Nietzsches Macht-philosophie und der Deutschenhass,” Hammer; Blätter für deutschen Sinn 14, no. 301 (1 January 1915), 3.A far from exhaustive list of Förster-Nietzsche’s writings includes: “Nietzsche und der Krieg,” Tag 212 (10 September 1914); “Nietzsche im Kriege 1870,” Der Neue Merkur 1 (1914); “Nietzsche und Deutschland,” Berliner Tageblatt 44, no. 453 (5 September 1915); “Nietzsche, Frankreich, und England,” Neue Freie Presse (11 June 1916). Krummel, Nietzsche, has a complete list of Förster-Nietzsche’s publicationsElisabeth Förster-Nietzsche, “Der ‘echt-preussiche’ Friedrich Nietzsche,” Berliner Tageblatt (16 September 1914). Sombart’s comments appeared in the same paper, 6 September 1914.Elisabeth Förster-Nietzsche, Das Leben Friedrich Nietzsches, vol. 2 (Leipzig: Naumann, 1904). Here she argues that Nietzsche derived his conception of the will to power from an incident in the Franco-Prussian war.Ernst Wachler, “Elisabeth Nietzsche (Zur Begründung des Nietzsche-Archivs),” Deutsche-Zeitung 388 (1918).Alfred Bäumler, Nietzsche der Philosoph und Politiker (Leipzig: Reclam, 1931).August Messer, “Nietzsche und der Krieg: Zum 70 Geburtstag des Philosophen, 15 Oktober,” Frankfurter Zeitung 286 (15 October 1914).Kaufmann, Portable Nietzsche, 541-542.Kurt Singer, “Nietzsches Vermachtnis: 15 Oktober 1844—15 Oktober 1914,” Hamburgischer Correspondent 184, no. 524 (15 October 1914).Theodor Kappstein, “Nietzsche der Philosoph des Weltkriegs: Zu seinem 70 Geburtstag am 15 Oktober,” Strassburger Post 1028 (1914).O.te Kloot, Nietzsche, Illustrierte Helden-Bibliothek 30 (Berlin: Ed. Rose, 1914).“Friedrich Nietzsche: Vom Kriege,” Insel-Almanach (Kriegsalmanach, 1915). [Leipzig: Insel Verlag).For instance, Elizabeth Gnade, “Zu Friedrich Nietzsches 70 Geburtstage, 15 Oktober 1914,” Tägliche Rundschau 241 (14 October 1914) Uns bleibt nur Zeit, Um deutsch zu sein, deutsche, wie du selber warst— Damals—vom lehrstuhl aus der sich’ren Schweiz Herzugeeilt beim Schall der Kriegsfanfare!Hermann Itschner, Nietzsche-Worte: Weggenossen in grosser Zeit (Leipzig: Alfred Kroner, 1915).On Diederichs’s activities see Gary D. Stark, Entrepreneurs of Ideology: Neoconservative Publishers in Germany, 1890-1933 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1981). The full title, of Die Tat: Wege zu Freiem Menschentum, had obvious Nietzschean overtones. The first issue (April 1909) had a heroic bust of Nietzsche on its opening page.Groper, “Nietzsche und der Krieg.”Paul Schulze Berghof, “Der Zarathustra Dichter als Mystiker,” Die musische Erziehung 9 (1942).Paul Schulze Berghof, “Der kulturprophet des deutschen Weltreichs,” Der Vortrupp 5 (1916); Schulze Berghof, “Zarathustra-Deutsche-Mystik-Deutscher Glaube,” Der Vortrupp 5 (1916). Schulze Berghof also formulated a Nietzschean religion.Max Brahn, Friedrich Nietzsches Meinungen über Staaten und Kriege (Leipzig: A. Kroner, 1915).Lenore Ripke-Kühn, “Nietzsches Kulturanschauung,” Der Panther 3 (1915), 420-456; Ripke-Kühn, “Nietzsches Willenserziehung,” Der Panther 5, no. 4 (April 1917), 519-535.Joel, Neue Weltkultur, 55—56.Gröper, “Nietzsche und der Krieg,” 30.Max Scheier, Der Genius des Krieges und der Deutsche Krieg (Leipzig: Weissen Bücher, 1915); Scheier, “Das Ressentiment in Aufbau der Moralen,” in Scheier, Abhandlungen und Aufsätze 1, 39-274 (Leipzig: Weissen Bücher, 1915). Translated as Ressentiment, trans. William W. Holdheim, intro. Lewis A. Coser (New York: 1976).Fritz Stern, “Money, Morals, and the Pillars of Society,” in his The Failure of Illiberalism: Essays on the Political Culture of Modern Germany (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1971).Werner Sombart, Händler und Helden: Patriotische Besinnungen (Munich and Leipzig: Duncker and Humblot, 1915).Herf, Reactionary Modernism, 133-134.Sombart’s most famous prewar work on the Jews was Die Juden und das Wirtschaftsleben (Leipzig, 1911). After the war he returned to the topic of Jewish geist. For a critical analysis see Paul R. Mendes-Flohr, “Werner Sombart’s ‘The Jews and Modern Capitalism’: An Analysis of Its Ideological Premises,” Leo Baeck Institute Yearbook (1976). See too Steven E.Sombart, Händler und Helden, 53.Ibid., 84-85.Ibid., 141.Lenore Ripke-Kühn, “Nietzsche der ewige Deutsche: Zu Ernst Bertrams ‘Nietzsche, Versuch einer Mythologie,’” Deutschlands Erneurung 6 (1919), 420, 424.Brahn, Friedrich Nietzsches Meinungen, 29.See Moritz Heimann’s 1915 essay, “Nietzsche und sein Volk” in his Prosaische Schriften, 3 vols. (Berlin: S. Fischer, 1918), vol. 1, 180-184.Bernhard Böschenstein, “Erlösung und Beglaubigung: Thomas Manns Betrachtungen eines Unpolitischen und Ernst Bertrams Nietzsche: Versuch einer Mythologie,” MLN 90 (1975).Their relationship is recounted in Thomas Mann und Ernst Bertram: Briefe aus den Jahren 1910—1955, ed. Inge Jens (Pfullingen: Neske, 1960).Entry for September 18. Thomas Mann, Diaries, 1918—1939, selected by Hermann Kesten, trans. Richard Winston and Clara Winston (London: Robin Clark, 1983), 6. See too the entries for 14 September and 15 September 1918.Thomas Mann, Briefe, 1889-1936 (Frankfurt: S. Fischer, 1961), 291; H. Stefan Schultz, “Thomas Mann’s Betrachtungen eines Unpolitischen: Some Observations,” MLN 90 (1975), 431.Bertram, Nietzsche, 6.Even after the Nazi takeover, aspects of the earlier Mann remained, voiced only in private. They too were related to Nietzsche and his Jewish misappropriation. But for all that, might not something deeply significant and revolutionary be taking place in Germany? ...Thomas Mann, Reflections of a Nonpolitical Man, trans. Walter D. Morris (New York: Ungar, 1983), 152. See also chap. 11.Ibid., 57; see also pp. 18, 58.See the instructive reading of Bertram in Joel Golb, “Celan and Hölderlin: An Essay on the Problem of Tradition” (Ph.D. diss., Princeton University, 1985), 119ff.Bertram, Nietzsche, 108.Mann, Reflections, 60-61.Ibid., 104.See Golb, Celan and Hölderlin, 118—120, for a more detailed literary analysis of this structure.Mann, Reflections, 419, 57-58.For an illuminating analysis of Bertram’s role within the völkisch tradition see Mosse, German Ideology, 204—209.Bertram, Nietzsche, 250. His construction also received much popular attention beyond radical and völkisch circles. See Curt Hotzel, “Nietzsches Deutsche Aufgabe,” Der Türmer 28, no. 10 (July 1926).Ibid., 79.Ibid., 6.See Bertram’s chapter “Ritter, Tod und Teufel,” in Nietzsche, 42-63; Mann Reflections, 399.Ripke-Kühn, “Nietzsche der ewige Deutsche,” 420—421.For the sake of historical exactitude it should be clear that we are referring to a tendency, a cluster of attitudes, rather than an ironclad law. There were pre-1914 outlines of the right-wing Nietzsche just as there was always some opposition within the radical right after this annexation.Armin Mohler, Die konservative Revolution in Deutschland, 1918—1932: Ein Handbuch (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftlich Buchgesellschaft, 1972), 29, 87.Friedrich Hielscher, Das Reich (Berlin: Das Reich, 1931), 200. the new right from the traditional Bismarckian and Wilhelmine right: an insistence on activism and a self-propelling dynamic; a masculine, soldierly, nationalist ethic to contrast with prewar static patriotism;For a good discussion of the new right’s themes, see Karl Prümm, Die Literatur des Soldatischen Nationalismus der 20er Jahre (1918-1933) (Kronberg: Scriptor Verlag, 1974). Eugen Schmahl’s Der Aufstieg der nationalen Idee ([Berlin, Leipzig: Union Deutsche Verlagsgesellschaft, n.d.], 143-144, 103) is a Nazi work that held that Nietzsche had already anticipated all expressions of the new nationalismFriedrich Mess, Nietzsche: Der Gesetzgeber (Leipzig: Felix Mainer, 1930), vii.Kurt Kassler, Nietzsche und das Recht (Munich: Ernst Reinhardt, 1941).Hermann Hesse, “Zarathustra’s Return: A Word to German Youth,” in Robert C. Solomon, ed., Nietzsche: A Collection of Critical Essays (New York: Anchor, 1973). For a previous work that Hesse wrote in this spirit see Faust und Zarathustra (Bremen: Otto Melchers, 1909).Peters, Zarathustra’s Sister, 206—207.George L. Mosse, Fallen Soldiers: Reshaping the Memory of the World Wars (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990), chap. 8.Mohler, Konservative Revolution, 539—554.Karl Kynast, “Der Fall Nietzsche im Lichte rassenkundlicher Betrachtung,” Die Sonne 2 (1925), 534-535. Those of the “northern race,” Kynast warned, had to be wary of the ressentiment views of this “Mongolmischling.”For völkisch commentaries see Paul Schulze Berghof, “Nietzsches historischmythische Sendung,” Der Volkserzieher 34 (1930); Hans Kern, “Nietzsche und die romantischen Theorien des Unbewussten,” Zeitschrift für Menschenkunde 3 (1927). Ludwig Klages (Der Geist als Widersacher der Seele [Leipzig: Barth, 1926]) exemplifies the irrationalist position.Peters, Zarathustra’s Sister, chaps. 22—24.Max Ohler, ed., Den Manen Friedrich Nietzsches (Munich: Musarion, 1921); Oswald Spengler, “Nietzsche and His Century,” in his Selected Essays.Kessler, Diaries, 426.Ernst von Salomon, Die Geächteten (Gütersloh: C. Bertelsmann, 1930), 83.Ernst von Salomon, “Der verlorene Haufe,” in Krieg und Krieger, ed. Ernst Jünger, 103—126 (Berlin: Junker and Dünnhaupt, 1930), 122-123.George L. Mosse, Nationalism and Sexuality: Respectability and Abnormal Sexuality in Modern Europe (New York: Howard Fertig, 1985), 125.Nietzsche, Will to Power, 546.Werner Best, “Der Krieg und das Recht,” in Jünger, ed., Krieg und Krieger.Alfred Bäumler, Nietzsche der Philosoph und Politiker (Leipzig: Reklam, 1931).Jürgen Habermas, “Work and Weltanschauung: The Heidegger Controversy from a German Perspective,” Critical Inquiry 15, no. 2 (Winter 1989), 438-440.Oswald Spengler, Der Untergang des Abendlandes, 2 vols. (Munich: C. H. Beck, 1918); trans. Charles Francis Atkinson, The Decline of the West, 2 vols. (New York: Alfred Knopf, 1926). Beginning with this work Spengler gradually developed and radicalized this theme. On Raubtier see his Der Mensch und die Technik (Munich: C. H. Beck, [1931] 1971), 10-17.In Stahlgewittern (Hannover, 1920) sold well over 244,000 copies, went into twenty-six editions, and was translated into seven languages.Ernst Jünger, “Über die Gefahr,” Widerstand 3 (1931).Quoted in Prümm, Soldatischen Nationalismus, 155. On the theme of will see Jünger’s Der Kampf als inneres Erlebnis (Berlin, 1922), 76.Ernst Jünger, “Der Arbeiter,” in his Werke, vol. 6 (Stuttgart: E. Klett, 1964).Herf, Reactionary Modernism.Nietzsche blessed technology to the degree that it served the interests of Übermenschen, condemned it insofar as it advanced the interests of the letzten Menschen and their Machtwillens associated with the leveling, Christian, democratic, socialist society (Reinhart Maurer, “Nietzsche und die kritische Theorie,” Nietzsche-Studien 10/11 [1981/ 1982], 61).Ernst Jünger, Feuer und Blut (Berlin, 1929), 82. Quoted in Klaus Theweleit, Male Fantasies, vol. 2, trans. Chris Turner et al. (Minneapolis: Polity, 1989), 197—198.Georg Förster, Machtwille und Maschinenwelt: Deutung unserer Zeit (Potsdam: Alfred Protte, 1930). 67,78; see too p. 12. Linking Nietzsche to the industrial world had to be an intensely selective exercise.Jünger, Arbeiter, 118ff and the section “Die Ablösung des Bürgerlichen Individuums durch den Typus des Arbeiters.”Rudolf Paulsen, “Dionysische Politik?” Der Türmer 22 (October 1919—March 1920), 59—60. Paulsen’s dismissive remarks presumably referred to Spengler’s fusion of technology with apocalypse and decline. Der Türmer had always evinced an interest in Nietzsche; most of the July 1926 issue was filled with right-wing Nietzscheana.This paranoid literature also addressed the theme of Nietzsche’s death. One anonymous article in a crackpot journal identified the secret forces who tried to steal Nietzsche’s work and poison him (“Zarathustra’s Überang: Ein Verbrechen der Geheim-cheka an Nietzsche?” Ludendorff’s Volkswarte 3, no. 24 (1931).For a discussion of the Untermensch and its various uses see Alex Bein, “The Jewish Parasite,” Leo Baeck Institute Yearbook 10 (1964), 27—28.Ernst Mann, Die Moral der Kraft (Weimar: Gerhard Hofmann, 1920), 7.Such passages abound in Nietzsche’s works (Will to Power, 389, also 246, 740; Gay Science, 73; “On Free Death,” in Zarathustra, 36; Genealogy of Morals, 120—125).Mann, Moral der Kraft, 43ff, 41, 47. Mann never mentions Nietzsche but his categories and spirit permeate the work, as reviewers recognized. See the reviewers’ comments reprinted on the back cover of the book.Franz Haiser, Die Judenfrage vom Standpunkt der Herrenmoral: Rechtsvölkische und linksvölkische Weltanschauung (Leipzig: T. Weicher, 1926). See too Nietzsche, Antichrist, 592—595.Arno Schickedanz, Sozialparasitismus im Völkerleben (Leipzig: Lotus-Verlag, 1927), 177.See Arthur Prinz, “Diskussion der Judenfrage,” Jüdische Rundschau (20 April 1932).Klärung: 12 Autoren Politiker Über die Judenfrage (Berlin: Wilhelm Kolk, 1932). The Nietzsche excerpts are entitled “Rome versus Judea, Judea versus Rome” (pp. 57-65). For an analysis of the importance of Nietzsche as an anti-Semite see Ernst Johannsen, “Über den Antisemitismus als gegebene Tatsache,” 15—17.Rudolf Klages, Briefe über Ethik, quoted in Bein, “Jewish Parasite,” 29.E. Kirchner, “Nietzsches Lehren im Lichte der Rassenhygiene,” Archiv für Rassen und Gesellschaftsbiologie (1926), 380. This adulatory article nevertheless takes issue with Nietzsche’s emphasis on will and creation of the Übermensch and argues for a more strictly biological approach. This racist, eugenicist journal was not anti-Semitic, though when the Nazis came to power its editors were enthusiastic supporters.E. Kirchner, “Anfänge rassenhygienischen Denkens in Morus ‘Utopie’ und Campanellas ‘Sonnenstadt,’” Archiv für Rassen und Gesellschaftsbiologie (1927); Robert N. Proctor, Racial Hygiene: Medicine under the Nazis (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1988), 179.See for instance Margarete Adam, “Unwertiges Leben und seine Überwindung bei Nietzsche,” Monistische Monatshefte 14 (June 1929), 140—145. On practitioners, see Ernst Klee, “Euthanasie” im NS-Staat: Die “Vernichtung lebensunwerten Lebens” (Frankfurt am Main: S. Fischer, 1983), 16ff.There are coundess examples including Nietzsche’s Human, All Too Human, 173 — 174; Beyond Good and Evil, 115—118; and Will to Power, 77—78, 123—124, 186, 397, 398, 460-463.J. Μ. Kennedy, The Quintessence of Nietzsche (London: T. W. Lawrie, 1909), 79—80. Quoted in Joll, “The English, Nietzsche, and the War,” 296.Franz Mehring, Kapital und Presse: Ein Nachspiel zum Falle Lindau (Berlin: Kurt Brachvogel, 1891); “Zur Philosophie und Poesie des Kapitalismus,” “Nietzsche gegen den Sozialismus,” and sec. 9 of his “Aesthetische Streifzüge,” in vols. 9, 11, and 13 of his Gesammelte Schriften (Berlin: Dietz, 1961).Kessler, Diaries, 426.Robert Misch, Kinder: Eine Gymnasiasten Komödie (Berlin: Harmonie, 1906), 12. I thank Robert Hollub for this reference.Duncan, Isadora Speaks, 65-66.Helene Stocker, “Friedrich Nietzsche und die Frauen,” Das Magazin fur Literatur 67 (1898), 156-157; trans, in Hackett, “Helene Stocker,” 117.Cited in Hackett, “Helene Stocker,” 117.Adherents were aware of the vagueness and made use of it. (Werner Sombart, Deutscher Sozialismus [Charlottenburg: Buchalz & Weisswange, 1934], Translated by Karl F. Geiser as A New Social Philosophy [New York: Greenwood Press (1932), 1969], 45-109).Eugen Kamenka, The Ethical Foundations of Marxism (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1962), 178-179; George L. Kline, ‘“Nietzschean Marxism’ in Russia,” in Demythologizing Marxism, vol. 2, ed. Frederick J. Adelmann (Chestnut Hill and The Hague: Boston College and Martinus Nijhoff, 1969), 166-183.J. McGrath, Dionysian Art, chaps. 2 and 8.J. L. Talmon, The Myth of the Nation and the Vision of Revolution: The Origins of Political Polarization in the Twentieth Century (Berkeley, Los Angeles, and London: University of California Press, 1981), 468-469. See too Sternhell, Neither Right nor Left, 56, 87, 89.Nolte, “Marx und Nietzsche.”Vivetta Vivarelli, “Das Nietzsche-Bild in der Presse der deutschen Sozialdemokratie um die Jahrhundertwende,” Nietzsche-Studien 13 (1984).J. Karmeluk, Die Proletarische Bergpredigt: Ein Intermezzo aus der Umwertung aller Werte (Zurich, 1904); Vivarelli, “Nietzsche-Bild,” 564-565.A. H. T. Pfannkuche, Was liest der deutsche Arbeiter (Tübingen and Leipzig, 1900), 23; Vivarelli, “Nietzsche-Bild,” 521.Levenstein reported that thirty-seven metal workers, sixteen textile workers, two miners and fifty-four workers in other professions had occupied themselves with Nietzsche’s Zarathustra (Friedrich Nietzsche im Urteil der Arbeiterklasse [Leipzig: F. Meiner, 1914]).Ibid., 2d ed. 1919, iii.Max Adler, “Arbeiterbriefe über Nietzsche,” Wissen und Leben 14 (1921), 430433. bourgeoisement, which committed the party to a parliamentary rather than a revolutionary course. The party was ossifying, its bureaucratic institutions growing ever further removed from the masses. In the end, the Jungen articulated nothing less than a critique of the authoritarian dangers within MarxismThese polemic works began with Bruno Wille’s “Der Mensch als Massenmitglied,” Freie Bühne (1890), and culminated with his Philosophie der Befreiung durch das reine Mittel: Beiträge zur Pädagogik des Menschengeschlechts (Berlin: S. Fischer, 1894).Hinton Thomas (Nietzsche in German Politics, 7-16) has a useful account of this episode.Eugene Lunn, Prophet of Community: The Romantic Socialism of Gustav Landauer (Berkeley, Los Angeles, and London: University of California Press, 1973).Quoted in Martin Buber, “Landauer,” Paths in Utopia, trans. R. F. C. Hull (Boston: Beacon Press, 1958), 47.Landauer’s emphasis on illusion was clearest in his Skepsis und Mystik (Berlin: E. Fleischel, 1903). See Lunn, Prophet of Community, 160.Franz Mehring, “Der heutige Naturalismus,” Die Volksbühne 1, no. 3 (18921893), 9—12. See Mehring’s review of Eisner in “Literarische Rundschau,” Die neue Zeit 10 (1892), 669; translated in Vernon T. Lidtke, “Naturalism and Socialism in Germany,” The American Historical Review 79 (1974), 28—29.Eisner, Psychopathia Spiritualis, 87.See Bernstein’s review of W. Weigand’s Friedrich Nietzsche in Die neue Zeit 11, (1892—1893). Quoted in Vivarelli, “Nietzsche-Bild,” 530.Roger Fletcher has written a useful history of this circle stressing Nietzsche’s role in their politics (Revisionism and Empire: Socialist Imperialism in Germany [London: George Allen and Unwin, 1984]).Hellpach wrote under the pseudonym Ernst Gystrow (“Etwas über Nietzsche und uns Sozialisten,” Sozialistische Monatshefte 4 [1900]).Karl Leuthner, “Herrenvolk und Pöbelvolk,” Sozialistische Monatshefte 13 (1909). Fletcher (Revisionism, 199-200) has a full list of Leuthner’s publications in this journal.Quoted in Fletcher, Revisionism, 101, 99.Regina Barkan, “Nietzsche der Imperialist,” Sozialistische Monatshefte 30 (1924), 506-507. .Albert Kalthoff was another Protestant pastor who also took this form of Nietzschean socialist religion to the workers but gave it a decidedly Christian bent.Max Maurenbrecher, Das Leid: Eine Auseindandersetzung mit der Religion (Jena, 1912).For this Protestant and Germanized Nietzsche see Max Maurenbrecher, Über Friedrich Nietzsche zum deutschen Evangelium: Gottesdienste, Andachten und religiöse Auseinandersetzungen (Dresden: Verlag, Glaube und Deutschtum, 1926). Hinton Thomas’s argument that as Maurenbrecher moved increasingly toward nationalism he tended to ignore Nietzsche is incorrect.Meyer, Lily Braun, chaps. 7, 8.Lily Braun, “‘Bürgerliches’ und ‘proletarisches’ Erziehungsprinzip,” Neue Gesellschaft 3, no. 8 (1906), 93—94. Quoted in Meyer, Lily Braun, 102.The final goal of any work for the well-being of the community, for the liberation of humanity from every form of intellectual and personal slavery, can be nothing else than the freedom of development for the individual, the right of everyone to his or her personality.Lily Braun, Metnoiren einer Sozialisten, vol. 2, Kampfjahre (Munich: Albert Langen, 1911), 653-654.Meyer, Lily Braun, 182ff.For Braun’s affirmation of war, feminism, and Nietzsche see her Die Frauen und der Krieg (Leipzig: Hirzel, 1915).Lily Braun to Otto Braun, 17 January 1916, quoted in Meyer, Lily Braun, 177178.Franz Laufkötter, “Die Taktik des Starken und Taktik des Schwachen,” Die Neue Gesellschaft 4 (July 1906).Dieter Fricke, “Zur Rolle der revisionistischen Zeitschrift Die neue Gesellschaft in der deutschen Arbeiterbewegung, 1905-1907,” in Beiträge zur Geschichte der deutschen Arbeiterbewegung 17 (1975); Hinton Thomas, Nietzsche in German Politics, 35.For the most recent comparison in light of modernity, see Nancy S. Love, Marx, Nietzsche, and Modernity (New York: Columbia University Press, 1986).In a series of works the neo-Hegelian Emil Hammacher sought to establish a synthesis out of the major modern antinomies—labor and capital, the individual and mass society—through a critique of Marx and Nietzsche, and by redefining the meanings of socialism and individualism. See his “Marx und Nietzsche,” Kölnische Zeitung, no.During the Weimar period Hugo Bund insisted on the despotic aims of both (Nietzsche als Prophet des Sozialismus [Breslau: Trewendt and Grenier, 1919]). Nietzsche’s fundamental class division between masters and slaves had the same leveling effect as the socialism he so lambasted, for both called for a devaluation of personality.Samuel Lublinski, “Nietzsche und der Sozialismus,” Europa: Wochenscrift für Kultur und Politik 1, no. 22 (15 June 1905), 1085, 1092.Eisner, Psychopathia Spiritualis, 86.On the Kantian side of Eisner see George L. Mosse, “Left-Wing Intellectuals in the Weimar Republic,” in Germans and Jews, 179-180.Eisner, Psychopathia Spiritualis, 58, 95—99.Ibid., 6, 9, 11, 94. Eisner’s work was in part written as a response to Mehring’s interpretation of Nietzsche. Mehring’s subsequent review of Psychopathia Spiritualis, while lauding Eisner’s eventual rejection of Nietzsche, takes him to task because only the historical-materialist viewpoint was admissible (Neue Zeit 10, no. 2, 668f).Ibid., 78-86.Ibid., 79.Chaim Weizmann describes that atmosphere: On Monday Mlle Axelrod, from Berne, is giving a lecture here on Nietzsche and socialism). Poor, poor Nietzsche, what ugly lips will be uttering his words, and these Messrs. Socialists are trying to pull their little red cap on that giant genius’s head. It seems clear enough that no one liked that fraternity less than Nietzsche. They might have left him in peace, they might have let him lie peacefully in his grave instead of bandying his name about, and to what purpose? Mlle A will presumably prove that Nietzsche was wrong, that had he known her, he would have been much wiser. Pack, Pack, Pack! (Papers and Letters, 123)Franz Serväs, “Nietzsche und der Sozialismus: Subjektive Betrachtungen,” Freie Bühne 3 (1892), 85-88, 202-211.Quoted in Reinhart Maurer, “Nietzsche und die Kritische Theorie,” Nietzsche-Studien 10/11 (1981-1982), 46.F. Schwangart, “Was ist uns Nietzsche?” Heimstunden: Proletarische Tribune für Kunst, Literatur, Dichtung no. 5 (May 1925), 141-148.Nietzsche’s poem “Vereinsamt” was included in Von unten auf: Das Buch der Freiheit, ed. Franz Diederich, 3d ed. (Dresden: Verlag Kaden, 1928), 365. See Hollub, 1.See Karl Henckell, Deutsche Dichter seit Heinrich Heine (Berlin: Bard-Marquardt, 1906), 112-120, for a discussion of the poet and the poem. See too Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 264.George L. Mosse, “Literature and Society in Germany,” in Masses and Man, 26.Alfred Klineberg, Die deutsche Dichtung in ihren sozialen, zeit- und geistesgeschichtlichen Bedingungen (Berlin: J. H. W. Dietz, 1927), 397-398. Quoted in Hollub, 1.Mehring, “Literarische Rundschau,” 668—669.David Bathrick and Paul Breines, “Marx und/oder Nietzsche: Anmerkungen zur Krise des Marxismus,” in Karl Marx und Friedrich Nietzsche, ed. R. Grimm and J. Hermand, 119-135 (Königstein: Athenäum Verlag, 1978), 127-129. This article has been useful in suggesting some important themes for this chapter.For a detailed review with bibliography see Henning Ottmann, “Anti-Lukacs: Eine Kritik der Nietzsche-Kritik von Georg Lukacs,” Nietzsche-Studien 13 (1984). Henning makes the psychological speculation that the extreme vehemence of Lukacs’s Nietzsche critique is explicable as an attack on himself or his youthful self (pp. 571-572).Kurt Hiller, “Logokratie,” Das Ziel (1920), 220. Cited in Mosse, “Left-Wing Intellectuals,” 188ff. Mosse emphasizes the Kantian rather than the Nietzschean influence. “Ratio dissolves into the human will, and Kurt Hiller wrote that from rationalism the will rises, liberated from the shackles that intellectualism has fastened upon it”; the quote smacks as much of Nietzsche as of KantHiller’s Leben gegen die Zeit (Hamburg: Rowohlt, 1969), 141; Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 102, n. 86.On this characteristically Mannian—and German—problematic see Mann’s 1928 essay “Kultur und Sozialismus” in his Essays, vol. 2, Politik, ed. Hermann Kurzke (Frankfurt am Main: Fischer Taschenbuch, 1977).Thomas Mann, “Nietzsche’s Philosophy in the Light of Contemporary Events,” in Thomas Mann’s Addresses, 95—96. On the antagonism between amoral aestheticism and moral socialism see 98ff.Martin Jay, Marxism and Totality: The Adventures of a Concept from Lukacs to Habermas (Berkeley, Los Angeles, and London: University of California Press, 1984), 9-10. This fine work has been extremely suggestive for the present theme.Some of this complexity emerges from Terry Eagleton’s admiring evocation of Walter Benjamin. Benjamin’s “views of cultural revolution, his anti-historical insistence on the ruptures, recyclings, and reinsertions” were deeply influenced by Nietzsche:Bathrick and Breines, “Marx und/oder Nietzsche,” 125ff.Bloch, “The Impulse of Nietzsche,” 325.Reinhart Maurer, “Nietzsche und die kritische Theorie,” 41-42. This is a brilliant and provocative study.Jay, Marxism and Totality, 8.Maurer, “Nietzsche und die kritische Theorie,” 35—36, 43-44.Der Spiegel 37 (8 September 1969), 164. See too Peter Pütz, “Nietzsche Im Lichte der kritischen Theorie,” Nietzsche-Studien 3 (1974).Aesthetics and Politics (London: NLB, 1977), 131.Theodor Adorno, “Spengler after the Decline,” in Prisms (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1986), 65. Adorno made this point in relation to his negative appraisal of Spengler.Theodor Adorno, review of Ernst Newman’s Wagner biography in Kenyon Review 9 (no. 1, Winter 1947), 161; Martin Jay, The Dialectical Imagination: A History of the Frankfurt School and the Institute of Social Research, 1923-1950 (Boston and Toronto: Little, Brown, 1973), 311, n. 41.Horkheimer’s comments were similarly made in relation to his distaste for Spengler (review of Spengler’s Jahre der Entscheidung, Zeitschrift für Sozialforschung [1933], 423).Max Horkheimer, “Bemerkungen zu Jaspers’ ‘Nietzsche,’ ” Zeitschrift für Sozialforschung (1937), 414.Chapter 2 of Susan Buck-Morss’s work is tellingly entitled “Marx Minus the Proletariat: Theory as Praxis” (The Origin of Negative Dialectics: Theodor W. Adorno, Walter Benjamin and the Frankfurt School [Hassocks, Sussex: Harvester, 1977]).Herbert Marcuse, One-Dimensional Man (Boston: Beacon, 1966), 216.Nietzsche, Genealogy of Morals, 57—62.Jay, “Anamnestic Totalization: Memory in the Thought of Herbert Marcuse,” chap. 7 in Marxism and Totality.Herbert Marcuse, Eros and Civilization: A Philosophical Inquiry into Freud (Boston: Beacon, 1966), 232.Ibid., 121, 122. See too pp. 119—124.Herbert Marcuse, Soviet Marxism: A Critical Analysis (New York: Columbia University Press, 1958), 228—229.Horkheimer remarks that Nietzsche’s means to achieving his Übermensch society, especially his stress on eugenics, were a result of his own isolation (“Bemerkungen zu Jaspers,” 409). Nietzsche’s ideas on socialism and the classless society were formed by his exposure to the Social Democrats, not to Marx. He did not, Horkheimer wryly commented, so badly misjudge the Social Democrats!Theodor Adorno, Minima Moralia: Reflections from Damaged Life, trans. E. F. Jephcott (London: NLB, 1974), 15.This link has been forcefully argued by George Friedman (The Political Philosophy of the Frankfurt School [Ithaca, N.Y., and London: Cornell University Press, 1981], chap. 3). Such analyses of the Frankfurt school also incorporated socioeconomic and capitalist factors more than Nietzsche did.Herbert Marcuse, The Aesthetic Dimension: Toward a Critique of Marxist Aesthetics (Boston: Beacon, 1978), 31.Max Horkheimer, “Materialismus und Metaphysik,” Zeitschrift für Sozialforschung 2, no. 1 (1933), 3-4; “Zum Rationalismusstreit in der gegenwärtigen Philosophie,” Zeitschrift für Sozialforschung 3, no. 1 (1934), 9.Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil, 44; Genealogy of Morals, 3, 24. Maurer has a sustained analysis of this issue (“Nietzsche und die kritische Theorie,” 36).Ibid.Adorno wrote: Among the motifs of cultural criticism one of the most long-established and central is that of the lie: that culture creates the illusion of a society worthy of man which does not exist; that it conceals the material conditions upon which all human works rise, and that, comforting and lulling, it serves to keep alive the bad economic determination of existence.For an enumeration of these criticisms see Pütz, “Nietzsche im Lichte der kritischen Theorie,” 187ff.Max Horkheimer, “On the Problem of Truth,” in The Essential Frankfurt School Reader, ed. Andrew Arato and Eike Gebhardt, intro. Paul Picone, 407-433 (New York: Continuum, 1985), 442.Maurer, “Nietzsche und die kritische Theorie,” 46-49.Friedman, Political Philosophy, 300.Siegfried Kracauer, History: The Last Things Before the Last (New York: Oxford University Press, 1969), 201. It had already been recognized in Gillian Rose, The Melancholy Science: An Introduction to the Thought of T. W. Adorno (London: Macmillan, 1978), 22, 24. See J. G. Merquior’s scathing Western Marxism (London: Paladin, 1986), 134.Jürgen Habermas, Autonomy and Solidarity, ed. Peter Dews (London: Verso, 1986). The critique of both Nietzsche and the Frankfurt school is stressed in Habermas’s attempt to go beyond them (pp. 49, 103, 133, and chap. 6). This is most substantially analyzed in his The Philosophical Discourse of Modernity, trans. Frederick Lawrence (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1987).Jürgen Habermas, “The Entwinement of Myth and Enlightenment,” in Philosophical Discourse.Jurgen Habermas, Knowledge and Interests, trans. Jeremy J. Shapiro (Boston, 1971), 290.Nietzsche is an all-pervasive haunting presence in Habermas’s response to the current Nietzschean “irrationalist” wave contained in Philosophical Discourse.This is the burden of James Miller, “Some Implications of Nietzsche’s Thought for Marxism,” Telos 37 (Fall 1978). There are, of course, Marxists who persuasively resist this syncretism. The daringly “radical” recourse to Nietzsche turns out to land one in a maturely liberal Democrat position, wryly sceptical but genially tolerant of the radical antics of the young... What is at stake here ... is nothing less than the dialectical relation of theory and practice. For if practice is defined in neo-Nietzschean style as spontaneous error, productive blindness, or historical amnesia, then theory can of course be no more than a jaded reflection upon its ultimate impossibility. (Terry Eagleton, “Capitalism, Modernism, and Postmodernism,” in Against the Grain: Selected Essays [London: Verso, 1986], 137).Prominent representatives of this trend include Gilles Deleuze, Derrida, Jean Lyotard, and Foucault. For an example of the Nietzschean component of this thinking see the anthology edited by David B. Allison, The New Nietzsche: Contemporary Styles of Interpretation (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1985).See Jay’s masterful “Epilogue: The Challenge of Post-Structuralism,” in Marxism and Totality, 510—537.Friedrich Wurzbach, Nietzsche und das deutsche Shicksal (Berlin and Leipzig: Deutsches Verlaghaus Bong, 1933), 19—20.Arthur Moller van den Bruck, “Nietzsche und der Sozialismus,” Illustrierte Zeitung 152, (1919), 233. The Nietzsche quotation is from Will to Power, 399.Arthur Moller van den Bruck, Germany’s Third Empire, trans. E. O. Lorimer, (London: Allen and Unwin, 1934), 151-154. The Nietzsche quotation is from Will to Potver, 399.Ibid., 76, 136, 221.Jerry Z. Muller, The Other God That Failed, 149-150, 288-289.Hugo Fischer, Nietzsche Apostata oder die Philosophic des Argenisses (Erfurt: Verlag Kurt Stenger, 1931), 11—17.Nietzsche, Will to Power, 399. Strangely, few latched on to the following: Soldiers and leaders still have far better relationships with each other than workers and employers. So far at least, culture that rests on a military basis still towers above all so-called industrial culture: the latter in its present shape is altogether the most vulgar form of existence that has yet existedSombart, New Social Philosophy, 72, 81-82. His Deutscher Sozialismus typified the trends summarized here. The outlines of this thinking were already contained in his war tract, Handler und Helden.Adolf Hitler, Ring, 30 (1933). Quoted in Sombart, Netv Social Philosophy, 49.Friedrich Mess, Nietzsche: Der Gesetzgeber (Leipzig: Felix Mainer, 1930), 216.Mann, “Nietzsche’s Philosophy,” 94.For an analysis of Spengler’s ongoing relationship with Nietzsche see Zumbini, “Untergänge und Morgenröten.”Oswald Spengler, The Decline of the West, vol. 1, Form and Actuality, 342, 351.Ibid., 371, 370-372.Ibid., 347.Ibid., 361-362.Nietzsche, Will to Power, 411.Oswald Spengler, Decline of the West, vol. 2, Perspectives of World History, trans. Charles Francis Atkinson (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1980), 464.Ibid., 506.Oswald Spengler, Preussentum und Sozialismus (Munich: C. H. Beck, 1925),For details of the National Bolshevik connection see J. P. Stern, Ernst Jünger: A Writer of Our Time (Cambridge: Bowes and Bowes, 1953), 10-13.Ernst Jünger, “Der Arbeiter” in Werke, vol. 6, Essays II (Stuttgart, 1964), 47.Ibid., 61, 26ff, 53ff.Das Wäldchen 125: Eine Chronik aus den Grabenkämpfen, 1318, 3d ed. (Berlin, 1926), 154. I should like to thank Millard Griffin for this reference.Jünger, “Der Arbeiter,” 154.Ibid., 118ff.Ibid., 164ff.Ibid., 159.The classic exposition of this crisis of the “Bourgeois-Christian world” is in Karl Löwith, Von Hegel zu Nietzsche: Der revolutionäre Bruch im Denken des neunzehnten Jahrhunderts (Zürich: Europa, 1941). Translated as From Hegel to Nietzsche: The Revolution in Nineteenth Century Thought, trans. David E. Green (New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1964).For an overview of these groups, see Roy Pascal, “Religion and the Churches,” chap. 7 in his From Naturalism to Expressionism.For a marvelously insightful satire depicting the charlatan, Nietzschean, and demonic character of these groups, see Thomas Mann’s 1904 story, “At the Prophet’s,” in his Stories of Three Decades, trans. H. T. Lowe-Porter (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1936). For the later period see Ulrich Linse, Barfüssige Propheten: Erlöser der zwanziger Jahre (Berlin, 1983).Between 1880 and 1910 dozens of free-thought organizations sprang up. In 1909 they coalesced into the Weimar Cartel, claiming as many as 60,000 members. Given their vast differences, little came from the coalition (Kelly, The Descent of Darwin, 91 ff).Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil, 66.For a discussion of Nietzsche’s views on religion, see Dieter Henke, Gott und die Grammatik: Nietzsches Kritik der Religion (Pfullingen: Günther Neske, 1981).Zarathustra's religiosity accounts too for the unofficial consecration during World War I of that work as a holy national document, which was made official in the Third Reich when it was placed in the vault of the Tannenburg Memorial.For a differing overview of Nietzsche’s reception in theology, see Peter Köster, “Nietzsche-Kritik und Nietzsche-Rezeption in der Theologie des 20 Jahrhunderts,” Nietzsche-Studien 10/11 (1981/1982), 615-685; Joelle Phillipi, “Das Nietzsche-Bild,” chap. 9, “Nietzsche als Feind der Religion und der Moral.”Hans Gallwitz, “Friedrich Nietzsche als Erzieher zum Christentum,” Preussische Jahrbücher 83/84 (1896).Ibid., 336.Mosse, Nationalism and Sexuality.G. Grupp, “Nietzsches Bedeuting für unsere Zeit,” Historische-politische Blätter für das katholische Deutschland 122 (1898); Adelbert Düringer, Nietzsches Philosophie und das heutige Christentum (Leipzig: von Veit, 1907).Eduard Grimm, “Wie wurde Friedrich Nietzsche ein Feind des Christentums, und was können wir von ihm lernen?” Protestantische Monatshefte 4, no. 7 (1900).Eberhard Arnold, “Nietzsches Ringen um Gott,” Der Geisteskampf der Gegenwart: Monatsschrift für christliche Bildung und Weltanschauung 52, no. 10 (1916), 380.Friedrich Rittelmeyer, Friedrich Nietzsche und die Religion: Vier Vorträge (Ulm: Heinrich Kerler, 1904), 88.Theodor Odenwald, Friedrich Nietzsche und das heutige Christentum (Giessen: Alfred Töpelmann, 1926), 17, 23.On Kalthoff’s career see Friedrich Steudel, “Lebenskizze,” in A. Kalthoff, Zukunftsideale (Jena, 1907).Düringer, Nietzsches Philosophie, 150.Albert Kalthoff, Zarathustrapredigten: Reden über die sittliche Lebensauffassung Friedrich Nietzsches (Leipzig: Eugen Diederichs, 1904).Albert Kalthoff, Entstehung des Christentums (Jena, 1904); James Bentley, Between Marx and Christ: The Dialogue in German-Speaking Europe (London: Verso, 1982), 36-41.Kalthoff, Zarathustrapredigten, 4.Ibid., 9.Albert Kalthoff, Die Religion der Modernen (Jena and Leipzig: Eugen Diederichs, 1905), 88, 310.Kalthoff, Zarathustrapredigten, 19—20.On de Lagarde see Fritz Stern, “Paul de Lagarde and a Germanic Religion,” part 1 in The Politics of Cultural Despair: A Study in the Rise of Germanic Ideology (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1961), 3—94.Arthur Bonus, Religion als Wille: Grundlegende zur neuen Frömmigkeit (Jena: Eugen Diederichs, 1915). These ideas were given some impetus by World War I but they had developed some time before. See Bonus’s series of articles on the Germanization of Christianity in Die christliche Welt: Evangelisches Gemeindeblatt für Gebildete aller Stände 13 (1899).Bonus, Religion als Wille, 106.Arthur Bonus, “Der neue Geist,” Die christliche Welt 13 (1899), 173.Arthur Bonus, Zur Germanisierung des Christentums (Jena: Eugen Diederichs, 1911), pp. 66-67.Bonus, “Der neue Geist,” 173.Karl Joel, Nietzsche und die Romantik (Jena: Eugen Diederichs, 1911), 143.Paul Schulze-Berghof, “Zarathustra—Deutsche Mystik—Deutscher Glaube,” Der Vortrupp 5 (1916).Joseph Bernhart, “Meister Eckhart und Nietzsche,” Blätter für Deutsche Philosophie 3, no. 4 (1930).Bertram, Nietzsche, 8, 53.Ibid., 125-135.Ibid., 280-363.Quoted in Lowith, From Hegel to Nietzsche, 327.Hubert Treiber, “Nietzsches ‘Kloster für freiere Geister,’” in Antes and Pahnke, Die Religion von Oberschichten, 149-150.Ludwig Derleth, Die Proklamationen (Leipzig: Insel, 1904). See too Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 182—183.Nietzsche, The Will to Power, 513.H. Kreuzer, Die Boheme: Beiträge zu ihrer Beschreibung (Stuttgart, 1968), 334.Dominik Jost, Ludwig Derleth: Gestalt und Leistung (Stuttgart, 1965), quoted in Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 183, n. 156.Pieter van der Meer de Walcheren, Heimweh nach Gott (Freiburg i. Br.: Herder, 1937), 52, 58ff, 93. Quoted in Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 183, n. 156.Hans von Liebig, “Nietzsches Religion,” Die Umschau 4, no. 42 (13 October 1900); H. Driesmans, “Friedrich Nietzsche und die Religion,” Ernstes Wollen 6, no. 113 (1 August 1904).Wilson, Rudolf Steiner, 18, 86-90. Wilson’s account of Steiner is sympathetic.The power of the attraction is evident in the huge amounts of published writings beginning already in 1892 that Steiner devoted to Nietzsche, including: “Nietzsche-anismus,” Litterarischer Merkur 12, no. 14 (2 April 1892), 105-108; “Nietzsche in frommer Beleuchtung,” Das Magazin für Litteratur 67, no. 33 (20 August 1898), 769-772; “Tolstoi und Nietzsche,” Das Magazin für Litteratur 70, noSteiner’s admiration did not last long. Perhaps because he had prophet-like aspirations, he wrote very critical, psychologizing pieces on Nietzsche, arguing that Nietzsche could not be the leading spirit for the future. Some of these writings are collected in Friedrich Nietzsche ein Kämpfer gegen seine Zeit (Dornach: Rudolf Steiner, [1895] 1983).Cited in Wilson, Rudolf Steiner, 87—88.Cited in Wilson, Rudolf Steiner, 87—88.Lukacs, Destruction of Reason, 362; Miller, “Some Implications of Nietzsche’s Thought for Marxism,” 30; Pannwitz, Einführung in Nietzsche, 9-13.Julius Hart, Der neue Gott: Ein Ausblick auf das kommende Jahrhundert (Florence and Leipzig: Eugen Diederichs, 1899).Richard Meyer, review of Julius Hart’s Der neue Gott, in Deutsche Literaturzeitung, no. 14 (8 April 1899).Hart, Der neue Gott, 92.Hart, “Der neue Mensch,” Das Reich der Erfüllung 2 (1901), 21. Quoted in Mendes-Flohr, From Mysticism to Dialogue, 56.See Mendes-Flohr’s excellent discussion of the Hart brothers, the Neue Gemeinschaft, and Nietzsche in chap. 3, “Buber’s Er/ebms-Mysticism,” in From Mysticism to Dialogue.Hart, “Der neue Mensch,” 27. Quoted in Mendes Flohr, From Mysticism to Dialogue, 57.Landauer considered the Hart brothers superficial, interested in empty word games, and their search for community rhetorical rather than a genuine search for living alternatives (Lunn, Prophet of Community, 142-147).Gustav Landauer, “Die religiöse Jugenderziehung,” Freie Bühne (February 11, 1891). Quoted in Lunn, Prophet of Community, 32.Landauer, Skepsis und Mystik. Quoted in Lunn, Prophet of Community, 160.Quoted in George Steiner, “Sojourns in the Wondrous,” Times Literary Supplement (4 October 1985), 1087.Ernst Bloch, “The Impulse of Nietzsche,” Heritage of Our Times, 331.George L. Kline, “The ‘God-Builders’: Gorky and Lunacharsky,” chap. 4 in his Religious and Anti-Religious Thought in Russia (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press). I am grateful to Prof. Jonathan Frankel for this reference.See Leszek Kolakowski’s succinct analysis of the God-builders in his Main Currents of Marxism, vol. 2: The Golden Age, trans. P. S. Falla (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 1985), 446—447.Kline, Religious and Anti-Religious Thought, 119.Ibid., 124.Max Maurenbrecher, Das Leid: Eine Auseinandersetzung mit der Religion (Jena: Eugen Diederichs, 1912), 5—6.Ibid., 9.Ibid., 133.Ibid., 168.Ibid., 182.Ernst Horneffer, “Die Deutschen und die Religion: Eine Ergänzung und Entgegnung,” Die Tat 2, no. 7 (1910).Max Maurenbrecher, Christentum oder Monismus (Annaberg i. Sa: Grasers, 1914), 10.Max Maurenbrecher, Offenbarung: Eine Probepredigt (Langensalza: Wendt and Klauwell, 1919); Maurenbrecher, Über Friedrich Nietzsche zum deutschen Evangelium: Gottesdienste Andachten und religiöse Auseinandersetzungen (Dresden: Verlag Glaube und Deutschtum, 1926).On Diederichs see Stark, Entrepreneurs of Ideology.Eugen Diederichs, “Sils Maria und Friedrich Nietzsche,” Berliner Tageblatt (8 August 1906); see too his autobiographical comments in his festschrift, Eugen Diederichs: sein Leben und sein Werk (Leipzig: Eugen Diederichs, 1927).On Diederichs’s völkisch posture and connections see Mosse, Crisis of German Ideology, chap. 3. For a different, more sympathetic perspective, see Hinton Thomas, Nietzsche in German Politics, 116ff, and Green, Mountain of Truth.Mosse, Crisis of German Ideology, 59—60.For the history of the Horneffers’ relationship to the Archive, see Peters, Zarathustra’s Sister, 168—169. Their writings on Nietzsche were legion. Here is a small sample: both brothers published Das klassische Ideal: Reden und Aufsätze (Leipzig: J. Zeitler, 1906) in which Nietzsche is prominent; August Horneffer, Nietzsche als Moralist und Schrifsteller (Jena: Eugen Diederichs, 1906); Ernst Horneffer, Nietzsches Lehre von der Ewigen Wiederkunft und deren bisherigen Veröffentlichungen (Leipzig: C. G. Naumann, 1900); Vorträge über Nietzsche: Versuch einer Wiedergabe seiner Gedanken (Göttingen: Franz Wunder, 1901).It should be pointed out that totality permeated the rhetoric of the neoromantic right. Although the notion lacked the rich theoretical nuances it had on the left (as Martin Jay has shown in his Marxism and Totality), it was a prime evocative category for the right as well. Again Nietzsche was the authoritative formulator of this idea and the counterfoil to Marx.Die Tat: Wege zu Freiem Menschentum 1, no. 1 (April 1909), 2.Ernst Horneffer, “Unsere Ziele,” Die Tat 1, no. 1 (April 1909), 2.Martin Green distinguishes nicely between Diederichs’s support for individuality and his opposition to individualism (Mountain of Truth, 220). This distinction applied equally well to the Horneffers and others whom Diederichs supported.August Horneffer, “Der heidnische Lebensweg,” Die Tat 3 (1911-1912).Ibid., 30.Ernst Horneffer, Der künftige Religion (Leipzig: Werner Klinkhardt, 1909).Ibid., 29ff.Ibid., 30.Ibid., 70.Ibid., 103-105.Ibid., 120.George L. Mosse, “The Political Culture of Italian Futurism: A General Perspective,” Journal of Contemporary History 25, nos. 2—3 (May—June 1990), 256.Ernst Horneffer, Nietzsche als Vorbote der Gegenwart (Düsseldorf: A. Bagel, 1934).For the history of this movement, see Hans Buchheim, Glaubenskrise int Dritten Reich: Drei Kapitel nationalsozialistische Religionspolitik (Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlag, 1953); J. Conway, The Nazi Persecution of the Churches, 1933—1945 (London: Weidenfeld and Nicholson, 1968).Hermann Rauschning, Hitler Speaks: A Series of Political Conversations with Adolf Hitler (London: Thornton Butterworth, 1939), 59. Rauschning’s account must be taken with a dose of healthy skepticism.The movement was transformed into a propaganda arm under Nazi supervision through the journal Durchbruch. Even after Hauer was stripped of effective control he continued to preach his religion and was a leading proponent of Aryanization at the University of Tübingen (Uwe Dietrich Adam, Hochschule und Nationalsozialismus: Die Universität Tübingen im Dritten Reich [Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1977])Wilhelm Hauer, “The Origin of the German Faith Movement,” in Wilhelm Hauer, Karl Heim, Karl Adam, trans. T. S. K. Scott-Craig and R. E. Davies, Germany’s New Religion (New York: Abingdon, 1937), 29, 36.Ernst Bergmann, 25 Theses of the German Religion: A Catechism (London, 1936).Hans Günther, Frömmigkeit nordischer Artung (Jena: Eugen Diederichs, 1937), 24.Almost endless references to Nietzsche and Nietzschean themes can be found in the numerous works of Hauer and in the movement’s journal, Deutscher Glaube (Hans Kern, “Die Umwertung aller Werte,” Deutscher Glaube 3 [1936]; Hans Endres, “Aussprache: Der Erlösungsgedanke bei Nietzsche,” Deutscher Glaube 5 [1938]).Wilhelm Hauer, “Meine Begegnung mit Nietzsche,” Deutscher Glaube 2, no. 11 (1935), 569.Wilhelm Hauer, Deutsche Gottschau: Grundziige eines Deutschen Glaubens (Stuttgart: Karl Gutbrod, 1935), 110.Ibid.Wilhelm Hauer, Fest und Feier aus deutscher Art (Stuttgart: Karl Gutbrod, 1936). Hauer wrote prolifically during this period. His works systematically traced the connections between religion and race (Glaube und Blut: Beitrage zum Problem Religion und Rasse [Karlsruhe and Leipzig: Bolze, 1938]).Hans Eggert Schröder, Nietzsche und das Christentum (Berlin: Widulind, 1937), 50ff, 74ff.Nietzsche, Untimely Meditations.Pannwitz, Einführung in Nietzsche, 4.For an excellent overview see Allen S. Weiss, “Impossible Sovereignty: Between The Will to Power and The Will to Chance,“ October 36 (Spring 1986).Georges Bataille, “On Nietzsche: The Will to Chance,” October 36 (Spring 1986), 51, 56.Weiss, “Impossible Sovereignty,” 130.Lukacs, Destruction of Reason, 359.This criticism was correctly leveled at Lukacs by George Lichtheim: “Nowhere does Lukacs come to grips with the notion that Nietzsche’s shattering impact upon an entire generation of Germans may have had something to do with the dissolution of the Protestant faith. The religious dimension simply does not seem to exist for him” (Lukacs [London: Fontana, Collins, 1970], 114).Roger Scruton, “The Philosopher on Dover Beach,” Times Literary Supplement (23 May 1986), 565-566.George Lichtheim, Europe in the Twentieth Century (London: Cardinal, 1974), 186.Considerable scholarship on nazism denies the nihilism thesis. Ernst Nolte’s interesting view that nazism represented a kind of Nietzschean naturalistic revolt against bourgeois theoretical and practical transcendence has a great deal of plausibility (Three Faces of Fascism [New York: Mentor, 1969]).Nietzsche, Ecce Homo, 266.Already in 1942 and within the context of nazism, Franz Neumann called for an examination of “the actual dissemination of Nietzsche’s ideas among the various groups of the German people and the transformation of his ideas during this process of popularization” (Behemoth: The Structure and Practice of National Socialism [New York: Oxford University Press, 1944], 490, n. 93).Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil, 131; see also Ecce Homo, 327: For when truth enters into a fight with the lies of millenia, we shall have upheavals, a convulsion of earthquakes, a moving of mountains and valleys, the like of which has never been dreamed of.Alfred Baumler, Nietzsche der Philosoph und Politiker (Leipzig: Reklam, 1931). For other relevant essays from before the Third Reich, see the reprints of his “Bachofen und Nietzsche” (1929) and “Nietzsche” (1930) in his Studien zur deutschen Geistesgeschichte (Berlin: Junker und Diinnhaupt, 1937).See for example J. Günther, “Nietzsche und der Nationalsozialismus,” Nationalsozialistische Monatshefte 2, no. 21 (December 1931), 560—563.Gottlieb Scheuffler, Friedrich Nietzsche im dritten Reich: Bestätigung und Aufgabe (Erfurt: E. Scheuffler, 1933).Dr. Gross, “Die Propheten: Friedrich Nietzsche, Paul de Lagarde und Houston Stewart Chamberlain in ihrer Bedeutung für uns,” Nationalsozialistische Monatshefte 1 (1930), 29—33. For listings of Nazi forerunners see Alfred Rosenberg, “Gegen Tarnung,” Völkischer Beobachter (3 December 1933); Fritz Peuckert, “Chamberlain und Nietzsche,” Nationalsozialistische Monatshefte 5, no.Neumann, Behemoth, 490, n. 93. See too Rudolf E. Künzli, “The Nazi Appropriation of Nietzsche,’’ Nietzsche-Studien 12 (1983), 429-430.Hans Herbert Reeder, “Leidenschaft um das Reich: Hölderlin, Kleist, Nietzsche,” Die Westmark 4, no. 10 (July 1937), 493.Ernst Horneffer, Nietzsche als Vorbote der Gegenwart (Düsseldorf: Abagel Aktiengesellschaft, 1934), 12.There are countless instances. In Baldur von Schirach’s Nazi youth journal, Wille und Macht, for example, there was little explictly Nietzschean, nor was the title the same as Wille zur Macht. Yet the tones and categories employed, even if parodistic, partial, or unconscious, were derived from the Nietzschean storehouse.Nietzsche did employ the term Untermensch (in The Gay Science and the prologue to Zarathustra), as Kaufmann points out in his translation of The Gay Science (192, n. 30). But the word was not Nietzsche’s invention; it was first used at the end of the eighteenth century, and besides was very marginal for Nietzsche. The Nazis used it far more frequently after transforming it. Still, the term and its application took on its particular resonance within a familiar Nietzschean frame of association—emphasis on Übermenschen implicitly evoked images of Untermenschen (Alex Bein, “The Jewish Parasite,” Leo Baeck Institute Yearbook 10 [1964], 27—28).Josef Ackermann, Heinrich Himmler als Ideologe (Göttingen: Musterschmidt, 1970), 210-214.Dietrich Beitzke, review of Hans Endres’s Rasse, Ehe, Zucht und Züchtung bei Nietzsche und heute, Deutscher Glaube 4 (1939), 183.Alfred Rosenberg, Friedrich Nietzsche (Munich: Zentralverlag der Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiter Partei [NSDAP], 1944), 3.Hans Kern, “Nietzsche und die deutsche Revolution,” Rhythmus: Monatschrift für Bewegegungslehre 12 (1934), 146.Heinrich Hartle, Nietzsche und der Nationalsozialismus (Munich: Zentralverlag der NSDAP, 1937), 6.K. O. Schmidt, Liebe dein Schicksal! Nietzsche und die deutsche Erneurung: Ein Überblick und ein Ausblick (Pfüllingen: Johannes Baum, 1933).Hans Kern, “Die deutsche Wiederentdeckung des Leibes,” Rhythmus 12, nos. 5/6 (May/June 1934); Rudolf Luck, “Nietzsches Lebenslehre des Leibes,” Rhythmus 14 (1936), 97-105.For an illuminating discussion of political interpretations of the rediscovery of the body, see Mosse, Nationalism and Sexuality, chap. 3, especially p. 53.Öhler, Nietzsche und die deutsche Zukunft, 18.Mine is a composite picture of representations to be found in virtually all of the Nietzschean sources quoted in this chapter. Öhler’s Nietzsche und die deutsche Zukunft contains almost all of these components.Peters, Zarathustra’s Sister, 221.Elisabeth Förster-Nietzsche to Ernst Thiel, 12 May 1933; quoted in ibid., 220.Kessler, Diaries, 426.Peters, Zarathustra’s Sister, 211, 212; see too chap. 23, “The Fight against the Weimar Republic.”Kessler, Diaries, 426.Albert Speer, Inside the Third Reich (London: Sphere, 1971), 109.Peters, Zarathustra’s Sister, 222, 224.Völkischer Beobachter (11 November 1935).Hans Donndorf, “Friedrich Nietzsche und die deutsche Schule der Gegenwart,” Deutsches Philologen-Blatt 43 (1935); Heinrich Weinstock, “Die Überwindung der ‘Bildungskrise’ durch Nietzsche,” Der Erziehung: Monatschrift für den Zusammenhang von Kultur und Erziehung in Wissenschaft und Leben 10 (1935), 469-470; Gerhard Budde, “Nietzsche und die höhere Schule,” Monatschrift für höhere Schulen 37 (1938)Hans Heyse, Die Idee der Wissenschaft und die deutsche Universität (Königsberg: Gräfe and Unzer, 1935), 3, 9. Quoted in Hans Sluga, “Metadiscourse: German Philosophy and National Socialism,” Social Research 56, no. 4 (Winter 1989), 812. I thank Menachem Brinker for this reference.Hans-Joachim Falkenberg, “Nietzsche und die politische Wissenschaft,” Volk im Werden 2 (1934), 455-460.Alfred Rosenthal, “Nietzsche und die Reform das Strafrechts,” Deutsche Juristen Zeitung 11, no. 19 (1906), 1069—1072; Josef Kohler, “Nietzsche und die Rechtsphilosophie,” Archiv für Rechts und Sozialphilosophie 1, no. 3 (1908), 355-360; Dietrich Heinrich Kerler, Nietzsche und die Vergeltungsidee: Zur Strafrechtsreform (Ulm: Kerler, 1910).H. Specht, “Friedrich Nietzsches Anthropologie und das Strafrecht,” Monatschrift für Kriminalbiologie: Organ der kriminalbiologische Gesellschaft 30, no. 8 (1939).Ibid., 358.Kurt Kassler, Nietzsche und das Recht (Munich: Ernst Reinhardt, 1941), 12-15, 22. The Nietzsche quote is from Will to Power, 74.Kassler, Nietzsche und das Recht, 31—34.Ibid., 50, 66-69.Öhler, Nietzsche und die deutsche Zukunft, 45—46.Nietzsche, Gay Science, 129.Nietzsche, Will to Power, 389. This was by no means an isolated sentiment in his corpus. See too Will to Power, 141-142, 391-393; Zarathustra, 183-186; Twilight of the Idols, 536-538; Genealogy of Morals, 120-125.Werner Catel, Leben im Widerstreit: Bekenntnisse eines Arztes (Nuremberg: Glock und Lutz, 1974), 179ff. Cited in Ernst Klee, “Euthanasie” im NS-Staat: Die “Vernichtung lebensunwerten Lebens” (Frankfurt am Main: S. Fischer, 1983), 16. On Nietzsche as a potential victim, see ibid., 17.Nietzsche, Daybreak, 274.Kassler, Nietzsche und das Recht, 70-79.E. Kirchner, “Nietzsches Lehren im Lichte der Rassenhygiene,” Archiv für Rassen und Gesellschaftsbiologie 17 (1926).Heinrich Römer, “Nietzsche und das Rasseproblem,” Rasse: Monatschrift für den Nordischen Gedanken 7 (1940), 59.Ibid., 61.Ibid., 63.Lukacs, Destruction of Reason, 362; Miller, “Some Implications of Nietzsche’s Thought for Marxism,” 30; Pannwitz, Einführung in Nietzsche, 9-13.Walter Kaufmann has reminded us that while it was necessary to expurgate Nietzsche before integrating him into the schools the same was not necessary for Wagner (Nietzsche, 41).A good example was the neopagan, anti-Christian Deutsche Glaubensbewegung of Jacob Hauer.“Soldat und Biirger,” Das schwartze Korps (4 April 1935), 9.The Aryan seminar at the University of Tübingen included lectures such as “Nietzsche als Zeuge arischer Weltanschauung” (Nietzsche as Creator of an Aryan Worldview”). See Werner Wirth’s summary of his lecture, “Nietzsche und das Christentum,” _Deutscher Glaube 6 (1939).“Gegen krämerseelen, wie Engländer und andere Demokraten!”: Nietzsche, der Philosoph des Soldatentums,” Der deutsche Erzieher no. 3 (1940), 68—70.J. Hauer, “Gefährlich Leben: Zu Neujahr 1943,” Deutscher Glaube 10 (January 1943).Nietzsche’s warrior side was emphasized even when other areas of disagreement were mentioned (August Faust, Philosophie des Krieges: Schriftenreihe zur weltanschaulichen Schulungsarbeit der NSDAP no. 17 [Munich: Zentralverlag der NSDAP, 1942], 39—43).Richard Gröper, “Nietzsches Stellung zum Kriege,” Nationalsozialistisches Bildungswesen 7, no. 4 (April 1942), 104. (Gröper had been in the forefront of those who enlisted Nietzsche in the World War I effort.)Wilhelm Löbsack, “Nietzsche und der Totale Krieg,” Der Deutsche im Osten 6, no. 5 (August 1943), 213.Hubert A. Cancik, “Der Nietzsche-Kult in Weimar (II),” in Die Religion von Oberschichten, 105—106.Rosenberg, Nietzsche, 16, 21-24.Nietzsche, Will to Power, 464-465. Benn quotes this on p. 52 in his 1933 “Answer to the Literary Emigrants” (Benn, Primal Vision, ed. E. B. Ashton [New York: New Directions, 1971], 46—53).First presented as a radio-lecture see his “Der Neue Staat und die Intellektuellen,” Gesammelte Werke, 433—444.Christian de La Maziere, The Captive Dreamer, trans. Francis Stuart (New York: Saturday Review Press. / E. P. Dutton, 1974). Quoted in Saul Friedländer, Reflections of Nazism: An Essay on Kitsch and Death, trans. Thomas Weyr (New York: Avon, 1986), 8.Marc Augier, Götter Dämmerung: Wende und Ende einer grossen Zeit (Buenos Aires: Editorial Prometheus, 1950), 79—80. I thank George Mosse for this reference.Marcel Deat, Pensee allemande et pensee française, 97-98. Quoted in Ze’ev Sternhell, “Fascist Ideology,” in Fascism: A Reader’s Guide, ed. Walter Laqueur (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1979), 363.For a nuanced yet affirmative picture see Kurt Hildebrandt, “Der ‘gute Europäer,’” Deutscher Almanach (1930), 151—165.Kurt Hildebrandt, “Die Idee des Krieges bei Goethe, Hölderlin, Nietzsche,” in Das Bild des Krieges im deutsches Denken, vol. 1, ed. August Faust (Stuttgart and Berlin: W. Kohlhammer, 1941), 406—407.Rosenberg, Nietzsche, 22.Weisser, “Der Erzieher Nietzsche,” 125.Horneffer, Nietzsche als Vorbote, 18, 12—14, 41.Some of this complexity emerges from Terry Eagleton’s admiring evocation of Walter Benjamin.Bäumler, Nietzsche als Philosoph, 171-172.Nietzsche, Will to Pourer, 366.Bäumler, Nietzsche als Philosoph, 172, 180-181.Hans Eggert Schröder, “Nietzsche und die Germanen,” Germanien 9, no. 5 (May 1937).Bäumler, Nietzsche als Philosoph, 88-100.Nietzsche, Will to Power, 68.Wurzbach, Nietzsche und das deutsche Schicksal; W. Huhle, Friedrich Nietzsche als deutscher Prophet (Chemnitz: Werner Boehm, 1935).Paul Schulze-Berghof, “Der Zarathustra-Dichter als Mystiker,” Die musische Erziehung no. 9 (1942), 7-10.Bäumler, Nietzsche als Philosoph, 157; Öhler, Nietzsche und die deutsche Zukunft, 87ff.Kassler, Nietzsche und das Recht, 74ff.Tal, Christians and Jews in Germany, chap. 5.Ibid., 75.Werner Deubel, “Gräkogermanisch—Gräkojudaisch: Bemerkungen über die Herkunft des neuen Menschenbildes,” Völkische Kultur 2 (1934), 440—443. Deubel protrayed the logocentric as inevitably declining. (Its villains ranged from Paul and Plato through Descartes, Kant, Marx, industrialism, positivism, Americanism, and bolshevism.Günther Augustin, review of Hans Eggert Schroder’s Nietzsche und Christentum in Deutscher Glaube 5 (1938), 212.The group included Donndorf, Hildebrandt, Horneffer, Kassler, and Römer. All, however, no matter how consciously selective they were, remained very positive in their overall posture.Heinrich Härtle, Nietzsche und der Nationalsozialismus (Munich: Zentralverlag der NSDAP, Frank Eher Nachf, 1937), 5.Ibid., 164.Georg Müller, Nietzsche und die deutsche Katastrophe (Gütersloh: C. Bartlesmann, 1946), 15. On Krieck’s anti-Nietzschean stance see Langreder, “Die Auseinandersetzung mit Nietzsche,” 105ff. One should not exaggerate Krieck’s opposition. It was, after all, his journal, Volk im Werden, that published Falkenberg’s “Nietzsche und die politische Wissenschaft.”Christoph Steding, Das Reich und die Krankheit der europäischen Kultur (Hamburg: Hanseatische Verlagsanstalt, 1943).Göbel, Nietzsche Heute, 72.For a typical example of this ongoing Völkisch opposition to Nietzsche, see Arthur Drews, “Nietzsche als philosoph des Nationalsozialismus?” Nordische Stimmen 4 (1934), 172-179. The phrase angry love is also Drews’s, p. 177.Karl Kindt, “Nietzsches Heidentum: Randglossen zu einem unausschöpferischen Thema”; Carl Schweitzer, “Nietzsche und die reformatische Botschaft”; and Tim Klein, “Erlebnisse um Nietzsche” in the Protestant journal Zeitwende 12, no. 1 (October 1935).George Duwe, “Nietzsche der deutsche Denker: Eine Antwort an Prof. D. E. Pfennigsdorf, Bonn,” Deutscher Glaube 4 (1937). The other side of the irony was that Duwe’s article demonstrated the depth of Nietzsche’s Germanism! Nietzsche was the prophet of the German race-bound myths.This was especially true for Protestant polemics. For an important example see Göbel, Nietzsche heute. See too Karl Kindt, “Nietzsche und die Deutschen,” Zeitwende 12, no. 1 (October 1935).Karl Kynast, Die Sonne (1933), 19.Alfred von Martin, Nietzsche und Burckhardt (Munich, 1941), 170. For Martin, Burckhardt was a positive foil to the negative Nietzschean world that implicitly pointed to national socialism. During the Third Reich this comparative topic enjoyed a particular vogue for the allusive functions it evoked.Freyer’s earlier works, including Antäus: Grundlegung einer Ethik des bewussten Lebens (Jena: Eugen Diederichs, 1918) and Prometheus: Ideen zur Philosophie der Kultur Jena: Eugen Diederichs, 1923), had been hailed as continuations of Nietzsche’s project. His most famous work was Revolution von rechts Jena: Eugen Diederichs, 1931).Afterword in Friedrich Nietzsche, Vom Nützen und Nachteil der Historie für das Leben (Leipzig, 1937), 85—95; Muller, The Other God, 299—300.See his interview in Der Spiegel, 30, no. 23 (1966), 204.Gerhard Lehmann, Die deutsche Philosophie der Gegenwart, 184.On the constellation of German philosophies during this period see Sluga, “Metadiscourse.” Sluga demonstrates that, excepting Marxist and positivist philosophies, major philosophical streams had little trouble accommodating themselves to the regime.Examples of better-known neo-Kantians who operated sympathetically with the regime include Nicolai Hartmann and Bruno Bauch, who founded the Deutsche philo-sophische Gesellschaft designed to combat the intrusion of foreign ideas into German philosophy (Sluga, “Metadiscourse,” 798-799).Ibid., 809.See the Blätter für deutsche Philosophie 8 (1934) and the excellent summary by Sluga, “Metadiscourse,” 808ff.Ibid., 810.Karl Jaspers, Nietzsche: Einführung in das Verständnis seines Philosophierens (Berlin and Leipzig: De Gruyter, 1936). Translated as Nietzsche: An Introduction to the Understanding of His Philosophical Activity by Charles Wallraff and Frederic Schmitz (Tuscon: University of Arizona Press, 1980).Kurt Hildebrandt, “Über Deuting und Einordnung von Nietzsche’s ‘System,’” Kant-Studien 41, nos. 3/4 (1936), 221-293. For opponents, see the reviews by Karl Löwith and Max Horkheimer in Zeitschrift für Sozialforschung 6 (1937), 405-414; Kaufmann correctly locates and lauds Jaspers’s explicitly anti-Nazi stance (“Jaspers’s Relation to Nietzsche,” in Schilpp, ed.Hildebrandt, “Über Deutung und Einordnung,” 229-230, 236ff.Jaspers, “Reply to My Critics,” 857—863.Ibid., 860, 859 respectively.C. J. Jung, Nietzsche’s Zarathustra. I first read these lectures in their original, unpublished form and would like to thank Gustav Dreyfuss for giving me access to them and Bernie Stein for alerting me to their existence.Ibid., vol. 2, 893.Ibid., vol. 2, 1518.Ibid., vol. 1, 11. Jung argued that Nietzsche could take his material directly from the unconscious because he was completely severed from the mediating medieval tradition (vol. 2, 894). Much of the analysis involves ingenious interpretations of Zarathustrian symbols. When Nietzsche, for instance, says he “left the lake of his home” (vol. 1, 14), Jung takes this as confirmation of the transition to the collective unconscious. Lakes, he argues, are confined and locked into terra firma which always symbolize consciousness, whereas the sea, as symbol of the collective unconscious, has no real boundaries. The seminar discussions Jung conducted were remarkably open and receptive.Ibid., vol. 1, 104.Ibid., vol. 1, 377—378.Ibid., vol. 2, 1523-1524.Ibid., vol. 1, 87-88.Ibid., vol. 2, 1300.Ibid., vol. 1, 495-496.Ibid., vol. 1, 475-476.Ibid., vol. 1, 582.Nietzsche, Zarathustra, 189. Translated in ibid., vol. 2, 826.Ibid., vol. 2, 827.This—not so new—question has been revived by the publication and translation of Victor Farias’s Heidegger und der Nationalsozialismus (Frankfurt: Fischer, 1989). See too Jürg Altwegg, Die Heidegger Kontroverse (Frankfurt: Athenaeum, 1988); Hugo Ott, Martin Heidegger: Unterwegs zu einer Biographie (Frankfurt: Campus, 1988).David Farrell Krell, foreword to Martin Heidegger, Nietzsche: The Will to Power as Art, vol. 1, trans. David Farrell Krell (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1979), xvi.Martin Heidegger, “Zur Seinsfrage,” Wegmarken (Frankfurt am Main: V. Klostermann, 1967), 252. Quoted in David Farrell Krell, “Analysis,” in Heidegger, Nietzsche, vol. 4, 293.Personal communication, Jerry Muller. See too Gerald Izenberg, The Existentialist Critique of Freud: The Crisis of Autonomy (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1976), 90ff.Jürgen Habermas, “Work and Weltanschauung: The Heidegger Controversy from a German Perspective,” Critical Inquiry 15, no. 2 (Winter 1989), 439, 441.For a clear account of this change see J. L. Mehta, The Philosophy of Martin Heidegger (New York: Harper and Row, 1971), 81—122, especially 112—113; see too Jürgen Habermas, “The Undermining of Western Rationalism through the Critique of Metaphysics,” in Philosophical Discourse. Habermas points out that from Schlegel to Nietzsche the critique of reason called for a new mythology. “But only Heidegger vaporized this concrete need by ontologizing it and foundationalizing it into a Being that is withdrawn from beings” (p. 139). See too George Lichtheim, “On the Rim of the Volcano: Heidegger, Bloch, Adorno,” Encounter 22, no. 4 (April 1964).For the troubled history of this phrase see Thomas Sheehan’s excellent “Heidegger and the Nazis,” New York Review of Books (16 June 1988); Martin Heidegger, Introduction to Metaphysics, trans. Ralph Manheim (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1959), 199.[The article has appeared in English translation by Richard Wolin and Melissa J. Cox.] Karl Löwith, “The Political Implications of Heidegger’s Existentialism,” New German Critique no. 45 (Fall 1988). Although Heidegger’s thought must obviously not be reduced to the conservative revolutionary mode of the interwar period, this did form part of its context (Jeffrey Herf, Reactionary Modernism, chap. 5; Pierre Bourdieu, L’ontologie politique de Martin Heidegger [Paris: Éditions de Minuit, 1988]).Heidegger’s most accessible discussion of this Nietzschean theme in relation to nihilism can be found in his 1943 talk, “The Word of Nietzsche: ‘God Is Dead’” (Heidegger, The Question Concerning Technology and Other Essays, trans. William Lovitt [New York: Harper and Row, 1977], 79). The passage in Nietzsche appears in Genealogy of Morals, 97. See too Löwith, “Heidegger’s Existentialism,” 133.Heidegger, vol. 1, Will to Power as Art, 63. These lectures were given during Winter 1936-1937.Heidegger, “Word of Nietzsche,” 67—70.Die Selbstbehauptung der deutschen Universität (Frankfurt: V. Klostermann, 1983). Translated as “The Self-Assertion of the German University” by Karsten Harries, in Review of Metaphysics 38 (1984/85), 470-480. This translation has not been entirely followed here.“The Self-Assertion of the German University,” 479-480.Martin Heidegger, Nietzsche, vol. 4, Nihilism, trans. Frank A. Capuzzi (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1982), 50—51. Heidegger quoted Nietzsche: Overall insight. All major growth is in fact accompanied by a tremendous disintegration and passing away: suffering, the symptoms of decline, belong to the times of tremendous advance; every fertile and powerful movement of humanity has also created at the same time a nihilistic movement. It could turn out to be the sign of crucial and most essential growth, of transition to new conditions of existence, that the most extreme form of pessimism, nihilism proper, comes into the world. This I have grasped. See Nietzsche, Will to Power, 69.Quoted in Sheehan, “Heidegger and the Nazis,” 43. In note 43 Sheehan observes that these remarks were omitted from the published version of the Schelling lectures and cites them from Carl Ulmer, Der Spiegel (2 May 1977), 10.Heidegger, Will to Power as Art, 22. The main disagreement revolved around Baumler’s sweeping rejection of the doctrine of eternal recurrence as a whim of Nietzsche. Nietzsche, wrote Baumler, was above all interested in the unlimited flux of becoming and eternal recurrence was a denial of that doctrine. For Heidegger, eternal recurrence was a central ingredient of Nietzsche’s thought. Volume two of Heidegger’s Nietzsche is entitled The Eternal Recurrence of the Same (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1984). “‘Recurrence’ thinks the permanentizing of what becomes, thinks it to the point where the becoming of what becomes is secured in the duration of its becoming” (Heidegger, Nietzsche, vol. 3, The Will to Power as Knowledge, trans. Joan Stambaugh et al. [San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1987], 165).Krell, “Analysis,” in Heidegger, Nietzsche, vol. 4, 272.George Steiner, “Heidegger, Again,” Salmagundi, nos. 82-83 (Spring-Summer 1989), 45-46.Heidegger, Nietzsche, vol. 3, 227.Ibid., 231. “Just as Nietzsche’s thought of will to power was ontological rather than biological, even more was his racial thought metaphysical rather than biological in meaning.” Yet this clearly left room for “metaphysical racial thought”—whatever that meant.Ibid., vol. 4, 51.Ibid., vol. 3, 232-233. See too Heidegger’s revealing comments on the will to power, universal morality, and British and German standards in vol. 4, 144-145.Ibid., vol. 4, 116-117.Much of the contemporary literature argues that there never was a fundamental re-evaluation of national socialism and that to the end Heidegger remained wedded to the historical potential of national socialism, differentiating it from its debased historical actuality.For an excellent description of this dual structure and the parallel process of change see Richard Wolin, “The French Heidegger Debate,” New German Critique no. 45 (Fall 1988), 154-156; Mehta, Philosophy of Martin Heidegger, 40.Ibid., 112-113.Heidegger, “Word of Nietzsche,” 61.Wolin, “French Heidegger Debate,” 156—157. The danger and absurdity of this kind of analysis in some of its contemporary guises is that national socialism now becomes indicted for its excess of humanism!Martin Heidegger, “The Rectorate 1933/34: Facts and Thoughts,” Review of Metaphysics 38 (1984/85), 484—485. His claim that already in 1932, under the influence of Ernst Jiinger’s works, he had formulated a conception of the will to power in order to counter it, as we have shown, disingenuously omitted his earlier, far more positive reading of its redemptive role.For details and a fine analysis of these Heideggerian statements see Sheehan, “Heidegger and the Nazis,” 41—42, 45. In this respect Heidegger was well ahead of the times, anticipating the arguments that were to be voiced during the recent so-called Historikerstreit, the debate amongst German historians concerning the uniqueness of the Nazi Holocaust.Steiner, “Heidegger, Again,” 53-54.D. Gawronsky, Friedrich Nietzsche und das Dritte Reich (Bern: Verlag Herbert Lang, 1935), 5.Starobinski asks about both Rousseau and Nietzsche:Nietzsche, Zarathustra, 179.Johannes Albert, “Nietzsche und Hitler: Zur Ideologie des Nationalsozialismus,” Sozialistische Bildung: Monatschrift des Reichsausschusses für Sozialistische Bildungsarbeit no. 12 (December 1930), 353, 355-357.Ludwig Marcuse, “Märchen von der unblefleckten Empfängnis,” Das Tagebuch 12 (1931), 1331-1335; “Die Papas der Nietzscheaner,” Das Tagebuch 13 (1932), vol. 1, 401-408.Walter Benjamin, “Nietzsche und das Archiv seiner Schwester” in his Gesammelte Schriften, vol. 3, 323—326. ed. Hella Tiedemann-Bartels (Frankfurt: Suhrkamp, 1972), 323ff.Kurt Tucholsky, Gesammelte Werke (Hamburg: Rowohlt, 1960), Volume 7: 1929 “Schwarz auf Weiss,” p. 49.Kurt Tucholsky, “Fräulein Nietzsche,” Gesammelte Werke, vol. 10, 10-11.Ibid., 14.Ibid., 23, 14, 24.I am indebted to an unpublished, untitled paper by Robert Hollub on left-wing Nietzsche reception for these biographical details as well as his interpretive pointers to Gunther’s work.Bernice Glatzer Rosenthal, “Current Soviet Thought on Nietzsche,” in Nietzsche heute: Die Rezeption seines Werkes nach 1968, ed. Sigrid Bauschinger et al. (Bern and Stuttgart: Francke, 1988); Ernst Behler, “Nietzsche in der Marxistischen Kritik Os-tereuropas,” Nietzsche-Studien 10/11 (1981/1982).Gunther’s works, originally published in Moscow in 1935, appear in his Der Herren eigner Geist: Ausgewdhlte Schriften (Berlin and Weimar: Aufbau, 1981).Hans Giinther, “Der Fall Nietzsche,” Unter dem Banner des Marxismus 11 (1935), 542.Günther, Der Herren eigner Geist, 152, 264. See too the summary by Dennis Μ. Sweet, “Friedrich Nietzsche in the GDR: A Problematic Reception,” Studies in GDR Culture and Society 4, 229.Günther, “Der Fall Nietzsche,” 556.Günther, Der Herren eigner Geist, 29.See Lukacs’s Moscow essays, “Nietzsche als Vorläufer der faschistichen Aesthe-tik,” Internationale Literatur (1934) reprinted in his Werke, vol. 10, Probleme der Aes-thetik (Neuwied and Berlin: Luchterhand, 1969) and “Der deutsche Faschismus und Nietzsche,” Internationale Literatur 12 (1943).Lukacs, Destruction of Reason, 4.Ibid., 322, also 87.Ibid., 5, 10.Ibid., 16-17.Ibid., 368ff, 373-374.Ibid., 378—379. This, Lukacs argued, was basically Hitler’s epistemology except that in place of eternal recurrence he incorporated Chamberlain’s racial theory as the new, complementary element (p. 380). Nietzsche’s insistence on “immanence” and dismissal of “transcendence”—and with it the basis of all Christian or socialist morality (p.For Lukacs, popularization did involve coarsening. NietzscheIbid., p. 84, 85.See the critical analysis by Georg Lichtheim in his Lukacs, chapter 7. See too Henning Ottmann, “Anti-Lukacs: Eine Kritik der Nietzsche-Kritik von Georg Lukacs.”Lukacs, Destruction of Reason, 313.Ibid., 314-315.Ibid., 319, 395.Ibid., 317.Ibid., 341. Lukacs realized that Nietzsche had no theory of Aryan supremacy and that his notions of master and slave races were couched only in general terms, that “took into account only socio-ethical considerations. Hence in this respect he was a direct forerunner of Spengler rather than Rosenberg.” Still, Lukacs went on, stressing this difference is only a means of “denazifying” Nietzsche. Since ... Nietzsche drew the same barbaric imperialist conclusions from a racial theory as did Rosenberg from Chamberlain’s, the difference is—to borrow Lenin’s phrase—merely that between a yellow devil and a blue one. (355—356; also 736)Ibid., 752-753.Quoted in T. J. Reed, Thomas Mann, 364—365.Boston Evening Transcript (24 April 1940). Quoted in Rudolf E. Künzli, “Political Uses and Abuses of Nietzsche,” Nietzsche-Studien 12 (1983), 429.Conrad Quest in Liverpool Evening Express, 9 December 1935. Quoted in M. P. Nicolas, From Nietzsche Down to Hitler (London: William Hodge, 1938), 5.Ibid., 5. Quote from speech of 20 March 1935.Hermann Rauschning, The Revolution of Nihilism (New York: Alliance Book, 1939).Rauschning, Hitler Speaks, 220. These seemingly credible works from a former intimate were extremely influential, although their reliability has been severely questioned.Edmond Vermeil, 1939. Germany’s Three Reichs, trans. E. W. Dickes (New York: Howard Fertig, 1969), 239. See too pp. 38-39, 232ff. For more positive comments see pp. 405—407.Maurice Samuel, The Great Hatred (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1940), 53. Unlike many other observers, Samuel regarded the extermination of the Jews as essential to the Nazi scheme of things (p. 137).Ibid., 125.William Montgomery McGovern, From Luther to Hitler: The History of Fascist-Nazi Political Philosophy (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1941), 408—415, 627ff.F. J. C. Hearnshaw, Germany the Aggressor Throughout the Ages (New York: E. P. Dutton, 1941), 235, 272.Gawronsky, Nietzsche und das dritte Reich, 52, 63.Rohan D. Butler, The Roots of National Socialism, 1783-1933 (New York: Howard Fertig, 1968), 276-277.Ibid., 295, 154-167.Nicolas Berdyaev, The Fate of Man in the Modern World, trans. Donald A. Lowrie (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1961); Walter Schubart, Dostojewski und Nietzsche: Symbolik ihres Lebens (Luzern: Vita Nova, 1939). The Nietzschean-Dostoyevskean worlds were often compared and contrasted, with Dostoyevsky acting as the positive counterfoil to the religious faith that Nietzsche had so brutally smashed.Berdyaev, The Fate of Man, 31.Ibid., 26-27, 28-29.Peter Viereck, Metapolitics: The Roots of the Nazi Mind (New York: Capricorn Books, [1941] 1965), 187.Alfred Rosenthal, “Nietzsche und die Reform das Strafrechts.” simultaneously anti-National Socialist yet martial and racist vision of EuropeD. Neumark, “Die jüdische Moderne,” Allgemeine Zeitung des Judentums 64, no. 45 (9 November 1900), 536.Brinton, Nietzsche, 222. In his 1964 preface he wrote:Heinrich Mann, “Nietzsche,” Mass und Wert 2 (1930), 277—304. In Mann’s “Zum Verständnis Nietzsches,” Das Zwanzigste Jahnhundert 6 (1896), 247, he denied that Nietzsche was the “philosopher of capitalism” and described the notion of Übermenschen as “nothing but a social and race-symbol” (pp. 246—251). Later he rejected what he regarded as the antidemocratic aspects of Nietzsche’s thoughtKarl Löwith, From Hegel to Nietzsche, 200.The religious conservative critics we have already mentioned constitute an exception. Notions of national character and the German mind as well as psychologizations of Nietzsche do not amount to broader frameworks. What follows are examples that locate Nietzsche affirmatively. It is also true, however, for Lukacs’s dismissal of Nietzsche.“Between Eroticism and General Economics: Georges Bataille” in Jürgen Habermas, Philosophical Discourse, 216.For Bloch, Adorno, and Horkheimer, Nietzsche, important as he was, was only one element in their reconsiderations. For Bataille he was absolutely central.Theodor Adorno, “Reconciliation under Duress,” in Aesthetics and Politics (London: NLB, 1977), 152.Ottmann, “Anti-Lukacs,” 574.While the Nietzschean moment in Bloch undoubtedly occurred, it should not be overexaggerated (Tony Phelan, “Ernst Bloch’s ‘Golden Twenties’: Erbschaft dieser Zeit and the Problem of Cultural History,” in Culture and Society in the Weimar Republic, ed. Keith Bullivant [Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1977], 113ff).Oskar Negt, “Ernst Bloch: The German Philosopher of the October Revolution,” New German Critique no. 4 (Winter 1975), 12, 14.Ernst Bloch, Erbschaft Dieser Zeit (Zürich: Verlag Oprecht and Helbling, 1935).Neville and Stephen Plaice, introduction to Bloch, Heritage of Our Times, xii— xiii.Ibid., 52.Ibid., 325-326.Ibid., 328, 330, 331.See the excellent summary by Jay, Dialectical Imagination, 258-259. On the Dialectic of Enlightenment see Jay, 253—280.Jtirgen Habermas, “The Entwinement of Myth and Enlightenment: Max Horkheimer and Theodor Adorno,” in Philosophical Discourse 107, 121.Ibid., 106.Theodor Adorno and Max Horkheimer, Dialektik der Aufklärung (Amsterdam: Querido, 1947). Translated as Dialectic of Enlightenment by John Cumming (New York: Seabury, 1972), 44.Ibid., 118-119. The passage referred to appears in Gay Science, 220.Jay, Dialectical Imagination, 265.Adorno and Horkheimer, Dialectic of Enlightenment, 100—101. For further criticism of Nietzsche and his effects on mass culture see pp. 233—234.On Sorge’s early positive attitude and the division of his work into Nietzschean and post-Nietzschean phases, see Samuel and Hinton Thomas, Expressionism, 20,23. On Odysseus and Prometheus see ibid., 75.Quoted in Jürgen Habermas, “Between Eroticism and General Economics,” 211.Ibid., 211.Allan Stökl, introduction in Bataille, Visions of Excess, xviii.See Georges Bataille’s 1949 “On Nietzsche: The Will to Chance, Preface” in the special issue on him in October 36 (Spring 1986), 48.See Bataille’s 1937 essay, “Nietzsche and the Fascists,” in Visions of Excess, 187, 191 (his italics).Bataille, “On Nietzsche,” 50.Bataille, “Nietzsche and the Fascists,” 185—186.Allen S. Weiss, “Impossible Sovereignty: Between The Will to Power and The Will to Chance,” October 36 (Spring 1986), 137.Bataille, “On Nietzsche,” 50—51.Bataille, “Propositions,” in Visions of Excess, 199.Ibid., 201.Weiss, “Impossible Sovereignty,” 142.See for instance Karl Dietrich Bracher, The Age of Ideologies: A History of Political Thought in the Twentieth Century, trans. Ewald Osers (London: Weidenfeld, 1984); Jerry Z. Muller, The Other God that Failed, chaps. 9, 10.Otto Flake, Nietzsche: Rückblick auf Eine Philosophie (Baden-Baden, 1946); see too the afterword to the 1947 2d ed. of the book reprinted in Die Deutschen: Aufsätze zur Literatur und Zeitgeschichte (Hamburg: Rütten und Löning, 1963). The work argued that Nietzsche had penetrated the German nation more deeply than Goethe and almost as deeply as Luther.Otto Flake, “Friedrich Nietzsche,” Die Deutschen, 56-70, 56.Flake, “Afterword,” 70-72.See Alfred Weber’s critical yet sympathetic “Nietzsche und die Katastrophe,” in his Abschied der bisherigen Geschichte: Überwindung des Nihilismus (Hamburg: Claasen and Göverts, 1946).Flake, “Friedrich Nietzsche,” 57, 69.Quoted in Peters, Zarathustra’s Sister, viii.Ibid., 71-72.Alfred von Martin, Geistige Wegbereiter des deutschen Zusammenbruchs (Recklinghausen: Bitter, 1948), 30.Ibid., 25.Ibid., 35-45.Friedrich Meinecke, The German Catastrophe: Reflections and Recollections, trans. Sidney B. Fay (Boston: Beacon, 1963), 24. The conservative historian Gerhard Ritter similarly located the Nietzschean danger as it interacted with flaws in the German character.Thomas Mann, Doktor Faustus (Stockholm: Bermann-Fischer, 1947); translated as Doctor Faustus by H. T. Lowe-Porter (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1948). See Gunilia Bergsten’s Thomas Mann’s ‘Doktor Faustus’: The Sources and Structure of the Novel, trans. Krishna Winston (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1969), 57ff.Reed, Thomas Mann, 369.The East German Marxist critic Stanislaw Lem wrote of Mann’s Doctor Faustus that fascism was an impersonal mechanism not a mythical devil, and its meaning could not be disclosed by reference to some traditional, higher cultural order (“Über das Modellieren der Wirklichkeit im Werk vom Thomas Mann,” Sinn und Form, cited in Reed [Thomas Mann 393ff]).Bernhard Kaufhold, “Zur Nietzsche-Rezeption in der westdeutschen Philosophie der Nachkriegszeit” in Beiträge zur Kritik der gegenwärtigen bürgerlichen Geschichtsphilosophie, ed. Robert Schulz (Berlin: Deutscher Verlag der Wissenschaften, 1958), 279-409, see especially p. 326; Sweet, “Friedrich Nietzsche in the GDR,” 232.Heinrich Scholz, Begegnung mit Nietzsche (Tübingen: Furche-Verlag, 1948), 36.Ibid., 3.Ernst Barthel, Nietzsche als Verführer (Baden-Baden: Hans Bühler Junior, 1947), 7-8, 173.Walter Künneth, “Friedrich Nietzsche, ein Künder der deutschen Katastrophe,” Zeitwende 19, no. 11 (May 1948), 694.Ibid., 705.Konrad Algermissen, Nietzsche und das dritte Reich (Celle: Verlag Joseph Giesel, 1946). Algermissen waited for the end of the Third Reich before he penned his anti-Nazi attacks. During the Nazi years he bitterly attacked the Bolsheviks (Die Gottlosenbewegung der Gegenwart und Ihre Überwindung [Celle: Verlag Joseph Giesel, 1933]).Theodor Steinbüchel, Friedrich Nietzsche: Eine christliche Besinnung (Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt, 1946), 23.Alfred Meusel, “Zur Charakteristik der soziologischen und politischen an-schauungen Friedrich Nietzsches,” Pädagogik: beiträge zur erziehungswissenschaft 3, no. 2 (1948), 56.Georg Müller, Nietzsche und die deutsche Katastrophe (Gütersloh: C. Bartelsmann, 1946), 17.Kessler, Diaries, 426.C. A. Emge, “Nietzsche als Sundenbock,” Berliner Hefte no. 1 (1947), 47.Friedrich Georg Jünger, Nietzsche (Frankfurt am Main: Vittorio Klostermann, 1949), 47.Ibid., 49.See, for instance, Friedrich Georg Jünger, Aufmarsch des Nationalismus (Leipzig, 1926), 171.Karl Schlechta, “Entnazifierung Nietzsches? Wandel im Urteil und Wertung,” Göttinger Universitäts Zeitung 2, no. 16 (18 July 1947), 3-4.Sweet, “Friedrich Nietzsche in the GDR.”See “A philosopher who was a non-person in the worker and peasant State,” The German Tribune, no. 1436 (23 September 1990), 10. 1 thank Jerrold Kessel for this reference.See “Nietzsche in Weimar: Gedenkstaette wiederöffnet,” Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung (21 May 1991). I thank Jerrold Kessel for this reference.The challenge to the orthodox position came from Heinz Pepperle, “Revision des Marxistischen Nietzsche-Bildes,” Sinn und Form 38, no. 5 (1986) and the orthodox counterattack from Wolfgang Harich, “Revision des Marxistischen Nietzsche-Bildes,” Sinn und Form 39, no. 5 (1987). Harich insisted that his orthodoxy be personally enforced by Erich Honecker.See the perceptive comments in Charles S. Maier, The Unmasterable Past: History, Holocaust and German National Identity (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1988), 148, 212, n. 60. The articles by Dennis M. Sweet are also useful (“Friedrich Nietzsche in the GDR”; “Nietzsche Criticized: The GDR Takes a Second Look,” Studies in GDR Culture and Society 7), especially the comments on Renate Reschke’s earlier attempt to broaden the approach. I thank Prof. Klaus Berghahn for the latter references.See “A philosopher who was a non-person,” 10, for a summary. The only breakthrough was a facsimile edition of Ecce Homo published by Mazzino Montinari and Karl-Heinz Hahn, director of the Goethe—Schiller Archives in Weimar.See the Westdeutschen Rundfunk talk by Richard Maximilian Lonsbach, “War Nietzsche Ein Wegbereiter des Dritten Reiches?” in his Friedrich Nietzsche und die Juden.In Germany the charged Nazi past endows terms that elsewhere appear academic and abstract—emancipation, reason, enlightenment—with immediate resonance and rich political connotations. See the interesting comments by Joachim Whaley, “Enlightenment and History in Germany,” The Historical Journal 31 (1 March 1988), 195— 199.This may indeed be the proper context in which to view Habermas’s main work, The Philosophical Discourse of Minority.Gerd Bergfleth has an essay entitled “Die zynische Aufklärung” in his collection characteristically entitled Zur Kritik der Palavernden Aufklärung (Munich: Matthes and Seitz, 1984). The motto on the back cover reads: “Eher wird ein Kamel durch ein Nadelöhr gehen, als eine Ahnung durch einen aufgeklärten Kopf, wenn schon das Hohle darin viel grösser ist.Bergfleth, “Die zynische Aufklärung,” 181.See Ian Buruma’s perceptive article, “There’s no Place Like Heimat,” New York Review of Books (20 December 1990), 34—43.Konkret, 10 October 1990. Quoted in Buruma, “Heimat,” 37. For Bergfleth Nazi racism was the extreme particularist mirror-image of the extreme, unmediated cosmopolitanism of the Enlightenment. Moreover, he suggests, the very universality of the Enlightenment contained a trap for its Jewish proponents resulting in the Holocaust: “All men will become brothers” implies the destruction of those who do not want to be brothers. One cannot exclude the conclusion, paradoxical though it may be: the destruction of European Jewry has one of its roots in the Enlightenment, exactly in that “transition to humanity” on which liberal Judaism rested. (“Die zynische Aufklärung,” 184).It is no accident that in Palavernden Aufklärung Bergfleth includes a translation of Bataille on Nietzsche’s madness. Such left—right borrowings are palpable.Bergfleth, “Zehn Thesen zur Vernunftkritik,” nos. 6—8 in Palavernden Aufklärung, 10—11.Bergfleth’s “Über linke Ironie,” in Palavernden Aufklärung, 179. See too the quote from Zarathustra, 369.Peter Glotz, “The New Right in the New Order,” Liber no. 1 (February 1990), 20.Throughout this work we have considered some of the textual bases for such exercises. Consider the range of interpretive and casuistic possibilities which follow Nietzsche’s motto quoted at the beginning of this chapter: Even by my descent, I am granted an eye beyond all merely local, merely nationally conditioned perspectives; it is not difficult for me to be a “good European.Here the comparison with Darwin may be instructive. Darwinism was also a major fin-de-siecle frame of reference that was pressed into protean political and cultural service. But Darwin’s assimilability into German culture, as Alfred Kelly has pointed out, was inhibited by the fact that he was not a German and thus unamenable to attempts to link him to the German spirit (Kelly, The Descent of Darwin, 7)Nietzsche, Ecce Homo, 262.See Mommsen, Max Weber and German Politics, on the Nietzsche connection and the difficulty of assigning Weber any precise political position. See too Mommsen, The Age of Bureaucracy, 96, 105ff.Kolakowski, “On the So-Called Crisis of Christianity” in his Modernity on Endless Trial, 90-91. See too his fascinating reflections on the complexity of Nietzsche’s modernity in the opening essay (from which the book takes its title), 8—9.See the rather uneven collection of essays, Nietzsche as Postmodernist.As a good example of this, see David B. Allison ed., The New Nietzsche: Contemporary Styles of Interpretation (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 1985).See the interesting critical comments by Robert C. Solomon, “Nietzsche, Postmodernism, and Resentment: A Genealogical Hypothesis,” in Nietzsche as Postmodernist, 291-293.Ernst Bertram, Nietzsche, 5.Over the past few years Kaufmann’s interpretation of Nietzsche has been coming increasingly under attack. See Michael Tanner’s comments on Kaufmann’s “perniciousness” as a Nietzsche commentator, his “hegemony,” and his “intellectual dependants” in “Organizing the Self and the World,” Times Literary Supplement (16 May 1986), 519.See Walter Sokel’s perceptive remarks in “Political Uses and Abuses of Nietzsche in Walter Kaufmann’s Image of Nietzsche,” Nietzsche-Studien 12 (1983). Kaufmann, writes Tanner, “peddled a view of Nietzsche which certainly eliminated any possibility of offence being given to anyone of a liberal humanist outlook” (“Organizing the Self,” 519).Martin Jay, “Should Intellectual History Take a Linguistic Turn? Reflections on the Habermas-Gadamer Debate,” in his Fin-de-Siecle Socialism (New York: Routledge, Chapman, and Hall, 1988), 33.Jacques Derrida, The Ear of the Other, 23—24.Ibid., 30-31.Eric Vogelin early on stressed this point: What deserves some attention, however, is the fact that Nietzsche’s work lends itself easily to such misinterpretations. This fact should not be denied. There is no sense in pretending that the horror passages which are quoted with equal delight by the critics and the National Socialist admirers are not to be found in the work.Geoff Eley, “The German Right, 1860-1945: How It Changed,” in his From Unification to Nazism: Reinterpreting the German Past (Boston: Allen and Unwin, 1986), 234. See too his remarks on intellectual history that “makes its connections by lifting ideas from their sensible context” (ibid.).Bloch, “Über Wurzeln des Nazismus,” 319—320.Thomas Nipperdey, “1933 and the Continuity of German History” in H. W. Koch, ed., Aspects of the Third Reich (New York: St. Martin’s, 1985), 493, 504.David Blackbourn and Geoff Eley, The Peculiarities of German History: Bourgeois Society and Politics in Nineteenth-Century Germany (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1984), 6. E. Sandvoss, Hitler und Nietzsche (Gottingen: Musterschmidt, 1969). We still do not know enough about these transmission belts. The scholarly consensus is that Hitler had either not read Nietzsche or read very littleIbid., 93—94. This was a far cry from what Mann had written in his diary as late as 1936: A revolting article from the Berliner Tageblatt... maintains that the “Nietzschean Manes” are by no means in exile today, but have remained in Germany. It goes on to say that there are only surface differences between Nietzsche and National Socialism—the latter can lay rightful claim to him.—This should rather be said about Sorel. But Nietzsche, who stood for utmost “intellectual rectitude,” for the Dionysian will to know, who smiled at Faust for being a “tragedy of knowledge” because he knew better, who was ready to endure every suffering caused by the truth and for the sake of truth—this man they want to claim in connection with myths of action of a mass appeal roughly of the level of the most degenerate popular dirty songs. What filth.—Bergson, Sorel, Peguy are the real spiritual forerunners of fascism. It was they who distorted socialism into nationalism. What, then, is “German” about it? (Diaries, 254—255)Berel Lang, Act and Idea in the Nazi Genocide (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1990), 197—198.I have tried to argue for the indispensability of a more sophisticated cultural and intellectual history in “Nazism, Normalcy and the German Sonderweg,” in Studies in Contemporary Jewry 4 (1988). Such a history would establish precisely the nature of reciprocal influences within their proper contexts by tracing mediating links, their diverse effects, and mapping out relevant discoursesStern emphasizes that Nietzsche was “the most critical of modern philosophers” and that he was “not taken in by his own abstractions” (Hitler, 72, 74).See Karl Dietrich Bracher, “The Role of Hitler: Perspectives of Interpretation” in Laqueur, ed., Fascism, 208.Roger Scruton, “The Philosopher on Dover Beach,” Times Literary Supplement (23 May 1986). Berdyaev’s 1935 The Fate of Man in the Modern World, as we have seen, followed a similar line, linking Marx and Nietzsche as similar dehumanizing, naturalizing forces.Leszek Kolakowski, “On the So-Called Crisis of Christianity,” in his Modernity on Endless Trial (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1990), 90-91.Nietzsche, Daybreak, 204. See also 190—191: To construct anew the laws of life and action—for this task our sciences of physiology, medicine, sociology and solitude are not yet sufficiently sure of themselves: and it is from them that the foundation-stones of new ideals (if not the new ideals themselves) must come.Nietzsche, Gesammelte Werke (Leipzig: Kroner), vol. 12, 410. Quoted in Lukacs, Destruction of Reason, 346-347. The emphasis on radical experimentality and great health is spelled out in Human, All Too Human, 8.Kurt Rudolf Fischer, “Nazism as a Nietzschean Experiment,” Nietzscbe-Studien 6(1977), 121.Ernst Nolte, Der Faschismus in seiner Epoche (Munich: Piper, 1963). Tr. Leila Vennewitz, Three Faces of Fascism (New York: New American Library, 1969), 537—567.On the centrality of anti-Semitism and the uniqueness of the exterminations see Nolte, Three Faces, 502. For his argument that Hitler’s anti-Marxism was a function of his desire to annihilate the Jews and not the other way around, as he later claimed, see p. 458.Nolte, Three Faces, 534. While Nolte noted that there were many objections to Lukacs, he agreed that at the end of the nineteenth century a major change in the spiritual climate of Europe took place. Nietzsche’s role was clear:Eva, “Nietzsche und die Frauen,” 2ff.See the analysis in Hinton Thomas, Nietzsche, 88.Nolte, Three Faces, p. 534. In his In Bluebeard’s Castle: Some Notes towards the Re-definition of Culture (London: Faber and Faber, 1971), George Steiner presents a similar thesis.Alfred Bäumler, Nietzsche der Philosoph, 30; Heinrich Römer, “Nietzsche und das Rasseproblem,” Rasse: Monatschrift für den Nordischen Gedanken 7 (1940), 61; Richard Ohler, Nietzsche und die deutsche Zukunft.Ernst Nolte, Der europäische Bürgerkrieg, 1917-1945: Nationalsozialismus und Bolschewismus (Frankfurt and Berlin, 1987), 514—515.Nolte, Nietzsche und der Nietzscheanismus.Ibid., 192-193.Ibid., 193—194. Nolte also included this quote in his Der Faschimus, 533. The Kaufmann translation again renders Nietzsche more genteel and less biological than my more literal translation above indicates. For instance, he translates schonungslose Vernichtung as “relentless destruction,” a far more impersonal, almost agentless description.In an obscure passage in Three Faces of Fascism, Nolte had already hinted at this theme. The positive aspect of both Hitler’s and Nietzsche’s ideas, he wrote, “was completely outweighed by the concrete aspect of their negative will.Nolte, Nietzsche, 195. In Nolte’s view this was true for both the Bolshevik and National Socialist implementations.Ibid., 88, 192.Ibid., 89. Nolte writes that while Marx and Nietzsche developed juxtaposed conceptions bound up with the conditions of the time, neither desired to create Bürgerkriegskonzeptionen. Once decisive steps to realize their visions were taken, however, the end was inevitable (p. 276).Nolte gets caught up in the kind of dubious ideological history of reception discussed in chapter 1. Given his conception of how it ought to have proceeded he can only express surprise that “the concept of the ‘party of life’ does not appear anywhere and the not infrequent discussions on ‘Marx and Nietzsche’ revolve mainly around the juxtaposition of ‘collectivists’ and ‘individualists’” (ibid., 268)Nietzsche, The Antichrist, 593. These quotes can be amplified from elsewhere.Conor Cruise O’Brien, The Siege (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1986), 59, 57-59, 85. O’Brien cites the last pages of Hitler’s Table Talk as evidence without naming the specific passage.George Lichtheim, Europe in the Twentieth Century, 185.Nietzsche, Will to Power, 458—459. Nietzsche, The Antichrist, 593. These quotes can be amplified from elsewhere. In On the Genealogy of Morals, after paradoxically portraying Jesus as the realization of Judaism, Nietzsche wrote, “What is certain, at least, is that sub hoc signo, Israel, with its vengefulness and revaluation of all values, has hitherto triumphed again and again over all other ideals, over all nobler ideals” (p. 35). The Jews, he added, had a world-historic mission. The “masters” have been disposed of; the morality of the common man has won. One may conceive of this victory as at the same time a blood poisoning (it has mixed the races together)—I shan’t contradict; but this intoxication has undoubtedly been successful. The “redemption” of the human race (from the “masters,” that is) is going forward; everything is becoming visibly Judaized, Christianized, mob-ized (what do the words matter!) (p. 36). Careful readers will note that Nietzsche referred in the main to the priestly period: “Originally, especially at the time of kings, Israel stood in the right, that is, the natural relationship to all things” (The Antichrist, 594, 594—598). Interested appropriators (and later historians) seldom bothered with such qualifications. For a perspective of how this fitted into a broader stream of thought see Steven Aschheim, “ ‘The Jew Within’: The Myth of ‘Judaization’ in Germany.”Ibid., 186.This applies to both the antibourgeois and anti-Christian accounts. George L. Mosse, for instance, has recently gone so far as to suggest that the Nazi project represented the defense of bourgeois morality, not the attack against it: far removed from Rauschning’s portrait of Nazi nihilists breaking all limits in a kind of Nietzschean ecstasy, according to Mosse, nazism was actually the attempt to preserve a middle-class world of respectability against all those outsider and deviant groups that threatened it. Yet bourgeois morality while often illiberal had never before assumed genocidal dimensions and what requires explanation is the galvanizing motor that, translated into the bureaucratic, murderous impulse, enabled nazism to transcend middle-class morality while embodying it (Nationalism and Sexuality, 133–152). Bernard Wasserstein has argued that the notion of a Christian limit is problematic indeed and adduces numerous examples of Christian violence upon Jews in which tens of thousands were murdered. Still, a theological, historical, and moral gulf separates these pogroms from the bureaucratized, ideological, and total mass murder of the Holocaust (“Change in Israel,” Times Literary Supplement [10 October 1986], 1123–1124). Others have argued that for the functionaries of genocide, theory and ideology played virtually no role at all. Whether as cause or post facto rationalization, however, some ideational justification had to enter.Robert Lifton’s The Nazi Doctors: Medical Killing and the Psychology of Genocide (London: Papermac, 1987) represents a recent expression of this perception. From Nietzsche the Nazis received the notion of “violent cure” and the notion that “We have to be destroyers!” (Will to Power, 224).
*The documentation of Nietzsche’s influence began early. See Genevieve Bianquis, Nietzsche en France (Paris: F. Alcan, 1929); Guy De Pourtales, Nietzsche en Italie (Paris: Grasset, 1929).
*Walter Kaufmann, Nietzsche: Philosopher, Psychologist, Antichrist, 4th ed. (Princeton N.J.: Princeton University Press, [1950] 1974), 9. Nietzsche’s influence on modern thought and his role within the various academic disciplines will be discussed only inasmuch as they affected his broader impact upon German politics, culture, and identity.
*For a statement on the general nature of reception processes see Hans Robert Jauss, Toward an Aesthetic of Reception, trans. Timothy Bahti, intro. Paul de Man (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1986).
*On the dynamic nature of Nietzsche’s reception see the comments in Massimo Ferrari Zumbini, “Untergänge und Morgenröten: Über Spengler und Nietzsche,” Nietzsche-Studien 5 (1976), 219. Commentators have long been aware that the representation of Nietzsche’s philosophy was intimately related to the evolving history of Nietzschean interpretation itself.
*Numerous encounters mentioned in this book—Thomas Mann and Nietzsche, Oswald Spengler and Nietzsche, Gottfried Benn and Nietzsche, Carl Jung and Nietzsche, etc.—have received detailed analysis elsewhere. Here we have had to console ourselves with Nietzsche’s admonitions concerning the limitations of such “infamous ‘and’” studies.
*For a measure of the size and scope of Nietzsche’s reception within Germany only up to 1918 see the indispensable bibliographic guide by Richard Frank Krummel, Nietzsche und der deutsche Geist, 2 vols. (Berlin, New York: Walter de Gruyter, 1974/ 1983). For a multilingual but far less comprehensive listing that goes beyond 1918 see the compilation by Herbert W. Reichert and Karl Schlechta, International Nietzsche Bibliography (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1960).
*“The effects or structure of a text are not reducible to its ‘truth,’ to the intended meaning of its author, or even its supposedly unique and identifiable signatory” (Jacques Derrida, “Otobiographies: The Teaching of Nietzsche and the Politics of the Proper Name,” in The Ear of the Other: Otobiography Transference Translation, ed. Christie V. McDonald, trans. Peggy Kamuf and Avital Ronell [New York: Schocken Books, 1985]), 29.
*To be sure, the historian must be alert to overt invention, expurgation, selective editing, and outright falsification of Nietzsche’s texts; the notorious tampering activities of Elisabeth Forster-Nietzsche are well known.
*See Kaufmann, Nietzsche, 4. Chapter 10 exemplifies his treatment of the Nazi question.
*Georg Lukacs, The Destruction of Reason, trans. Peter Palmer (Atlantic Highlands, N.J.: Humanities Press, 1981).
*Arno J. Mayer, The Persistence of the Old Regime: Europe to the Great War (New York: Pantheon, 1981), 290; see also 275-329. Mayer does not provide notes or documentary evidence to back up such assertions. For more discussion of the relationship between Nietzscheanism and ruling elites see chapter 4.
*Friedrich Nietzsche, “Why I Write Such Good Books,” in On the Genealogy of Morals and Ecce Homo, trans. and ed. Walter Kaufmann (New York: Vintage, 1969), 262.
*R. Hinton Thomas, Nietzsche in German Politics and Society 1890—1918 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1983).
*H. L. Mencken, “Introduction,” in Friedrich Nietzsche, The Antichrist (New York, 1923). Quoted in Bridgwater, Nietzsche in Anglosaxony, 145-146.
*For a different viewpoint, on the erosion of these distinctions, see Zeev Sternhell, Neither Right nor Left (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1986).
*“Maxims and Arrows,” in Twilight of the Idols, 25.
*Nietzsche, “Why I Write Such Good Books,” in Ecce Homo, 265.
*Kaufmann, Nietzsche, 414; see also p. 250.
*See Kurt Rudolf Fischer’s comments in the discussion of Robert E. McGinn’s “Verwandlungen von Nietzsches Übermenschen in der Literatur des Mittelmeerraumes: d’Annunzio, Marinetti, und Kazantzakis,” Nietzsche-Studien 10/11 (1981-1982), 611.
*Exactly this spirit is evident in Martin Buber, “Ein Wort über Nietzsche und die Lebensworte,” Die Kunst im Leben (December 1900), 13.
*Nietzsche, “On Old and New Tablets,” in Portable Nietzsche, 308.
*Heinrich Berl, “Nietzsche und das Judentum,” Menorah 10 (1932), 59—69.
*C. G. Jung, Nietzsche’s Zarathustra: Notes of the Seminar Given in 1934—1939, 2 vols., ed. James L. Jarrett (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1988).
*Thomas Mann, Reflections of a Nonpolitical Man, trans. Walter D. Morris (New York: Frederick Ungar, 1983), 13.
*Gerhard Hilbert, Moderne Willensziele (Leipzig: A. Deichert, 1911), 19. This was a very common theme adjusted to suit the proclivities of the particular commentator.
*Albert Kalthoff, Zarathustrapredigten: Reden uber die sittliche Lebensauffassung Friedrich Nietzsches (Leipzig: Eugen Diederichs, 1904), 4.
*Georges Bataille, “Nietzsche and the Fascists” (1937), in Visions of Excess: Selected Writings, ed. Allan Stoekl, trans. Allan Stoekl et al. (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1985), 185, 187.
*Nietzsche, “Why I Am a Destiny” in Ecce Homo, 326.
*Nietzsche, “On the Gift-giving Virtue” in Portable Nietzsche, 190.
*Thomas Nipperdey, “War die wilhelminische Gesellschaft eine Untertanen-Gesellschaft?” in Nachdenken über die deutsche Geschichte (Munich: C. H. Beck, 1986), 178-179.
*This is the chapter title of George Mosse’s excellent analysis of that change in his The Culture of Western Europe: The Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, 3d ed. (Boulder and London: Westview Press, 1988).
*Amongst many studies investigating these tendencies see H. Stuart Hughes, Consciousness and Society: The Reorientation of European Social Thought 1890-1930 (New York: Random House, 1958).
*Nietzsche, “The explosive ones,” in Gay Science, 106.
*Zeev Sternhell, “Fascist Ideology” in Walter Laqueur, Fascism: A Reader’s Guide (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1976), 333—334.
*The Birth of Tragedy, trans. Walter Kaufmann (New York: Vintage, 1967), 135.
*Georg Simmel was the most famous representative of this trend. See chapter 4 in Lukacs’s Destruction of Reason for a particular, critical view of both Lebensphilosophie and Simmel.
*Schorske, Fin-de-Siècle Vienna, xix.
*Gottfried Benn, “Answer to the Literary Emigrants,” in Primal Vision, ed. E. B. Ashton (New York: New Directions, 1971), 48.
*William J. McGrath, Dionysian Art and Populist Politics in Austria (New Haven, Conn., and London: Yale University Press, 1974).
*Brandes’s “Aristokratischer Radikalismus: Eine Abhandlung über Friedrich Nietzsche” appeared for the first time in Germany in 1890 in Deutsche Rundschau 63, no. 7 (April 1900), 52-89.
*Nietzsche, “Why I Write Such Good Books,” in Ecce Homo, 262.
*Amongst its members were people who would participate in various streams of the Nietzschean story, including Bruno Wille and Arno Holz. Holz wrote a satirical comedy, Sozialaristokraten, parodying Wille’s brand of individualist, elitist Nietzscheanism.
*Friedrich Nietzsche to J. F. Overbeck, 24 March 1887, quoted in Karl Löwith, From Hegel to Nietzsche: The Revolution in Nineteenth-Century Thought (New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1965), 423, n. 59.
*In Krummel’s Nietzsche und der deutsche Geist the entries for the twenty-two-year period up to 1889 cover only 79 pages. Those of the 1890s cover 192 pages!
*Kurt Eisner, Psychopathia Spiritualis: Friedrich Nietzsche und die Apostel der Zukunft (Leipzig: Wilhelm Friedrich, 1892), 9.
*Hubert A. Cancik, “Der Nietzsche-Kult in Weimar (II),” in Die Religion von Oberschichten: Religion, Profession, Intellektualismus, ed. Peter Antes and Donate Pahnke (Marburg : Diagonal, 1989), 89, 110-111. I thank Guy Strumsa for this reference.
*Adolf Levenstein, Friedrich Nietzsche im Urteil der Arbeiterklasse (Leipzig: F. Meiner, 1914).
*Theodor Fritsch, “Nietzsche und die Jugend,” Hammer: Blätter für deutschen Sinn 10, no. 29 (March 1911), 115. For a continuing emphasis in the Weimar period on Nietzsche’s Polish origins see Karl Kynast, “Der Fall Nietzsche im Lichte rassenkundlicher Betrachtung,” Die Sonne 2 (1925), 533—540, 722—728.
*Heinrich Rickert, Die Philosophie des Lebens. Quoted in Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 1, 414.
*Oswald Spengler, “Nietzsche and His Century,” in Selected Essays, trans. Donald O. White (Chicago: Gateway, 1967), 196-197.
*As one example of this annexation see Franz Haiser, Die Judenfrage vom Standpunkt der herrenmoral: Rechtsvölkische und linksvölkische Weltanschauung (Leipzig: T. Weicher, 1926). He states that while only Germans were capable of grasping Nietzsche in full, they first had to overcome philistinism in themselves (92).
*The cultivated Nietzschean Count Harry Kessler, for instance, was appalled by Spengler’s ruminations in that lecture: For an hour a fat person with a fleshy chin and brutal mouth … spouted the most trite and trivial rubbish. Any young worker in a Worker’s Educational Association who tried to inform his fellows about Nietzsche’s philosophy would have done better. Not one original idea. Not even false glitter. Everything uniformly shallow, dull, insipid and tedious (The Diaries of a Cosmopolitan: Count Harry Kessler 1918–1937, trans. and ed. Charles Kessler [London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1971], 333–334).
*Rudolf Pannwitz, Einführung in Nietzsche (München-Feldafing: Hans Carl, 1920), 1.
*Mann, Reflections, 104.
*Karl Lowith, Mein Leben in Deutschland vor und nach 1933: Ein Bericht (Stuttgart: J. B. Metzlersche, 1986), 6.
*Jung, Nietzsche’s Zarathustra, vol. 2, 909-910. Nietzsche’s influence on Jung was early and profound: You see, 1 was a boy when he was a professor at the university. 1 never saw him, but I saw his friend Jakob Burckhardt very often, and also Bachofen, so we were not separated by cosmic distances. Nietzsche’s mind was one of the first spiritual influences I experienced.
*Ibid., 920ff.
*Kurt Hildebrandt, “Nietzsche als Richter: Sein Schicksal” in Nietzsche als Richter unsrer Zeit, E. Gundolf and K. Hildebrandt, 65—104. (Breslau: Ferdinand Hitt, 1923), 97.
*The essays in Untimely Meditations (published only in 1893) had all appeared long before: “David Strauss, the Confessor and Writer” and “On the Use and Disadvantage of History for Life” in 1873, “Schopenhauer as Educator” in 1874, and “Richard Wagner in Bayreuth” in 1876 (Friedrich Nietzsche, Untimely Meditations, trans. R. J. Hollingdale, intro. J. P. Stern (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983)).
*Harry Graf Kessler, Gesichter und Zeiten: Erinnerungen (Berlin: S. Fischer, 1962), 229, 243.
*Georg Simmel, “Friedrich Nietzsche: Eine moralphilosophische Silhouette,” Zeitschrift fur Philosophic und philosophische Kritik 2 (1896), 202-215.
*Kurt Breysig, “Gedenkrede an Friedrich Nietzsches Bahre,” Die Zukunft 32 (8 September 1900), 413-414. We shall later see to what extent the positive myth of Nietzsche was promoted by his death.
*Friedrich Nietzsche, The Will to Power, trans. Walter Kaufmann and R. J. Hollingdale, ed. Walter Kaufmann (New York: Vintage, 1968), 3.
*See R. A. Nicholls, “Beginning of the Nietzsche Vogue in Germany,” Modern Philology 56 (1958), 25, 37, for some similar thoughts. I do not accept the conception that the Nietzsche cult divides into two periods and that prior to 1900 the critical works were stressed while thereafter the prophetic ones were emphasized.
*For some reflections on Nietzsche and modern political and social life see Arthur Ruppin, “Moderne Weltanschauung und Nietzsche’sche Philosophie,” Die Gegenwart 10 (1903), 147ff.
*Karl Joel, Nietzsche und die Romantik (Jena and Leipzig: Eugen Diederichs, 1905), 68.
*Hilbert, Moderne Willensziele, 19. It is worth noting that these comments came from somebody who in many ways was quite critical of Nietzsche.
*That this was both an ongoing predisposition and sometimes literally intended can be seen in the study by the American psychologist Samuel J. Warner in which Nietzsche and satanism are collapsed into identical embodiments of the drive to personal and mass destruction (The Urge to Mass Destruction [New York and London: Grune and Stratton, 1957]).
*Sander Gilman, “The Nietzsche Murder Case; or, What Makes Dangerous Philosophies Dangerous” in Difference and Pathology: Stereotypes of Sexuality, Race, and Madness (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1985), 59.
*Wilhelm von Polenz, Wurzellocker (Berlin: F. Fontane, 1902), 7ff. See Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 63—65.
*Fritsch, “Nietzsche und die Jugend,” 113.
*For some examples see Wilhelm Carl Becker, Der Nietzschekultus: Ein Kapitel aus der Geschichte der Verirrungen des menschlichen Geistes (Leipzig: Richard Lipinski, 1908), 35ff.
*Gilman, Difference and Pathology, 73. Gilman provides examples of German court cases and suicides. Even in the 1980s in Israel the mass media went out of their way to stress that Mordecai Vanunu, convicted for leaking photographs of Israel’s atomic reactor installation at Dimona, had read and was influenced by Nietzsche (Nahum Barnea, “A Look Inside the Diary” (in Hebrew), Koteret Rashit (19 November 1986), 11-15).
*Eisner, Psychopathia Spiritualis. (The work was originally published in Die Gesellschaft in 1891.) Its title was a play on Baron Richard von Krafft-Ebing’s Psychopathia Sexualis.
*Hermann Türck, Friedrich Nietzsche und seine philosophischen Irrwege (Dresden: Gloess, 1891), 7.
*Paul Julius Moebius, Uber das Pathologische bei Nietzsche (Wiesbaden: J. F. Bergmann, 1902). The work concludes with the warning: “Be mistrustful, for this man has a brain disorder.” Moebius’s work was highly praised in respected standard psychiatric handbooks like Emil Kraepelin’s Psychiatrie in both the 1903 and 1909 editions. See Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 77—78, n. 63.
*Joel, Nietzsche und die Romantik, 327.
*For this immensely influential text see Nietzsche, Gay Science, 181—182.
*Quoted in Colin Wilson, Rudolf Steiner, The Man and His Vision: An Introduction to the Life and Ideas of the Founder of Anthroposophy (Wellingborough, Eng.: Aquarian Press, 1985), 87—88.
*Wieland Herzfelde, “Die Ethik der Geisteskranken,” Die Aktion 4 (1914). See also Augustinus P. Dierick, German Expressionist Prose: Theory and Practice (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1987), 206—207.
*August Horneffer, “Nietzsches Todestag,” Die Tat 2 (1910—1911), 356—360.
*Isadora Duncan, Isadora Speaks, ed. Franklin Rosemont (San Francisco: City Light Books, 1983), 121.
*Georges Bataille, “Nietzsche’s Madness,” 3 January 1939 in October 36 (Spring 1986), 44. See too in the same source “On Nietzsche: The Will to Chance,” 55.
*For a useful history of the book see George Mosse’s introduction in Max Nordau, Degeneration (New York: Howard Fertig, 1968). See too P. M. Baldwin, “Liberalism, Nationalism, and Degeneration: The Case of Max Nordau,” Central European History 13, no. 2 (June 1980).
*Nordau, Degeneration, 5.
*J. Edward Chamberlin and Sander L. Gilman, eds., Degeneration: The Dark Side of Progress (New York: Columbia University Press, 1985).
*Nordau, Degeneration, 15-33.
*Ibid., 416, 451.
*Nietzsche, “Thus Spoke Zarathustra,” 187.
*Nordau, Degeneration, 551. See too the language on p. 556.
*There were plays of all kinds—critical, satiric and tragic. See J. V. Widmann, Jenseits von Gut und Boese: Schauspiel in drei Aufziigen (Stuttgart: J. G. Cotta, 1893). By 1886 Widmann had labeled Nietzsche’s works dangerous. He was not conservative but progressive, concerned by Nietzsche’s antidemocratic, elitist, and antifeminist views (J. V. Widmann, “Nietzsches gefährliches Buch,” Der Bund 37, no. 326 [1886]). There was also Arno Holz’s satirical Sozialaristokraten. The comedy was written in 1896 and staged in Berlin in June 1897. A later example, staged by the Wagner Society in Berlin in 1912, was Paul Friedrich’s Das Dritte Reich: Die Tragödie des Individualismus (Leipzig: Xenien, 1910). Here Nietzsche’s life history was recounted as a “tragedy for which indirectly we are all guilty.”
*For a description of the explosion of magazines, journals, and the press in Germany and the diffusion of Nietzsche see Joelle Phillipi, “Das Nietzsche-Bild in der deutschen Zeitschriftenpresse der Jahrhundertwende” (Inaugural diss., Universität des Saarlandes, Saarbruecken, 1970).
*Harden was an influential mediator of an aggressive, positive Nietzscheana. His important Die Zukunft not only provided a forum for many articles by Elisabeth Foerster-Nietzsche but encouraged Nietzscheanism in general.
*Emil Ludwig, Geschenke des Lebens: Ein Rückblick (Berlin: E. Rowohlt, 1931), 159ff.
*Emil Ludwig, Richard Dehmel (Berlin: S. Fischer, 1913), 118ff.
*Paul Venable Turner, The Education of Le Corbusier (New York, 1978), 56ff.
*One index of this is the multiple inclusion of Nietzsche-related notions contained in Otto Ladendorf, Historisches Schlagwörterbuch: Ein Versuch (Stuttgart and Berlin: Teubner, 1906). See Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 223.
*M. G. Conrad, Der Übermensch in der Politik: Betrachtungen Uber die Reichzustande am Ende des Jahrhunderts (Stuttgart: Robert Lutz, 1895). Although this book was unrelentingly critical it was also true that, as editor of Die Gesellschaft, Conrad was a tireless promoter of Nietzsche and the “new” literature.
*Raoul Richter, “Friedrich Nietzsche und die Kultur unserer Zeit,” rep. in Essays, ed. Lina Richter (Leipzig: F. Meiner, 1913), 112.
*Nietzsche was routinely described as a thinker with an essentially musical (hence German) sensibility (Bernard Scharlitt, “Das Musikalische Element in Friedrich Nietzsche,” Die Musik 4 [1904], 108-112). By 1901 Nietzsche’s role in German modern music was already quite apparent.
*Self-conscious musical modernists like Alban Berg were enthusiastic Nietzscheans (Briefe an seine Frau [Munich and Vienna: Längen-Müller, 1965], 16, 31, 88, 123ff).
*See Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 167 and n. 186.
*Jürgen Krause, “Märtyrer” und “Prophet”: Studien zum Nietzsche-Kult in der bildenden Kunst der Jahrhundertwende (Berlin and New York: Walter de Gruyter, 1984). As Krause has already covered the topic in full I merely concentrate on some major points which relate to the present work. See too Dietrich Schubart, “Nietzsche konkretionsformen in der bildenden Kunst 1890-1933,” Nietzsche-Studien 10/11 (1981/1982).
*“Der Riese: Friedrich Nietzsche,” Pan 1, no. 2 (1895), opposite 94. The very first issue opened with a Nietzsche fragment, “Zarathustra vor dem Konige,” (p. 1) and “Das Königslied,” a poem by Paul Scheerbart, pp. 2-3. Max Klinger’s famous bust of “Der Philosoph” was also reproduced.
*Krause, “Märtyrer” und “Prophet,” has an extensive listing of these attempts and some of the considerations behind them.
*Krause, “Märtyrer” und “Prophet,” 131, 119—120.
*Bernhard Zeller, Hermann Hesse in Selbstzeugnissen und Bilddokumenten (Hamburg: Reinbeck, 1963), 32ff.
*See Krause, “Märtyrer” und “Prophet,“ illus. 10. The quote is rather dubious. See also chap. 4, n. 110.
*This history is told in Edward Timms, Karl Kraus Apocalyptic Satirist: Culture and Catastrophe in Hapsburg Vienna (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1986), 309.
*Tilmann Buddensieg, “Das Wohnhaus als Kultbau: Zum Darmstädter Haus von Behrens,” in Peter Behrens und Nürnberg (Munich: Prestel, 1980). My thanks to Christiane Schütz for drawing my attention to Behrens’s Nietzschean connections.
*Ibid., 44; see too Alan Windsor, Peter Behrens: Architect and Designer (London: Architectural Press, 1981).
*See Georg Fuchs’s enthusiastic description of Kaiser Wilhelm as the realization of the Nietzschean will to power in his Der Kaiser und die Zukunft des deutschen Volkes (Munich and Leipzig: Miiller, 1906), 72ff; quoted in Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 155.
*Manfredo Tafuri, Francesco Dal Co, Modern Architecture, trans. Robert Erich Wolf (New York: Harry N. Abrams, 1979), 96.
*Ibid., 96-97.
*Nietzsche, “Thus Spoke Zarathustra,” 213. From beginning to end “Zarathustra” is permeated with images and metaphors of heights and mountains. For another instance, see Zarathustra, “The Wanderer,” Third Part, 264—266.
*Wolfgang Pehnt, Expressionist Architecture (New York and Washington, D.C.: Praeger, 1973), chap. 5. On Alpine architecture see pp. 82—83 and for Nietzsche’s general influence, pp. 41-43. For all Taut’s emphasis on majestic solitude, he also envisaged mass tours of edification for workers who would observe his works from the air (p. 208).
*Ibid., 208.
*Walter Hammer, “Nietzsche im Hochgebirge,” Davoser Blätter 37, no. 34 (19 September 1908). See too Ernst Bertram, “Nietzsche und die Berge,” Deutsche Alpenzeitung 11 (1911-1912), 279-282.
*“Giovanni Segantini,” Pan 1, no. 3 (1895), 193-195.
*Krause, “Märtyrer” und “Prophet,” 77, especially n. 344.
*Friedrich, Das Dritte Reich.
*For an example of this genre see Becker, Der Nietzschekultus. For a Christian critique see Dr. Adelbert Düringer, “Der Nietzschekultus,” Beweis des Glauben im Geistesleben der Gegenwart 5 (1908), 238-242.
*Nordau, Degeneration, 442, 454—457.
*Türck, Friedrich Nietzsche, quoted in Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 1, 98.
*Walter Eckstein, “Friedrich Nietzsche in the Judgement of Posterity,” Journal of the History of Ideas 6 (1945).
*Hubert Treiber, “Nietzsches ‘Kloster für freiere Geister’: Nietzsche und Weber als Erzieher,” in Die Religion von Oberschichten, ed. Peter Antes and Donate Pahnke (Marburg: Diagonal-Verlag, 1989).
*George Lichtheim, Europe in the Twentieth Century, 185.
*Jürgen Krause, “Märtyrer” und “Prophet”: Studien zum Nietzsche-Kult in der bildenden Kunst der Jahrhundertwende (Berlin and New York: Walter de Gruyter, 1984). As Krause has already covered the topic in full I merely concentrate on some major points which relate to the present work. See too Dietrich Schubart, “Nietzsche konkretionsformen in der bildenden Kunst 1890-1933,” Nietzsche-Studien 10/11 (1981/1982).
*Friedrich Paulsen, “Väter und Söhne: Eine sozialpädagogische Studie aus der deutschen Gegenwart,” Deutsche Rundschau (May 1907), 229-230.
*“Moderne Sophistik: Ein Wort über den Nietzsche-Kultus,” Allgemeine Evangelisch-Lutherische Kirchenzeitung 30 (1897). Quoted in Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 1, 183.
*A. Baumeister, “Friedrich Nietzsche, ein gefährlicher Verführer der heranwachsenden Jugend,” Lehrproben und Lehrgänge 1 (1902), 2. Baumeister compared this odious social democracy with the saving graces of Friedrich Naumann’s “humanitarian national socialism.” See too the comparative, pro-Naumann work by Georg Biedekapp, Friedrich Nietzsche und Friedrich Naumann als Politiker (Göttingen: Fritz Wunder, 1901)
*Ludwig Stein, “Friedrich Nietzsche’s Weltanschauung und ihre Gefahren,” Deutsche Rundschau nos. 6, 8 (March, May 1893), especially no. 6, pp. 376, 380. By locating him within the age-old tradition of cynicism Stein tried to take the sting out of Nietzsche’s originality.
*Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil: Prelude to a Philosophy of the Future, trans. Walter Kaufmann (New York: Vintage, 1966), 38.
*Nietzsche, “On the uses and disadvantages of history for life,” in Untimely Meditations, 61.
*For a late twentieth-century version of this theme, see Peter Sloterdijk, Critique of Cynical Reason, trans. Michael Eldred (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1987). Nietzsche is central in this work and discussed in terms of his own “decisive self-characterization,” as that of a “cynic” (Cyniker)...
*Stein, “Nietzsche’s Weltanschauung,” 383.
*Georg Tantzscher, Friedrich Nietzsche und die Neuromantik: Eine Zeitstudie (Jurjew [Dorpat]: J. G. Krueger, 1900), 5.
*Eisner was referring to such literary Nietzscheans as Ola Hansson, Hermann Conradi, and O. J. Bierbaum; the philosophical excursions of Albert Kniepf; and Julius Langbehn’s völkisch political tract, “Rembrandt als Erzieher,” a title modeled after Nietzsche’s “Schopenhauer as Educator.”
*For an excellent portrait of Tönnies and his intellectual and political development see Arthur Mitzman, Sociology and Estrangement: Three Sociologists of Imperial Germany (New York: Knopf, 1973).
*Ferdinand Tönnies, Der Nietzsche-Kultus: Eine Kritik (Leipzig: O. R. Reisland, 1897), 10.
*Ibid., 109-110.
*Ferdinand Tönnies, Ethische Kultur und ihr Geleite: [in der “Zukunft” und in der ”Gegenwart”], vol. 1, Nietzsche-Narren, vol. 2, Wölfe in Fuchspelzen (Berlin: F. Dümmler, 1893).
*See Erich Schlaikjer, “Der Nietzsche-Kultus” and “Zur Psychologie des Nietzsche-Kultus” in Die Hilfe 5, nos. 10, 13 (5 March, 26 March 1899).
*Becker, Der Nietzschekultus, 99.
*Ibid., 6-7, 97.
*On the influence of Nietzsche’s antiscientific bent on the special character of German sociology see Wolf Lepenies, Between Literature and Science: The Rise of Sociology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988). I thank Jerry Muller for the latter reference.
*See Jürgen Zander, “Ferdinand Tönnies und Friedrich Nietzsche,” in Ankunft bei Toennies: Soziologische Beiträge zum 125. Geburtstag von Ferdinand Toennies, ed. Lars Clausen and Franz Urban Pappi (Kiel: W. Mühlau, 1981), 185—227.
*Liebersohn, Fate and Utopia, 23—24.
*Tönnies, Ethische Cultur, 13-24. Quoted in Liebersohn, Fate and Utopia, 37-38.
*This was apparent already in Simmel’s Über soziale Differenzierung (Amsterdam: Liberae, [1890] 1966). See too K. Peter Etzkorn, ed., Georg Simmel: The Conflict in Modern Culture and Other Essays (New York: Teachers College Press, 1968).
*Georg Simmel, Schopenhauer und Nietzsche: Ein Vortragszyklus (Leipzig: Duncker and Humblot, 1907). Simmel told Ernst Tröltsch that he considered this his most important book (Tröltsch, Gesammelte Schriften, vol. 3 [Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1922]), 121. Quoted in Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 273, n. 234. On Simmel generally see Liebersohn, Fate and Utopia, chap. 5, and Kurt H.
*Simmel, Schopenhauer und Nietzsche, 170-192; see too Simmel’s “Zum Verständnis Nietzsches,” Das freie Wort 2 (1902-1903), 9ff.
*Every enhancement of the type “man” has so far been the work of an aristocratic society—and it will be so again and again—a society that believes in the long ladder of an order of rank and differences in value between man and man, and that needs slavery in some sense or other.
*Klaus Lichtblau, “Das ‘Pathos der Distanz’: Präliminarien zur Nietzsche-Rezeption bei Georg Simmel,” in Georg Simmel und die Moderne, ed. Heinz-Jürgen Dahme and Otthein Rammstedt (Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 1984), 231-281.
*Georg Simmel, “Der Nietzsche-Kultus,” Deutsche Literaturzeitung 42 (23 October 1897), 1645-1651.
*Liebersohn, Fate and Utopia, 142.
*Paul Ernst, “Friedrich Nietzsche: Seine historische Stellung, seine Philosophie,” Freie Bühne 1, nos. 18, 19 (4 June, 11 June 1890), 489ff, 516-520. With a change in politics came a change in Ernst’s evaluation of Nietzsche as well.
*Franz Mehring, review of Psychopathia Spiritualis by Kurt Eisner, Die Neue Zeit 10 (1892), 668.
*Jürgen Habermas, “Zur Nietzsches Erkenntnistheorie,” in Friedrich Nietzsche, Erkenntnistheoretische Schriften (Frankfurt, 1968). Rep. in Kultur und Kritik: Verstreute Aufsätze, Jürgen Habermas (Frankfurt, 1973), 239-263. See too “Conservative Politics, Work, Socialism and Utopia Today,” in Autonomy and Solidarity: Interviews with Jürgen Habermas, ed. Peter Dews, 131—147 (London: Verso, 1986)
*F. Hermann, “Weltanschauungen und Nietzsche,” Der Türmer 13, no. 2 (November 1910), 228.
*Richard Öhler, “1st Nietzsche wirklich tot?” Der Türmer 13, no. 4 (January 1911).
*Franz Serväs, “Kritik und Kunst,” Neue deutsche Rundschau (1895), 165: Nietzsche ist das röteste Blut unserer Zeit, und dieser ist dampfend vergossen werden auf dem Götzenalter der Zeit. Und da soll Nietzsche tot sein, selbst wenn er tausendmal gestorben wäre? Oh, wir werden noch alle trinkem muessen von seinem Blut! Keinem Einzigen von uns wird erspart bleiben.
*Max Zerbst, Nein und Ja! Antwort auf Dr. Hermann Türck’s Broschüre Friedrich Nietzsche und seine philosophischen Irrwege (Leipzig: C. G. Naumann, 1892). See too Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 1, 110.
*This included some who also worked at the archives such as Rudolf Steiner and the Horneffer Brothers.
*Equally distortive would be the total omission of its activities, which R. Hinton Thomas nevertheless manages (Nietzsche in German Politics and Society).
*Richard Öhler, Die Zukunft der Nietzsche-Bewegung (Leipzig: Armanen, 1938), 12.
*See, for instance, the varied and often heady contributions in Zur Erinnerung an Friedrich Nietzsche (Leipzig: Druck and C. G. Naumann, 1900). See too Spengler’s speech, “Nietzsche and His Century.”
*For her sixtieth-birthday celebration see the report in the Berliner Tageblatt (25 July 1906), quoted in Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 252; Alfred Kerr’s “Die Über-menschin” (Tag [27 July 1906]) is a poetic satire on these celebrations. See too the proceedings honoring Forster-Nietzsche on her seventy-fifth birthday, Den Manen Friedrich Nietzsches (Munich: Musarion, 1921).
*H. F. Peters, Zarathustra’s Sister: The Case of Elisabeth and Friedrich Nietzsche (New York: Markus Wiener, 1985). Kaufmann’s Nietzsche also contains an incisive analysis of her activities and notorious editorial practices.
*Peters, Zarathustra’s Sister, provides numerous examples of the conflicts, court cases, and scandals in which Forster-Nietzsche became involved. The accounts of her inability to take any criticism, editorial or otherwise—especially to accept even a hint that she was myth-making—as well as her tendency to believe that she was the victim of blaspheming conspiracies are legion.
*For a useful account of Forster-Nietzsche’s role in the diffusion of the heroic myth of Nietzsche see Phillipi, “Das Nietzsche-Bild,” the section entitled “Elisabeths Nietzsche-Mythos: Nietzsche als Halbgott.”
*For a full list see Krummel, Nietzsche.
*Krause, “Märtyrer” und “Prophet,” 155. Ludovici’s Nietzsche and Art (London : Constable, 1911) was a unique attempt to write a Nietzschean history of art in terms of rising aristocratic and decadent-democratic epochs.
*See the description in Krause, “Märtyrer” und “Prophet,” 199ff.
*See Hartmut Pogge von Strandmann, ed., Walther Rathenau: Industrialist, Banker, Intellectual, and Politician: Notes and Diaries 1907-1922, trans. Caroline Pinder-Cracraft et al. (Oxford: Clarendon, 1985), 113, n. 107.
*Harry Kessler to Hugo von Hoffmansthal, 16 April 1911, in Hugo von Hofmannsthal-Harry Graf Kessler Briefwechsel 1898-1929, ed. Hilde Burger (Frankfurt am Main: Insel, 1968), 323ff.
*Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil, 191.
*Harry Kessler, Gesichter and Zeiten: Erinnerungen (Frankfurt am Main: Fischer, [1921] 1988), 210.
*Friedrich Nietzsche, “On Truth and Lie in an Extra-Moral Sense,” in Portable Nietzsche, 46-47; 42-47.
*Ernst Behler has pointed out that the deconstructionist Nietzsche leaves out the (more difficult) “positive reconstructive” tendencies of his work. “In fact, the deconstructive Nietzsche is a Nietzsche without Zarathustra” (“Nietzsche jenseits der Dekonstruktion,” in Nietzsche und die philosophische Tradition, ed. Josef Simon, 88—107 [Würzburg: Königshausen and Neumann, 1985], 104). This point may, however, need qualification. Recent postmodernist Nietzsche scholarship, as Robert C. Solomon incisively points out, has turned to the problematic fourth book of Zarathustra which, unlike the earlier parts, does not discuss the conditions for the creation of new values but amounts to “an explosion of that very ambition” (“Nietzsche, Postmodernism, and Resentment: A Genealogical Hypothesis” in Nietzsche as Postmodernist: Essays Pro and Contra, ed. Clayton Koelb, 267-293 [Albany: State University of New York Press, 1990], 271; Daniel W. Conway, “Nietzsche contra Nietzsche: The Deconstruction of Zarathustra,” in Nietzsche as Postmodernist; Kathleen Higgins, Nietzsche’s Zarathustra [Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1987] chap. 7).
*Nietzscheans liked to stress the liberational aspects contained in the will to power rather than the epistemological dangers of perspectivism. Both were present in The Will to Power: That the value of the world lies in our interpretation; ... that previous interpretations have been perspective valuations by virtue of which we can survive in life, i.e., in the will to power, for the growth of power; that every elevation of man brings with it the overcoming of narrower interpretations; that every strengthening and increase of power opens up new perspectives and means believing in new horizons—this idea permeates my writings. The world with which we are concerned is false;... it is ‘in flux,’ as something in a state of becoming, as a falsehood always changing but never getting near the truth: for—there is no ‘truth’ (p. 330).
*Founded in 1885, Die Gesellschaft's editor, Michael Georg Conrad (1846-1927), was a convinced although discriminating Nietzschean. His journal was often similarly nuanced. Discussions and reviews of Nietzsche—as well as poems and songs dedicated to him—by Leo Berg, G. Ludwigs, A. Sommerfeld, Joseph Steinmayer, Martha Asmus, and Robert Klein were featured. It also originally published Eisner’s “Friedrich Nietzsche und die Apostel der Zukunft: Beiträge zur modernen Psychopathia spiritualis” (vol. 7 [November, December 1891], 1505—1536, 1600—1664).
*Ernst Blass, “The old Cafe des Westens,” in The Era of German Expressionism, ed. Paul Raabe, trans. J. M. Ritchie (London: Calder & Boyars), 29.
*Ernest Jones, The Life and Work of Sigmund Freud, vol. 2, Years of Maturity 1901—1919 (New York: Basic, 1955), 343ff. For a detailed examination of Freud’s relationship to Nietzsche see Henri F. Ellenberger, The Discovery of the Unconscious: The History and Evolution of Dynamic Psychiatry (New York: Basic, 1970), 271 ff and the excellent article by Lorin Anderson, “Freud, Nietzsche” in Salmagundi 47-48 (Winter-Spring 1980).
*C. G. Jung, Nietzsche’s “Zarathustra,” vol. 2, 1354, n. 8. See also “The Contingency of Selfhood,” chapter 3 in Richard Rorty’s Contingency, Irony and Solidarity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989).
*Phillip Rieff, Freud: The Mind of the Moralist (New York: Harper & Row 1961), 36.
*Nietzsche was, however, at times accused of being too “materialist,” especially in his belief that humans invented values capable of transcending the instinctual realm. In that sense both Freud and Nietzsche were deemed guilty: It was that old euhemeristic hypothesis that man has invented the gods. So [Nietzsche] followed on in the idea that man has invented morality. That was the materialistic view of his age. And you see, that is Freud’s chief prejudice. He thinks man has invented something which can repress an instinct. Of course nothing can repress an instinct except another instinct; it is a conflict of instincts. Jung, Nietzsche’s “Zarathustra,” vol. 1, 649-650.
*Ibid., 370-371.
*R. Hinton Thomas, Nietzsche in German Politics and Society 1890—1918 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1983).
*Ernst Freud, ed., The Letters of Sigmund Freud and Arnold Zweig (New York: Harcourt Brace, 1970), 23—24.
*Of these turn-of-the-century circles a dismayed Mann wrote in 1918: “They innocently believed him [Nietzsche] to be the ‘immoralist’ he called himself; they did not see that this descendant of Protestant ministers had been the most sensitive moralist who ever lived, a morally possessed man” (Reflections, 398).
*Will to Power, 223; see too Friedrich Nietzsche, Daybreak: Thoughts on the Prejudices of Morality, trans. R. J. Hollingdale, intro. Michael Tanner (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982), 18, 100-101, 164.
*Leo Berg, Der Übermensch in der modernen Literatur (Paris, Leipzig, Munich: Albert Langen, 1897), 269ff. Quoted in Treiber, “Nietzsche’s ‘Kloster,’” 149, n. 39.
*The catalogue of writers who introduced Nietzschean themes into their work is large. Amongst the better-known ones were Hermann Bahr, Richard Dehmel, Albert Kniepf and Karl Henckell.
*Der Triumph des Todes appeared in 1899 (Berlin: S. Fischer). His “In Memoriam Friedrich Nietzsche” was also translated (Leipzig: Insel, 1906); it stressed Nietzsche as “a son of the Greeks” and the “barbarian” element. See too Robert E. McGinn, “Verwandlungen von Nietzsches Übermenschen in der Literatur des Mittelmeerraumes: D’Annunzio, Marinetti und Kazantzakis,” Nietzsche-Studien 10/11 (1981/1982), 599
*See the incisive comments by R. A. Nicholls, “Beginning of the Nietzsche Vogue in Germany,” Modern Philology 56 (1958).
*See too Grete Meisel-Hess’s 1911 novel, Die Intellektuellen.
*For a more complete exposition of Gross’s life and thinking see chapter 1 of Martin Green’s fascinating Mountain of Truth: The Counterculture Begins: Ascona, 1900-1920 (Hanover and London: University Press of New England, 1986).
*For Bachofen’s views on matriarchy, see Uwe Wesel, Der Mythos vom Matriarchat (Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 1980).
*Otto Gross, “Zur Überwindung der kulturellen Krise,” Die Aktion: Wochenschrift für Politik, Literatur und Kunst 3 (6 December 1913), 384ff.
*Jung to Freud (25 September 1907), The Freud/Jung Letters (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1974), 90.
*Wolfgang Schwentker, “Passion as a Mode of Life: Max Weber, the Otto Gross Circle and Eroticism,” in Max Weberand his Contemporaries, ed. Wolfgang J. Mommsen and Jiirgen Osterhammel, 483-498 (London: German Historical Institute, 1989), 484.
*Otto Gross, “Die Einwirkung der Allgemeinheit auf das Individuum,” in Von geschlectlicher Not zur sozialen Katastrophe, ed. K. Krieler (Frankfurt, 1980), 17. Quoted in Schwentker, “Passion as a Mode of Life,” 485.
*Eric Hobsbawm, The Age of Empire 1875-1914 (New York; Vintage, 1989), p. 214.
*While Gross’s Marxist ideas were not as noticeable as his anarchist, Freudian, and Nietzschean impulses, this did not prevent the journal Sowjet (May 1920) from eulogizing Gross as a spiritual proletarian: “Otto Gross had to starve in a bourgeois world, because the logic of his life, which diametrically opposed the logic of that world, would have it so” (quoted in Green, Mountain of Truth, 47-48)
*Quoted in Schwentker, “Passion as a Mode of Life,” 485.
*Occult circles in general approved of Nietzsche, citing his deeply religious nature. See the horoscope with detailed illustrations in Friedrich Schwab, “Hinter den Kulissen: Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche,” Zentralblatt für Okkultismus: Monatsschrift zur Erforschung der Gesamten Geheimwissenschaften 1 (1907/1908).
*Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra, 322.
*Rudolf Laban, Ein Leben für den Tanz (Leipzig, 1935), 172. Quoted in Green, Mountain of Truth, 102. Ibid., 110-111.
*Ibid., 110-111.
*Of these experiments one observer noted disapprovingly the “drumming and dancing to Nietzsche. However, what mattered more to us than the primitive writhing of their beautiful souls was some form of dynamic action against the boring repetitiveness in art and disgust at deep-rooted senile tradition.” Christian Schad, “Zurich/Geneva: Dada,” in The Era of German Expressionism, 163.
*Rudolf von Delius, Mary Wigman (Dresden, 1925), 32. Quoted in Green, Mountain of Truth, 193.
*Karl Federn, “Introduction,” in Isadora Duncan, Der Tanz der Zukunft (Leipzig: E. Diederichs, 1903), 7. Not surprisingly it was Eugen Diederichs who published this lecture. He was an ardent supporter of the dance movement which he regarded as part of the overall regenerative thrust away from the overurbanized, alienating elements of imperial Germany (Green, Mountain of Truth, 171—172)
*Isadora Duncan, My Life (New York: Liveright, 1942), 141.
*Ibid., 341.
*Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra, 6.
*Duncan was combining Nietzsche with Wagner and his “music of the future.” Quoted in Green, Mountain of Truth, 169.
*Valentine de Saint Point, “Futurist Manifesto of Lust 1913,” in Futurist Manifestos, ed. Umbro Apollonio (London: Thames and Hudson, 1973), 70-74.
*Ibid., 71.
*This manifesto is reprinted in Futurism and Futurisms (New York: Abbeville 1986), 602-603.
*Ibid., 562.
*For an encyclopaedic overview of futurism and its Nietzschean connections, see ibid.
*Jeffrey Herf, Reactionary Modernism: Technology, Culture, and Politics in Weimar and the Third Reich (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984).
*The work by Walter H. Sokel, The Writer in Extremis: Expressionism in Twentieth-Century German Literature (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1959) remains definitive.
*For the movement’s effect on architecture see Wolfgang Pehnt, Expressionist Architecture, 41-43, 80, 82. Expressionist artists often portrayed Nietzsche himself. Eduard Munch painted him and Otto Dix sculpted him (Krause, “Märtyrer” und “Prophet,” illus. 23, 31). For a discussion of some Nietzschean—expressionist links see Stephen Eric Bronner and Douglas Kellner, eds., Passion and Rebellion: The Expressionist Heritage (New York: J. F. Bergin, 1983). Nietzsche appears throughout but see especially chaps. 1, 8. Nietzsche’s osmotic influence has been argued in Wolfgang Paulsen, Georg Kaiser: Die Perspektiven seines Werkes (Tübingen: M. Niemeyer, 1960), 104. Various monographs have been written on the relationship between individual expressionists and Nietzsche (G. C. Tunstall, “The Turning Point in Georg Kaiser’s Attitude toward Friedrich Nietzsche,” Nietzsche-Studien 14 [1985]; H. W. Reichert, “Nietzsche und Carl Sternheim,” Nietzsche-Studien 1 [1972]). Surprisingly, Hinton Thomas includes virtually nothing of the expressionists even though he had written a book himself on the subject in which Nietzsche was a prominent feature (Richard Samuel and R. Hinton Thomas, Expressionism in German Life, Literature and the Theatre (1910—1924) [Cambridge: W. Heffer and Sons, 1939]).
*Gottfried Benn, “Nietzsche: Nach fünfzig Jahren,” in Gesammelte Werke, vol. 1, ed. Dieter Wellershoff (Stuttgart: Klett-Cotta, 1962), 482. Translated in Roy F. Allen, Literary Life in German Expressionism and the Berlin Circles (Ann Arbor, Mich.: University of Michigan Research Press, 1983), 26.
*Kurt Pinthus, “Rede für die Zukunft,” Die Erhebung 1 (1919), 410-412. Quoted in Tibor Kneif, “Ernst Bloch and Musical Expressionism,” in Bronner and Kellner, Passion and Rebellion, 343.
*“Nietzsche: Nach Fünfzig Jahren,” 488—493.
*Sokel, Writer in Extremis, 66.
*Wieland Herzfelde, “Die Ethik der Geisteskranken,” Die Aktion 4 (1914). See also chapter 5 of Augustinius P. Dierick, German Expressionist Prose: Theory and Practice (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1987).
*“O dass es mir gelingen möchte, mein Leben nun umzugestalten, um ein Pfeil zum Übermenschen zu werden“ (Georg Heym, Dichtungen und Schriften, vol. 3, ed. K. L. Schneider [Hamburg: Ellermann, 1960], 44ff.). See Krummel, Nietzsche und der deutsche Geist, vol. 2, 232.
*“Der Irre,” in Der Dieb: Ein Novellenbuch (Leipzig: E. Rowohlt, 1913). See the perceptive analysis in Dierick, German Expressionist Prose, 204—208.
*Die Erhebung 1 (1919), 415ff. Quoted in Samuel and Hinton Thomas, Expressionism, 70.
*Friedrich Nietzsche, “On the uses and disadvantages of history for life,” in Untimely Meditations, trans. R. J. Hollingdale (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983), 121.
*See Sokel, Writer in Extremis, 87ff.
*Quoted in ibid., 94.
*Peter Jelavich, “Wedekind’s Spring Awakening: The Path to Expressionist Drama,” in Bronner and Kellner, Passion and Rebellion.
*George L. Mosse, “Literature and Society in Germany,” in Masses and Man: Nationalist and Fascist Perceptions of Reality, 21-51 (New York: Howard Fertig, 1980), 46-47.
*Hans Johst was aware of this tendency and tried to neutralize it within his works. Upon listening to the hero of The Young Man (1916) proclaim his creed, his adversary Professor Moralclean responds: “You’d do better to study your grammar than declaim a misunderstood Nietzsche!” (in Der junge Mensch: Ein ekstatisches Szenarium, quoted in Sokel, Writer in Extremis, 94).
*Ibid., 100.
*Michael Hamburger, “Gottfried Benn,” in A Proliferation of Prophets, 206-243 (Manchester: Carcanet, 1983), 207.
*George L. Mosse, “Fascism and the Intellectuals,” in Germans and Jews, 144170 (London: Orbach and Chambers, 1971), 154—155.
*Dierick, German Expressionist Prose, 189.
*Gottfried Benn, “Akademie-Rede,” in Gesammelte Werke vol. 1, ed. Dieter Wellershoff, 431-439 (Stuttgart: Klett-Cotta, 1977), 436.
*See Gottfried Benn’s 1933 speech “Der neue Staat und die Intellektuellen,” rep. in Benn’s Gesammelte Werke vol. 1, 440-449. See also Mosse, “Fascism and the Intellectuals,” 155.
*Kathe Brodnitz, “Die futuristische Geistesrichtung in Deutschland, 1914,” in Expressionismus: Der Kampf um eine literarische Bewegung, ed. Paul Raabe (Zurich: Arche, 1987), 46, 50.
*This account is heavily drawn from Roy Allen, “Der Neue Club,” chap. 4 in Literary Life.
*On universal merriment see Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 395.
*Ibid., 82-83. Hiller’s entire talk, “Das Cabaret and die Gehirne,” appears in his Die Weisheit der Langeweile! Eine Zeit und Streitschrift, 2 vols. (Leipzig: K. Wolff, 1913), 236-239.
*Nietzsche, Ecce Homo, 245.
*Ibid., 391.
*The depth of Nietzsche’s impact on Hiller can be seen in his Leben gegen die Zeit (Hamburg: E. Rowohlt, 1969). See Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 102.
*For more on this aspect of the new pathos see the remarks by Erwin Löwenson, another member of the club, in his Georg Heym oder vom Geist des Schicksals (Hamburg and Munich: H. Ellermann, 1962), 61, 57ff.
*Sokel, Writer in Extremis, 173.
*Heinrich Mann, “Zum Verständnis Nietzsches,” Das Zwanzigste Jahrhundert 6 (1896), 246, 245-251.
*Heinrich Mann, “Geist und Tat,” in Macht und Mensch (Munich: Kurt Wolff, 1919).
*On Sorge’s early positive attitude and the division of his work into Nietzschean and post-Nietzschean phases, see Samuel and Hinton Thomas, Expressionism, 20,23. On Odysseus and Prometheus see ibid., 75.
*Quoted in Sokel, Writer in Extremis, 156. The George Kreis was an initiate community of disciples, a sect with no formal or binding statutes yet utterly under the thrall of its master. The fluid inner circle, this “secret Germany,” probably never exceeded more than forty members.
*Georg Peter Landmann, ed., Stefan Georg und sein Kreis: Eine Bibliographie (Hamburg: E. Hauswedell, 1976); Landmann, ed., Der George-Kreis: Eine Auswahl aus seinen Schriften (Stuttgart: Klett-Cotta, 1980).
*Walter Kaufmann has argued that George lacked “sympathetic understanding of what mattered most to Nietzsche” and that “his picture of Nietzsche was highly personal and clearly determined by his own aspirations” (Nietzsche, 9-11). Again, the accuracy of George’s perceptions is not as relevant here as the fact that his portrait of Nietzsche reveals much about himself.
*Nietzsche, Birth of Tragedy, 20.
*Blätter für die Kunst (May 1901), 5.
*Karl Wolfskehl, “Die Blätter für die Kunst und die Neue Literatur,” Jahrbuch für die geistige Bewegung 1 (1910), 1.
*George L. Mosse, “Caesarism, Circuses and Monuments” in Masses and Man, 104-118. See p. 116 on the politics of George’s aestheticism.
*Wolfskehl, “Die Blatter,” 4-5.
*Lepenies, Between Literature and Science, part 3. I follow Lepenies’s account of George here.
*Nietzsche, Birth of Tragedy, 18.
*Stefan George, Der Stern des Bundes, vol. 2 of Werke (Munich: Deutscher Taschenbuch, 1983), 167.
*In Birth of Tragedy Nietzsche wrote: “And science itself, our science—yes, what, regarded as a symptom of life, is the meaning of life at all? To what end, worse from what cause—all science?” Translated in Lepenies, Between Literature and Science, 206.
*Nietzsche, Human, All Too Human, trans. R. J. Hollingdale (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986), 235—236.
*Wolfskehl, “Die Blätter,” 5.
*Friedrich Gundolf, “Wesen und Beziehung,” in Beiträge zur Literatur und Geistesgeschichte (1911), 173. Quoted in Lepenies, Between Literature and Science, 264.
*Translated in Kaufman, Nietzsche, 10.
*Heinz Raschel accuses George of distorting Nietzsche and argues that George’s aestheticism was quite different from that of the late Nietzsche; if anything, Nietzsche interpreted the poet ironically in _Zarathustra.
*Hildebrandt, “Nietzsche als Richter,” 100. His works include Nietzsches Wettkampf mit Sokrates und Plato (Dresden: Sybillen, 1922); Wagner und Nietzsche: Ihr Kampf gegen das Neunzehnte Jahrhundert (Breslau: Ferdinand Hirt, 1924); Gesundheit und Krankheit in Nietzsches Leben und Werk (Berlin: Karger, 1926).
*George to Gundolf, 11 June 1910, in Stefan George-Friedrich Gundolf Briefwechsel, ed. R. Böhringer and George Peter Landmann (Munich, Düsseldorf: Küpper,
*Pannwitz, Einführung in Nietzsche, 4; Pannwitz, “Was ich Nietzsche und George Danke,” Castrum Peregrini 38, nos. 189/190 (1989).
*Lepenies, Between Science and Literature, 268.
*George’s circle with all its antiacademic bias nevertheless deeply influenced academic trends, especially in the fields of criticism and historiography via two of its most distinguished academic members, Friedrich Gundolf and Ernst Kantorowicz.
*Friedrich Gundolf, Dichter und Helden (Heidelberg: Weisssche Universitätsbuchhandlung, 1921), 49.
*Ernst Bertram, Nietzsche: Versuch einer Mythologie (Berlin: Bondi, 1918).
*Raschel, Nietzsche-Bild, 134. Bertram’s relationship and disillusion with George appears in the published correspondence between Bertram and Ernst Glöckner.
*Pannwitz, Einführung in Nietzsche, 5—8. Pannwitz created a number of Mythen. Five of his plays, written between 1904—1910, were published in 1913 under the title Dionysische Tragödien, and dedicated to “Nietzsche, the creator of our new life.” As Samuel and Hinton Thomas note, unlike Hugo von Hofmannsthal, Pannwitz did not give his versions of classical themes a modern character. Rather they were Nietzschean reconstructions of Greek plays (Expressionism, 63, n. 3, 73). For his religious interpretations, see Pannwitz, Aufruf zum Heiligen Kriege der Lebendigen (Munich-Feldafing: H. Carl, 1920).
*For a good treatment of this outlook see J. H. W. Rosteutscher, Die Wiederkunft des Dionysos: Der naturmystische Irrationalismus in Deutschland (Bern: A. Francke, 1947), 223ff.
*George L. Mosse, “The Mystical Origins of National Socialism,” in Masses and Man, 197-213.
*The link between the two was also explored in 1929 by the leading Nazi Nietzschean, Alfred Bäumler (“Bachofen und Nietzsche,” in Studien zur deutschen Geistesgeschichte [Berlin: Junker and Dünnhaupt, 1937]).
*Roderich Huch, Alfred Schuler, Ludwig Klages, Stefan George: Erinnerungen an Kreise und Krisen der Jahrhundertwende in München-Schwabing (Amsterdam: Castrum Peregrini, 1973). See too the autobiographical novel by Franziska Gräfin zu Reventlow, Herrn Dames Aufzeichnungen (Munich: Biederstein, 1958).
*On Schuler see Mosse, The Crisis of German Ideology, 75—77,211—212; Gerald Plumpe, Alfred Schuler: Chaos und Neubeginn, zur Funktion des Mythos in der Moderne (Berlin: Agora, 1978). For Nietzsche’s influence on Schuler see Schuler, Fragmente und Vorträge aus dem Nachlass, intro. Ludwig Klages (Leipzig: J. A. Barth, 1940), 27f, 33, 34.
*For a comparative textual analysis see Plumpe, Alfred Schuler, 126—127. But Judea immediately triumphed again, thanks to that thoroughly plebian (German and English) ressentiment movement called the Reformation...
*Schuler, Fragmente, 170, 244, 275.
*Ibid., 60ff. Julius Langbehn was another völkisch thinker to try to cure Nietzsche. After winning the confidence of Nietzsche’s mother and his psychiatrist, Otto Binswanger, Langbehn started taking Nietzsche out for long walks. He hoped to obtain funds to set Nietzsche up as a royal child in a household run by Langbehn.
*Huch, Alfred Schuler, 29-30. For the relationship of this plan to Schuler’s cosmology see Plumpe, Alfred Schuler, chap. 5, especially p. 124.
*As Karl Lôwith wrote in 1927, there was a veritable Klages cult during this period consisting of Weltanschauungsdilettanten who regarded him as a man of unsurpassed metaphysical depth (“Nietzsche im Lichte der Philosophie von Ludwig Klages,” Reichls philosophischer Almanach 4 [1927], 285).
*Knowledge of the extent of Nietzsche’s influence on Klages is commonplace as Lôwith attests (“Nietzsche im Lichte”). The usually highly critical Kaufmann gives Klages’s work on Nietzsche particularly respectful—if not concurring—treatment (Nietzsche, 187).
*Ludwig Klages, Vom Kosmogonischen Eros, 6th ed. (Bonn: H. Bouvier, 1963), 82, 79. The above quotes also appear on pp. 55-58. See also the remarks on The Birth of Tragedy, 224.
*Lôwith, “Nietzsche im Lichte,” 286.
*Klages, Geist als Widersacher, xxii.
*Klages and Jung inhabited a similar universe of discourse. Jung’s comments on Klages in his seminar on Zarathustra are instructive. What Klages understood by Geist is the idea which developed toward the end of the 19th century; namely, intellect in the form of books, science, philosophy, and so on. But never before had Geist meant that; it was merely a degeneration of the original meaning of the word. To Nietzsche, spirit meant the original thing, an intensity, a volcanic outburst, while to the scientific or rationalistic spirit of the second half of the 19th century, it was an ice-cold space in which there were things, but it was no longer life. Naturally if you understand Geist in this way, it is the deadliest enemy of the soul you could think of. “Nietzsche’s Zarathustra,” 1128.
*Ludwig Klages, Handschrift und Charakter (Leipzig: J. A. Barth, 1921). By 1929 this had already been through thirteen editions. See too the collection that Klages edited, Graphologisches Lesebuch, 5th ed. (Munich: J. A. Barth, [1930] 1954); Ludwig Klages, Die psychologischen Errungenschaften Nietzsches (Leipzig: J. A. Barth, 1926), 9-16, 210. It may be that Klages’s Nietzschean psychology was designed as an Aryan, irrationalist alternative to rationalist Jewish Freudianism.
*Ludwig Klages, Rhythmen und Runen (Leipzig: J. A. Barth, 1944), 332.
*Quoted in R. Hinton Thomas, “Nietzsche in Weimar Germany and the Case of Ludwig Klages,” in The Weimar Dilemma: Intellectuals in the Weimar Republic, ed. Anthony Phelan, 71—91 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1985), 82.
*Klages, Rhythmen, 522.
*Klages, Psychologische Errungenschaften, 179—207.
*In another context Gerd Klaus Kaltenbrunner has noted the peculiar mix of progressive and regressive elements in such radicalisms (“Zwischen Rilke und Hitler— Alfred Schuler,” Zeitschrift für Religion und Geistesgeschichte 19, no. 4 [1967], 342).
*Klages was “the first thinker since Nietzsche in whose works vitalism was overtly creating concrete myths” (Lukacs, Destruction of Reason, 526, 522ff). He was a direct forerunner of national socialism, Lukacs believed, but, given his reservations, destined more for the coffeehouses than the streets.
*Ernst Bloch, “Romantik des Diluvium,” in Erbschaft dieser Zeit (Zürich: Oprecht and Helbling, 1935), 246, 250-251. See too the new English version, Heritage of Our Times, translated by Neville Plaice and Stephen Plaice (Berkeley, Los Angeles, and Oxford: University of California Press, 1991), 306, 309—310.
*Hinton Thomas, “Nietzsche in Weimar Germany,” 84-87.
*“Ludwig Klages can represent for us the Schwabingites who did not come to Ascona (those who might, who should, have been there, because of their ideas)” (Green, Mountain of Truth, 162). The relationship to Ascona may not only have been spiritual; rumors abounded that Klages was the lover of Ascona’s highly influential, emancipating eroticist, Reventlow.
*Fascism in many ways regarded itself as an avant-garde phenomenon. Certainly many of the intellectuals attracted to it did (George L. Mosse, “Fascism and the Avant Garde” in Masses and Man, 229—245).
*Nietzsche, Ecce Homo, 266.
*Emancipation of women—that is the instinctive hatred of the abortive woman, who is incapable of giving birth, against the woman who is turned out well— the fight against the “man” is always a mere means, pretext, tactic.
*Nietzsche, Zarathustra, 179.
*Oskar Ewald, “Nietzsche und die Frauen (Die Peitsche Zarathustras),” Wage 6, no. 50 (1903), 1324—1328. See Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 138.
*Hedwig Dohm, “Nietzsche und die Frauen,” Die Zukunft 25 (24 December 1898), 534-543.
*Eva, “Nietzsche und die Frauen,” Wiener Sonn- und Montags-Zeitung 40, no. 37 (15 September 1902), 2ff. Quoted in Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 90. Nietzsche did indeed present himself as a thinker who understood women, although the level at which he championed their self-realization was clearly a matter of interpretation:
*Hedwig Dohm, Wie Frauen Werden—Werde, die du bist (Breslau: Schles, Buch dr., Kunst-v. Verl. Aust., 1894). Quoted in Hinton Thomas, Nietzsche in Gemtan Politics and Society, 89-90. Hinton Thomas’s chapter on the feminist movement is perhaps the best in the whole book.
*Ibid., 89. Hinton Thomas also discusses the Nietzschean feminism of the very popular writer Gabriele Reuter (ibid., 90—91).
*Quoted in Alfred G. Meyer, The Feminism and Socialism of Lily Braun (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1985), 31—32; see too 197, nn. 8, 9.
*For a systematic history and outline of the German feminist problematic see Richard J. Evans, The Feminist Movement in Germany 1894-1933 (London and Beverly Hills: Sage, 1976).
*Lily Braun, Memoiren einer Sozialistin, vol. 2, Kampfjahre (Munich: Albert Langen, 1911), 585; translation from Meyer, Lily Braun, 103.
*Meyer, Lily Braun, 141ff.
*Helene Stöcker, “Frauengedanken,” in her Die Liebe und die Frauen (Berlin, 1908), 24—29; Stöcker, “Friedrich Nietzsche und die Frauen,” Das Magazin für Litte-ratur 67 (1898), 128-132, 153-158.
*Helene Stöcker, “Nietzsches Frauenfeindschaft,” Die Zukunft 34 (1901), 432.
*Evans has suggested a relevant biographical reason for this turn. “Stöcker’s views began to change because of an unhappy love affair with a married man” (Feminist Movement, 118). Whereas before she had not disapproved of marriage she now came to regard it as a serious constriction, a matter of property, and even of prostitution rather than the relationship of love that Nietzsche had advocated
*Mutterschutz: Zeitschrift zur Reform der sexuellen Ethik. See the intensely Nietzschean opening statement by Stöcker, “Zur Reform der sexuellen Ethik” 1, no. 1 (1905).
*Stöcker, “Frauenfeindschaft,” 432.
*Nietzsche was again at the center of this antiascetic moment (Helene Stöcker, “Von neuer Ethik,” Mutterschutz 2, no. 1 [1906], 3—4).
*Helene Stöcker, “Nietzsches Frauenfeindschaft,” in Die Liebe und die Frauen (Munich, 1905), 65ff, vii; translation from Schwentker, “Passion as a Mode of Life,” 495-496, n. 16.
*Meyer, Lily Braun, 118.
*For a more comprehensive list see Evans, Feminist Movement, 121-122
*Ibid., 128.
*On Lange and the many other critics of the New Morality see Hinton Thomas, Nietzsche, 80—86.
*Eva, “Nietzsche und die Frauen,” 2ff.
*Friedrich Nietzsche, The Will to Power, trans. Walter Kaufmann and R. J. Hollingdale, ed. Walter Kaufmann (New York: Vintage, 1968), 3.
*For more on this völkisch social Darwinian feminist who sought the end of the “capitalist rule of man” and the restoration of matriarchy see Evans, Feminist Movement, 120-122, 159-160.
*For some reflections on Nietzsche and modern political and social life see Arthur Ruppin, “Moderne Weltanschauung und Nietzsche’sche Philosophie,” Die Gegenwart 10 (1903), 147ff.
*Marie Hecht, “Friedrich Nietzsches Einfluss auf die Frauen,” Die Frau 6, no. 8 (1898/1899), 486-491; rep. in Literarische Manifeste der Jahrhundertwende 18901910, ed. Erich Rupert and Dieter Bänsch, 543-549 (Stuttgart: J. B. Metzlersche, 1970), 549, n. 16; 545.
*Holding such Nietzschean views did not entail any inherently political position. Stöcker never joined the Socialist party, although she remained a left-wing intellectual, social reformer, and pacifist. Braun, like Stöcker, could never be dubbed orthodox; she maintained her feminism within an increasingly belligerent, war-affirming, and nationalistic frame.
*Meyer, Lily Braun, 117.
*Eugenically oriented social reform was often the work of “enlightened” people, including “Francis Galton (Darwin’s cousin), Herbert Spencer, Cesare Lombroso, Ernst Häckel and Emma Goldmann” (Allan Janik, “The Jewish Self-hatred Hypothesis,” in Jews, Antisemitism and Culture in Vienna, ed. I. Oxaal et al., 75-88 [London and New York: Routledge and Kegan Paul], 84).
*Hackett, “Helene Stöcker,” 115.
*“Friedrich Nietzsche und die Frauen,” Bühne und Welt 6, no. 20 (1904), 857-860. Of Nietzsche she concluded: “Vielleicht auf keinem anderen Gebiet, wie auf dem einer höheren und ernsteren Auffassung von Liebe und Ehe, ihrer Bedeutsamkeit fuer die Zukunft der Rasse, für die Erhöhung des Typus Mensch lassen sich sein Wirkungen so sicher und segensreich spüren.”
*Helene Stöcker, “Zur Reform,” 9. See too Hackett, “Helene Stöcker,” 119, for more on the Nietzschean influence on Stocker’s eugenic thought.
*Evans, Feminist Movement, 158ff.
*Simmel was not strictly speaking a Jew. His Jewish father converted to Catholicism and his mother came from a Jewish family who baptized her as a Lutheran. Simmel himself was baptized and married a non-Jewish wife. The perception that Simmel was Jewish nevertheless persisted (Peter Gay, “Encounter with Modernism,” in Freud, Jews and Other Germans [New York: Oxford University Press, 1978], 98)
*For an Austrian example see “Friedrich Nietzsche und die Modernen,” Deutsche Zeitung, no. 10294 (28 August 1900).
*See for instance Leo Hirsch on Siegfried Lipiner, “‘Beinahe Echt?’: Nietzsche und der jüdische Prometheus,” Central Verein Zeitung 14, no. 25 (20 June 1935).
*Jacob Golomb, “Nietzsche and the Marginal Jews” (in Hebrew), Jerusalem Studies in Jewish Thought 4 (1985), 97-143. Since the present work examines the enormous range and intensity of Nietzsche’s appeal to the general literate public, such claims to Jewish exceptionality are problematic.
*For three recent attempts to examine Nietzsche’s views on Jews and Judaism in relation to his whole philosophy, see Arnold M. Eisen, “Nietzsche and the Jews Reconsidered,” Jewish Social Studies 48, no. 1 (Winter 1986); Willard Mittelman, “Nietzsche’s Attitude toward the Jews,” Journal of the History of Ideas 49, no.
*Perhaps foreseeing what his Jewish commentators constantly referred to as a European “Jewish Renaissance” this passage is couched in extremely double-edged language (Nietzsche, Daybreak, 124—125).
*Nietzsche, On the Genealogy of Morals, 33-34; “The Antichrist,” in The Portable Nietzsche, 592. Nietzsche’s pro-Jewish remarks are legion. A little-known, extreme version of this is to be found in a discarded draft for a passage from Ecce Homo:
*Nietzsche, Genealogy of Morals, 144.
*For such a diagnosis, see Theodor Lessing, Deutschland und seine Juden (Prague: Neumann, 1933). See too “Nietzsche, ein Opfer des Antisemitismus,” Mitteilungen des Vereins zur Abwehr des Antisemitismus, no. 15 (1901); “Nietzsche und der Antisemitismus,” Mitteilungen des Vereins zur Abwehr des Antisemitismus, no. 14 (1904).
*Leo Hirsch, “Friedrich Nietzsche und der jüdische Geist,” Der Morgen 10 (1934), 187.
*On the general history and dynamics of this question see Steven E. Aschheim, Brothers and Strangers: The East European Jew in German and German-Jewish Consciousness, 1800—1923 (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1982).
*Auguste Steinberg’s “Nietzsche und das Judentum” (Ost und West 3, no. 8 [1903], 547-556) was one of the better-known sources. modern Jewish national self-consciousness. For an example of the more obscure, see the anonymous “Nitzsche und das Judenthum” (Dr. Adolf Bruell’s Populär-wissenschaflichte Monatsblatter 21, no. 3 [1 March 1901], 49—52). (The incorrect spelling remained throughout.) Fabius Schach, “Ost und West,” Ost und West 3, no. 8 (1903), 547—555. See too Gert Mattenklott, “Nietzscheanismus und Judentum,” in Jahrbuch, vol. 1, Probleme deutsch-jüdischer Identität, ed. Norbert Altenhofer and Renate Heuer, 57-71. (Frankfurt am Main: Archiv Bibliographia Judaica, 1985), 60-61. 1 thank Itta Shidletzky for this reference.
*Quoted in Jacob Boas, “Countering Nazi Defamation: German Jews and the Jewish Tradition, 1933-1938,” Leo Baeck Institute Yearbook 34 (1989), 219.
*Friedrich Blach, Die Juden in Deutschland (Berlin: K. Curtius, 1911), 42.
*On that phrase and Seligmann, see George L. Mosse, “The Secularization of Jewish Theology,” in Masses and Man, 257—259 and German Jews Beyond Judaism (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1985), 74—75.
*Cesar Seligmann, “Nietzsche und das Judentum,” in his Judentum und moderne Weltanschauung (Frankfurt am Main: J. Kaufmann, 1905), 69-70, 76-79. He especially emphasized Nietzsche’s love for the Hebrew Bible and his preference for it over the New Testament.
*Ibid., 86-89.
*N. A. Nobel, “Friedrich Nietzsche’s Stellung zum Judenthum,” Die Jüdische Presse 31, nos. 36, 37, 39 (7 September, 14 September, and 28 September 1900), 414,
*Ibid., 374.
*Ibid., 413-414.
*D. Neumark, “Die jüdische Moderne,” Allgemeine Zeitung des Judentums 64, no. 45 (9 November 1900), 536.
*We should note parenthetically that this equation of Nietzsche as ultimate Judaic prophet persists in the most unlikely incarnation in present-day Israel. Rebbe Arye Weissfisch, a pious hared from the highly orthodox Mea Shearim quarter in Jerusalem has made his life into an obsessive mission to spread the word. According to Weissfisch, Nietzsche’s crowning love was Judaism and the Jews. Post (26 April 1986). In a letter to Weissfisch (10 July 1980), Walter Kaufmann remarked that this position “strikes me as quite odd.” I thank Rabbi Weissfisch for kindly providing me with a copy of this letter.
*Isaac Heinemann, “Der Begriff des Übermenschen in der modernen Religionsphilosophie,” Der Morgen 1 (1925).
*Heinrich Berl, “Nietzsche und das Judentum,” Menorah (1932), 59-61, 67-68.
*Recently Robert A. Cohen has suggested that as much as Rosenzweig praised Nietzsche he also sought to bury him. Whereas he admired Nietzsche’s post-Hegelian and personal approach, there were basic points of disagreement. Rosenzweig, Cohen argues, regarded Nietzsche’s individualism as inferior to Goethe’s. Moreover, both Goethe’s and Nietzsche’s neopagan religious alternatives were inferior to Judeo-Christian options. Rosenzweig’s post-Hegelian sense of subjectivity made him equate revelation with love since both implied the paradoxical meeting of heteronomy and autonomy. Nietzsche’s radical subjectivity had missed this genuine meaning of subjectivity and divorced it entirely from truth. Of course, Rosenzweig’s neo-Orthodoxy rejected key ingredients of Nietzsche. Nevertheless, Cohen’s comments obscure the fact that, as Rosenzweig himself insisted, the influence was seminal (“Rosenzweig vs. Nietzsche,” Nietzsche-Studien 19 (1990), 346-366).
*Gershom Scholem, “On the 1930 Edition of Rosenzweig’s Star of Redemption,” in The Messianic Idea in Judaism (New York: Schocken, 1972), 320. See too his comments on The Star of Redemption's profoundly revolutionary nature and impact.
*Nahum N. Glatzer, ed., Franz Rosenzweig: His Life and Thought (New York: Schocken, 1976), 81.
*N. Glatzer, foreword to The Star of Redemption, by Franz Rosenzweig, trans. William W. Hallo (Boston: Beacon, 1971); Glatzer, Franz Rosenzweig, ix—xxxviii
*Ibid., 81.
*Paul Mendes-Flohr, “Franz Rosenzweig’s Concept of Philosophical Faith,” Leo Baeck Institute Yearbook 34 (1989), 368. Mendes-Flohr gives an instructive analysis of Rosenzweig’s conception of the relation between philosophy and theology.
*Rosenzweig, Star of Redemption, 9.
*For a superb analysis of this tension see Gershom Scholem, “Zionism: Dialectic of Continuity and Rebellion,” in Unease in Zion, ed. Ehud Ben Ezer (Jerusalem: Academic Press, 1974).
*Leonard Stein, ed., The Letters and Papers of Chaim Weizmann, collab. Gedalia Yogev, vol. 1 (London: Oxford University Press, 1968), 340—341.
*Ibid., vol. 1, 95. “When you can read German,” Weizmann promised Vera in a letter of 28 July 1902, “I’ll get a wonderful edition of Nietzsche’s ‘Zarathustra’ for you, but a really wonderful one. So go on, my sweet, and we shall read it regularly and without fail” (ibid., vol. 1, 326). Clearly this was the younger Weizmann; in later years he hardly mentioned Nietzsche.
*The transvaluative task was admittedly vast and could only be gradual. As Weizmann wrote in his diagnosis of the Jewish problem: The stench of decay hits one at every step. And years will pass, and many will still fall victims to these terrible conditions before creative, constructive work starts. Are we going to see all that? No, I doubt it.
*Mattenklott, “Nietzscheanismus und Judentum,” 57.
*The only relevant article to appear was Ernst Müller’s noncommittal “Gedanken über Nietzsche und sein Verhältnis zu den Juden,” Die Welt, no. 40 (5 October 1900).
*In a conversation with Leo Franckel, Herzl explained that he was “against the democracies”: “‘So you are a disciple of Nietzsche,’ he [Franckel] said. I: ‘Not at all. Nietzsche is a madman. But one can only govern aristocratically’” (Raphael Patai, ed., The Complete Diaries of Theodor Herzl, trans. Harry Zohn, vol. 1 [London: Herzl Press and Thomas Yoseloff], 191).
*For a treatment of these generational differences see Aschheim, Brothers and Strangers, chaps. 4, 5.
*See the collection by German and Czech Zionists, Vom Judentum: Ein Sammelbuch (Leipzig: Kurt Nolff, 1913), especially the articles by Moses Calvary and Moritz Goldstein. Even where Nietzsche was not specifically mentioned, the categories were his and the influence palpable.
*Cited in George L. Mosse, “The Influence of the Völkisch Idea on German Jewry,” Germans and Jews, 96.
*Hans Kohn, “Nationalism,” in The Jew: Essays from Martin Journal Der Jude, 1916-1928, ed. Arthur A. Cohen, trans. Joachim Neugroschel (Montgomery: University of Alabama Press, 1980), 28. The essay appeared originally in Der Jude 6 (1921-1922), 674-686.
*For a useful overview see Jehuda Reinharz, “Hashomer Hazair in Germany (I), 1928-1933,” Leo Baeck Institute Yearbook 31 (1986), 173-174.
*For a history of the group and its activities see Muki Tzur, ed., K’hilateinu (in Hebrew) (Jerusalem: Yad Ben Tsvi, 1988). The flavor of its thinking is most vividly expressed in the article by the remarkable spiritual leader of the group, Meir Ya’ari, “M’toch Hatsisa,” 266-269. 1 thank Rina Peled and David Biale for this reference.
*For a superb extended analysis of Nietzsche’s influence on Buber, see Paul Mendes-Flohr, From Mysticism to Dialogue: Martin Buber’s Transformation of German Social Thought (Detroit, Mich.: Wayne State University Press, 1989).
*When he was seventeen, Buber later recalled, Zarathustra took possession of him “not in the manner of a gift but in the manner of an invasion which deprived me of my freedom, and it was a long time until I could liberate myself from it” (“Autobiographical Fragments,” in The Philosophy of Martin Buber, ed. Paul Arthur Schilpp and Maurice Friedman, 3-39 [La Salle, Ill.: Open Court, 1967], p. 12)
*Martin Buber, “Ein Wort über Nietzsche und die Lebensworte,” Die Kunst im Leben (December 1900), 13.
*Martin Buber, “Jüdische Renaissance,” in Die Jüdische Bewegung: Gesammelte Aufsätze und Ansprachen, 1900-1914 (Berlin: Jüdischer Verlag, 1920), 10-11.
*Ibid., 13.
*Ibid., 14ff.
*Martin Buber, “Die Schaffenden, das Volk und die Bewegung,” in ibid., 71ff.
*Theodor Lessing’s general works include Schopenhauer—Wagner—Nietzsche: Einführung in moderne Philosophie (Munich: C. H. Beck, 1906) and Nietzsche (Berlin: Ullstein, 1925). For a general critique see his Geschichte als Sinngebung des Sinnlosen. Oder die Geburt der Geschichte aus dem Mythos, 4th ed. (Leipzig, 1927).
*Theodor Lessing, Der jüdische Selbsthass (Berlin: Jüdischer Verlag, 1930).
*Theodor Lessing, “Jüdisches Schicksal,” Der Jude 9 (1928), 17. Machtwille appears in his Deutschland und seine Juden, 14. See too Golomb, “Nietzsche and the Marginal Jews,” 125-126.
*Menachem Brinker, “Nietzsche’s Impact on Hebrew Writers of the Russian Empire,” in Nietzsche in Russia, ed. B. Glatzer-Rosenthal (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, in press). I am indebted to Prof. Brinker for providing me with a copy of this paper from which I freely draw for the following section.
*Jehuda Reinharz, Fatherland or Promised Land: The Dilemma of the German Jew, 1893-1914 (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1975); Stephen Μ. Poppel, Zionism in Germany, 1897-1933: The Shaping of a Jewish Identity (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1977).
*On the differences between the East and West European modes of Zionism see the introduction by Arthur Hertzberg in The Zionist Idea (New York: Atheneum, 1975) and Walter Laqueur, A History of Zionism (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1972).
*See Brinker, “Nietzsche’s Impact,” for a list of such relevant luminaries as Shaul Tschernikovsky, David Frischman, and Hillel Zeitlin. Perhaps the most sophisticated and critical was Y. H. Brenner who was acutely sensitive to the Nietzschean themes of perspectivism and the fictionality of interpretations.
*Needless to say, other Zionist writers opposed Berdichevsky’s brand of Nietzscheanism. Yet in refuting him many critics themselves incorporated Nietzschean assumptions, themes, and categories into their own counterarguments. This was certainly true for Berdichevsky’s most prominent critic, Ahad Ha-am (Asher Ginzburg).
*These are not, alas, available in English (Micha Josef Berdichevsky, Collected Essays [in Hebrew; Tel Aviv: Dvir, I960]).
*Bin Gorion was reasonably well known in Germany. Many of his works were translated into German.
*Brinker (“Nietzsche’s Impact”) develops this point well and gives relevant sources.
*Micha Josef Berdichevsky, “In Two Directions,” translated in Hertzberg, The Zionist Idea, 295.
*David Biale, Gershom Scholem: Kabbalah and Counter-History (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1979), 37—43.
*Quoted in ibid., 40.
*Micha Josef Berdichevsky, “The Question of Our Past,” translated in Hertzberg, The Zionist Idea, 301.
*Brinker, “Nietzsche’s Impact,” 23. Nevertheless, Berdichevsky insisted that being a holy people entailed a normal national livelihood and framework (“On Sanctity translated in Hertzberg, The Zionist Idea, 301-302).
*Micha Josef Berdichevsky, Die Sagen der Juden, published in 1913 and 1919, has appeared in English under the title Mimekor Israel (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1976).
*Biale, Gershom Scholem, 43, 235, n. 23.
*Hirsch, “Friedrich Nietzsche und der jüdische Geist,” 189.
*For a good discussion of these tendencies see Roy Pascal, From Naturalism to Expressionism: German Literature and Society, 1880-1918 (New York: Basic, 1973),
*1 consider the quotation apocryphal since I have been unsuccessful in locating its source; its very spuriousness only makes Nietzsche’s myth-making import greater.
*Walter Hammer, Friedrich Nietzsche: Der Lebensreformer und seine Zukunftskultur, 2d ed. (Leipzig: Karl Lentze, [1909] 1910).
*Walter Hammer, “Nietzsche und sein Wille zur Gesundheit,” Gesundes Leben: Medizinpolitische Rundschau (1910), 121—125.
*Walter Hammer, “Nietzsche und der Vegetarismus,” Vegetarische Warte 46, no. 7, (1913), 10-19.
*For a general history see Walter Laqueur, Young Germany: A History of the Youth Movement (New York: Basic Books, 1962); Peter D. Stachura, The German Youth Movement, 1900-1945: An Interpretation and Documentary History (London: Macmillan, 1981).
*Oscar Schütz, “Friedrich Nietzsche als Prophet der deutschen Jugendbewegung,” Neue Jahrbücher für Wissenschaft und Jugendbildung 5 (1929), 64-74. Like many of his contemporaries, Schütz shows Nietzsche’s influence without distinguishing the Wandervogel component from the Freideutsche one.
*Else Frobenius, Mit uns zieht die neue Zeit: Eine Geschichte der deutschen Jugendbewegung (Berlin: Deutsche Buch Gemeinschaft, 1929), 35ff.
*Theo Herrle, Die deutsche Jugendbewegung in ihren kulturellen Zusammenhang, 14, quoted in Michael Jovy, Jugendbewegung und Nationalsozialismus (Münster: Lit-Verlag, 1984), 53.
*For an acute analysis of the völkisch aspect of the Youth Movement, see Mosse, German Ideology, chap. 9.
*This is the basic thrust of Hinton Thomas’s argument, Nietzsche in German Politics, chap. 8.
*Gustav Wyneken, “Der Kampf für die Jugend,” Gesammelte Aufsätze (Jena: E. Diederichs, 1920). On Wyneken see Mosse, German Ideology, 184ff; Hinton Thomas, Nietzsche in German Politics, 105 ff.
*See, for instance, Otto Braun’s poem underlining humanity’s self-creating, heroic, and willful powers, “Why Should There Be Gods?” in Mosse, German Ideology, 186. Orig. pub. in Der Anfang 12 (May 1909).
*Hinton Thomas, Nietzsche in German Politics, 98-99.
*Theodor Fritsch, “Nietzsche und die Jugend,” Hammer: Blätter für deutschen Sinn 10, no. 29 (March 1911), 113ff.
*Führerzeitung, no. 3 (1914), 66. Very shortly after, the Vortrupp made an abrupt and fundamental about-face; during the war it enlisted Nietzsche to its pantheon of Germanic thinkers.
*Walter Hammer, Nietzsche als Erzieher (Leipzig: Hugo Vollrath, 1914). The work, while admiring, was also critical, especially with regard to Nietzsche’s views on social questions.
*For details on Gurlitt see Mosse, German Ideology, 157ff.
*Ludwig Gurlitt, “Friedrich Nietzsche als Erzieher,” Das Freie Wort 14, no. 4 (May 1914), 131-132. Gurlitt also praised Hammer’s Nietzsche als Erzieher in this article. For another example of his positive attitude see his “Friedrich Nietzsche als Philologe und Lehrer,” Die Hilfe, no. 22 (1914).
*Hinton Thomas, Nietzsche in German Politics, 100.
*Eugen Diederichs, “Entwicklungsphasen der freideutschen Jugend,” Die Tat 10 (1918-1919), 313-314.
*Oscar Schütz, “Nietzsche als Prophet,” n. 42, 74—80.
*Maximilian Harden, editor of the influential Die Zukunft, for example, advocated a politics based on an activist will to power with Nietzsche as its theorist and Bismarck as its manifestation. Die Zukunft -was crammed with Nietzscheana. A full listing can be found in Krummel, Nietzsche.
*This contradicts Arno J. Mayer in chapter five of his The Persistence of the Old Regime: Europe to the Great War (New York: Pantheon, 1981). He presents Nietzsche as the chief prop of Europe’s aristocracy in their need to bolster a shaky old order in the face of democratizing threats. There is, in fact, little documentary evidence to support Mayer’s assertion.
*Kessler, Diaries, 426.
*Heinrich von Wedel, “Friedrich Nietzsche und sein Menschheitsideal,” Deutsches Adelsblatt 20 (1902); quoted in Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 93. Between 1867 and 1918 this journal featured only three articles on Nietzsche, all negative.
*Georg Biedenkapp, Nietzsche und Naumann, 44-45.
*Martin Havenstein, Friedrich Nietzsche, ein Jugendverderber? Eine Verteidigungsschrift (Leipzig: J. Zeitler, 1906), 51. On p. 57, however, Havenstein warns that Zarathustra was not meant for unripe children, nor was Nietzsche intended for the general public.
*Richert, “Ein Wort am Grabe Nietzsches,” Akademische Blätter: Zeitschrift des Kyffhäuser-Verbandes der vereine deutscher Studenten 15, no. 12 (16 September 1900); Reinhard Mumm, “Nietzsche und der Nationalismus im Kyffhäuserverband,” Akademische Blätter 11 (1896/1897), 238f., 255ff. The positive comments appeared within a larger negative whole.
*Johann Georg Meyer, “Friedrich Nietzsche als Aesthetiker und Patriot,” Burschenschaftliche Blätter 10, no. 9 (1896), 234-240. The quote appears on p. 240.
*A. Langguth, “Friedrich Nietzsche als Burschenschaftler,” Burschenschaftliche Blätter 12, no. 1 (1 October 1897), 5-10. Quoted in Krummel, Nietzsche und der deutsche Geist, vol. 1, 200.
*See another of Fritsch’s attacks on Nietzsche’s philo-Semitism written under the pseudonym of Thomas Frey, “Der Antisemitismus im Spiegel eines ‘Zukunfts-Philosophen,’” Antisemitische Correspondenz, no. 19 (December 1887).
*For biographical details see Mosse, German Ideology, 80-82, 232, 296; Ernst Wachler, “Elisabeth Förster-Nietzsche,” Deutsche-Zeitung, no. 388 (1918). Quoted in Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 647.
*On Schwaner see Uriel Tai, Christians and Jews in Germany: Religion, Politics, and Ideology in the Second Reich, 1870-1914, trans. Noah Jonathan Jacobs (Ithaca, N.Y., and London: Cornell University Press, 1975), 273, 275, 323, 324.
*Wilhelm Schwaner, “Friedrich Nietzsche,” Der Volkserzieher 4, no. 35 (2 September 1900), 273.
*Germanen-Bibel: Aus den heiligen Schriften germanischer Völker, ed. Wilhelm Schwaner (Berlin: Volkserzieher Verlag, 1904), 221-227. For details on this and later editions see Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 181—182.
*Franz Haiser, Der aristokratische Imperativ: Beiträge zu den neudeutschen Kulturbestrebungen (Berlin-Seglitz: Politisch-anthropolog Verlag, 1913).
*Adolf Bartels, Die deutsche Dichtung der Gegenwart: Die Alten und die Jungen (Leipzig: Eduard Avenarius, 1897); Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 1, 183-184.
*Adolf Bartels, Geschichte der deutschen Litteratur, vol. 2, Das neunzehnte Jahrhundert (Leipzig: Eduard Avenarius, 1902), 625-655. See Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 79.
*Adolf Bartels, “Friedrich Nietzsche und das Deutschtum,” Deutsche Monatschrift für das gesamte Leben der Gegenwart 2 (April-September 1902), 81-82.
*Ibid., 86, 94.
*Ibid., 89, 93.
*Hinton Thomas (Nietzsche in German Politics, chap. 9) makes the rejection clear, mentions the ambivalence without fully examining it, and ignores the more positive appropriations and many of the völkisch and anti-Semitic personalities discussed above.
*Hentschel was the anti-Semitic associate of Theodor Fritsch, a founder of the extreme Deutschsoziale party, and author of the extremely popular racially anthropological 1907 work Varuna (George Mosse, German Ideology, 112-116).
*Quoted in Hinton Thomas, Nietzsche in German Politics, 122.
*Willibald Hentschel, “Irrende Spekulation oder wahre Geistes-Kultur?” Antisemitische Correspondenz no. 45 (17 February 1889), 4ff; quoted in Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 1, 75-76.
*Willibald Hentschel, Vom aufsteigenden Leben (“Ziele der Rassen-Hygiene),” 2d ed. (Leipzig and Hamburg: n.d.), p. 43; quoted in Hinton Thomas, Nietzsche in German Politics, 112—113.
*Wilhelm Schallmeyer, Vererbung und Auslese im Lebenslauf der Volker: Eine Staatswissenschaftliche Studie auf Grund der neueren Biologie (Jena: Gustav Fischer, 1903); quoted in Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 106-107.
*Raoul Richter, “Nietzsches Stellung zu Entwicklungslehre und Rassetheorie,” Politisch-anthropologische Monatsschrift (1906), 544-564, reprinted in his Essays, ed. Lina Richter (Leipzig: F. Meiner, 1913), 137-177; quoted in Krümmel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 254. See also his Friedrich Nietzsche, sein Leben und sein Werk (Leipzig: Dürr, 1903) and his Nietzsche-Aufsätze (Leipzig: F. Meiner, 1917)
*Richter, Essays, 173.
*Alexander Tille, “Nietzsche und England,” Frankfurter Zeitung 39, no. 289 (18 October 1894); “Nietzsche als Ethiker der Entwicklung,” Die Zukunft 9, (10 November 1894); “Zarathustras Lehre,” Das neue Jahrhundert 1, no. 5 (1898).
*Biographical information on Tille may be found in Alfred Kelly, The Descent of Darwin: The Popularization of Darwinism in Germany, 1860—1914 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1981), 10ff; Hinton Thomas, Nietzsche in German Politics, 113—114; Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 1, 134, n. 157.
*Tille was Ferdinand Tonnies’s central although rare embodiment of Nietzsche-anism’s central function: the justification of the most brutal aspects of capitalism (Tönnies, Der Nietzsche-Kultus, 109—110).
*Marielouise Janssen-Jurreit, “Sexual-reform und Geburtenrückgang: Über die Zusammenhänge von Bevolkerüngspolitik und Frauenbewegung um die Jahrhundertwende,” in Frauen in der Geschichte, ed. Annette Kuhn and Gerhard Schneider (Düsseldorf, 1979), 60-61.
*Alexander Tille, Von Darwin bis Nietzsche: Ein Buch Entwicklungsethik (Leipzig: C. G. Naumann, 1895), vii, 10-11.
*Ibid., 122-123, 214, 225.
*Ibid., 239-241.
*Hinton Thomas, Nietzsche in German Politics, 114.
*R. Μ. Wenley, “Nietzsche: Traffics and Discoveries,” Monist 31 (January 1921), 136. Quoted in Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 1, 134-135. Hinton Thomas himself quotes from this source.
*Arthur Möller-Bruck, Tschandala Nietzsche (Berlin and Leipzig: Schuster and Löffler, 1899), 47. Although this analysis emphasizes his positive judgments, the pre-Weimar Möller-Bruck clearly still had reservations.
*Karl Joel, Nietzsche und die Romantik (Jena and Leipzig: Eugen Diederichs, 1905), 68.
*Joel argues that Nietzsche’s biting criticism of Germanness was itself a German characteristic. Nietzsche was thus no longer the antithesis of Germanism but its incarnation and prophet (ibid., 83-84). Joel’s attitude toward both Nietzsche and Romanticism was critical as well as admiring: “We want to overcome Nietzsche, not scream him down” (ibid., 327).
*Ibid., 87.
*Ibid., 133. Joel also stressed commonalities such as their Bacchanalian-Saturnalian mode and their fragmentary, aphoristic style.
*Georg Tantzscher, Friedrich Nietzsche und die Neuromantik (Jurjew [Dorpat], 1900).
*Joel, Nietzsche und die Romantik, 10-12.
*Ibid., 57ff.
*James Joll, “The English, Friedrich Nietzsche and the First World War” in Deutschland in der Weltpolitik des 19 und 20 Jahrhunderts, ed. Imanuel Geiss and Bernd Jürgen Wendt (Düsseldorf: Bertelsmann Universitätsverlag, 1973), 305. This article contains a useful survey of English opinion during this period. I thank Prof. Joll for guiding me to other bibliographical sources.
*See the comments by Eric Vogelin in “Nietzsche, the Crisis and the War,” The Journal of Politics 6, no. 1 (February 1944), 177.
*Herbert Leslie Stewart, Nietzsche and the Ideals of Modern Germany (London: Edward Arnold, 1915), 186, 228.
*Eric Bentley, The Cult of the Superman (Gloucester, Mass.: Peter Smith, 1969), 248-250.
*John Cowper Powys, The Menace of German Culture (London: William Rider and Son, 1915); Joll, “The English, Nietzsche, and the War,” 305; Patrick Bridgwater, Nietzsche in Anglo Saxony: A Study of Nietzsche’s Impact on English and American Literature (Leicester, 1972), p. 147.
*Daily Mail, 27 September 1914; Manchester Guardian, 7 October 1914. Quoted in Bridgwater, Nietzsche in Anglosaxony, 144.
*J. H. Muirhead, German Philosophy in Relation to the War (London: J. Murray, 1915), 80-81, 78.
*Romain Rolland, Zwischen den Volkern: Aufzeichnungen und Dokumente aus den Jahren 1914 bis 1919, vol. 1 (Stuttgart: Dt. Vlgs.-Anst., 1954), 145.
*Kaufmann, Nietzsche, 8.
*Ernst Barker, Nietzsche and Treitschke: The Worship of Power in Modern Germany (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1914); Canon E. McClure, Germany’s War-Inspirers Nietzsche and Treitschke (London, 1914).
*“Teutonismus,” The Athenaeum (10 October 1914). Quoted in Joll, “The English, Nietzsche, and the War,” 302—303.
*Friedrich von Bernhardi, Germany and the Coming War, trans. Allen H. Powles (New York: Longsman, Green, 1914). This had already reached its 6th edition.
*Numerous examples include Ernst Rolffs, “Treitschke, Nietzsche, Bernhardi,” Die christliche Welt 30 (1916), 857-865, 882-888.
*H. L. Mencken, “Introduction,” in Friedrich Nietzsche, The Antichrist (New York, 1923). Quoted in Bridgwater, Nietzsche in Anglosaxony, 145-146.
*H. L. Mencken, The Smart Set, quoted in ibid., 146.
*William Archer, Fighting a Philosophy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 19141915), 5, 3ff.
*Ronald N. Stromberg, Redemption by War: The Intellectuals and 1914 (Lawrence: Regents Press of Kansas, 1982).
*Nietzsche, Gay Science, 145. This was an elaboration of Heraclitus’s fragment 53: “War is the father of all.”
*Nietzsche, Zarathustra, 159.
*Michael A. Ledeen, The First Duce: D’Annunzio at Fiume (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1977), 5.
*Gabriele D’Annunzio, “Il Triofono della Morte,” Prose di Romanzi, vol. 1 (Milan, 1954), 958. Quoted in Ernst Nolte, Three Faces of Fascism (New York: Mentor, 1969), 198, 606, n. 7.
*Reproduced in Umbro Apollonio, ed., Futurist Manifestos (London: Thames and Hudson, 1973), 21-22.
*Georges Sorel, Reflections on Violence (New York: Collier, [1908] 1974).
*For the most thorough treatment of this question, see Ernst Nolte, “Marx und Nietzsche im Sozialismus des Jungen Mussolinis,” Historische Zeitschrift 191 (1960), 249-335.
*Vladimir Dedijer, The Road to Sarajevo (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1966), 232; Joll, “1914: The Unspoken Assumptions,” in The Origins of the First World War, ed. H. W. Koch (London: Macmillan, 1972), 324.
*Dedijer, Sarajevo, 238.
*Bridgwater, Nietzsche in Anglosaxony, 10.
*Ledeen, First Duce, 10—11.
*Robert Soucy, Fascist Intellectual: Drieu La Rochelle (Berkeley, Los Angeles, and London: University of California Press, 1979), 45.
*Jon Glover and Jon Silkin, The Penguin Book of First World War Prose (London: Viking, 1989). Quoted in C. J. Fox, “Bondservants of Destruction,” Times Literary Supplement (February 16—22, 1990).
*Some academic and nationalist figures remained unconvinced of the desirability of this annexation and Nietzsche’s patriotic credentials. Nietzsche, Ernst Troltsch told Friedrich Meinecke in a wartime conversation, was like rat poison in the guts (Meinecke, Erlebtes, 1862-1901 [Leipzig: Koehler-Amelang, 1941], 184f).
*Rektor P. Hoche, “Nietzsche und der deutsche Kampf,” Zeitung fur Literatur, Kunst, und Wissenschaft 39, no. 6 (12 March 1916); Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 607.
*Robert G. L. Waite, The Psychopathic God: Adolf Hitler (New York, 1977), 279; Rolffs, “Treitschke, Nietzsche, Bernhardi,” 859. In 1917 alone 40,000 copies of Zarathustra were sold (Peters, Zarathustra’s Sister, 205).
*Edelbert Kurz, Nietzsche der Deutsche und tvir Christen (Munich-Gladbach, 1918). See Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 645-646.
*Walter Flex, Der Wanderer zwischen beiden Welten: Ein Kriegserlebnis (Munich: C. H. Beck, 1918), 9. The book went through thirty-nine editions and sold 250,000 copies in less than two years.
*Karl Joel, Neue Weltkultur (Leipzig: Karl Wolff, 1915), 88-89.
*Richard Groper, “Nietzsche und der Krieg,” Die Tat 8 (1916-1917), 25.
*Oscar Levy, “Nietzsche im Krieg,” Die Weissen Blätter (1919), 277ff.
*Laqueur comments that Nietzsche’s “ecstatic rhymes did not stand up too well to the great test. Those who had been through the holocaust of Flanders and the mud and ice of the Eastern front knew all they needed to know about the spirit of tragedy” (Young Germany, 9).
*Ruthardt Schuhmann, “Der Nietzsche Kult und der Krieg,” Bühne und Welt 17 (1915), 354.
*Hans Leip, Der Widerschein: Eine Rückschau, 1893—1943 (Stuttgart: Cotta, 1943), 42. After reading Zarathustra in 1915 he noted: “Beim Lesen des Zarathustra schreien wir manchmal auf vor Entzuekken. Ich bin erhoben und wieder niedergeschmettert, so dass mir die Seele weh tut” (Kümmel, Nietzsche, vol. 2,597).
*Phillip Witkop, German Students’ War Letters, trans. A. F. Wedd (London: Methuen, 1929), 42—43.
*Franz Marc, Briefe, Aufzeichnungen, und Aphorismen (Berlin: Cassirer, 1920), 41.
*The liberationists never entirely abandoned him. In his address to the assembled Munich workers’, peasants’, and soldiers’ councils, Ernst Toller memorialized his revolutionary colleague Kurt Eisner with a tellingly ironic quote from Zarathustra:
*Arnold Zweig, Werk und Leben in Dokumenten und Bildern, ed. Georg Wenzel (Berlin and Weimar: Aufbau Verlag, 1978), 61. See Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 358359.
*For a useful history of the book see George Mosse’s introduction in Max Nordau, Degeneration (New York: Howard Fertig, 1968). See too P. M. Baldwin, “Liberalism, Nationalism, and Degeneration: The Case of Max Nordau,” Central European History 13, no. 2 (June 1980).
*Nordau, Degeneration, 5.
*Ibid.
*Arnold Zweig, Bilanz der deutschen Judenheit 1933: Ein Versuch (Amsterdam: Querido, 1934), 290—291.
*Erwin Piscator, The Political Theatre: A History, 1914—1929 (New York: Avon, 1978), 11.
*Walter Sokel, The Writer in Extremis, 67.
*Quoted in ibid., 68.
*Franz Pfemert, “Die Deutschsprechung Friedrich Nietzsches,” Die Aktion: Wochenschrift für Politik, Literatur, Kunst 5, no. 26 (1915), 321.
*Stefan George, “Der Stern des Bundes,” in Walter Kaufmann, Twenty German Poets (New York: Random House, 1962), 167.
*Patrick Bridgwater, “German Poetry and the First World War,” European Studies Review 1, no. 2 (April 1971), 155—156.
*Hinton Thomas, Nietzsche in German Politics, 126ff.
*Pfemert, “Deutschsprechung”; Levy, “Nietzsche im Krieg”; Zweig, Bilanz der deutschen Judenheit, 290—291, 50—52.
*F. Schwangart describes the German nationalist war propaganda around Nietzsche as “an unforgettable misdeed” (“Was ist uns Nietzsche?” Heimstunden: Proletarische Tribune für Kunst, Literatur, Dichtung no. 5 [May 1925], 145).
*See Fritsch’s article under the pseudonym F. Roderick-Stoltheim, “Nietzsches Macht-philosophie und der Deutschenhass,” Hammer; Blätter für deutschen Sinn 14, no. 301 (1 January 1915), 3.
*A far from exhaustive list of Förster-Nietzsche’s writings includes: “Nietzsche und der Krieg,” Tag 212 (10 September 1914); “Nietzsche im Kriege 1870,” Der Neue Merkur 1 (1914); “Nietzsche und Deutschland,” Berliner Tageblatt 44, no. 453 (5 September 1915); “Nietzsche, Frankreich, und England,” Neue Freie Presse (11 June 1916). Krummel, Nietzsche, has a complete list of Förster-Nietzsche’s publications
*Elisabeth Förster-Nietzsche, “Der ‘echt-preussiche’ Friedrich Nietzsche,” Berliner Tageblatt (16 September 1914). Sombart’s comments appeared in the same paper, 6 September 1914.
*Elisabeth Förster-Nietzsche, Das Leben Friedrich Nietzsches, vol. 2 (Leipzig: Naumann, 1904). Here she argues that Nietzsche derived his conception of the will to power from an incident in the Franco-Prussian war.
*Ernst Wachler, “Elisabeth Nietzsche (Zur Begründung des Nietzsche-Archivs),” Deutsche-Zeitung 388 (1918).
*Alfred Bäumler, Nietzsche der Philosoph und Politiker (Leipzig: Reclam, 1931).
*August Messer, “Nietzsche und der Krieg: Zum 70 Geburtstag des Philosophen, 15 Oktober,” Frankfurter Zeitung 286 (15 October 1914).
*Kaufmann, Portable Nietzsche, 541-542.
*Kurt Singer, “Nietzsches Vermachtnis: 15 Oktober 1844—15 Oktober 1914,” Hamburgischer Correspondent 184, no. 524 (15 October 1914).
*Theodor Kappstein, “Nietzsche der Philosoph des Weltkriegs: Zu seinem 70 Geburtstag am 15 Oktober,” Strassburger Post 1028 (1914).
*O.te Kloot, Nietzsche, Illustrierte Helden-Bibliothek 30 (Berlin: Ed. Rose, 1914).
*“Friedrich Nietzsche: Vom Kriege,” Insel-Almanach (Kriegsalmanach, 1915). [Leipzig: Insel Verlag).
*For instance, Elizabeth Gnade, “Zu Friedrich Nietzsches 70 Geburtstage, 15 Oktober 1914,” Tägliche Rundschau 241 (14 October 1914) Uns bleibt nur Zeit, Um deutsch zu sein, deutsche, wie du selber warst— Damals—vom lehrstuhl aus der sich’ren Schweiz Herzugeeilt beim Schall der Kriegsfanfare!
*Hermann Itschner, Nietzsche-Worte: Weggenossen in grosser Zeit (Leipzig: Alfred Kroner, 1915).
*On Diederichs’s activities see Gary D. Stark, Entrepreneurs of Ideology: Neoconservative Publishers in Germany, 1890-1933 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1981). The full title, of Die Tat: Wege zu Freiem Menschentum, had obvious Nietzschean overtones. The first issue (April 1909) had a heroic bust of Nietzsche on its opening page.
*Groper, “Nietzsche und der Krieg.”
*Paul Schulze Berghof, “Der Zarathustra Dichter als Mystiker,” Die musische Erziehung 9 (1942).
*Paul Schulze Berghof, “Der kulturprophet des deutschen Weltreichs,” Der Vortrupp 5 (1916); Schulze Berghof, “Zarathustra-Deutsche-Mystik-Deutscher Glaube,” Der Vortrupp 5 (1916). Schulze Berghof also formulated a Nietzschean religion.
*Max Brahn, Friedrich Nietzsches Meinungen über Staaten und Kriege (Leipzig: A. Kroner, 1915).
*Lenore Ripke-Kühn, “Nietzsches Kulturanschauung,” Der Panther 3 (1915), 420-456; Ripke-Kühn, “Nietzsches Willenserziehung,” Der Panther 5, no. 4 (April 1917), 519-535.
*Joel, Neue Weltkultur, 55—56.
*Gröper, “Nietzsche und der Krieg,” 30.
*Max Scheier, Der Genius des Krieges und der Deutsche Krieg (Leipzig: Weissen Bücher, 1915); Scheier, “Das Ressentiment in Aufbau der Moralen,” in Scheier, Abhandlungen und Aufsätze 1, 39-274 (Leipzig: Weissen Bücher, 1915). Translated as Ressentiment, trans. William W. Holdheim, intro. Lewis A. Coser (New York: 1976).
*Fritz Stern, “Money, Morals, and the Pillars of Society,” in his The Failure of Illiberalism: Essays on the Political Culture of Modern Germany (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1971).
*Werner Sombart, Händler und Helden: Patriotische Besinnungen (Munich and Leipzig: Duncker and Humblot, 1915).
*Herf, Reactionary Modernism, 133-134.
*Sombart’s most famous prewar work on the Jews was Die Juden und das Wirtschaftsleben (Leipzig, 1911). After the war he returned to the topic of Jewish geist. For a critical analysis see Paul R. Mendes-Flohr, “Werner Sombart’s ‘The Jews and Modern Capitalism’: An Analysis of Its Ideological Premises,” Leo Baeck Institute Yearbook (1976). See too Steven E.
*Sombart, Händler und Helden, 53.
*Ibid., 84-85.
*Ibid., 141.
*Lenore Ripke-Kühn, “Nietzsche der ewige Deutsche: Zu Ernst Bertrams ‘Nietzsche, Versuch einer Mythologie,’” Deutschlands Erneurung 6 (1919), 420, 424.
*Brahn, Friedrich Nietzsches Meinungen, 29.
*See Moritz Heimann’s 1915 essay, “Nietzsche und sein Volk” in his Prosaische Schriften, 3 vols. (Berlin: S. Fischer, 1918), vol. 1, 180-184.
*Bernhard Böschenstein, “Erlösung und Beglaubigung: Thomas Manns Betrachtungen eines Unpolitischen und Ernst Bertrams Nietzsche: Versuch einer Mythologie,” MLN 90 (1975).
*Their relationship is recounted in Thomas Mann und Ernst Bertram: Briefe aus den Jahren 1910—1955, ed. Inge Jens (Pfullingen: Neske, 1960).
*Entry for September 18. Thomas Mann, Diaries, 1918—1939, selected by Hermann Kesten, trans. Richard Winston and Clara Winston (London: Robin Clark, 1983), 6. See too the entries for 14 September and 15 September 1918.
*Thomas Mann, Briefe, 1889-1936 (Frankfurt: S. Fischer, 1961), 291; H. Stefan Schultz, “Thomas Mann’s Betrachtungen eines Unpolitischen: Some Observations,” MLN 90 (1975), 431.
*Bertram, Nietzsche, 6.
*Even after the Nazi takeover, aspects of the earlier Mann remained, voiced only in private. They too were related to Nietzsche and his Jewish misappropriation. But for all that, might not something deeply significant and revolutionary be taking place in Germany? ...
*Thomas Mann, Reflections of a Nonpolitical Man, trans. Walter D. Morris (New York: Ungar, 1983), 152. See also chap. 11.
*Ibid., 57; see also pp. 18, 58.
*See the instructive reading of Bertram in Joel Golb, “Celan and Hölderlin: An Essay on the Problem of Tradition” (Ph.D. diss., Princeton University, 1985), 119ff.
*Bertram, Nietzsche, 108.
*Mann, Reflections, 60-61.
*Ibid., 104.
*See Golb, Celan and Hölderlin, 118—120, for a more detailed literary analysis of this structure.
*Mann, Reflections, 419, 57-58.
*For an illuminating analysis of Bertram’s role within the völkisch tradition see Mosse, German Ideology, 204—209.
*Bertram, Nietzsche, 250. His construction also received much popular attention beyond radical and völkisch circles. See Curt Hotzel, “Nietzsches Deutsche Aufgabe,” Der Türmer 28, no. 10 (July 1926).
*Ibid., 79.
*Ibid., 6.
*See Bertram’s chapter “Ritter, Tod und Teufel,” in Nietzsche, 42-63; Mann Reflections, 399.
*Ripke-Kühn, “Nietzsche der ewige Deutsche,” 420—421.
*For the sake of historical exactitude it should be clear that we are referring to a tendency, a cluster of attitudes, rather than an ironclad law. There were pre-1914 outlines of the right-wing Nietzsche just as there was always some opposition within the radical right after this annexation.
*Armin Mohler, Die konservative Revolution in Deutschland, 1918—1932: Ein Handbuch (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftlich Buchgesellschaft, 1972), 29, 87.
*Friedrich Hielscher, Das Reich (Berlin: Das Reich, 1931), 200. the new right from the traditional Bismarckian and Wilhelmine right: an insistence on activism and a self-propelling dynamic; a masculine, soldierly, nationalist ethic to contrast with prewar static patriotism;
*For a good discussion of the new right’s themes, see Karl Prümm, Die Literatur des Soldatischen Nationalismus der 20er Jahre (1918-1933) (Kronberg: Scriptor Verlag, 1974). Eugen Schmahl’s Der Aufstieg der nationalen Idee ([Berlin, Leipzig: Union Deutsche Verlagsgesellschaft, n.d.], 143-144, 103) is a Nazi work that held that Nietzsche had already anticipated all expressions of the new nationalism
*Friedrich Mess, Nietzsche: Der Gesetzgeber (Leipzig: Felix Mainer, 1930), vii.
*Kurt Kassler, Nietzsche und das Recht (Munich: Ernst Reinhardt, 1941).
*Hermann Hesse, “Zarathustra’s Return: A Word to German Youth,” in Robert C. Solomon, ed., Nietzsche: A Collection of Critical Essays (New York: Anchor, 1973). For a previous work that Hesse wrote in this spirit see Faust und Zarathustra (Bremen: Otto Melchers, 1909).
*Peters, Zarathustra’s Sister, 206—207.
*George L. Mosse, Fallen Soldiers: Reshaping the Memory of the World Wars (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990), chap. 8.
*Mohler, Konservative Revolution, 539—554.
*Karl Kynast, “Der Fall Nietzsche im Lichte rassenkundlicher Betrachtung,” Die Sonne 2 (1925), 534-535. Those of the “northern race,” Kynast warned, had to be wary of the ressentiment views of this “Mongolmischling.”
*For völkisch commentaries see Paul Schulze Berghof, “Nietzsches historischmythische Sendung,” Der Volkserzieher 34 (1930); Hans Kern, “Nietzsche und die romantischen Theorien des Unbewussten,” Zeitschrift für Menschenkunde 3 (1927). Ludwig Klages (Der Geist als Widersacher der Seele [Leipzig: Barth, 1926]) exemplifies the irrationalist position.
*Peters, Zarathustra’s Sister, chaps. 22—24.
*Max Ohler, ed., Den Manen Friedrich Nietzsches (Munich: Musarion, 1921); Oswald Spengler, “Nietzsche and His Century,” in his Selected Essays.
*Kessler, Diaries, 426.
*Ernst von Salomon, Die Geächteten (Gütersloh: C. Bertelsmann, 1930), 83.
*Ernst von Salomon, “Der verlorene Haufe,” in Krieg und Krieger, ed. Ernst Jünger, 103—126 (Berlin: Junker and Dünnhaupt, 1930), 122-123.
*George L. Mosse, Nationalism and Sexuality: Respectability and Abnormal Sexuality in Modern Europe (New York: Howard Fertig, 1985), 125.
*Nietzsche, Will to Power, 546.
*Werner Best, “Der Krieg und das Recht,” in Jünger, ed., Krieg und Krieger.
*Alfred Bäumler, Nietzsche der Philosoph und Politiker (Leipzig: Reklam, 1931).
*Jürgen Habermas, “Work and Weltanschauung: The Heidegger Controversy from a German Perspective,” Critical Inquiry 15, no. 2 (Winter 1989), 438-440.
*Oswald Spengler, Der Untergang des Abendlandes, 2 vols. (Munich: C. H. Beck, 1918); trans. Charles Francis Atkinson, The Decline of the West, 2 vols. (New York: Alfred Knopf, 1926). Beginning with this work Spengler gradually developed and radicalized this theme. On Raubtier see his Der Mensch und die Technik (Munich: C. H. Beck, [1931] 1971), 10-17.
*In Stahlgewittern (Hannover, 1920) sold well over 244,000 copies, went into twenty-six editions, and was translated into seven languages.
*Ernst Jünger, “Über die Gefahr,” Widerstand 3 (1931).
*Quoted in Prümm, Soldatischen Nationalismus, 155. On the theme of will see Jünger’s Der Kampf als inneres Erlebnis (Berlin, 1922), 76.
*Ernst Jünger, “Der Arbeiter,” in his Werke, vol. 6 (Stuttgart: E. Klett, 1964).
*Herf, Reactionary Modernism.
*Nietzsche blessed technology to the degree that it served the interests of Übermenschen, condemned it insofar as it advanced the interests of the letzten Menschen and their Machtwillens associated with the leveling, Christian, democratic, socialist society (Reinhart Maurer, “Nietzsche und die kritische Theorie,” Nietzsche-Studien 10/11 [1981/ 1982], 61).
*Ernst Jünger, Feuer und Blut (Berlin, 1929), 82. Quoted in Klaus Theweleit, Male Fantasies, vol. 2, trans. Chris Turner et al. (Minneapolis: Polity, 1989), 197—198.
*Georg Förster, Machtwille und Maschinenwelt: Deutung unserer Zeit (Potsdam: Alfred Protte, 1930). 67,78; see too p. 12. Linking Nietzsche to the industrial world had to be an intensely selective exercise.
*Jünger, Arbeiter, 118ff and the section “Die Ablösung des Bürgerlichen Individuums durch den Typus des Arbeiters.”
*Rudolf Paulsen, “Dionysische Politik?” Der Türmer 22 (October 1919—March 1920), 59—60. Paulsen’s dismissive remarks presumably referred to Spengler’s fusion of technology with apocalypse and decline. Der Türmer had always evinced an interest in Nietzsche; most of the July 1926 issue was filled with right-wing Nietzscheana.
*This paranoid literature also addressed the theme of Nietzsche’s death. One anonymous article in a crackpot journal identified the secret forces who tried to steal Nietzsche’s work and poison him (“Zarathustra’s Überang: Ein Verbrechen der Geheim-cheka an Nietzsche?” Ludendorff’s Volkswarte 3, no. 24 (1931).
*For a discussion of the Untermensch and its various uses see Alex Bein, “The Jewish Parasite,” Leo Baeck Institute Yearbook 10 (1964), 27—28.
*Ernst Mann, Die Moral der Kraft (Weimar: Gerhard Hofmann, 1920), 7.
*Such passages abound in Nietzsche’s works (Will to Power, 389, also 246, 740; Gay Science, 73; “On Free Death,” in Zarathustra, 36; Genealogy of Morals, 120—125).
*Mann, Moral der Kraft, 43ff, 41, 47. Mann never mentions Nietzsche but his categories and spirit permeate the work, as reviewers recognized. See the reviewers’ comments reprinted on the back cover of the book.
*Franz Haiser, Die Judenfrage vom Standpunkt der Herrenmoral: Rechtsvölkische und linksvölkische Weltanschauung (Leipzig: T. Weicher, 1926). See too Nietzsche, Antichrist, 592—595.
*Arno Schickedanz, Sozialparasitismus im Völkerleben (Leipzig: Lotus-Verlag, 1927), 177.
*See Arthur Prinz, “Diskussion der Judenfrage,” Jüdische Rundschau (20 April 1932).
*Klärung: 12 Autoren Politiker Über die Judenfrage (Berlin: Wilhelm Kolk, 1932). The Nietzsche excerpts are entitled “Rome versus Judea, Judea versus Rome” (pp. 57-65). For an analysis of the importance of Nietzsche as an anti-Semite see Ernst Johannsen, “Über den Antisemitismus als gegebene Tatsache,” 15—17.
*Rudolf Klages, Briefe über Ethik, quoted in Bein, “Jewish Parasite,” 29.
*E. Kirchner, “Nietzsches Lehren im Lichte der Rassenhygiene,” Archiv für Rassen und Gesellschaftsbiologie (1926), 380. This adulatory article nevertheless takes issue with Nietzsche’s emphasis on will and creation of the Übermensch and argues for a more strictly biological approach. This racist, eugenicist journal was not anti-Semitic, though when the Nazis came to power its editors were enthusiastic supporters.
*E. Kirchner, “Anfänge rassenhygienischen Denkens in Morus ‘Utopie’ und Campanellas ‘Sonnenstadt,’” Archiv für Rassen und Gesellschaftsbiologie (1927); Robert N. Proctor, Racial Hygiene: Medicine under the Nazis (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1988), 179.
*See for instance Margarete Adam, “Unwertiges Leben und seine Überwindung bei Nietzsche,” Monistische Monatshefte 14 (June 1929), 140—145. On practitioners, see Ernst Klee, “Euthanasie” im NS-Staat: Die “Vernichtung lebensunwerten Lebens” (Frankfurt am Main: S. Fischer, 1983), 16ff.
*There are coundess examples including Nietzsche’s Human, All Too Human, 173 — 174; Beyond Good and Evil, 115—118; and Will to Power, 77—78, 123—124, 186, 397, 398, 460-463.
*J. Μ. Kennedy, The Quintessence of Nietzsche (London: T. W. Lawrie, 1909), 79—80. Quoted in Joll, “The English, Nietzsche, and the War,” 296.
*Franz Mehring, Kapital und Presse: Ein Nachspiel zum Falle Lindau (Berlin: Kurt Brachvogel, 1891); “Zur Philosophie und Poesie des Kapitalismus,” “Nietzsche gegen den Sozialismus,” and sec. 9 of his “Aesthetische Streifzüge,” in vols. 9, 11, and 13 of his Gesammelte Schriften (Berlin: Dietz, 1961).
*Kessler, Diaries, 426.
*Robert Misch, Kinder: Eine Gymnasiasten Komödie (Berlin: Harmonie, 1906), 12. I thank Robert Hollub for this reference.
*Duncan, Isadora Speaks, 65-66.
*Helene Stocker, “Friedrich Nietzsche und die Frauen,” Das Magazin fur Literatur 67 (1898), 156-157; trans, in Hackett, “Helene Stocker,” 117.
*Cited in Hackett, “Helene Stocker,” 117.
*Adherents were aware of the vagueness and made use of it. (Werner Sombart, Deutscher Sozialismus [Charlottenburg: Buchalz & Weisswange, 1934], Translated by Karl F. Geiser as A New Social Philosophy [New York: Greenwood Press (1932), 1969], 45-109).
*Eugen Kamenka, The Ethical Foundations of Marxism (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1962), 178-179; George L. Kline, ‘“Nietzschean Marxism’ in Russia,” in Demythologizing Marxism, vol. 2, ed. Frederick J. Adelmann (Chestnut Hill and The Hague: Boston College and Martinus Nijhoff, 1969), 166-183.
*J. McGrath, Dionysian Art, chaps. 2 and 8.
*J. L. Talmon, The Myth of the Nation and the Vision of Revolution: The Origins of Political Polarization in the Twentieth Century (Berkeley, Los Angeles, and London: University of California Press, 1981), 468-469. See too Sternhell, Neither Right nor Left, 56, 87, 89.
*Nolte, “Marx und Nietzsche.”
*Vivetta Vivarelli, “Das Nietzsche-Bild in der Presse der deutschen Sozialdemokratie um die Jahrhundertwende,” Nietzsche-Studien 13 (1984).
*J. Karmeluk, Die Proletarische Bergpredigt: Ein Intermezzo aus der Umwertung aller Werte (Zurich, 1904); Vivarelli, “Nietzsche-Bild,” 564-565.
*A. H. T. Pfannkuche, Was liest der deutsche Arbeiter (Tübingen and Leipzig, 1900), 23; Vivarelli, “Nietzsche-Bild,” 521.
*Levenstein reported that thirty-seven metal workers, sixteen textile workers, two miners and fifty-four workers in other professions had occupied themselves with Nietzsche’s Zarathustra (Friedrich Nietzsche im Urteil der Arbeiterklasse [Leipzig: F. Meiner, 1914]).
*Ibid., 2d ed. 1919, iii.
*Max Adler, “Arbeiterbriefe über Nietzsche,” Wissen und Leben 14 (1921), 430433. bourgeoisement, which committed the party to a parliamentary rather than a revolutionary course. The party was ossifying, its bureaucratic institutions growing ever further removed from the masses. In the end, the Jungen articulated nothing less than a critique of the authoritarian dangers within Marxism
*These polemic works began with Bruno Wille’s “Der Mensch als Massenmitglied,” Freie Bühne (1890), and culminated with his Philosophie der Befreiung durch das reine Mittel: Beiträge zur Pädagogik des Menschengeschlechts (Berlin: S. Fischer, 1894).
*Hinton Thomas (Nietzsche in German Politics, 7-16) has a useful account of this episode.
*Eugene Lunn, Prophet of Community: The Romantic Socialism of Gustav Landauer (Berkeley, Los Angeles, and London: University of California Press, 1973).
*Quoted in Martin Buber, “Landauer,” Paths in Utopia, trans. R. F. C. Hull (Boston: Beacon Press, 1958), 47.
*Landauer’s emphasis on illusion was clearest in his Skepsis und Mystik (Berlin: E. Fleischel, 1903). See Lunn, Prophet of Community, 160.
*Franz Mehring, “Der heutige Naturalismus,” Die Volksbühne 1, no. 3 (18921893), 9—12. See Mehring’s review of Eisner in “Literarische Rundschau,” Die neue Zeit 10 (1892), 669; translated in Vernon T. Lidtke, “Naturalism and Socialism in Germany,” The American Historical Review 79 (1974), 28—29.
*Eisner, Psychopathia Spiritualis, 87.
*See Bernstein’s review of W. Weigand’s Friedrich Nietzsche in Die neue Zeit 11, (1892—1893). Quoted in Vivarelli, “Nietzsche-Bild,” 530.
*Roger Fletcher has written a useful history of this circle stressing Nietzsche’s role in their politics (Revisionism and Empire: Socialist Imperialism in Germany [London: George Allen and Unwin, 1984]).
*Hellpach wrote under the pseudonym Ernst Gystrow (“Etwas über Nietzsche und uns Sozialisten,” Sozialistische Monatshefte 4 [1900]).
*Karl Leuthner, “Herrenvolk und Pöbelvolk,” Sozialistische Monatshefte 13 (1909). Fletcher (Revisionism, 199-200) has a full list of Leuthner’s publications in this journal.
*Quoted in Fletcher, Revisionism, 101, 99.
*Regina Barkan, “Nietzsche der Imperialist,” Sozialistische Monatshefte 30 (1924), 506-507. .
*Albert Kalthoff was another Protestant pastor who also took this form of Nietzschean socialist religion to the workers but gave it a decidedly Christian bent.
*Max Maurenbrecher, Das Leid: Eine Auseindandersetzung mit der Religion (Jena, 1912).
*For this Protestant and Germanized Nietzsche see Max Maurenbrecher, Über Friedrich Nietzsche zum deutschen Evangelium: Gottesdienste, Andachten und religiöse Auseinandersetzungen (Dresden: Verlag, Glaube und Deutschtum, 1926). Hinton Thomas’s argument that as Maurenbrecher moved increasingly toward nationalism he tended to ignore Nietzsche is incorrect.
*Meyer, Lily Braun, chaps. 7, 8.
*Lily Braun, “‘Bürgerliches’ und ‘proletarisches’ Erziehungsprinzip,” Neue Gesellschaft 3, no. 8 (1906), 93—94. Quoted in Meyer, Lily Braun, 102.
*The final goal of any work for the well-being of the community, for the liberation of humanity from every form of intellectual and personal slavery, can be nothing else than the freedom of development for the individual, the right of everyone to his or her personality.
*Lily Braun, Metnoiren einer Sozialisten, vol. 2, Kampfjahre (Munich: Albert Langen, 1911), 653-654.
*Meyer, Lily Braun, 182ff.
*For Braun’s affirmation of war, feminism, and Nietzsche see her Die Frauen und der Krieg (Leipzig: Hirzel, 1915).
*Lily Braun to Otto Braun, 17 January 1916, quoted in Meyer, Lily Braun, 177178.
*Franz Laufkötter, “Die Taktik des Starken und Taktik des Schwachen,” Die Neue Gesellschaft 4 (July 1906).
*Dieter Fricke, “Zur Rolle der revisionistischen Zeitschrift Die neue Gesellschaft in der deutschen Arbeiterbewegung, 1905-1907,” in Beiträge zur Geschichte der deutschen Arbeiterbewegung 17 (1975); Hinton Thomas, Nietzsche in German Politics, 35.
*For the most recent comparison in light of modernity, see Nancy S. Love, Marx, Nietzsche, and Modernity (New York: Columbia University Press, 1986).
*In a series of works the neo-Hegelian Emil Hammacher sought to establish a synthesis out of the major modern antinomies—labor and capital, the individual and mass society—through a critique of Marx and Nietzsche, and by redefining the meanings of socialism and individualism. See his “Marx und Nietzsche,” Kölnische Zeitung, no.
*During the Weimar period Hugo Bund insisted on the despotic aims of both (Nietzsche als Prophet des Sozialismus [Breslau: Trewendt and Grenier, 1919]). Nietzsche’s fundamental class division between masters and slaves had the same leveling effect as the socialism he so lambasted, for both called for a devaluation of personality.
*Samuel Lublinski, “Nietzsche und der Sozialismus,” Europa: Wochenscrift für Kultur und Politik 1, no. 22 (15 June 1905), 1085, 1092.
*Eisner, Psychopathia Spiritualis, 86.
*On the Kantian side of Eisner see George L. Mosse, “Left-Wing Intellectuals in the Weimar Republic,” in Germans and Jews, 179-180.
*Eisner, Psychopathia Spiritualis, 58, 95—99.
*Ibid., 6, 9, 11, 94. Eisner’s work was in part written as a response to Mehring’s interpretation of Nietzsche. Mehring’s subsequent review of Psychopathia Spiritualis, while lauding Eisner’s eventual rejection of Nietzsche, takes him to task because only the historical-materialist viewpoint was admissible (Neue Zeit 10, no. 2, 668f).
*Ibid., 78-86.
*Ibid., 79.
*Chaim Weizmann describes that atmosphere: On Monday Mlle Axelrod, from Berne, is giving a lecture here on Nietzsche and socialism). Poor, poor Nietzsche, what ugly lips will be uttering his words, and these Messrs. Socialists are trying to pull their little red cap on that giant genius’s head. It seems clear enough that no one liked that fraternity less than Nietzsche. They might have left him in peace, they might have let him lie peacefully in his grave instead of bandying his name about, and to what purpose? Mlle A will presumably prove that Nietzsche was wrong, that had he known her, he would have been much wiser. Pack, Pack, Pack! (Papers and Letters, 123)
*Franz Serväs, “Nietzsche und der Sozialismus: Subjektive Betrachtungen,” Freie Bühne 3 (1892), 85-88, 202-211.
*Quoted in Reinhart Maurer, “Nietzsche und die Kritische Theorie,” Nietzsche-Studien 10/11 (1981-1982), 46.
*F. Schwangart, “Was ist uns Nietzsche?” Heimstunden: Proletarische Tribune für Kunst, Literatur, Dichtung no. 5 (May 1925), 141-148.
*Nietzsche’s poem “Vereinsamt” was included in Von unten auf: Das Buch der Freiheit, ed. Franz Diederich, 3d ed. (Dresden: Verlag Kaden, 1928), 365. See Hollub, 1.
*See Karl Henckell, Deutsche Dichter seit Heinrich Heine (Berlin: Bard-Marquardt, 1906), 112-120, for a discussion of the poet and the poem. See too Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 264.
*George L. Mosse, “Literature and Society in Germany,” in Masses and Man, 26.
*Alfred Klineberg, Die deutsche Dichtung in ihren sozialen, zeit- und geistesgeschichtlichen Bedingungen (Berlin: J. H. W. Dietz, 1927), 397-398. Quoted in Hollub, 1.
*Mehring, “Literarische Rundschau,” 668—669.
*David Bathrick and Paul Breines, “Marx und/oder Nietzsche: Anmerkungen zur Krise des Marxismus,” in Karl Marx und Friedrich Nietzsche, ed. R. Grimm and J. Hermand, 119-135 (Königstein: Athenäum Verlag, 1978), 127-129. This article has been useful in suggesting some important themes for this chapter.
*For a detailed review with bibliography see Henning Ottmann, “Anti-Lukacs: Eine Kritik der Nietzsche-Kritik von Georg Lukacs,” Nietzsche-Studien 13 (1984). Henning makes the psychological speculation that the extreme vehemence of Lukacs’s Nietzsche critique is explicable as an attack on himself or his youthful self (pp. 571-572).
*Kurt Hiller, “Logokratie,” Das Ziel (1920), 220. Cited in Mosse, “Left-Wing Intellectuals,” 188ff. Mosse emphasizes the Kantian rather than the Nietzschean influence. “Ratio dissolves into the human will, and Kurt Hiller wrote that from rationalism the will rises, liberated from the shackles that intellectualism has fastened upon it”; the quote smacks as much of Nietzsche as of Kant
*Hiller’s Leben gegen die Zeit (Hamburg: Rowohlt, 1969), 141; Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 102, n. 86.
*On this characteristically Mannian—and German—problematic see Mann’s 1928 essay “Kultur und Sozialismus” in his Essays, vol. 2, Politik, ed. Hermann Kurzke (Frankfurt am Main: Fischer Taschenbuch, 1977).
*Thomas Mann, “Nietzsche’s Philosophy in the Light of Contemporary Events,” in Thomas Mann’s Addresses, 95—96. On the antagonism between amoral aestheticism and moral socialism see 98ff.
*Martin Jay, Marxism and Totality: The Adventures of a Concept from Lukacs to Habermas (Berkeley, Los Angeles, and London: University of California Press, 1984), 9-10. This fine work has been extremely suggestive for the present theme.
*Some of this complexity emerges from Terry Eagleton’s admiring evocation of Walter Benjamin. Benjamin’s “views of cultural revolution, his anti-historical insistence on the ruptures, recyclings, and reinsertions” were deeply influenced by Nietzsche:
*Bathrick and Breines, “Marx und/oder Nietzsche,” 125ff.
*Bloch, “The Impulse of Nietzsche,” 325.
*Reinhart Maurer, “Nietzsche und die kritische Theorie,” 41-42. This is a brilliant and provocative study.
*Jay, Marxism and Totality, 8.
*Maurer, “Nietzsche und die kritische Theorie,” 35—36, 43-44.
*Der Spiegel 37 (8 September 1969), 164. See too Peter Pütz, “Nietzsche Im Lichte der kritischen Theorie,” Nietzsche-Studien 3 (1974).
*Aesthetics and Politics (London: NLB, 1977), 131.
*Theodor Adorno, “Spengler after the Decline,” in Prisms (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1986), 65. Adorno made this point in relation to his negative appraisal of Spengler.
*Theodor Adorno, review of Ernst Newman’s Wagner biography in Kenyon Review 9 (no. 1, Winter 1947), 161; Martin Jay, The Dialectical Imagination: A History of the Frankfurt School and the Institute of Social Research, 1923-1950 (Boston and Toronto: Little, Brown, 1973), 311, n. 41.
*Horkheimer’s comments were similarly made in relation to his distaste for Spengler (review of Spengler’s Jahre der Entscheidung, Zeitschrift für Sozialforschung [1933], 423).
*Max Horkheimer, “Bemerkungen zu Jaspers’ ‘Nietzsche,’ ” Zeitschrift für Sozialforschung (1937), 414.
*Chapter 2 of Susan Buck-Morss’s work is tellingly entitled “Marx Minus the Proletariat: Theory as Praxis” (The Origin of Negative Dialectics: Theodor W. Adorno, Walter Benjamin and the Frankfurt School [Hassocks, Sussex: Harvester, 1977]).
*Herbert Marcuse, One-Dimensional Man (Boston: Beacon, 1966), 216.
*Nietzsche, Genealogy of Morals, 57—62.
*Jay, “Anamnestic Totalization: Memory in the Thought of Herbert Marcuse,” chap. 7 in Marxism and Totality.
*Herbert Marcuse, Eros and Civilization: A Philosophical Inquiry into Freud (Boston: Beacon, 1966), 232.
*Ibid., 121, 122. See too pp. 119—124.
*Herbert Marcuse, Soviet Marxism: A Critical Analysis (New York: Columbia University Press, 1958), 228—229.
*Horkheimer remarks that Nietzsche’s means to achieving his Übermensch society, especially his stress on eugenics, were a result of his own isolation (“Bemerkungen zu Jaspers,” 409). Nietzsche’s ideas on socialism and the classless society were formed by his exposure to the Social Democrats, not to Marx. He did not, Horkheimer wryly commented, so badly misjudge the Social Democrats!
*Theodor Adorno, Minima Moralia: Reflections from Damaged Life, trans. E. F. Jephcott (London: NLB, 1974), 15.
*This link has been forcefully argued by George Friedman (The Political Philosophy of the Frankfurt School [Ithaca, N.Y., and London: Cornell University Press, 1981], chap. 3). Such analyses of the Frankfurt school also incorporated socioeconomic and capitalist factors more than Nietzsche did.
*Herbert Marcuse, The Aesthetic Dimension: Toward a Critique of Marxist Aesthetics (Boston: Beacon, 1978), 31.
*Max Horkheimer, “Materialismus und Metaphysik,” Zeitschrift für Sozialforschung 2, no. 1 (1933), 3-4; “Zum Rationalismusstreit in der gegenwärtigen Philosophie,” Zeitschrift für Sozialforschung 3, no. 1 (1934), 9.
*Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil, 44; Genealogy of Morals, 3, 24. Maurer has a sustained analysis of this issue (“Nietzsche und die kritische Theorie,” 36).
*Ibid.
*Adorno wrote: Among the motifs of cultural criticism one of the most long-established and central is that of the lie: that culture creates the illusion of a society worthy of man which does not exist; that it conceals the material conditions upon which all human works rise, and that, comforting and lulling, it serves to keep alive the bad economic determination of existence.
*For an enumeration of these criticisms see Pütz, “Nietzsche im Lichte der kritischen Theorie,” 187ff.
*Max Horkheimer, “On the Problem of Truth,” in The Essential Frankfurt School Reader, ed. Andrew Arato and Eike Gebhardt, intro. Paul Picone, 407-433 (New York: Continuum, 1985), 442.
*Maurer, “Nietzsche und die kritische Theorie,” 46-49.
*Friedman, Political Philosophy, 300.
*Siegfried Kracauer, History: The Last Things Before the Last (New York: Oxford University Press, 1969), 201. It had already been recognized in Gillian Rose, The Melancholy Science: An Introduction to the Thought of T. W. Adorno (London: Macmillan, 1978), 22, 24. See J. G. Merquior’s scathing Western Marxism (London: Paladin, 1986), 134.
*Jürgen Habermas, Autonomy and Solidarity, ed. Peter Dews (London: Verso, 1986). The critique of both Nietzsche and the Frankfurt school is stressed in Habermas’s attempt to go beyond them (pp. 49, 103, 133, and chap. 6). This is most substantially analyzed in his The Philosophical Discourse of Modernity, trans. Frederick Lawrence (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1987).
*Jürgen Habermas, “The Entwinement of Myth and Enlightenment,” in Philosophical Discourse.
*Jurgen Habermas, Knowledge and Interests, trans. Jeremy J. Shapiro (Boston, 1971), 290.
*Nietzsche is an all-pervasive haunting presence in Habermas’s response to the current Nietzschean “irrationalist” wave contained in Philosophical Discourse.
*This is the burden of James Miller, “Some Implications of Nietzsche’s Thought for Marxism,” Telos 37 (Fall 1978). There are, of course, Marxists who persuasively resist this syncretism. The daringly “radical” recourse to Nietzsche turns out to land one in a maturely liberal Democrat position, wryly sceptical but genially tolerant of the radical antics of the young... What is at stake here ... is nothing less than the dialectical relation of theory and practice. For if practice is defined in neo-Nietzschean style as spontaneous error, productive blindness, or historical amnesia, then theory can of course be no more than a jaded reflection upon its ultimate impossibility. (Terry Eagleton, “Capitalism, Modernism, and Postmodernism,” in Against the Grain: Selected Essays [London: Verso, 1986], 137).
*Prominent representatives of this trend include Gilles Deleuze, Derrida, Jean Lyotard, and Foucault. For an example of the Nietzschean component of this thinking see the anthology edited by David B. Allison, The New Nietzsche: Contemporary Styles of Interpretation (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1985).
*See Jay’s masterful “Epilogue: The Challenge of Post-Structuralism,” in Marxism and Totality, 510—537.
*Friedrich Wurzbach, Nietzsche und das deutsche Shicksal (Berlin and Leipzig: Deutsches Verlaghaus Bong, 1933), 19—20.
*Arthur Moller van den Bruck, “Nietzsche und der Sozialismus,” Illustrierte Zeitung 152, (1919), 233. The Nietzsche quotation is from Will to Power, 399.
*Arthur Moller van den Bruck, Germany’s Third Empire, trans. E. O. Lorimer, (London: Allen and Unwin, 1934), 151-154. The Nietzsche quotation is from Will to Potver, 399.
*Ibid., 76, 136, 221.
*Jerry Z. Muller, The Other God That Failed, 149-150, 288-289.
*Hugo Fischer, Nietzsche Apostata oder die Philosophic des Argenisses (Erfurt: Verlag Kurt Stenger, 1931), 11—17.
*Nietzsche, Will to Power, 399. Strangely, few latched on to the following: Soldiers and leaders still have far better relationships with each other than workers and employers. So far at least, culture that rests on a military basis still towers above all so-called industrial culture: the latter in its present shape is altogether the most vulgar form of existence that has yet existed
*Sombart, New Social Philosophy, 72, 81-82. His Deutscher Sozialismus typified the trends summarized here. The outlines of this thinking were already contained in his war tract, Handler und Helden.
*Adolf Hitler, Ring, 30 (1933). Quoted in Sombart, Netv Social Philosophy, 49.
*Friedrich Mess, Nietzsche: Der Gesetzgeber (Leipzig: Felix Mainer, 1930), 216.
*Mann, “Nietzsche’s Philosophy,” 94.
*For an analysis of Spengler’s ongoing relationship with Nietzsche see Zumbini, “Untergänge und Morgenröten.”
*Oswald Spengler, The Decline of the West, vol. 1, Form and Actuality, 342, 351.
*Ibid., 371, 370-372.
*Ibid., 347.
*Ibid., 361-362.
*Nietzsche, Will to Power, 411.
*Oswald Spengler, Decline of the West, vol. 2, Perspectives of World History, trans. Charles Francis Atkinson (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1980), 464.
*Ibid., 506.
*Oswald Spengler, Preussentum und Sozialismus (Munich: C. H. Beck, 1925),
*For details of the National Bolshevik connection see J. P. Stern, Ernst Jünger: A Writer of Our Time (Cambridge: Bowes and Bowes, 1953), 10-13.
*Ernst Jünger, “Der Arbeiter” in Werke, vol. 6, Essays II (Stuttgart, 1964), 47.
*Ibid., 61, 26ff, 53ff.
*Das Wäldchen 125: Eine Chronik aus den Grabenkämpfen, 1318, 3d ed. (Berlin, 1926), 154. I should like to thank Millard Griffin for this reference.
*Jünger, “Der Arbeiter,” 154.
*Ibid., 118ff.
*Ibid., 164ff.
*Ibid., 159.
*The classic exposition of this crisis of the “Bourgeois-Christian world” is in Karl Löwith, Von Hegel zu Nietzsche: Der revolutionäre Bruch im Denken des neunzehnten Jahrhunderts (Zürich: Europa, 1941). Translated as From Hegel to Nietzsche: The Revolution in Nineteenth Century Thought, trans. David E. Green (New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1964).
*For an overview of these groups, see Roy Pascal, “Religion and the Churches,” chap. 7 in his From Naturalism to Expressionism.
*For a marvelously insightful satire depicting the charlatan, Nietzschean, and demonic character of these groups, see Thomas Mann’s 1904 story, “At the Prophet’s,” in his Stories of Three Decades, trans. H. T. Lowe-Porter (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1936). For the later period see Ulrich Linse, Barfüssige Propheten: Erlöser der zwanziger Jahre (Berlin, 1983).
*Between 1880 and 1910 dozens of free-thought organizations sprang up. In 1909 they coalesced into the Weimar Cartel, claiming as many as 60,000 members. Given their vast differences, little came from the coalition (Kelly, The Descent of Darwin, 91 ff).
*Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil, 66.
*For a discussion of Nietzsche’s views on religion, see Dieter Henke, Gott und die Grammatik: Nietzsches Kritik der Religion (Pfullingen: Günther Neske, 1981).
*Zarathustra's religiosity accounts too for the unofficial consecration during World War I of that work as a holy national document, which was made official in the Third Reich when it was placed in the vault of the Tannenburg Memorial.
*For a differing overview of Nietzsche’s reception in theology, see Peter Köster, “Nietzsche-Kritik und Nietzsche-Rezeption in der Theologie des 20 Jahrhunderts,” Nietzsche-Studien 10/11 (1981/1982), 615-685; Joelle Phillipi, “Das Nietzsche-Bild,” chap. 9, “Nietzsche als Feind der Religion und der Moral.”
*Hans Gallwitz, “Friedrich Nietzsche als Erzieher zum Christentum,” Preussische Jahrbücher 83/84 (1896).
*Ibid., 336.
*Mosse, Nationalism and Sexuality.
*G. Grupp, “Nietzsches Bedeuting für unsere Zeit,” Historische-politische Blätter für das katholische Deutschland 122 (1898); Adelbert Düringer, Nietzsches Philosophie und das heutige Christentum (Leipzig: von Veit, 1907).
*Eduard Grimm, “Wie wurde Friedrich Nietzsche ein Feind des Christentums, und was können wir von ihm lernen?” Protestantische Monatshefte 4, no. 7 (1900).
*Eberhard Arnold, “Nietzsches Ringen um Gott,” Der Geisteskampf der Gegenwart: Monatsschrift für christliche Bildung und Weltanschauung 52, no. 10 (1916), 380.
*Friedrich Rittelmeyer, Friedrich Nietzsche und die Religion: Vier Vorträge (Ulm: Heinrich Kerler, 1904), 88.
*Theodor Odenwald, Friedrich Nietzsche und das heutige Christentum (Giessen: Alfred Töpelmann, 1926), 17, 23.
*On Kalthoff’s career see Friedrich Steudel, “Lebenskizze,” in A. Kalthoff, Zukunftsideale (Jena, 1907).
*Düringer, Nietzsches Philosophie, 150.
*Albert Kalthoff, Zarathustrapredigten: Reden über die sittliche Lebensauffassung Friedrich Nietzsches (Leipzig: Eugen Diederichs, 1904).
*Albert Kalthoff, Entstehung des Christentums (Jena, 1904); James Bentley, Between Marx and Christ: The Dialogue in German-Speaking Europe (London: Verso, 1982), 36-41.
*Kalthoff, Zarathustrapredigten, 4.
*Ibid., 9.
*Albert Kalthoff, Die Religion der Modernen (Jena and Leipzig: Eugen Diederichs, 1905), 88, 310.
*Kalthoff, Zarathustrapredigten, 19—20.
*On de Lagarde see Fritz Stern, “Paul de Lagarde and a Germanic Religion,” part 1 in The Politics of Cultural Despair: A Study in the Rise of Germanic Ideology (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1961), 3—94.
*Arthur Bonus, Religion als Wille: Grundlegende zur neuen Frömmigkeit (Jena: Eugen Diederichs, 1915). These ideas were given some impetus by World War I but they had developed some time before. See Bonus’s series of articles on the Germanization of Christianity in Die christliche Welt: Evangelisches Gemeindeblatt für Gebildete aller Stände 13 (1899).
*Bonus, Religion als Wille, 106.
*Arthur Bonus, “Der neue Geist,” Die christliche Welt 13 (1899), 173.
*Arthur Bonus, Zur Germanisierung des Christentums (Jena: Eugen Diederichs, 1911), pp. 66-67.
*Bonus, “Der neue Geist,” 173.
*Karl Joel, Nietzsche und die Romantik (Jena: Eugen Diederichs, 1911), 143.
*Paul Schulze-Berghof, “Zarathustra—Deutsche Mystik—Deutscher Glaube,” Der Vortrupp 5 (1916).
*Joseph Bernhart, “Meister Eckhart und Nietzsche,” Blätter für Deutsche Philosophie 3, no. 4 (1930).
*Bertram, Nietzsche, 8, 53.
*Ibid., 125-135.
*Ibid., 280-363.
*Quoted in Lowith, From Hegel to Nietzsche, 327.
*Hubert Treiber, “Nietzsches ‘Kloster für freiere Geister,’” in Antes and Pahnke, Die Religion von Oberschichten, 149-150.
*Ludwig Derleth, Die Proklamationen (Leipzig: Insel, 1904). See too Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 182—183.
*Nietzsche, The Will to Power, 513.
*H. Kreuzer, Die Boheme: Beiträge zu ihrer Beschreibung (Stuttgart, 1968), 334.
*Dominik Jost, Ludwig Derleth: Gestalt und Leistung (Stuttgart, 1965), quoted in Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 183, n. 156.
*Pieter van der Meer de Walcheren, Heimweh nach Gott (Freiburg i. Br.: Herder, 1937), 52, 58ff, 93. Quoted in Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 183, n. 156.
*Hans von Liebig, “Nietzsches Religion,” Die Umschau 4, no. 42 (13 October 1900); H. Driesmans, “Friedrich Nietzsche und die Religion,” Ernstes Wollen 6, no. 113 (1 August 1904).
*Wilson, Rudolf Steiner, 18, 86-90. Wilson’s account of Steiner is sympathetic.
*The power of the attraction is evident in the huge amounts of published writings beginning already in 1892 that Steiner devoted to Nietzsche, including: “Nietzsche-anismus,” Litterarischer Merkur 12, no. 14 (2 April 1892), 105-108; “Nietzsche in frommer Beleuchtung,” Das Magazin für Litteratur 67, no. 33 (20 August 1898), 769-772; “Tolstoi und Nietzsche,” Das Magazin für Litteratur 70, no
*Steiner’s admiration did not last long. Perhaps because he had prophet-like aspirations, he wrote very critical, psychologizing pieces on Nietzsche, arguing that Nietzsche could not be the leading spirit for the future. Some of these writings are collected in Friedrich Nietzsche ein Kämpfer gegen seine Zeit (Dornach: Rudolf Steiner, [1895] 1983).
*Cited in Wilson, Rudolf Steiner, 87—88.
*Cited in Wilson, Rudolf Steiner, 87—88.
*Lukacs, Destruction of Reason, 362; Miller, “Some Implications of Nietzsche’s Thought for Marxism,” 30; Pannwitz, Einführung in Nietzsche, 9-13.
*Julius Hart, Der neue Gott: Ein Ausblick auf das kommende Jahrhundert (Florence and Leipzig: Eugen Diederichs, 1899).
*Richard Meyer, review of Julius Hart’s Der neue Gott, in Deutsche Literaturzeitung, no. 14 (8 April 1899).
*Hart, Der neue Gott, 92.
*Hart, “Der neue Mensch,” Das Reich der Erfüllung 2 (1901), 21. Quoted in Mendes-Flohr, From Mysticism to Dialogue, 56.
*See Mendes-Flohr’s excellent discussion of the Hart brothers, the Neue Gemeinschaft, and Nietzsche in chap. 3, “Buber’s Er/ebms-Mysticism,” in From Mysticism to Dialogue.
*Hart, “Der neue Mensch,” 27. Quoted in Mendes Flohr, From Mysticism to Dialogue, 57.
*Landauer considered the Hart brothers superficial, interested in empty word games, and their search for community rhetorical rather than a genuine search for living alternatives (Lunn, Prophet of Community, 142-147).
*Gustav Landauer, “Die religiöse Jugenderziehung,” Freie Bühne (February 11, 1891). Quoted in Lunn, Prophet of Community, 32.
*Landauer, Skepsis und Mystik. Quoted in Lunn, Prophet of Community, 160.
*Quoted in George Steiner, “Sojourns in the Wondrous,” Times Literary Supplement (4 October 1985), 1087.
*Ernst Bloch, “The Impulse of Nietzsche,” Heritage of Our Times, 331.
*George L. Kline, “The ‘God-Builders’: Gorky and Lunacharsky,” chap. 4 in his Religious and Anti-Religious Thought in Russia (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press). I am grateful to Prof. Jonathan Frankel for this reference.
*See Leszek Kolakowski’s succinct analysis of the God-builders in his Main Currents of Marxism, vol. 2: The Golden Age, trans. P. S. Falla (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 1985), 446—447.
*Kline, Religious and Anti-Religious Thought, 119.
*Ibid., 124.
*Max Maurenbrecher, Das Leid: Eine Auseinandersetzung mit der Religion (Jena: Eugen Diederichs, 1912), 5—6.
*Ibid., 9.
*Ibid., 133.
*Ibid., 168.
*Ibid., 182.
*Ernst Horneffer, “Die Deutschen und die Religion: Eine Ergänzung und Entgegnung,” Die Tat 2, no. 7 (1910).
*Max Maurenbrecher, Christentum oder Monismus (Annaberg i. Sa: Grasers, 1914), 10.
*Max Maurenbrecher, Offenbarung: Eine Probepredigt (Langensalza: Wendt and Klauwell, 1919); Maurenbrecher, Über Friedrich Nietzsche zum deutschen Evangelium: Gottesdienste Andachten und religiöse Auseinandersetzungen (Dresden: Verlag Glaube und Deutschtum, 1926).
*On Diederichs see Stark, Entrepreneurs of Ideology.
*Eugen Diederichs, “Sils Maria und Friedrich Nietzsche,” Berliner Tageblatt (8 August 1906); see too his autobiographical comments in his festschrift, Eugen Diederichs: sein Leben und sein Werk (Leipzig: Eugen Diederichs, 1927).
*On Diederichs’s völkisch posture and connections see Mosse, Crisis of German Ideology, chap. 3. For a different, more sympathetic perspective, see Hinton Thomas, Nietzsche in German Politics, 116ff, and Green, Mountain of Truth.
*Mosse, Crisis of German Ideology, 59—60.
*For the history of the Horneffers’ relationship to the Archive, see Peters, Zarathustra’s Sister, 168—169. Their writings on Nietzsche were legion. Here is a small sample: both brothers published Das klassische Ideal: Reden und Aufsätze (Leipzig: J. Zeitler, 1906) in which Nietzsche is prominent; August Horneffer, Nietzsche als Moralist und Schrifsteller (Jena: Eugen Diederichs, 1906); Ernst Horneffer, Nietzsches Lehre von der Ewigen Wiederkunft und deren bisherigen Veröffentlichungen (Leipzig: C. G. Naumann, 1900); Vorträge über Nietzsche: Versuch einer Wiedergabe seiner Gedanken (Göttingen: Franz Wunder, 1901).
*It should be pointed out that totality permeated the rhetoric of the neoromantic right. Although the notion lacked the rich theoretical nuances it had on the left (as Martin Jay has shown in his Marxism and Totality), it was a prime evocative category for the right as well. Again Nietzsche was the authoritative formulator of this idea and the counterfoil to Marx.
*Die Tat: Wege zu Freiem Menschentum 1, no. 1 (April 1909), 2.
*Ernst Horneffer, “Unsere Ziele,” Die Tat 1, no. 1 (April 1909), 2.
*Martin Green distinguishes nicely between Diederichs’s support for individuality and his opposition to individualism (Mountain of Truth, 220). This distinction applied equally well to the Horneffers and others whom Diederichs supported.
*August Horneffer, “Der heidnische Lebensweg,” Die Tat 3 (1911-1912).
*Ibid., 30.
*Ernst Horneffer, Der künftige Religion (Leipzig: Werner Klinkhardt, 1909).
*Ibid., 29ff.
*Ibid., 30.
*Ibid., 70.
*Ibid., 103-105.
*Ibid., 120.
*George L. Mosse, “The Political Culture of Italian Futurism: A General Perspective,” Journal of Contemporary History 25, nos. 2—3 (May—June 1990), 256.
*Ernst Horneffer, Nietzsche als Vorbote der Gegenwart (Düsseldorf: A. Bagel, 1934).
*For the history of this movement, see Hans Buchheim, Glaubenskrise int Dritten Reich: Drei Kapitel nationalsozialistische Religionspolitik (Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlag, 1953); J. Conway, The Nazi Persecution of the Churches, 1933—1945 (London: Weidenfeld and Nicholson, 1968).
*Hermann Rauschning, Hitler Speaks: A Series of Political Conversations with Adolf Hitler (London: Thornton Butterworth, 1939), 59. Rauschning’s account must be taken with a dose of healthy skepticism.
*The movement was transformed into a propaganda arm under Nazi supervision through the journal Durchbruch. Even after Hauer was stripped of effective control he continued to preach his religion and was a leading proponent of Aryanization at the University of Tübingen (Uwe Dietrich Adam, Hochschule und Nationalsozialismus: Die Universität Tübingen im Dritten Reich [Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1977])
*Wilhelm Hauer, “The Origin of the German Faith Movement,” in Wilhelm Hauer, Karl Heim, Karl Adam, trans. T. S. K. Scott-Craig and R. E. Davies, Germany’s New Religion (New York: Abingdon, 1937), 29, 36.
*Ernst Bergmann, 25 Theses of the German Religion: A Catechism (London, 1936).
*Hans Günther, Frömmigkeit nordischer Artung (Jena: Eugen Diederichs, 1937), 24.
*Almost endless references to Nietzsche and Nietzschean themes can be found in the numerous works of Hauer and in the movement’s journal, Deutscher Glaube (Hans Kern, “Die Umwertung aller Werte,” Deutscher Glaube 3 [1936]; Hans Endres, “Aussprache: Der Erlösungsgedanke bei Nietzsche,” Deutscher Glaube 5 [1938]).
*Wilhelm Hauer, “Meine Begegnung mit Nietzsche,” Deutscher Glaube 2, no. 11 (1935), 569.
*Wilhelm Hauer, Deutsche Gottschau: Grundziige eines Deutschen Glaubens (Stuttgart: Karl Gutbrod, 1935), 110.
*Ibid.
*Wilhelm Hauer, Fest und Feier aus deutscher Art (Stuttgart: Karl Gutbrod, 1936). Hauer wrote prolifically during this period. His works systematically traced the connections between religion and race (Glaube und Blut: Beitrage zum Problem Religion und Rasse [Karlsruhe and Leipzig: Bolze, 1938]).
*Hans Eggert Schröder, Nietzsche und das Christentum (Berlin: Widulind, 1937), 50ff, 74ff.
*Nietzsche, Untimely Meditations.
*Pannwitz, Einführung in Nietzsche, 4.
*For an excellent overview see Allen S. Weiss, “Impossible Sovereignty: Between The Will to Power and The Will to Chance,“ October 36 (Spring 1986).
*Georges Bataille, “On Nietzsche: The Will to Chance,” October 36 (Spring 1986), 51, 56.
*Weiss, “Impossible Sovereignty,” 130.
*Lukacs, Destruction of Reason, 359.
*This criticism was correctly leveled at Lukacs by George Lichtheim: “Nowhere does Lukacs come to grips with the notion that Nietzsche’s shattering impact upon an entire generation of Germans may have had something to do with the dissolution of the Protestant faith. The religious dimension simply does not seem to exist for him” (Lukacs [London: Fontana, Collins, 1970], 114).
*Roger Scruton, “The Philosopher on Dover Beach,” Times Literary Supplement (23 May 1986), 565-566.
*George Lichtheim, Europe in the Twentieth Century (London: Cardinal, 1974), 186.
*Considerable scholarship on nazism denies the nihilism thesis. Ernst Nolte’s interesting view that nazism represented a kind of Nietzschean naturalistic revolt against bourgeois theoretical and practical transcendence has a great deal of plausibility (Three Faces of Fascism [New York: Mentor, 1969]).
*Nietzsche, Ecce Homo, 266.
*Already in 1942 and within the context of nazism, Franz Neumann called for an examination of “the actual dissemination of Nietzsche’s ideas among the various groups of the German people and the transformation of his ideas during this process of popularization” (Behemoth: The Structure and Practice of National Socialism [New York: Oxford University Press, 1944], 490, n. 93).
*Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil, 131; see also Ecce Homo, 327: For when truth enters into a fight with the lies of millenia, we shall have upheavals, a convulsion of earthquakes, a moving of mountains and valleys, the like of which has never been dreamed of.
*Alfred Baumler, Nietzsche der Philosoph und Politiker (Leipzig: Reklam, 1931). For other relevant essays from before the Third Reich, see the reprints of his “Bachofen und Nietzsche” (1929) and “Nietzsche” (1930) in his Studien zur deutschen Geistesgeschichte (Berlin: Junker und Diinnhaupt, 1937).
*See for example J. Günther, “Nietzsche und der Nationalsozialismus,” Nationalsozialistische Monatshefte 2, no. 21 (December 1931), 560—563.
*Gottlieb Scheuffler, Friedrich Nietzsche im dritten Reich: Bestätigung und Aufgabe (Erfurt: E. Scheuffler, 1933).
*Dr. Gross, “Die Propheten: Friedrich Nietzsche, Paul de Lagarde und Houston Stewart Chamberlain in ihrer Bedeutung für uns,” Nationalsozialistische Monatshefte 1 (1930), 29—33. For listings of Nazi forerunners see Alfred Rosenberg, “Gegen Tarnung,” Völkischer Beobachter (3 December 1933); Fritz Peuckert, “Chamberlain und Nietzsche,” Nationalsozialistische Monatshefte 5, no.
*Neumann, Behemoth, 490, n. 93. See too Rudolf E. Künzli, “The Nazi Appropriation of Nietzsche,’’ Nietzsche-Studien 12 (1983), 429-430.
*Hans Herbert Reeder, “Leidenschaft um das Reich: Hölderlin, Kleist, Nietzsche,” Die Westmark 4, no. 10 (July 1937), 493.
*Ernst Horneffer, Nietzsche als Vorbote der Gegenwart (Düsseldorf: Abagel Aktiengesellschaft, 1934), 12.
*There are countless instances. In Baldur von Schirach’s Nazi youth journal, Wille und Macht, for example, there was little explictly Nietzschean, nor was the title the same as Wille zur Macht. Yet the tones and categories employed, even if parodistic, partial, or unconscious, were derived from the Nietzschean storehouse.
*Nietzsche did employ the term Untermensch (in The Gay Science and the prologue to Zarathustra), as Kaufmann points out in his translation of The Gay Science (192, n. 30). But the word was not Nietzsche’s invention; it was first used at the end of the eighteenth century, and besides was very marginal for Nietzsche. The Nazis used it far more frequently after transforming it. Still, the term and its application took on its particular resonance within a familiar Nietzschean frame of association—emphasis on Übermenschen implicitly evoked images of Untermenschen (Alex Bein, “The Jewish Parasite,” Leo Baeck Institute Yearbook 10 [1964], 27—28).
*Josef Ackermann, Heinrich Himmler als Ideologe (Göttingen: Musterschmidt, 1970), 210-214.
*Dietrich Beitzke, review of Hans Endres’s Rasse, Ehe, Zucht und Züchtung bei Nietzsche und heute, Deutscher Glaube 4 (1939), 183.
*Alfred Rosenberg, Friedrich Nietzsche (Munich: Zentralverlag der Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiter Partei [NSDAP], 1944), 3.
*Hans Kern, “Nietzsche und die deutsche Revolution,” Rhythmus: Monatschrift für Bewegegungslehre 12 (1934), 146.
*Heinrich Hartle, Nietzsche und der Nationalsozialismus (Munich: Zentralverlag der NSDAP, 1937), 6.
*K. O. Schmidt, Liebe dein Schicksal! Nietzsche und die deutsche Erneurung: Ein Überblick und ein Ausblick (Pfüllingen: Johannes Baum, 1933).
*Hans Kern, “Die deutsche Wiederentdeckung des Leibes,” Rhythmus 12, nos. 5/6 (May/June 1934); Rudolf Luck, “Nietzsches Lebenslehre des Leibes,” Rhythmus 14 (1936), 97-105.
*For an illuminating discussion of political interpretations of the rediscovery of the body, see Mosse, Nationalism and Sexuality, chap. 3, especially p. 53.
*Öhler, Nietzsche und die deutsche Zukunft, 18.
*Mine is a composite picture of representations to be found in virtually all of the Nietzschean sources quoted in this chapter. Öhler’s Nietzsche und die deutsche Zukunft contains almost all of these components.
*Peters, Zarathustra’s Sister, 221.
*Elisabeth Förster-Nietzsche to Ernst Thiel, 12 May 1933; quoted in ibid., 220.
*Kessler, Diaries, 426.
*Peters, Zarathustra’s Sister, 211, 212; see too chap. 23, “The Fight against the Weimar Republic.”
*Kessler, Diaries, 426.
*Albert Speer, Inside the Third Reich (London: Sphere, 1971), 109.
*Peters, Zarathustra’s Sister, 222, 224.
*Völkischer Beobachter (11 November 1935).
*Hans Donndorf, “Friedrich Nietzsche und die deutsche Schule der Gegenwart,” Deutsches Philologen-Blatt 43 (1935); Heinrich Weinstock, “Die Überwindung der ‘Bildungskrise’ durch Nietzsche,” Der Erziehung: Monatschrift für den Zusammenhang von Kultur und Erziehung in Wissenschaft und Leben 10 (1935), 469-470; Gerhard Budde, “Nietzsche und die höhere Schule,” Monatschrift für höhere Schulen 37 (1938)
*Hans Heyse, Die Idee der Wissenschaft und die deutsche Universität (Königsberg: Gräfe and Unzer, 1935), 3, 9. Quoted in Hans Sluga, “Metadiscourse: German Philosophy and National Socialism,” Social Research 56, no. 4 (Winter 1989), 812. I thank Menachem Brinker for this reference.
*Hans-Joachim Falkenberg, “Nietzsche und die politische Wissenschaft,” Volk im Werden 2 (1934), 455-460.
*Alfred Rosenthal, “Nietzsche und die Reform das Strafrechts,” Deutsche Juristen Zeitung 11, no. 19 (1906), 1069—1072; Josef Kohler, “Nietzsche und die Rechtsphilosophie,” Archiv für Rechts und Sozialphilosophie 1, no. 3 (1908), 355-360; Dietrich Heinrich Kerler, Nietzsche und die Vergeltungsidee: Zur Strafrechtsreform (Ulm: Kerler, 1910).
*H. Specht, “Friedrich Nietzsches Anthropologie und das Strafrecht,” Monatschrift für Kriminalbiologie: Organ der kriminalbiologische Gesellschaft 30, no. 8 (1939).
*Ibid., 358.
*Kurt Kassler, Nietzsche und das Recht (Munich: Ernst Reinhardt, 1941), 12-15, 22. The Nietzsche quote is from Will to Power, 74.
*Kassler, Nietzsche und das Recht, 31—34.
*Ibid., 50, 66-69.
*Öhler, Nietzsche und die deutsche Zukunft, 45—46.
*Nietzsche, Gay Science, 129.
*Nietzsche, Will to Power, 389. This was by no means an isolated sentiment in his corpus. See too Will to Power, 141-142, 391-393; Zarathustra, 183-186; Twilight of the Idols, 536-538; Genealogy of Morals, 120-125.
*Werner Catel, Leben im Widerstreit: Bekenntnisse eines Arztes (Nuremberg: Glock und Lutz, 1974), 179ff. Cited in Ernst Klee, “Euthanasie” im NS-Staat: Die “Vernichtung lebensunwerten Lebens” (Frankfurt am Main: S. Fischer, 1983), 16. On Nietzsche as a potential victim, see ibid., 17.
*Nietzsche, Daybreak, 274.
*Kassler, Nietzsche und das Recht, 70-79.
*E. Kirchner, “Nietzsches Lehren im Lichte der Rassenhygiene,” Archiv für Rassen und Gesellschaftsbiologie 17 (1926).
*Heinrich Römer, “Nietzsche und das Rasseproblem,” Rasse: Monatschrift für den Nordischen Gedanken 7 (1940), 59.
*Ibid., 61.
*Ibid., 63.
*Lukacs, Destruction of Reason, 362; Miller, “Some Implications of Nietzsche’s Thought for Marxism,” 30; Pannwitz, Einführung in Nietzsche, 9-13.
*Walter Kaufmann has reminded us that while it was necessary to expurgate Nietzsche before integrating him into the schools the same was not necessary for Wagner (Nietzsche, 41).
*A good example was the neopagan, anti-Christian Deutsche Glaubensbewegung of Jacob Hauer.
*“Soldat und Biirger,” Das schwartze Korps (4 April 1935), 9.
*The Aryan seminar at the University of Tübingen included lectures such as “Nietzsche als Zeuge arischer Weltanschauung” (Nietzsche as Creator of an Aryan Worldview”). See Werner Wirth’s summary of his lecture, “Nietzsche und das Christentum,” _Deutscher Glaube 6 (1939).
*“Gegen krämerseelen, wie Engländer und andere Demokraten!”: Nietzsche, der Philosoph des Soldatentums,” Der deutsche Erzieher no. 3 (1940), 68—70.
*J. Hauer, “Gefährlich Leben: Zu Neujahr 1943,” Deutscher Glaube 10 (January 1943).
*Nietzsche’s warrior side was emphasized even when other areas of disagreement were mentioned (August Faust, Philosophie des Krieges: Schriftenreihe zur weltanschaulichen Schulungsarbeit der NSDAP no. 17 [Munich: Zentralverlag der NSDAP, 1942], 39—43).
*Richard Gröper, “Nietzsches Stellung zum Kriege,” Nationalsozialistisches Bildungswesen 7, no. 4 (April 1942), 104. (Gröper had been in the forefront of those who enlisted Nietzsche in the World War I effort.)
*Wilhelm Löbsack, “Nietzsche und der Totale Krieg,” Der Deutsche im Osten 6, no. 5 (August 1943), 213.
*Hubert A. Cancik, “Der Nietzsche-Kult in Weimar (II),” in Die Religion von Oberschichten, 105—106.
*Rosenberg, Nietzsche, 16, 21-24.
*Nietzsche, Will to Power, 464-465. Benn quotes this on p. 52 in his 1933 “Answer to the Literary Emigrants” (Benn, Primal Vision, ed. E. B. Ashton [New York: New Directions, 1971], 46—53).
*First presented as a radio-lecture see his “Der Neue Staat und die Intellektuellen,” Gesammelte Werke, 433—444.
*Christian de La Maziere, The Captive Dreamer, trans. Francis Stuart (New York: Saturday Review Press. / E. P. Dutton, 1974). Quoted in Saul Friedländer, Reflections of Nazism: An Essay on Kitsch and Death, trans. Thomas Weyr (New York: Avon, 1986), 8.
*Marc Augier, Götter Dämmerung: Wende und Ende einer grossen Zeit (Buenos Aires: Editorial Prometheus, 1950), 79—80. I thank George Mosse for this reference.
*Marcel Deat, Pensee allemande et pensee française, 97-98. Quoted in Ze’ev Sternhell, “Fascist Ideology,” in Fascism: A Reader’s Guide, ed. Walter Laqueur (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1979), 363.
*For a nuanced yet affirmative picture see Kurt Hildebrandt, “Der ‘gute Europäer,’” Deutscher Almanach (1930), 151—165.
*Kurt Hildebrandt, “Die Idee des Krieges bei Goethe, Hölderlin, Nietzsche,” in Das Bild des Krieges im deutsches Denken, vol. 1, ed. August Faust (Stuttgart and Berlin: W. Kohlhammer, 1941), 406—407.
*Rosenberg, Nietzsche, 22.
*Weisser, “Der Erzieher Nietzsche,” 125.
*Horneffer, Nietzsche als Vorbote, 18, 12—14, 41.
*Some of this complexity emerges from Terry Eagleton’s admiring evocation of Walter Benjamin.
*Bäumler, Nietzsche als Philosoph, 171-172.
*Nietzsche, Will to Pourer, 366.
*Bäumler, Nietzsche als Philosoph, 172, 180-181.
*Hans Eggert Schröder, “Nietzsche und die Germanen,” Germanien 9, no. 5 (May 1937).
*Bäumler, Nietzsche als Philosoph, 88-100.
*Nietzsche, Will to Power, 68.
*Wurzbach, Nietzsche und das deutsche Schicksal; W. Huhle, Friedrich Nietzsche als deutscher Prophet (Chemnitz: Werner Boehm, 1935).
*Paul Schulze-Berghof, “Der Zarathustra-Dichter als Mystiker,” Die musische Erziehung no. 9 (1942), 7-10.
*Bäumler, Nietzsche als Philosoph, 157; Öhler, Nietzsche und die deutsche Zukunft, 87ff.
*Kassler, Nietzsche und das Recht, 74ff.
*Tal, Christians and Jews in Germany, chap. 5.
*Ibid., 75.
*Werner Deubel, “Gräkogermanisch—Gräkojudaisch: Bemerkungen über die Herkunft des neuen Menschenbildes,” Völkische Kultur 2 (1934), 440—443. Deubel protrayed the logocentric as inevitably declining. (Its villains ranged from Paul and Plato through Descartes, Kant, Marx, industrialism, positivism, Americanism, and bolshevism.
*Günther Augustin, review of Hans Eggert Schroder’s Nietzsche und Christentum in Deutscher Glaube 5 (1938), 212.
*The group included Donndorf, Hildebrandt, Horneffer, Kassler, and Römer. All, however, no matter how consciously selective they were, remained very positive in their overall posture.
*Heinrich Härtle, Nietzsche und der Nationalsozialismus (Munich: Zentralverlag der NSDAP, Frank Eher Nachf, 1937), 5.
*Ibid., 164.
*Georg Müller, Nietzsche und die deutsche Katastrophe (Gütersloh: C. Bartlesmann, 1946), 15. On Krieck’s anti-Nietzschean stance see Langreder, “Die Auseinandersetzung mit Nietzsche,” 105ff. One should not exaggerate Krieck’s opposition. It was, after all, his journal, Volk im Werden, that published Falkenberg’s “Nietzsche und die politische Wissenschaft.”
*Christoph Steding, Das Reich und die Krankheit der europäischen Kultur (Hamburg: Hanseatische Verlagsanstalt, 1943).
*Göbel, Nietzsche Heute, 72.
*For a typical example of this ongoing Völkisch opposition to Nietzsche, see Arthur Drews, “Nietzsche als philosoph des Nationalsozialismus?” Nordische Stimmen 4 (1934), 172-179. The phrase angry love is also Drews’s, p. 177.
*Karl Kindt, “Nietzsches Heidentum: Randglossen zu einem unausschöpferischen Thema”; Carl Schweitzer, “Nietzsche und die reformatische Botschaft”; and Tim Klein, “Erlebnisse um Nietzsche” in the Protestant journal Zeitwende 12, no. 1 (October 1935).
*George Duwe, “Nietzsche der deutsche Denker: Eine Antwort an Prof. D. E. Pfennigsdorf, Bonn,” Deutscher Glaube 4 (1937). The other side of the irony was that Duwe’s article demonstrated the depth of Nietzsche’s Germanism! Nietzsche was the prophet of the German race-bound myths.
*This was especially true for Protestant polemics. For an important example see Göbel, Nietzsche heute. See too Karl Kindt, “Nietzsche und die Deutschen,” Zeitwende 12, no. 1 (October 1935).
*Karl Kynast, Die Sonne (1933), 19.
*Alfred von Martin, Nietzsche und Burckhardt (Munich, 1941), 170. For Martin, Burckhardt was a positive foil to the negative Nietzschean world that implicitly pointed to national socialism. During the Third Reich this comparative topic enjoyed a particular vogue for the allusive functions it evoked.
*Freyer’s earlier works, including Antäus: Grundlegung einer Ethik des bewussten Lebens (Jena: Eugen Diederichs, 1918) and Prometheus: Ideen zur Philosophie der Kultur Jena: Eugen Diederichs, 1923), had been hailed as continuations of Nietzsche’s project. His most famous work was Revolution von rechts Jena: Eugen Diederichs, 1931).
*Afterword in Friedrich Nietzsche, Vom Nützen und Nachteil der Historie für das Leben (Leipzig, 1937), 85—95; Muller, The Other God, 299—300.
*See his interview in Der Spiegel, 30, no. 23 (1966), 204.
*Gerhard Lehmann, Die deutsche Philosophie der Gegenwart, 184.
*On the constellation of German philosophies during this period see Sluga, “Metadiscourse.” Sluga demonstrates that, excepting Marxist and positivist philosophies, major philosophical streams had little trouble accommodating themselves to the regime.
*Examples of better-known neo-Kantians who operated sympathetically with the regime include Nicolai Hartmann and Bruno Bauch, who founded the Deutsche philo-sophische Gesellschaft designed to combat the intrusion of foreign ideas into German philosophy (Sluga, “Metadiscourse,” 798-799).
*Ibid., 809.
*See the Blätter für deutsche Philosophie 8 (1934) and the excellent summary by Sluga, “Metadiscourse,” 808ff.
*Ibid., 810.
*Karl Jaspers, Nietzsche: Einführung in das Verständnis seines Philosophierens (Berlin and Leipzig: De Gruyter, 1936). Translated as Nietzsche: An Introduction to the Understanding of His Philosophical Activity by Charles Wallraff and Frederic Schmitz (Tuscon: University of Arizona Press, 1980).
*Kurt Hildebrandt, “Über Deuting und Einordnung von Nietzsche’s ‘System,’” Kant-Studien 41, nos. 3/4 (1936), 221-293. For opponents, see the reviews by Karl Löwith and Max Horkheimer in Zeitschrift für Sozialforschung 6 (1937), 405-414; Kaufmann correctly locates and lauds Jaspers’s explicitly anti-Nazi stance (“Jaspers’s Relation to Nietzsche,” in Schilpp, ed.
*Hildebrandt, “Über Deutung und Einordnung,” 229-230, 236ff.
*Jaspers, “Reply to My Critics,” 857—863.
*Ibid., 860, 859 respectively.
*C. J. Jung, Nietzsche’s Zarathustra. I first read these lectures in their original, unpublished form and would like to thank Gustav Dreyfuss for giving me access to them and Bernie Stein for alerting me to their existence.
*Ibid., vol. 2, 893.
*Ibid., vol. 2, 1518.
*Ibid., vol. 1, 11. Jung argued that Nietzsche could take his material directly from the unconscious because he was completely severed from the mediating medieval tradition (vol. 2, 894). Much of the analysis involves ingenious interpretations of Zarathustrian symbols. When Nietzsche, for instance, says he “left the lake of his home” (vol. 1, 14), Jung takes this as confirmation of the transition to the collective unconscious. Lakes, he argues, are confined and locked into terra firma which always symbolize consciousness, whereas the sea, as symbol of the collective unconscious, has no real boundaries. The seminar discussions Jung conducted were remarkably open and receptive.
*Ibid., vol. 1, 104.
*Ibid., vol. 1, 377—378.
*Ibid., vol. 2, 1523-1524.
*Ibid., vol. 1, 87-88.
*Ibid., vol. 2, 1300.
*Ibid., vol. 1, 495-496.
*Ibid., vol. 1, 475-476.
*Ibid., vol. 1, 582.
*Nietzsche, Zarathustra, 189. Translated in ibid., vol. 2, 826.
*Ibid., vol. 2, 827.
*This—not so new—question has been revived by the publication and translation of Victor Farias’s Heidegger und der Nationalsozialismus (Frankfurt: Fischer, 1989). See too Jürg Altwegg, Die Heidegger Kontroverse (Frankfurt: Athenaeum, 1988); Hugo Ott, Martin Heidegger: Unterwegs zu einer Biographie (Frankfurt: Campus, 1988).
*David Farrell Krell, foreword to Martin Heidegger, Nietzsche: The Will to Power as Art, vol. 1, trans. David Farrell Krell (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1979), xvi.
*Martin Heidegger, “Zur Seinsfrage,” Wegmarken (Frankfurt am Main: V. Klostermann, 1967), 252. Quoted in David Farrell Krell, “Analysis,” in Heidegger, Nietzsche, vol. 4, 293.
*Personal communication, Jerry Muller. See too Gerald Izenberg, The Existentialist Critique of Freud: The Crisis of Autonomy (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1976), 90ff.
*Jürgen Habermas, “Work and Weltanschauung: The Heidegger Controversy from a German Perspective,” Critical Inquiry 15, no. 2 (Winter 1989), 439, 441.
*For a clear account of this change see J. L. Mehta, The Philosophy of Martin Heidegger (New York: Harper and Row, 1971), 81—122, especially 112—113; see too Jürgen Habermas, “The Undermining of Western Rationalism through the Critique of Metaphysics,” in Philosophical Discourse. Habermas points out that from Schlegel to Nietzsche the critique of reason called for a new mythology. “But only Heidegger vaporized this concrete need by ontologizing it and foundationalizing it into a Being that is withdrawn from beings” (p. 139). See too George Lichtheim, “On the Rim of the Volcano: Heidegger, Bloch, Adorno,” Encounter 22, no. 4 (April 1964).
*For the troubled history of this phrase see Thomas Sheehan’s excellent “Heidegger and the Nazis,” New York Review of Books (16 June 1988); Martin Heidegger, Introduction to Metaphysics, trans. Ralph Manheim (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1959), 199.
*[The article has appeared in English translation by Richard Wolin and Melissa J. Cox.] Karl Löwith, “The Political Implications of Heidegger’s Existentialism,” New German Critique no. 45 (Fall 1988). Although Heidegger’s thought must obviously not be reduced to the conservative revolutionary mode of the interwar period, this did form part of its context (Jeffrey Herf, Reactionary Modernism, chap. 5; Pierre Bourdieu, L’ontologie politique de Martin Heidegger [Paris: Éditions de Minuit, 1988]).
*Heidegger’s most accessible discussion of this Nietzschean theme in relation to nihilism can be found in his 1943 talk, “The Word of Nietzsche: ‘God Is Dead’” (Heidegger, The Question Concerning Technology and Other Essays, trans. William Lovitt [New York: Harper and Row, 1977], 79). The passage in Nietzsche appears in Genealogy of Morals, 97. See too Löwith, “Heidegger’s Existentialism,” 133.
*Heidegger, vol. 1, Will to Power as Art, 63. These lectures were given during Winter 1936-1937.
*Heidegger, “Word of Nietzsche,” 67—70.
*Die Selbstbehauptung der deutschen Universität (Frankfurt: V. Klostermann, 1983). Translated as “The Self-Assertion of the German University” by Karsten Harries, in Review of Metaphysics 38 (1984/85), 470-480. This translation has not been entirely followed here.
*“The Self-Assertion of the German University,” 479-480.
*Martin Heidegger, Nietzsche, vol. 4, Nihilism, trans. Frank A. Capuzzi (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1982), 50—51. Heidegger quoted Nietzsche: Overall insight. All major growth is in fact accompanied by a tremendous disintegration and passing away: suffering, the symptoms of decline, belong to the times of tremendous advance; every fertile and powerful movement of humanity has also created at the same time a nihilistic movement. It could turn out to be the sign of crucial and most essential growth, of transition to new conditions of existence, that the most extreme form of pessimism, nihilism proper, comes into the world. This I have grasped. See Nietzsche, Will to Power, 69.
*Quoted in Sheehan, “Heidegger and the Nazis,” 43. In note 43 Sheehan observes that these remarks were omitted from the published version of the Schelling lectures and cites them from Carl Ulmer, Der Spiegel (2 May 1977), 10.
*Heidegger, Will to Power as Art, 22. The main disagreement revolved around Baumler’s sweeping rejection of the doctrine of eternal recurrence as a whim of Nietzsche. Nietzsche, wrote Baumler, was above all interested in the unlimited flux of becoming and eternal recurrence was a denial of that doctrine. For Heidegger, eternal recurrence was a central ingredient of Nietzsche’s thought. Volume two of Heidegger’s Nietzsche is entitled The Eternal Recurrence of the Same (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1984). “‘Recurrence’ thinks the permanentizing of what becomes, thinks it to the point where the becoming of what becomes is secured in the duration of its becoming” (Heidegger, Nietzsche, vol. 3, The Will to Power as Knowledge, trans. Joan Stambaugh et al. [San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1987], 165).
*Krell, “Analysis,” in Heidegger, Nietzsche, vol. 4, 272.
*George Steiner, “Heidegger, Again,” Salmagundi, nos. 82-83 (Spring-Summer 1989), 45-46.
*Heidegger, Nietzsche, vol. 3, 227.
*Ibid., 231. “Just as Nietzsche’s thought of will to power was ontological rather than biological, even more was his racial thought metaphysical rather than biological in meaning.” Yet this clearly left room for “metaphysical racial thought”—whatever that meant.
*Ibid., vol. 4, 51.
*Ibid., vol. 3, 232-233. See too Heidegger’s revealing comments on the will to power, universal morality, and British and German standards in vol. 4, 144-145.
*Ibid., vol. 4, 116-117.
*Much of the contemporary literature argues that there never was a fundamental re-evaluation of national socialism and that to the end Heidegger remained wedded to the historical potential of national socialism, differentiating it from its debased historical actuality.
*For an excellent description of this dual structure and the parallel process of change see Richard Wolin, “The French Heidegger Debate,” New German Critique no. 45 (Fall 1988), 154-156; Mehta, Philosophy of Martin Heidegger, 40.
*Ibid., 112-113.
*Heidegger, “Word of Nietzsche,” 61.
*Wolin, “French Heidegger Debate,” 156—157. The danger and absurdity of this kind of analysis in some of its contemporary guises is that national socialism now becomes indicted for its excess of humanism!
*Martin Heidegger, “The Rectorate 1933/34: Facts and Thoughts,” Review of Metaphysics 38 (1984/85), 484—485. His claim that already in 1932, under the influence of Ernst Jiinger’s works, he had formulated a conception of the will to power in order to counter it, as we have shown, disingenuously omitted his earlier, far more positive reading of its redemptive role.
*For details and a fine analysis of these Heideggerian statements see Sheehan, “Heidegger and the Nazis,” 41—42, 45. In this respect Heidegger was well ahead of the times, anticipating the arguments that were to be voiced during the recent so-called Historikerstreit, the debate amongst German historians concerning the uniqueness of the Nazi Holocaust.
*Steiner, “Heidegger, Again,” 53-54.
*D. Gawronsky, Friedrich Nietzsche und das Dritte Reich (Bern: Verlag Herbert Lang, 1935), 5.
*Starobinski asks about both Rousseau and Nietzsche:
*Nietzsche, Zarathustra, 179.
*Johannes Albert, “Nietzsche und Hitler: Zur Ideologie des Nationalsozialismus,” Sozialistische Bildung: Monatschrift des Reichsausschusses für Sozialistische Bildungsarbeit no. 12 (December 1930), 353, 355-357.
*Ludwig Marcuse, “Märchen von der unblefleckten Empfängnis,” Das Tagebuch 12 (1931), 1331-1335; “Die Papas der Nietzscheaner,” Das Tagebuch 13 (1932), vol. 1, 401-408.
*Walter Benjamin, “Nietzsche und das Archiv seiner Schwester” in his Gesammelte Schriften, vol. 3, 323—326. ed. Hella Tiedemann-Bartels (Frankfurt: Suhrkamp, 1972), 323ff.
*Kurt Tucholsky, Gesammelte Werke (Hamburg: Rowohlt, 1960), Volume 7: 1929 “Schwarz auf Weiss,” p. 49.
*Kurt Tucholsky, “Fräulein Nietzsche,” Gesammelte Werke, vol. 10, 10-11.
*Ibid., 14.
*Ibid., 23, 14, 24.
*I am indebted to an unpublished, untitled paper by Robert Hollub on left-wing Nietzsche reception for these biographical details as well as his interpretive pointers to Gunther’s work.
*Bernice Glatzer Rosenthal, “Current Soviet Thought on Nietzsche,” in Nietzsche heute: Die Rezeption seines Werkes nach 1968, ed. Sigrid Bauschinger et al. (Bern and Stuttgart: Francke, 1988); Ernst Behler, “Nietzsche in der Marxistischen Kritik Os-tereuropas,” Nietzsche-Studien 10/11 (1981/1982).
*Gunther’s works, originally published in Moscow in 1935, appear in his Der Herren eigner Geist: Ausgewdhlte Schriften (Berlin and Weimar: Aufbau, 1981).
*Hans Giinther, “Der Fall Nietzsche,” Unter dem Banner des Marxismus 11 (1935), 542.
*Günther, Der Herren eigner Geist, 152, 264. See too the summary by Dennis Μ. Sweet, “Friedrich Nietzsche in the GDR: A Problematic Reception,” Studies in GDR Culture and Society 4, 229.
*Günther, “Der Fall Nietzsche,” 556.
*Günther, Der Herren eigner Geist, 29.
*See Lukacs’s Moscow essays, “Nietzsche als Vorläufer der faschistichen Aesthe-tik,” Internationale Literatur (1934) reprinted in his Werke, vol. 10, Probleme der Aes-thetik (Neuwied and Berlin: Luchterhand, 1969) and “Der deutsche Faschismus und Nietzsche,” Internationale Literatur 12 (1943).
*Lukacs, Destruction of Reason, 4.
*Ibid., 322, also 87.
*Ibid., 5, 10.
*Ibid., 16-17.
*Ibid., 368ff, 373-374.
*Ibid., 378—379. This, Lukacs argued, was basically Hitler’s epistemology except that in place of eternal recurrence he incorporated Chamberlain’s racial theory as the new, complementary element (p. 380). Nietzsche’s insistence on “immanence” and dismissal of “transcendence”—and with it the basis of all Christian or socialist morality (p.
*For Lukacs, popularization did involve coarsening. Nietzsche
*Ibid., p. 84, 85.
*See the critical analysis by Georg Lichtheim in his Lukacs, chapter 7. See too Henning Ottmann, “Anti-Lukacs: Eine Kritik der Nietzsche-Kritik von Georg Lukacs.”
*Lukacs, Destruction of Reason, 313.
*Ibid., 314-315.
*Ibid., 319, 395.
*Ibid., 317.
*Ibid., 341. Lukacs realized that Nietzsche had no theory of Aryan supremacy and that his notions of master and slave races were couched only in general terms, that “took into account only socio-ethical considerations. Hence in this respect he was a direct forerunner of Spengler rather than Rosenberg.” Still, Lukacs went on, stressing this difference is only a means of “denazifying” Nietzsche. Since ... Nietzsche drew the same barbaric imperialist conclusions from a racial theory as did Rosenberg from Chamberlain’s, the difference is—to borrow Lenin’s phrase—merely that between a yellow devil and a blue one. (355—356; also 736)
*Ibid., 752-753.
*Quoted in T. J. Reed, Thomas Mann, 364—365.
*Boston Evening Transcript (24 April 1940). Quoted in Rudolf E. Künzli, “Political Uses and Abuses of Nietzsche,” Nietzsche-Studien 12 (1983), 429.
*Conrad Quest in Liverpool Evening Express, 9 December 1935. Quoted in M. P. Nicolas, From Nietzsche Down to Hitler (London: William Hodge, 1938), 5.
*Ibid., 5. Quote from speech of 20 March 1935.
*Hermann Rauschning, The Revolution of Nihilism (New York: Alliance Book, 1939).
*Rauschning, Hitler Speaks, 220. These seemingly credible works from a former intimate were extremely influential, although their reliability has been severely questioned.
*Edmond Vermeil, 1939. Germany’s Three Reichs, trans. E. W. Dickes (New York: Howard Fertig, 1969), 239. See too pp. 38-39, 232ff. For more positive comments see pp. 405—407.
*Maurice Samuel, The Great Hatred (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1940), 53. Unlike many other observers, Samuel regarded the extermination of the Jews as essential to the Nazi scheme of things (p. 137).
*Ibid., 125.
*William Montgomery McGovern, From Luther to Hitler: The History of Fascist-Nazi Political Philosophy (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1941), 408—415, 627ff.
*F. J. C. Hearnshaw, Germany the Aggressor Throughout the Ages (New York: E. P. Dutton, 1941), 235, 272.
*Gawronsky, Nietzsche und das dritte Reich, 52, 63.
*Rohan D. Butler, The Roots of National Socialism, 1783-1933 (New York: Howard Fertig, 1968), 276-277.
*Ibid., 295, 154-167.
*Nicolas Berdyaev, The Fate of Man in the Modern World, trans. Donald A. Lowrie (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1961); Walter Schubart, Dostojewski und Nietzsche: Symbolik ihres Lebens (Luzern: Vita Nova, 1939). The Nietzschean-Dostoyevskean worlds were often compared and contrasted, with Dostoyevsky acting as the positive counterfoil to the religious faith that Nietzsche had so brutally smashed.
*Berdyaev, The Fate of Man, 31.
*Ibid., 26-27, 28-29.
*Peter Viereck, Metapolitics: The Roots of the Nazi Mind (New York: Capricorn Books, [1941] 1965), 187.
*Alfred Rosenthal, “Nietzsche und die Reform das Strafrechts.” simultaneously anti-National Socialist yet martial and racist vision of Europe
*D. Neumark, “Die jüdische Moderne,” Allgemeine Zeitung des Judentums 64, no. 45 (9 November 1900), 536.
*Brinton, Nietzsche, 222. In his 1964 preface he wrote:
*Heinrich Mann, “Nietzsche,” Mass und Wert 2 (1930), 277—304. In Mann’s “Zum Verständnis Nietzsches,” Das Zwanzigste Jahnhundert 6 (1896), 247, he denied that Nietzsche was the “philosopher of capitalism” and described the notion of Übermenschen as “nothing but a social and race-symbol” (pp. 246—251). Later he rejected what he regarded as the antidemocratic aspects of Nietzsche’s thought
*Karl Löwith, From Hegel to Nietzsche, 200.
*The religious conservative critics we have already mentioned constitute an exception. Notions of national character and the German mind as well as psychologizations of Nietzsche do not amount to broader frameworks. What follows are examples that locate Nietzsche affirmatively. It is also true, however, for Lukacs’s dismissal of Nietzsche.
*“Between Eroticism and General Economics: Georges Bataille” in Jürgen Habermas, Philosophical Discourse, 216.
*For Bloch, Adorno, and Horkheimer, Nietzsche, important as he was, was only one element in their reconsiderations. For Bataille he was absolutely central.
*Theodor Adorno, “Reconciliation under Duress,” in Aesthetics and Politics (London: NLB, 1977), 152.
*Ottmann, “Anti-Lukacs,” 574.
*While the Nietzschean moment in Bloch undoubtedly occurred, it should not be overexaggerated (Tony Phelan, “Ernst Bloch’s ‘Golden Twenties’: Erbschaft dieser Zeit and the Problem of Cultural History,” in Culture and Society in the Weimar Republic, ed. Keith Bullivant [Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1977], 113ff).
*Oskar Negt, “Ernst Bloch: The German Philosopher of the October Revolution,” New German Critique no. 4 (Winter 1975), 12, 14.
*Ernst Bloch, Erbschaft Dieser Zeit (Zürich: Verlag Oprecht and Helbling, 1935).
*Neville and Stephen Plaice, introduction to Bloch, Heritage of Our Times, xii— xiii.
*Ibid., 52.
*Ibid., 325-326.
*Ibid., 328, 330, 331.
*See the excellent summary by Jay, Dialectical Imagination, 258-259. On the Dialectic of Enlightenment see Jay, 253—280.
*Jtirgen Habermas, “The Entwinement of Myth and Enlightenment: Max Horkheimer and Theodor Adorno,” in Philosophical Discourse 107, 121.
*Ibid., 106.
*Theodor Adorno and Max Horkheimer, Dialektik der Aufklärung (Amsterdam: Querido, 1947). Translated as Dialectic of Enlightenment by John Cumming (New York: Seabury, 1972), 44.
*Ibid., 118-119. The passage referred to appears in Gay Science, 220.
*Jay, Dialectical Imagination, 265.
*Adorno and Horkheimer, Dialectic of Enlightenment, 100—101. For further criticism of Nietzsche and his effects on mass culture see pp. 233—234.
*On Sorge’s early positive attitude and the division of his work into Nietzschean and post-Nietzschean phases, see Samuel and Hinton Thomas, Expressionism, 20,23. On Odysseus and Prometheus see ibid., 75.
*Quoted in Jürgen Habermas, “Between Eroticism and General Economics,” 211.
*Ibid., 211.
*Allan Stökl, introduction in Bataille, Visions of Excess, xviii.
*See Georges Bataille’s 1949 “On Nietzsche: The Will to Chance, Preface” in the special issue on him in October 36 (Spring 1986), 48.
*See Bataille’s 1937 essay, “Nietzsche and the Fascists,” in Visions of Excess, 187, 191 (his italics).
*Bataille, “On Nietzsche,” 50.
*Bataille, “Nietzsche and the Fascists,” 185—186.
*Allen S. Weiss, “Impossible Sovereignty: Between The Will to Power and The Will to Chance,” October 36 (Spring 1986), 137.
*Bataille, “On Nietzsche,” 50—51.
*Bataille, “Propositions,” in Visions of Excess, 199.
*Ibid., 201.
*Weiss, “Impossible Sovereignty,” 142.
*See for instance Karl Dietrich Bracher, The Age of Ideologies: A History of Political Thought in the Twentieth Century, trans. Ewald Osers (London: Weidenfeld, 1984); Jerry Z. Muller, The Other God that Failed, chaps. 9, 10.
*Otto Flake, Nietzsche: Rückblick auf Eine Philosophie (Baden-Baden, 1946); see too the afterword to the 1947 2d ed. of the book reprinted in Die Deutschen: Aufsätze zur Literatur und Zeitgeschichte (Hamburg: Rütten und Löning, 1963). The work argued that Nietzsche had penetrated the German nation more deeply than Goethe and almost as deeply as Luther.
*Otto Flake, “Friedrich Nietzsche,” Die Deutschen, 56-70, 56.
*Flake, “Afterword,” 70-72.
*See Alfred Weber’s critical yet sympathetic “Nietzsche und die Katastrophe,” in his Abschied der bisherigen Geschichte: Überwindung des Nihilismus (Hamburg: Claasen and Göverts, 1946).
*Flake, “Friedrich Nietzsche,” 57, 69.
*Quoted in Peters, Zarathustra’s Sister, viii.
*Ibid., 71-72.
*Alfred von Martin, Geistige Wegbereiter des deutschen Zusammenbruchs (Recklinghausen: Bitter, 1948), 30.
*Ibid., 25.
*Ibid., 35-45.
*Friedrich Meinecke, The German Catastrophe: Reflections and Recollections, trans. Sidney B. Fay (Boston: Beacon, 1963), 24. The conservative historian Gerhard Ritter similarly located the Nietzschean danger as it interacted with flaws in the German character.
*Thomas Mann, Doktor Faustus (Stockholm: Bermann-Fischer, 1947); translated as Doctor Faustus by H. T. Lowe-Porter (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1948). See Gunilia Bergsten’s Thomas Mann’s ‘Doktor Faustus’: The Sources and Structure of the Novel, trans. Krishna Winston (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1969), 57ff.
*Reed, Thomas Mann, 369.
*The East German Marxist critic Stanislaw Lem wrote of Mann’s Doctor Faustus that fascism was an impersonal mechanism not a mythical devil, and its meaning could not be disclosed by reference to some traditional, higher cultural order (“Über das Modellieren der Wirklichkeit im Werk vom Thomas Mann,” Sinn und Form, cited in Reed [Thomas Mann 393ff]).
*Bernhard Kaufhold, “Zur Nietzsche-Rezeption in der westdeutschen Philosophie der Nachkriegszeit” in Beiträge zur Kritik der gegenwärtigen bürgerlichen Geschichtsphilosophie, ed. Robert Schulz (Berlin: Deutscher Verlag der Wissenschaften, 1958), 279-409, see especially p. 326; Sweet, “Friedrich Nietzsche in the GDR,” 232.
*Heinrich Scholz, Begegnung mit Nietzsche (Tübingen: Furche-Verlag, 1948), 36.
*Ibid., 3.
*Ernst Barthel, Nietzsche als Verführer (Baden-Baden: Hans Bühler Junior, 1947), 7-8, 173.
*Walter Künneth, “Friedrich Nietzsche, ein Künder der deutschen Katastrophe,” Zeitwende 19, no. 11 (May 1948), 694.
*Ibid., 705.
*Konrad Algermissen, Nietzsche und das dritte Reich (Celle: Verlag Joseph Giesel, 1946). Algermissen waited for the end of the Third Reich before he penned his anti-Nazi attacks. During the Nazi years he bitterly attacked the Bolsheviks (Die Gottlosenbewegung der Gegenwart und Ihre Überwindung [Celle: Verlag Joseph Giesel, 1933]).
*Theodor Steinbüchel, Friedrich Nietzsche: Eine christliche Besinnung (Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt, 1946), 23.
*Alfred Meusel, “Zur Charakteristik der soziologischen und politischen an-schauungen Friedrich Nietzsches,” Pädagogik: beiträge zur erziehungswissenschaft 3, no. 2 (1948), 56.
*Georg Müller, Nietzsche und die deutsche Katastrophe (Gütersloh: C. Bartelsmann, 1946), 17.
*Kessler, Diaries, 426.
*C. A. Emge, “Nietzsche als Sundenbock,” Berliner Hefte no. 1 (1947), 47.
*Friedrich Georg Jünger, Nietzsche (Frankfurt am Main: Vittorio Klostermann, 1949), 47.
*Ibid., 49.
*See, for instance, Friedrich Georg Jünger, Aufmarsch des Nationalismus (Leipzig, 1926), 171.
*Karl Schlechta, “Entnazifierung Nietzsches? Wandel im Urteil und Wertung,” Göttinger Universitäts Zeitung 2, no. 16 (18 July 1947), 3-4.
*Sweet, “Friedrich Nietzsche in the GDR.”
*See “A philosopher who was a non-person in the worker and peasant State,” The German Tribune, no. 1436 (23 September 1990), 10. 1 thank Jerrold Kessel for this reference.
*See “Nietzsche in Weimar: Gedenkstaette wiederöffnet,” Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung (21 May 1991). I thank Jerrold Kessel for this reference.
*The challenge to the orthodox position came from Heinz Pepperle, “Revision des Marxistischen Nietzsche-Bildes,” Sinn und Form 38, no. 5 (1986) and the orthodox counterattack from Wolfgang Harich, “Revision des Marxistischen Nietzsche-Bildes,” Sinn und Form 39, no. 5 (1987). Harich insisted that his orthodoxy be personally enforced by Erich Honecker.
*See the perceptive comments in Charles S. Maier, The Unmasterable Past: History, Holocaust and German National Identity (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1988), 148, 212, n. 60. The articles by Dennis M. Sweet are also useful (“Friedrich Nietzsche in the GDR”; “Nietzsche Criticized: The GDR Takes a Second Look,” Studies in GDR Culture and Society 7), especially the comments on Renate Reschke’s earlier attempt to broaden the approach. I thank Prof. Klaus Berghahn for the latter references.
*See “A philosopher who was a non-person,” 10, for a summary. The only breakthrough was a facsimile edition of Ecce Homo published by Mazzino Montinari and Karl-Heinz Hahn, director of the Goethe—Schiller Archives in Weimar.
*See the Westdeutschen Rundfunk talk by Richard Maximilian Lonsbach, “War Nietzsche Ein Wegbereiter des Dritten Reiches?” in his Friedrich Nietzsche und die Juden.
*In Germany the charged Nazi past endows terms that elsewhere appear academic and abstract—emancipation, reason, enlightenment—with immediate resonance and rich political connotations. See the interesting comments by Joachim Whaley, “Enlightenment and History in Germany,” The Historical Journal 31 (1 March 1988), 195— 199.
*This may indeed be the proper context in which to view Habermas’s main work, The Philosophical Discourse of Minority.
*Gerd Bergfleth has an essay entitled “Die zynische Aufklärung” in his collection characteristically entitled Zur Kritik der Palavernden Aufklärung (Munich: Matthes and Seitz, 1984). The motto on the back cover reads: “Eher wird ein Kamel durch ein Nadelöhr gehen, als eine Ahnung durch einen aufgeklärten Kopf, wenn schon das Hohle darin viel grösser ist.
*Bergfleth, “Die zynische Aufklärung,” 181.
*See Ian Buruma’s perceptive article, “There’s no Place Like Heimat,” New York Review of Books (20 December 1990), 34—43.
*Konkret, 10 October 1990. Quoted in Buruma, “Heimat,” 37. For Bergfleth Nazi racism was the extreme particularist mirror-image of the extreme, unmediated cosmopolitanism of the Enlightenment. Moreover, he suggests, the very universality of the Enlightenment contained a trap for its Jewish proponents resulting in the Holocaust: “All men will become brothers” implies the destruction of those who do not want to be brothers. One cannot exclude the conclusion, paradoxical though it may be: the destruction of European Jewry has one of its roots in the Enlightenment, exactly in that “transition to humanity” on which liberal Judaism rested. (“Die zynische Aufklärung,” 184).
*It is no accident that in Palavernden Aufklärung Bergfleth includes a translation of Bataille on Nietzsche’s madness. Such left—right borrowings are palpable.
*Bergfleth, “Zehn Thesen zur Vernunftkritik,” nos. 6—8 in Palavernden Aufklärung, 10—11.
*Bergfleth’s “Über linke Ironie,” in Palavernden Aufklärung, 179. See too the quote from Zarathustra, 369.
*Peter Glotz, “The New Right in the New Order,” Liber no. 1 (February 1990), 20.
*Throughout this work we have considered some of the textual bases for such exercises. Consider the range of interpretive and casuistic possibilities which follow Nietzsche’s motto quoted at the beginning of this chapter: Even by my descent, I am granted an eye beyond all merely local, merely nationally conditioned perspectives; it is not difficult for me to be a “good European.
*Here the comparison with Darwin may be instructive. Darwinism was also a major fin-de-siecle frame of reference that was pressed into protean political and cultural service. But Darwin’s assimilability into German culture, as Alfred Kelly has pointed out, was inhibited by the fact that he was not a German and thus unamenable to attempts to link him to the German spirit (Kelly, The Descent of Darwin, 7)
*Nietzsche, Ecce Homo, 262.
*See Mommsen, Max Weber and German Politics, on the Nietzsche connection and the difficulty of assigning Weber any precise political position. See too Mommsen, The Age of Bureaucracy, 96, 105ff.
*Kolakowski, “On the So-Called Crisis of Christianity” in his Modernity on Endless Trial, 90-91. See too his fascinating reflections on the complexity of Nietzsche’s modernity in the opening essay (from which the book takes its title), 8—9.
*See the rather uneven collection of essays, Nietzsche as Postmodernist.
*As a good example of this, see David B. Allison ed., The New Nietzsche: Contemporary Styles of Interpretation (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 1985).
*See the interesting critical comments by Robert C. Solomon, “Nietzsche, Postmodernism, and Resentment: A Genealogical Hypothesis,” in Nietzsche as Postmodernist, 291-293.
*Ernst Bertram, Nietzsche, 5.
*Over the past few years Kaufmann’s interpretation of Nietzsche has been coming increasingly under attack. See Michael Tanner’s comments on Kaufmann’s “perniciousness” as a Nietzsche commentator, his “hegemony,” and his “intellectual dependants” in “Organizing the Self and the World,” Times Literary Supplement (16 May 1986), 519.
*See Walter Sokel’s perceptive remarks in “Political Uses and Abuses of Nietzsche in Walter Kaufmann’s Image of Nietzsche,” Nietzsche-Studien 12 (1983). Kaufmann, writes Tanner, “peddled a view of Nietzsche which certainly eliminated any possibility of offence being given to anyone of a liberal humanist outlook” (“Organizing the Self,” 519).
*Martin Jay, “Should Intellectual History Take a Linguistic Turn? Reflections on the Habermas-Gadamer Debate,” in his Fin-de-Siecle Socialism (New York: Routledge, Chapman, and Hall, 1988), 33.
*Jacques Derrida, The Ear of the Other, 23—24.
*Ibid., 30-31.
*Eric Vogelin early on stressed this point: What deserves some attention, however, is the fact that Nietzsche’s work lends itself easily to such misinterpretations. This fact should not be denied. There is no sense in pretending that the horror passages which are quoted with equal delight by the critics and the National Socialist admirers are not to be found in the work.
*Geoff Eley, “The German Right, 1860-1945: How It Changed,” in his From Unification to Nazism: Reinterpreting the German Past (Boston: Allen and Unwin, 1986), 234. See too his remarks on intellectual history that “makes its connections by lifting ideas from their sensible context” (ibid.).
*Bloch, “Über Wurzeln des Nazismus,” 319—320.
*Thomas Nipperdey, “1933 and the Continuity of German History” in H. W. Koch, ed., Aspects of the Third Reich (New York: St. Martin’s, 1985), 493, 504.
*David Blackbourn and Geoff Eley, The Peculiarities of German History: Bourgeois Society and Politics in Nineteenth-Century Germany (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1984), 6. E. Sandvoss, Hitler und Nietzsche (Gottingen: Musterschmidt, 1969). We still do not know enough about these transmission belts. The scholarly consensus is that Hitler had either not read Nietzsche or read very little
*Ibid., 93—94. This was a far cry from what Mann had written in his diary as late as 1936: A revolting article from the Berliner Tageblatt... maintains that the “Nietzschean Manes” are by no means in exile today, but have remained in Germany. It goes on to say that there are only surface differences between Nietzsche and National Socialism—the latter can lay rightful claim to him.—This should rather be said about Sorel. But Nietzsche, who stood for utmost “intellectual rectitude,” for the Dionysian will to know, who smiled at Faust for being a “tragedy of knowledge” because he knew better, who was ready to endure every suffering caused by the truth and for the sake of truth—this man they want to claim in connection with myths of action of a mass appeal roughly of the level of the most degenerate popular dirty songs. What filth.—Bergson, Sorel, Peguy are the real spiritual forerunners of fascism. It was they who distorted socialism into nationalism. What, then, is “German” about it? (Diaries, 254—255)
*Berel Lang, Act and Idea in the Nazi Genocide (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1990), 197—198.
*I have tried to argue for the indispensability of a more sophisticated cultural and intellectual history in “Nazism, Normalcy and the German Sonderweg,” in Studies in Contemporary Jewry 4 (1988). Such a history would establish precisely the nature of reciprocal influences within their proper contexts by tracing mediating links, their diverse effects, and mapping out relevant discourses
*Stern emphasizes that Nietzsche was “the most critical of modern philosophers” and that he was “not taken in by his own abstractions” (Hitler, 72, 74).
*See Karl Dietrich Bracher, “The Role of Hitler: Perspectives of Interpretation” in Laqueur, ed., Fascism, 208.
*Roger Scruton, “The Philosopher on Dover Beach,” Times Literary Supplement (23 May 1986). Berdyaev’s 1935 The Fate of Man in the Modern World, as we have seen, followed a similar line, linking Marx and Nietzsche as similar dehumanizing, naturalizing forces.
*Leszek Kolakowski, “On the So-Called Crisis of Christianity,” in his Modernity on Endless Trial (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1990), 90-91.
*Nietzsche, Daybreak, 204. See also 190—191: To construct anew the laws of life and action—for this task our sciences of physiology, medicine, sociology and solitude are not yet sufficiently sure of themselves: and it is from them that the foundation-stones of new ideals (if not the new ideals themselves) must come.
*Nietzsche, Gesammelte Werke (Leipzig: Kroner), vol. 12, 410. Quoted in Lukacs, Destruction of Reason, 346-347. The emphasis on radical experimentality and great health is spelled out in Human, All Too Human, 8.
*Kurt Rudolf Fischer, “Nazism as a Nietzschean Experiment,” Nietzscbe-Studien 6(1977), 121.
*Ernst Nolte, Der Faschismus in seiner Epoche (Munich: Piper, 1963). Tr. Leila Vennewitz, Three Faces of Fascism (New York: New American Library, 1969), 537—567.
*On the centrality of anti-Semitism and the uniqueness of the exterminations see Nolte, Three Faces, 502. For his argument that Hitler’s anti-Marxism was a function of his desire to annihilate the Jews and not the other way around, as he later claimed, see p. 458.
*Nolte, Three Faces, 534. While Nolte noted that there were many objections to Lukacs, he agreed that at the end of the nineteenth century a major change in the spiritual climate of Europe took place. Nietzsche’s role was clear:
*Eva, “Nietzsche und die Frauen,” 2ff.
*See the analysis in Hinton Thomas, Nietzsche, 88.
*Nolte, Three Faces, p. 534. In his In Bluebeard’s Castle: Some Notes towards the Re-definition of Culture (London: Faber and Faber, 1971), George Steiner presents a similar thesis.
*Alfred Bäumler, Nietzsche der Philosoph, 30; Heinrich Römer, “Nietzsche und das Rasseproblem,” Rasse: Monatschrift für den Nordischen Gedanken 7 (1940), 61; Richard Ohler, Nietzsche und die deutsche Zukunft.
*Ernst Nolte, Der europäische Bürgerkrieg, 1917-1945: Nationalsozialismus und Bolschewismus (Frankfurt and Berlin, 1987), 514—515.
*Nolte, Nietzsche und der Nietzscheanismus.
*Ibid., 192-193.
*Ibid., 193—194. Nolte also included this quote in his Der Faschimus, 533. The Kaufmann translation again renders Nietzsche more genteel and less biological than my more literal translation above indicates. For instance, he translates schonungslose Vernichtung as “relentless destruction,” a far more impersonal, almost agentless description.
*In an obscure passage in Three Faces of Fascism, Nolte had already hinted at this theme. The positive aspect of both Hitler’s and Nietzsche’s ideas, he wrote, “was completely outweighed by the concrete aspect of their negative will.
*Nolte, Nietzsche, 195. In Nolte’s view this was true for both the Bolshevik and National Socialist implementations.
*Ibid., 88, 192.
*Ibid., 89. Nolte writes that while Marx and Nietzsche developed juxtaposed conceptions bound up with the conditions of the time, neither desired to create Bürgerkriegskonzeptionen. Once decisive steps to realize their visions were taken, however, the end was inevitable (p. 276).
*Nolte gets caught up in the kind of dubious ideological history of reception discussed in chapter 1. Given his conception of how it ought to have proceeded he can only express surprise that “the concept of the ‘party of life’ does not appear anywhere and the not infrequent discussions on ‘Marx and Nietzsche’ revolve mainly around the juxtaposition of ‘collectivists’ and ‘individualists’” (ibid., 268)
*Nietzsche, The Antichrist, 593. These quotes can be amplified from elsewhere.
*Conor Cruise O’Brien, The Siege (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1986), 59, 57-59, 85. O’Brien cites the last pages of Hitler’s Table Talk as evidence without naming the specific passage.
*George Lichtheim, Europe in the Twentieth Century, 185.
*Nietzsche, Will to Power, 458—459. Nietzsche, The Antichrist, 593. These quotes can be amplified from elsewhere. In On the Genealogy of Morals, after paradoxically portraying Jesus as the realization of Judaism, Nietzsche wrote, “What is certain, at least, is that sub hoc signo, Israel, with its vengefulness and revaluation of all values, has hitherto triumphed again and again over all other ideals, over all nobler ideals” (p. 35). The Jews, he added, had a world-historic mission. The “masters” have been disposed of; the morality of the common man has won. One may conceive of this victory as at the same time a blood poisoning (it has mixed the races together)—I shan’t contradict; but this intoxication has undoubtedly been successful. The “redemption” of the human race (from the “masters,” that is) is going forward; everything is becoming visibly Judaized, Christianized, mob-ized (what do the words matter!) (p. 36). Careful readers will note that Nietzsche referred in the main to the priestly period: “Originally, especially at the time of kings, Israel stood in the right, that is, the natural relationship to all things” (The Antichrist, 594, 594—598). Interested appropriators (and later historians) seldom bothered with such qualifications. For a perspective of how this fitted into a broader stream of thought see Steven Aschheim, “ ‘The Jew Within’: The Myth of ‘Judaization’ in Germany.”
*Ibid., 186.
*This applies to both the antibourgeois and anti-Christian accounts. George L. Mosse, for instance, has recently gone so far as to suggest that the Nazi project represented the defense of bourgeois morality, not the attack against it: far removed from Rauschning’s portrait of Nazi nihilists breaking all limits in a kind of Nietzschean ecstasy, according to Mosse, nazism was actually the attempt to preserve a middle-class world of respectability against all those outsider and deviant groups that threatened it. Yet bourgeois morality while often illiberal had never before assumed genocidal dimensions and what requires explanation is the galvanizing motor that, translated into the bureaucratic, murderous impulse, enabled nazism to transcend middle-class morality while embodying it (Nationalism and Sexuality, 133–152). Bernard Wasserstein has argued that the notion of a Christian limit is problematic indeed and adduces numerous examples of Christian violence upon Jews in which tens of thousands were murdered. Still, a theological, historical, and moral gulf separates these pogroms from the bureaucratized, ideological, and total mass murder of the Holocaust (“Change in Israel,” Times Literary Supplement [10 October 1986], 1123–1124). Others have argued that for the functionaries of genocide, theory and ideology played virtually no role at all. Whether as cause or post facto rationalization, however, some ideational justification had to enter.
*Robert Lifton’s The Nazi Doctors: Medical Killing and the Psychology of Genocide (London: Papermac, 1987) represents a recent expression of this perception. From Nietzsche the Nazis received the notion of “violent cure” and the notion that “We have to be destroyers!” (Will to Power, 224).

Наследие Ницше в Германии, 1890–1990 — Стивен Э. Ашхайм (1992)

1. Историк и наследие Ницше

Leg’ ich mich aus, so leg’ ich mich hinein:
Ich kann nicht selbst mein Interprete sein
Doch wer nur steigt auf seiner eignen Bahn
Trägt auch mein Bild zu hellerm Licht hinan.
Толкуя сам себя, я сам себе не в толк,
Во мне толмач давно уж приумолк.
Но кто ступает собственной тропой,
Тот к свету ясному несет и образ мой.
Ницше, «Веселая наука»

«Великие люди неизбежно являются нашим творением, точно так же, как мы — их». Эрнст Бертрам, «Ницше»

Влияние Фридриха Ницше на культурную и политическую чувствительность двадцатого века было совершенно необычайным. Начиная с 1890-х годов его формирующее присутствие непрерывно ощущалось по всей Европе, в Соединенных Штатах и даже в Японии. Данное исследование — это попытка описать и проанализировать природу и динамику этого влияния в Германии, где оно было наиболее плотным, устойчивым и судьбоносным. Сорок лет назад Вальтер Кауфман заметил, что Ницше стал настолько неотъемлемой частью немецкой жизни, что серьезное изучение этой взаимосвязи переросло бы в не что иное, как «культурную историю Германии двадцатого века, увиденную в единой, но особенно показательной перспективе».

То, что следует далее, — это попытка представить такую историю. Однако она не даст какой-то одной перспективы. Ибо вызов и значимость ницшеанского импульса заключаются именно в его повсеместности, в его многообразном и зачастую противоречивом проникновении на важнейшие политические и культурные арены. Было бы, безусловно, точнее говорить не об одном, а о многих «ницшеанских импульсах», которые одновременно влияли на свое меняющееся время и отражали его. Через эти ницшеанские преломления мы надеемся, кроме того, осветить некоторые из наиболее важных моделей и направлений формирующегося, изменчивого политического сознания, остро ощущающего кризис и ищущего новые пути его преодоления.

Историческое наследие Ницше должно пониматься как продукт динамического взаимодействия между своеобразными, многогранными качествами его мысли и теми, кто ее присваивал. Это всегда был относительно открытый, взаимный и творческий процесс, который влек за собой избирательную фильтрацию и постоянное переосмысление ницшеанской тематики в соответствии с различными осознаваемыми потребностями. Это было изменчивое наследие, которое влияло на разные круги мужчин и женщин, реагировавших на конкретные и меняющиеся обстоятельства Вильгельмовской империи, Первой мировой войны, Веймарской республики, национал-социализма и последующих периодов, и само испытывало их влияние. Благодаря этим политически ангажированным посредничествам Ницше превратился в устойчивую и жизненно важную часть ткани национальной жизни.

Этот сложный процесс можно постичь, лишь изучив его тематические и хронологические измерения. Чтобы придать форму и структуру этой более широкой картине, мы сосредоточились на групповых паттернах и организованных кластерах влияния. Основное внимание будет уделено институтам, движениям и широким идейным течениям. Индивидуальные взгляды и отношения к Ницше будут обсуждаться лишь постольку, поскольку они проливают свет на более общие измерения наследия Ницше. Нам пришлось пожертвовать частью сложности и творческой интенсивности, характерных для столь многих из этих индивидуальных встреч, чтобы сохранить синоптическую перспективу. Очевидно, что любая попытка составить сводный портрет этих многочисленных апроприаций в рамках их разворачивающихся идеологических и исторических контекстов потребует отбора. Учитывая плотность предмета и почти подавляющее богатство доступной документации, исчерпывающее рассмотрение было бы невозможным и даже нежелательным; энциклопедическая полнота свелась бы не более чем к упражнению по каталогизации, которое скорее скрыло бы, чем высветило ключевые связи. В этой работе мы надеемся представить своего рода наводящий на размышления анализ, который затрагивает и освещает ряд уместных и репрезентативных источников.

Эта книга движима убеждением, что для понимания множества влияний работу Ницше нельзя сводить к некой сущности, равно как нельзя утверждать, что она обладает единственным и ясным авторитетным смыслом. Историк культуры не может претендовать на привилегированный доступ к неискаженному тексту, по которому следует судить обо всех последующих его использованиях. Не должно быть никакого установленного портрета «подлинного» Ницше, равно как и догматической уверенности в его первоначальном замысле. Только Rezeptionsgeschichte, чувствительная к открытой, трансформационной природе наследия Ницше, сможет оценить его богатую сложность.

На сегодняшний день, как ни странно, подобного исследования не появилось. Вместо этого основные аналитические работы после Второй мировой войны, как правило, принимали эссенциалистские подходы, в которых история наследия Ницше представляется либо как запись отклонений от, либо как верное отражение предшествующей интерпретационной конструкции «настоящего» Ницше. Они неизбежно оказываются морализаторскими, статичными историями в апологетическом или обличительном ключе, менее заинтересованными в реальных процессах влияния и распространения, чем в вынесении суждений о различных апроприациях.

Чрезвычайно влиятельная интерпретация Ницше и наследия Ницше, предложенная Вальтером Кауфманом, является очевидным примером. Он начинает, например, с того, что называет «легендой о Ницше», сконструированной теми авторами, которых он считает ответственными за пагубное «неверное истолкование»: веру в то, что Ницше был безнадежно двусмысленным, не имел связной философии и был подвержен противоречивым интерпретациям. Создатели этой легенды — важные ницшеанцы, такие как Элизабет Фёрстер-Ницше, Стефан Георге и его кружок, Эрнст Бертрам и Карл Ясперс — анализируются не с точки зрения их политических намерений, институциональных условий и исторических контекстов, а лишь постольку, поскольку они способствовали тому, что Кауфман считает опасными злоупотреблениями и однозначными неверными истолкованиями. Неудивительно, что отношения нацизма и Ницше обсуждаются исключительно в этих терминах, как отношения полного искажения и радикального злоупотребления по сути антиполитическим проектом мастера. Окончательное марксистское прочтение Георга Лукача характеризуется диаметрально противоположной, но схожей эссенциалистской точкой зрения. Он изображает Ницше исключительно как иррационалиста, глашатая реакционной буржуазии после 1870 года и как по своей сути протофашистского мыслителя, отца нацизма, который, учитывая логику и диктат исторических событий, был неизбежно обречен верно отражать его идеи.

Философ не только волен судить и оценивать — он обязан это делать. Однако историки культуры должны быть чрезвычайно осторожны с подобными упражнениями. Именно динамическая природа влияния Ницше, сложная диффузия и использование его идей, а не их внутренняя истинность, ложность или даже правдоподобность должны находиться в центре исторического анализа. Эссенциализированные подходы скорее затуманивают, чем проясняют исторические свидетельства, подгоняя соответствующий материал под заранее заданный шаблон. Были ли они оправданы или нет, но разные интересы и читатели действительно приходили к разным интерпретациям. Задача состоит в том, чтобы наметить их повестки, контексты и последствия. Ницшеанство в той или иной версии пронизывало многие из наиболее важных политических и культурных течений двадцатого века. Никакое упрощенное изложение такого влияния не воздает должное этой истории. Культурный ландшафт и историческая ткань просто слишком богаты, открыты и дифференцированы, чтобы выдержать груз этих эссенциалистских и однонаправленных аргументов.

Историки были в равной степени виновны в сведении наследия Ницше либо к реакционному, либо к прогрессивному импульсу, даже в самых недавних исследованиях. Ограниченные конструкции Ницше и ницшеанства были поставлены на службу заинтересованным историческим тезисам. В своей работе о сохранении старого европейского порядка вплоть до 1914 года Арно Дж. Майер, например, утверждал, что основной функцией мысли Ницше было служить риторической и идеологической опорой для аристократических интересов конца девятнадцатого века. Этот взгляд представляет ницшеанство как «идеально подходящее, чтобы помочь упорствующим элементам правящих и господствующих классов» сформулировать свои антидемократические, нелиберальные и реакционные идеи.

Майер беспечно игнорирует тот факт, что те консервативные силы, которые олицетворяли старый порядок (ancien régime), были почти неизбежно антиницшеанскими, инстинктивно враждебными антихристианской имморалистской позиции Ницше, а также шокированными и напуганными его радикальным подверганием сомнению авторитета и традиции. Эти круги осознавали, что Ницше говорил о новом «самосозидающем дворянстве» и что он подразумевал аристократический этос, совершенно отличный от этоса наследственных классов и земельного дворянства. В тех немногих случаях, когда подобный союз пытались заключить при жизни самого Ницше, он выражал свое неодобрение в самых недвусмысленных выражениях:

В одном конкретном случае мне довелось увидеть все грехи, которые были совершены против одной из моих книг — это была «По ту сторону добра и зла» — и я мог бы составить об этом неплохой отчет. Вы поверите? «Национальцайтунг» — прусская газета... — я сам читаю, если позволите заметить, только «Journal des Débats» — действительно умудрилась понять книгу как «знамение времени», как подлинную и настоящую философию юнкеров, для которой «Кройцайтунг» просто не хватило смелости.

Подходящая интерпретация мысли Ницше, несомненно, могла бы выполнить такую функцию в интересах высшего класса. Однако эмпирические данные показывают, что в случае с правящими классами (за редкими заметными исключениями) это просто не имело места. В целом традиционные элиты продолжали рассматривать философа как опасного и безумного подстрекателя. Когда правые действительно всерьез приняли Ницше, это произошло после Первой мировой войны, во время Веймарской республики, и тогда это было делом рук преимущественно радикально-революционных элементов.

В своем исследовании 1983 года Р. Хинтон Томас подходит довольно близко к истине, утверждая, что ницшеанцы, как правило, были диссидентами и радикалами, отчужденными от установленного социального порядка. Далекие от того, чтобы представлять реакционные (или даже консервативные) слои общества, они были характерно эмансипаторными, прогрессивными и движимыми гуманистическими заботами. Социализм, анархизм, феминизм, поколенческий бунт молодежи — все они были затронуты либертарианской магией Ницше.

Хотя Томас рассказывает важную часть истории, его однобокий фокус в конечном итоге также искажает общую картину. Только посредством значительных упущений и предвзятых доводов ницшеанцев до 1918 года можно считать полностью принадлежащими к эмансипаторному лагерю. В любом случае, решающий момент заключается в том, что наследие Ницше никогда не удавалось подвести под упрощенную рубрику «реакционного» или «прогрессивного». И это так не только потому, что сам Ницше посмеялся бы над подобными телеологическими ярлыками, которые, по правде говоря, он сам помогал подрывать. С самого начала ницшеанская тематика привлекала удивительно широкий спектр политических и культурных интересов. Большинство из них были радикальными по своей природе, преследуя эклектичные видения культурной переоценки и политического искупления. Но, как мы увидим, хотя этот поиск включал в себя прогрессивные круги, он также характеризовал и более неклассифицируемые интересы: сектора авангарда, различные крылья движения за реформу жизни и, что наиболее важно, тех, кто создал немецкие постконсервативные «революционные правые» двадцатого века.

Центральный тезис этой книги заключается в том, что Ницше и ницшеанцы были одновременно творцами и бенефициарами более широкого иконоборческого процесса, который пересекал и размывал такие предсказуемые различия, как левые и правые, прогрессивные и реакционные. Они также бросали вызов простым дихотомиям между современным и досовременным, рациональным и иррациональным. Множеством неожиданных способов ницшеанцы сочетали архаические элементы с футуристическими.

Поскольку в предшествующих исследованиях, как правило, исходили из того, что ницшеанство обладает своего рода присущей ему политической индивидуальностью, они обходили вниманием многочисленные мотивации и сложные процессы, в соответствии с которыми различные интересы активно заимствовали и переосмысляли идеи Ницше. Ницшеанство, подобно своему учителю, никогда не было монохромным. Критическое «собирательство» работ и тем Ницше побуждало самые разные европейские аудитории объединять его с широким спектром культурных и политических позиций: анархистскими, экспрессионистскими, феминистскими, футуристическими, националистическими, нацистскими, религиозными, сексуально-либертарианскими, социалистическими, фёлькише и сионистскими. Именно благодаря этим слияниям и Ницше, и ницшеанство стали значительной силой. Таким образом, далее следует исследование динамики исторического опосредования, в котором анализируются распространение, популяризация, ассимиляция, отторжение и призматическое преображение Ницше в меняющихся исторических и идеологических контекстах.

Почему же Ницше изначально вызывал такое уникальное, изменчивое восхищение? Почему он смог привлечь так много поколений последователей? Почему он считался столь жизненно важной силой для столь многих групп? Хотя значительная часть этого восхищения кроется в конкретных взаимодействиях и заимствованиях, в специфических прихотях и диктате выбора, а также в конкретных переработках и разнообразных применениях, истоки ответа, безусловно, следует искать в аспектах самого ницшевского корпуса текстов. Без его огромного хранилища наводящих на размышления тем, идей и категорий, или его блестящего языка и риторики, никакие последующие «ницшеанства» были бы невозможны.

Склонность Ницше к столь многим противоречивым тенденциям и интересам, а также способность вызывать открытые реакции отражали центральное свойство его постгегельянского мышления и метода: отказ от систематизаторов и систем, а также решимость подходить к проблемам с множества точек зрения. «Я не доверяю всем систематизаторам и избегаю их», — писал Ницше. «Воля к системе, — добавлял он, — есть признак отсутствия честности». Его афористический стиль отражал отказ от фиксированных систем. Действительно, Ницше рассматривал стиль как барометр внутренней сложности. «Принимая во внимание, что множественность внутренних состояний в моем случае исключительно велика, — писал он, — я обладаю многими стилистическими возможностями — самым многообразным искусством стиля, которое когда-либо было в распоряжении одного человека». Решительно меняющаяся точка зрения повествования у Ницше явно способствовала разнообразным интерпретациям.

Не менее важным для понимания истории восприятия Ницше является то, что Вальтер Кауфман описал как «постоянное прославление творчества» философом, его призыв к «созданию новых ценностей и норм». Это повлияло на характер и способы присвоения, поскольку здесь присутствовала принципиальная открытость, приглашение проложить свой собственный путь; самоопределяющийся творческий акт должен был обеспечить содержание и заполнить контуры видения. Замечания Курта Рудольфа Фишера о сверхчеловеке применимы к большинству других ницшевских тем и категорий:

Мы принижаем Ницше, если хотим определить, что такое «сверхчеловек». Поскольку я думаю, что часть определения «сверхчеловека» заключается в том, чтобы не быть определенным — что мы должны экспериментировать, что мы должны творить. Ницше делает акцент на творчестве человека, и поэтому мы должны подчеркнуть, что концепция «сверхчеловека» неизбежно не определена. Мы не можем спрашивать, запутал ли автор вопрос или представил нам опасную альтернативу.

Эта открытость составляла важнейшую часть притягательности, и ницшеанцы всех мастей откликались на призыв к динамической самореализации, к завершению видения.

Самый читаемый текст Ницше, «Так говорил Заратустра», в конце концов, требовал этого в опьяняющей манере.

Что есть добро и зло, никто еще не знает, если только не тот, кто творит. Он, однако, создает цель человека и дает земле ее смысл и ее будущее. Что вообще что-то есть добро и зло — это его творение.

Риторика, возможно, и была блестящей, но большинство ницшеанцев, в конце концов, были людьми, слишком человеческими. Будучи совершенно неспособными к подобным одиноким, творческим актам, они бросались в утешительные объятия защитных политических и идеологических структур. Только так Ницше можно было сделать приемлемым — факт, который также можно было рационализировать в ницшеанских терминах. Как выразился один из последователей, мастер требовал своего рода интерпретации и завершения, если не хотелось остаться беспомощным перед лицом его творческого хаоса.

Таким образом, Ницше подвергся разнообразным формам герменевтической институционализации — процессу, в котором, по-видимому, доминировала проекция, а не творчество. Детальное содержание таких обобщенных понятий, как воля к власти, дионисизм, переоценка всех ценностей, вечное возвращение и имморализм, могло быть и было вписано в уже существующие идеологические предпочтения.

При всем при том способность Ницше выступать в качестве проективного фона также вдохновила ряд самостоятельно значимых работ. Они, как правило, превращали Ницше в своего рода зеркальное отражение, подтверждение собственных концептуальных и политических пристрастий того, кто его присваивал. Увлекательный марафонский семинар Карла Густава Юнга по «Заратустре» (1934—1939) является отличным, но отнюдь не единственным примером. Юнг одновременно превращает Ницше в прозорливого предтечу понятия коллективного бессознательного, а также в живой пример его внутренних механизмов, подтверждение собственной системы анализа Юнга. Такие работы сами по себе являются убедительными документами. Их тоже необходимо вписать в динамичную историю рецепции Ницше.

Те, кто присваивал Ницше, носили избирательные шоры; им не нужно было принимать Ницше целиком или не принимать вовсе. Читатели могли и действительно критически выбирали из необычайно богатого разнообразия позиций и перспектив, содержащихся в его работах. Одни подчеркивали, в то время как другие полностью игнорировали различия между ранними, средними и поздними сочинениями. Таким образом, тексты варьировались по своей значимости и воспринимаемой ценности. Ницше — язвительного критика, неумолимого разоблачителя истины и хранителя культуры — можно было отличить от великого защитника жизни против посягательств омертвляющего интеллекта или объединить с ним. Великий стилист, лирик и поэт по-разному отделялся от своей персоны имморалиста, ирониста и нигилиста или сливался с ней, а его работа — с образом переоценивающего ценности и безжалостного великого законодателя, пророка будущего.

Поклонники, оппоненты и критики были единодушны в том, что Ницше не просто читали; скорее, как выразился Томас Манн в 1918 году, его «переживали». Уникально интенсивным и непосредственным образом Ницше затрагивал то, что современники считали ключевыми эмпирическими измерениями своей индивидуальной и коллективной идентичности. С самого начала как канонизаторы, так и хулители склонны были рассматривать его как критика и творца нового типа европейской современности, характеризующейся состоянием нигилизма и его переоценивающим, освобождающим и катастрофическим потенциалом. Хотя многие оппоненты изображали его реакционером и антимодернистом, доминировало восприятие, что Ницше драматически указывал путь вперед, воплощая силу, которая стремилась выйти за пределы условностей восемнадцатого и девятнадцатого веков. Больше, чем любой другой мыслитель, Ницше был призмой, через которую можно было рассматривать такие экзистенциальные вопросы, и ресурсом, с помощью которого можно было выразить их меняющиеся значения и формы. Прочитав философа, проницательный наблюдатель Герхард Гильберт писал в 1911 году, что Ницше был сейсмометром духовной и интеллектуальной жизни современной Европы, площадкой (Tummelplatz) и полем битвы (Schlachtfeld), на которых разыгрывались ее напряжения, конфликты и возможности. Сознательно или нет, писал другой последователь, «мы все носим часть его в себе».

Этот все еще преобладающий символический груз неизбежно влек за собой политическую мобилизацию. Даже те, кто утверждал, что любое политическое присвоение является злоупотреблением и искажением его мысли, понимали, что сама экспрессивистская сила текстов делает искушение почти непреодолимым. Как заявил Жорж Батай — самый «чистый» из всех ницшеанцев, — мысль Ницше составляла «без всякой надежды на апелляцию лабиринт, иными словами, полную противоположность директивам, которых требуют от своих источников вдохновения нынешние политические системы». И все же, с сожалением признавал он, учение мастера представляет собой несравненную соблазнительную силу и, следовательно, просто «силу», которую политики пытаются поработить или, по крайней мере, согласиться с ней, чтобы извлечь выгоду для своих предприятий. Учение Ницше «мобилизует» волю и агрессивные инстинкты; было неизбежно, что существующие движения попытаются вовлечь в свою орбиту эти теперь подвижные и все еще незанятые воли и инстинкты.

Несмотря на неоднократные предостережения самого Ницше — «Я не хочу «верующих»; мне кажется, я слишком злобен, чтобы верить даже в самого себя; я никогда не говорю с массами. — У меня ужасный страх, что однажды меня объявят святым». — _мифологизация и политическое присвоение Ницше были неизбежны. В реальном мире мало кто мог прислушаться к предостережению Заратустры о том, что «лишь когда вы все отречетесь от меня, я вернусь к вам».

Все это, однако, само по себе не объясняет, почему Ницше стал такой притягательной силой после 1890 года. Для этого нам нужен более сфокусированный исторический взгляд. Вновь обретенный магнетизм Ницше поначалу был связан с его воспринимаемой актуальностью как критика вильгельмовского общества и как пророка его преодоления. Ницше выразил растущее недовольство благочестием и условностями Вильгельмовской Германии. По мере приближения конца века Кайзеровская Германия предоставила благодатную почву, на которой могло процветать ницшеанство, поскольку она породила массу современных протестных и реформаторских движений.

Это было тесно связано с более широким сдвигом в мышлении и настроениях, который затронул значительные сферы европейской жизни, начиная с конца девятнадцатого века. Ницше был важным участником и главным бенефициаром этого сдвига. Широкое распространение его работ по всей Европе было неразрывно связано с ним. Действительно, само возникновение ницшеанства — множества ницшеанских тенденций — на рубеже веков невозможно понять вне этого более широкого контекста. Наследие Ницше было неотъемлемой частью его критики цивилизации и постоянного поиска личного, политического и культурного возрождения. Его противоречия, категории и чувствительность одновременно предвосхищали и отражали центральные элементы этого постлиберального настроения.

Это развитие событий конца девятнадцатого века давно признано культурным и политическим водоразделом. Историки по-разному называли это «изменение в общественном духе Европы», как восстание против позитивизма и материализма, как поколенческий бунт против либеральной буржуазии, как эпоху открытия бессознательного и как век иррационализма и неоромантизма. В основе этих тенденций и часто в сопровождении их лежало возникновение полноценного модернизма. Этот самосознательный, хотя и болезненный, разрыв с прошлым; его фундаментальное сомнение в установленных границах, авторитете и традиции; и его упор на самосозидание и субъективное измерение смысла были схожим образом пронизаны очевидными ницшеанскими характеристиками.

В своем антипозитивистском, антилиберальном и антибуржуазном рвении многие сторонники этого настроения все чаще подчеркивали юношеский динамизм и движение ради самого движения, а также регенеративный экспрессивизм, а не фиксированное и обоснованное содержание. Это была чувствительность, которая в точности повторяла то, что Ницше написал в 1882 году о «взрывных натурах» в «Веселой науке»:

Когда задумываешься о том, как сильно энергия молодых людей нуждается во взрыве, не удивляешься, что они решаются на то или иное дело, не будучи тонкими или разборчивыми. Что их привлекает, так это вид рвения, окружающего дело — своего рода вид горящего фитиля, а не само дело. Поэтому тонкие соблазнители знают искусство возбуждать ожидания взрыва, не прилагая никаких усилий, чтобы привести доводы в пользу своего дела; доводы — это не то, что привлекает такие пороховые бочки.

Зеев Штернхель утверждал, что темы и стили этой интеллектуальной революции проложили «путь для [фашистской] массовой политики нашего собственного века». Протофашистская чувствительность, безусловно, была порождением более широкого восстания. И все же то, что Штернхель называет этим «обширным движением мысли», нельзя просто свести к его фашистскому моменту. Как и у Ницше, его потенциал для эмансипации и позитивного творчества был столь же заметен и взаимосвязан с его более деструктивными и иррациональными моментами.

Было бы, несомненно, преувеличением отождествлять эту политико-культурную революцию исключительно с Ницше. Всегда действовали и другие силы и влияния. Тем не менее он был ее центральным вдохновителем. Как для современников, так и для более поздних историков, это диссидентское, бунтарское настроение и его поиск обостренных переживаний, выходящих за рамки банальностей повседневной жизни, казались немыслимыми без Ницше.

Никто не выразил веру в плодотворную силу мифа более остро. Слова прозорливого двадцатисемилетнего автора, появившиеся в 1872 году в «Рождении трагедии», стали эмблемой этого более позднего поколения:

Без мифа всякая культура теряет здоровую естественную силу своего творчества; только горизонт, очерченный мифами, завершает и объединяет целое культурное движение. Только миф спасает все силы воображения и аполлонического сновидения от их бесцельных блужданий.

Гибкие ницшеанские категории, заботы и акценты легко интегрировались в разнообразные интересы, вложенные в этот сдвиг.

Витализм Ницше был, кроме того, определяющим влиянием на увлечение «философией жизни» после 1890 года и её притязания на первенство интуиции и жизни над отупляющим разумом. Ницше также останавливался на том, что должно было стать центральной и постоянной заботой европейского fin de siècle (конца века): восприятии повсеместного упадка и вырождения и сопутствующем поиске новых источников физического и психического здоровья. В эпоху, все более интересовавшуюся евгеникой, его мужественные и воинственные предписания по регенерации падали на благодатную почву. Представления о высшем, омоложенном человечестве и более подлинной, живой культуре отчасти сформировали одержимый интерес периода к новому человеку и новому обществу.

Карл Шорске описал последствия этого нового сознания не иначе как «постницшеанскую культуру». После Ницше, пишет Шорске:

Европейская высокая культура вступила в вихрь бесконечных инноваций... В безжалостную центрифугу перемен были вовлечены сами концепции, с помощью которых культурные феномены могли быть зафиксированы в мысли... Многие категории, разработанные для определения или управления любым из направлений в постницшеанской культуре — иррационализм, субъективизм, абстракционизм, тревога, технологизм — не обладали поверхностным достоинством, позволяющим обобщить их, и не допускали какой-либо убедительной диалектической интеграции в исторический процесс, как это понималось ранее. Любой поиск правдоподобного эквивалента для двадцатого века таким всеобъемлющим, но эвристически незаменимым категориям, как «Просвещение», казалось, был обречен на провал из-за неоднородности культурной субстанции, которую он должен был охватить.

Несмотря на их значительное разнообразие, нам необходимо сделать первоначальное обобщение относительно ницшеанцев и природы их ницшеанства. Для наших целей ницшеанцы были просто теми, кто считал себя в значительной степени находящимися под влиянием Ницше и стремился придать этому влиянию какое-то конкретное или институциональное выражение. Ницшеанство никогда не представляло собой единое движение, сводимое к одному электорату или политической идеологии; это было скорее рыхлое скопление людей, привязанных к различным социальным средам, политическим движениям и культурно-идеологическим повесткам.

Зарождающийся характер ницшеанства не обязательно был слабостью. Его проникающая сила заключалась именно в том, что оно не было четко разграниченной идеологией, поддерживаемой центральным политическим аппаратом. Ницшеанский импульс стал мощной, изменчивой силой именно потому, что он был диффузным и неорганизованным. Он не требовал формальных обязательств и не обладал авторитарной догмой. Его способность избирательно влиять на различные идеологические и политические конструкции и быть реконструированным ими облегчала проникновение в поразительный спектр институтов. На практике оно действовало не как независимая сущность или фиксированная идеология, а скорее как инфильтративная чувствительность, система избирательных репрезентаций, которые могли быть привиты к другим системам.

Безусловно, была предпринята попытка предоставить ницшеанству официальный дом: Архив Ницше под руководством сестры Ницше, Элизабет Фёрстер-Ницше. Хотя это спорное и внутренне конфликтное место, как мы увидим, действительно сыграло свою роль в создании и увековечении наследия Ницше, оно никогда не становилось нормативным или авторитетным центром. Ницшеанство стало социальной и политической силой благодаря аннексиям, которые происходили за пределами его якобы официального адреса.

Ницшеанство процветало в эклектичных и синкретических контекстах. Поскольку оно функционировало благодаря своей имплантации в другие уже существующие структуры, оно не было конститутивным или автономным. Таким образом, оно могло выполнять ряд важнейших функций: оно действовало по-разному как вдохновляющий растворитель, закваска, катализатор и «овод».

Ницшеанство было, таким образом, публично эффективным в той мере, в какой оно было структурировано и опосредовано другими силами и идеологиями. Здесь не было голого нигилизма, не было чистого ницшеанского динамизма, но всегда присутствовали процессы обрамления и казуистические упражнения по приспособлению. Ницшеанская тематика требовала тенденциозного закрепления и одомашнивания. Будучи должным образом национализированным (или социализированным, или протестантизированным), его динамизм был поставлен на службу целям, которые стремились либо укротить его радикальный порыв, либо избирательно развернуть и высвободить его.

Как работала такая казуистика? Хотя в текстах Ницше всегда можно было найти выдержки и отсылки, которые могли придать этим аннексиям видимость правдоподобия, было ясно, что Ницше не был тождественен ни одному из политических присвоений, сделанных от его имени. Все его «присвоители» были обязаны объяснить, как Ницше, несмотря на очевидные противоречия или даже враждебность, был, по сути, совместим с их излюбленной позицией, возможно, даже являясь её самым восторженным представителем. Помещение Ницше в любые рамки влекло за собой систему фильтрации, в которой желаемые элементы выделялись, а неловкие удалялись или приуменьшались. Более значимыми были упражнения, которые стремились отличить настоящего или глубокого (немецкого, христианского, социалистического) Ницше от лишь кажущегося. Ницше постоянно декодировался и перекодировался; «правильные» прочтения заставляли выдавать желаемые глубинные и «подлинные» смыслы и послания.

Эта работа посвящена плотным и изменчивым отношениям между Ницше, а также немецкой политикой и культурой. Она также посвящена сложным и взаимосвязанным модальностям иррационализма и модернизма и безусловной причастности Ницше к обоим этим явлениям. Я буду доказывать, что эти две склонности, столь центральные для сознания двадцатого века, никогда не были просто разрушительными и реакционными или же эмансипаторными и прогрессивными. Опасности и позитивные возможности никогда не могли быть четко разделены. Ведущий немецкий иррационалист и модернист, закоренелый ницшеанец Готфрид Бенн, выразил это в своем замечании 1933 года о том, что «иррациональное означает близость к созиданию и способность к созиданию».

Ницше был основоположником этого специфического сознания созидания как радикальной и экспериментальной светской свободы; в более позднем дискурсе он стал центральным символом постхристианского, пострационалистического, нигилистического положения и связанных с ним глубоко разрушительных и освободительных возможностей. Эта способность символически воплощать фундаментальные проблемы определяла восприятие Ницше на протяжении всей его истории. Она, безусловно, характеризовала те бурные годы перед Первой мировой войной, когда происходила битва за вхождение Ницше в немецкую жизнь. Именно тогда попытка либо включить ницшеанское присутствие в немецкую культуру, либо изгнать его стала острой. Эти столкновения подготовили почву для его судьбоносного вхождения в немецкую историю.

2. Германия и битва за Ницше, 1890–1914

Имя Ницше — это высшая идея немецкого имени, святая святых немецкого духа, грех и нечистая совесть всего немецкого народа.
Рудольф Паннвиц

Ницше стал средством разжигания умственной чумы, и единственная надежда остановить ее распространение заключается в том, чтобы выставить безумие Ницше в самом ясном свете и заклеймить его последователей ярлыками, наиболее подходящими для них, а именно: истеричные и слабоумные.
Макс Нордау

Взрыв Фридриха Ницше на немецкой политической и культурной сцене произошел, по иронии судьбы, в годы его безумия. Только в 1890-х годах он впервые начал достигать значительных по охвату аудиторий и занимать их умы. Это не означает, что до этого периода Ницше был полностью лишен влияния. Уильям Макграт продемонстрировал, например, как члены австрийского кружка Пернерсторфера, в который входили такие будущие светила, как Густав Малер и Виктор Адлер, вдохновлялись Ницше еще в 1875–1878 годах. Их критика современного общества, их неудовлетворенность либерализмом и их поиск альтернативной, дионисийской политики и тотальной культуры были движимы по сути ницшеанским импульсом. Но это было австрийское движение. Знаменитые лекции Георга Брандеса 1888 года об «аристократическом радикализме» Ницше были точно так же прочитаны не в Германии, а в Копенгагене. Ницше писал еще в 1888 году: «В Вене, в Санкт-Петербурге, в Стокгольме, в Копенгагене, в Париже, в Нью-Йорке — везде меня открыли; но только не в тенях Европы, в Германии».

Это было не совсем точно. До 1890 года он действительно оказывал своего рода подспудное влияние в Германии, привлекая отдельных читателей или специализированные малоизвестные общества, такие как Лейпцигский клуб гениев, основанный в 1886 году, или множество радикальных маргинальных групп. Ницше заметил в 1887 году:

Странный факт, который все больше привлекает мое внимание. У меня постепенно появилось некоторое «влияние» — разумеется, подпольное. Среди всех радикальных партий (социалистов, нигилистов, антисемитов, христиан-ортодоксов, вагнерианцев) я пользуюсь удивительным и почти таинственным уважением.

Однако только после этой даты Ницше стал значимой национальной фигурой. С того времени ницшеанская тематика пронизывала жизненно важные области немецкой мысли и деятельности, формируя самыми разнообразными и противоречивыми способами ее политические взгляды и воображение.

Влияние Ницше никогда не обходилось без шумного противодействия. Действительно, даже те, кто был настроен благосклонно, горячо спорили о значении ницшеанского послания и о том, какое направление оно должно принять. И все же все это лишь подчеркивает тот факт, что для грамотной публики после 1890 года своего рода конфронтация с Ницше — человеком, образом и его трудами — становилась практически обязательной. Так или иначе, Ницше вошел в мейнстрим немецкой жизни.

Первоначальная привлекательность ницшеанства была, безусловно, международной. Оно отвечало множеству запросов fin de siècle (конца века) и выполняло функции, выходящие за рамки географических границ. И все же именно в Германии это наследие было разработано наиболее полно; именно там бесчисленные грани ницшеанского наследия проявлялись наиболее систематически и непрерывно. Рассматривался ли Ницше в положительном или отрицательном ключе, он занимал стратегическое место в индивидуальном и коллективном самоопределении немцев и в национальных дискуссиях. И как герой, и как еретик он стал центральной национальной заботой, порой даже одержимостью.

Взгляд на труд Крюммеля Nietzsche und der deutsche Geist («Ницше и немецкий дух»), энциклопедический свод немецкой рецепции Ницше вплоть до 1918 года, показывает, что в эти годы знакомство с Ницше — по крайней мере для интеллигенции — было практически обязательным. Как писал в 1892 году двадцатипятилетний социалист Курт Эйснер:

«Проблема Ницше» становится внутренним переживанием (Erlebnis) для всех, кто к этому призван. Только когда каждый попытается представить свое собственное личное отношение к Ницше, его мыслям и чувствам, предпосылкам и представлениям, которые составляют «проблему Ницше», можно будет овладеть ею.

Если не считать интеллигенцию, читательская аудитория Ницше была сосредоточена среди образованных средних слоев общества. Памятные собрания и вечера Ницше — общественные встречи, сопровождавшиеся музыкальными и литературными выступлениями, — следовали классической модели буржуазной салонной культуры и жизни союзов (Verein), восходящей к концу XVIII века.

Но знакомство с Ницше отнюдь не ограничивалось этим сектором. Время от времени озадаченные аристократы и патриции размышляли о нем — хотя по большей части и отвергали его, — а наиболее образованные представители немецкого рабочего класса были хоть немного знакомы с этим человеком и основными контурами его мысли.

Хотя Ницше читали экзистенциально не только в Германии, очевидные силы способствовали особой страстности его восприятия именно там. Большая часть магии заключалась в лиризме, красоте и силе языка Ницше. Философ был немецким мыслителем с немецкими корнями, обращавшимся к тому, что считалось по большей части немецкими проблемами. Оппоненты Ницше считали это прискорбным и старались изо всех сил преуменьшить его дойчтум (немецкость) (Deutschtum). Они подчеркивали его «славянский» образ мышления, а также его польские и даже «монгольские» корни как способ изгнать его из круга немецкой респектабельности и немецкого пантеона.

Тем не менее, в 1890-е годы и позднее различные группы начали превращать немецкость Ницше и отношения Ницше с Германией в некое подобие идеологии. Поразительно, как много восторженных читателей просто превращали свой опыт общения с Ницше в уникальный интеллектуальный опыт, особое переживание (Sondererlebnis), основанное на специфически немецких особенностях мышления и чувствительности. Они утверждали, что немецкость является онтологической предпосылкой для истинного понимания философа. Работы Ницше воспринимались и описывались как понятные только в немецкой идиоматике. «Заратустра», — комментировал Генрих Риккерт, — был документом, который практически невозможно перевести. Ницше рассматривался как симптом и критический выразитель национального бытия и становления: его личная одиссея и судьба Германии считались неразрывно связанными. Шпенглер выразил это особое чувство симбиоза так:

Жизнь Гёте была полной жизнью, а это значит, что она довела нечто до завершения. Бесчисленные немцы будут чтить Гёте, жить с ним и искать его поддержки; но он никогда не сможет их преобразить. Эффект Ницше — это преображение, ибо мелодия его видения не оборвалась с его смертью... Тип видения Ницше перейдет к новым друзьям и врагам, а те, в свою очередь, передадут его другим последователям и противникам. Даже если когда-нибудь никто больше не будет читать его труды, его видение сохранится и будет созидать.

Его работа — это не часть нашего прошлого, которой нужно наслаждаться; это задача, которая делает всех нас слугами. Как задача, она независима от его книг и их содержания, а значит, является проблемой немецкой судьбы. В эпоху, которая не терпит потусторонних идеалов... когда единственное, что имеет признанную ценность, — это своего рода безжалостное действие, которое Ницше окрестил именем Чезаре Борджиа, — в такую эпоху, если мы не научимся действовать так, как того требует от нас подлинная история, мы перестанем существовать как народ. Мы не можем жить без формы, которая не просто утешает в трудных ситуациях, но помогает из них выбраться. Такого рода суровая мудрость впервые появилась в немецкой мысли вместе с Ницше... Народу, который больше всех в мире жаждал истории, он показал историю такой, какая она есть на самом деле. Его наследие — жить историей точно так же.

Замечания Шпенглера 1924 года были сделаны в контексте поляризованной политики Веймарской республики, где подходящим образом национализированный Ницше уже был сформирован по радикально-правому образу. Но восприятие «немецкости» Ницше отнюдь не ограничивалось такими кругами. Было много других людей с иными политическими взглядами, которые продолжали считать «немецкость» философа центральной, но интерпретировали её значение в терминах, далеких от политики брутализированной воли к власти. Что их всех объединяло, так это убеждение, что Ницше был в каком-то важном отношении по существу немецким феноменом, убеждение, которое, как мы увидим, стало интегрироваться в целый ряд политических позиций.

Учитывая многочисленные крайние антинемецкие высказывания Ницше, такое кредо требовало особого казуистического объяснения. Довольно эксцентричный Рудольф Паннвиц, последователь Стефана Георге, выразил это в типично парадоксальной манере. Ницше в сущности не был немцем, но то, чем он жил и что создавал, было возможно только как немецкий опыт. Бесчисленные комментаторы подчеркивали, что именно в своей критике немцев и «немецкости» и в своей европейской перспективе Ницше был наиболее квинтэссенциально немецким! Как писал Томас Манн в 1918 году: «бессмертная европейская драма самопреодоления, самодисциплины и самораспятия с интеллектуальной жертвенной смертью в качестве душераздирающего финала» Ницше была немыслима вне «протестантизма сына наумбургского проповедника» и «нордическо-немецкой, бюргерско-моральной сферы».

Карл Лёвит, внимательный участник немецкого знакомства с Ницше, утверждал, что не-немцы не могли по-настоящему уловить эту связь. Только это сродство, доказывал он, объясняло почти неограниченное влияние Ницше в пределах Германии. «Без этого последнего немецкого философа немецкое развитие невозможно понять... Подобно Лютеру, он является специфическим немецким событием (ereignis), радикальным и роковым».

Протестантская связь и её секуляризирующие последствия были явно значимы. Представление о том, что ницшеанские рамки и вся их проблематика были по существу постпротестантским делом, функцией коллективного кризиса и разрыва, было широко распространено среди тех, кто был центрально вовлечен в ницшеанский дискурс. Юнг (как и Ницше, сын пастора) утверждал в 1936 году, что Ницше не мог затронуть людей, которые поют общинные песни, потому что им не нужно беспокоиться об этом — они остаются пережитком католической церкви. Они не развивались как протестанты, а оставались историческими обломками первоначальной христианской церкви. Но если они будут развиваться дальше как протестанты, они неизбежно придут к той колоссальной проблеме, к которой пришел Ницше, а именно к идее сверхчеловека, к идее того начала в человеке, которое занимает место Бога, бывшего до сих пор значимым.

Вся точка зрения Ницше, настаивал Юнг, была прямым следствием протестантской концепции радикальной ответственности, экстравагантной веры в свои способности и в моральную задачу высшего самосозидания.

Независимо от того, как объясняли своеобразную интенсивность этих отношений, к 1890-м годам значимость Ницше была признана как противниками, так и сторонниками. Именно тогда началась битва за Ницше и борьба за его наследие. Это десятилетие ознаменовалось появлением того, что окрестили «культом Ницше» и что, в действительности, представляло собой серию культов Ницше. Это лишь подпитывало резкость полемики.

Первыми очевидными последователями Ницше стали молодежь и авангард 1890-х годов. Его стимулирующее воздействие было явно связано с обстоятельствами Кайзеровской Германии и ощущаемой в ней духовной и политической посредственностью. Ницше, писал один наблюдатель, одновременно разоблачал неаутентичность буржуазного общества и был её жертвой. В ранних работах, таких как «Рождение трагедии» и «Несвоевременные размышления», он предоставил острые и провидчески актуальные инструменты для критического обвинения этого общества, а также руководящие принципы для преодоления его декадентского состояния. Аристократ граф Гарри Кесслер подвел итог восприятию Ницше его поколением в то время так:

В нас росло тайное мессианство. Пустыня, к которой принадлежит каждый Мессия, была в наших сердцах; и внезапно, словно метеор, появился Ницше... То, как Ницше влиял на нас, или, точнее, овладевал нами, нельзя сравнить с воздействием любого другого современного мыслителя или поэта. Он не просто обращался к разуму и фантазии. Его влияние было более всеобъемлющим, глубоким и таинственным. Его постоянно растущий отголосок означал извержение мистики в рационализированное и механизированное время. Он преодолел бездну (Abgrund) между нами и реальностью с помощью покрова героизма. Через него мы были перенесены из этого ледникового периода, вновь очарованы и отрешены (entrueckt).

Несмотря на свои различия, большинство первых участников восприятия философа Ницше чувствовали, что он был ключевой фигурой рубежа веков. Предоставление Ницше новых критериев для современной этики, писал Георг Зиммель в 1896 году, было не чем иным, как «коперниканским переворотом». После смерти Ницше в 1900 году риторика стала еще более подобострастной. В своей надгробной речи историк Курт Брейзиг выразился так: Ницше был проводником к новому человеческому будущему, человеком, чей масштаб был сопоставим только с Буддой, Заратустрой и Иисусом Христом. Это были люди, чьи видения охватывали целые народы и чьи последствия можно было измерить только эонами.

Среди друзей и врагов росло убеждение, что Ницше наметил критическое и пророческое видение, которое разрушило ранее невидимые и непреодолимые барьеры. Публикация в 1901 году «Воли к власти» только усилила это восприятие. «То, о чем я повествую, — писал Ницше в предисловии, — это история следующих двух столетий [написанная] как дух дерзости и эксперимента, который уже однажды сбился с пути в каждом лабиринте будущего; как дух-птица прорицатель, который оглядывается назад, рассказывая о том, что грядет; как первый совершенный нигилист Европы, который, однако, уже сейчас прожил весь нигилизм до конца, оставив его позади, вне себя».

Тон его сочинений обращался к ранее табуированным и неисследованным уровням опыта. Даже те, кто считал Ницше печально известным реакционером, должны были считаться с тем фактом, что философ облекал свою мысль в чрезвычайно современные и экспериментальные формы.

Как и сами работы, тон большей части ницшеанского дискурса был экстремальным. Как последователи, так и противники Ницше усматривали подрывное качество его мысли и вызов, который он бросал структуре респектабельного общественного порядка. Что еще подразумевала критика христианства, да и самой морали, переоценка всех ценностей и столкновение между условностью и творческой свободой? Именно эта ощущаемая крайность побуждала создателей образа Ницше использовать мифический язык, как правило, в героико-пророческом или демонически-патологическом ключе. Современники прекрасно осознавали эту тенденцию. Еще в 1905 году один критик жаловался, что почитатели и хулители Ницше одинаково описывали философа в терминах, граничащих со сверхчеловеческими, как если бы он был просто либо сияющим небесным метеором, либо кровожадным волком, вышедшим из лесов.

Почти с самого начала ницшеанский дискурс взял на себя более широкие символические функции, отражая как надежды, так и тревоги меняющихся времен. Ницше, писал один наблюдатель, был «модным философом» того периода из-за своей необычайной близости к современному мироощущению. Его чуткая душа отражала «добрые и злые духи нашего времени... он выражал блестящим языком то, что другие лишь смутно предчувствовали».

Наделение мысли и личности Ницше аурой сверхъестественной силы было отличительной и устойчивой характеристикой рецепции Ницше с 1890-х годов и до наших дней. Влияние Ницше также часто описывалось в эпидемиологических терминах, как если бы его мысль была заразительной, инфекционной. Именно эта предполагаемая трансформирующая сила придала Ницше его особую непреходящую печальную известность. «Взгляд, — писал Сандер Гилман в проницательном анализе, — что Ницше был "опасным мыслителем" — не просто в том, что он поддерживал опасные мысли, но в том, что он провоцировал опасные действия, — является лейтмотивом рецепции Ницше от fin de siècle до Дьёрдя Лукача». Как мы увидим позже, эта сила распространилась до того, что его уникальным образом обвиняли в качестве причины двух мировых войн.

Этот образ уже присутствовал в популярной литературе к 1902 году. Например, в романе Вильгельма фон Поленца «Разрыхлитель корней» Ницше изображен как чарующий волшебник, идеологический колдун. Болезнь Ницше, писал ярый антисемит Теодор Фрич, обитала в его работах и, таким образом, заражала слабые, несформировавшиеся умы и, несомненно, влияла на волну молодежных самоубийств того времени. Шокированные поборники общественного порядка винили влияние философа на уязвимую молодежь не только в самоубийствах, но и в убийствах, и не только в Германии. В Америке Кларенс Дэрроу даже использовал это в качестве защиты в знаменитом деле Леопольда — Лёба. Натан Леопольд-младший, утверждал Дэрроу, совершил убийство, потому что верил в аморального ницшеанского сверхчеловека: «он думал, что это применимо к нему, и он не мог бы в это поверить, если бы это либо не вызвало болезнь ума, либо не было результатом больного ума».

В эти ранние годы борьба за ницшеанское знамя вращалась вокруг альтернативных стратегий его изгнания или легитимизации. Идеи Ницше всегда были неразрывно связаны с мифом о человеке и его последующей судьбе. Критики и почитатели сходились во мнении, что мысль, сущность и жизнь философа представляют собой важное единство; они просто по-разному интерпретировали и оценивали этот факт.

Противники Ницше имели определенное преимущество: безжалостно и с некоторым удовольствием они эксплуатировали его безумие. Было слишком легко связать клиническую патологию с идеями и, таким образом, отбросить как работу, так и самого человека. Ницше, как гласило название известной работы того периода, был случаем «духовной психопатии». Это безумие демонстрировало не только очевидно опасную природу ницшеанских понятий, но и болезненную природу его последователей.

Факт психического расстройства регулярно включался в философскую критику, чтобы объяснить ее извращенное содержание. Наследственная патология Ницше, писал доктор Герман Тюрк в 1891 году, была переведена в его моральную и философскую систему.

Таким образом, может случиться так, что интеллектуально одаренный человек, рожденный с извращенными инстинктами и ощущающий как мучение... неудовлетворенность инстинкта, придет к идее оправдания страсти к убийству, крайнего эгоизма... как чего-то доброго, прекрасного и соответствующего Природе, и охарактеризует как болезненное отклонение лучшие противостоящие моральные инстинкты.

Работы, подобные исследованию Пауля Мёбиуса 1902 года, посвященному анализу безумия Ницше и вытекающим из него идейным искажениям, обеспечили необходимый авторитет профессионального, медицинского и психологического характера.

Сторонники Ницше, разумеется, смотрели на вещи совершенно иначе. Как выразился один критик, никакое современное психиатрическое аутодафе не сможет подавить непреходящий вклад Ницше. Вместо этого они стремились наделить безумие Ницше позитивно духовным качеством. Пророк сошел с ума от ясности своего видения и непонимания общества, еще не способного его осознать (повторяя собственную тему Ницше в знаменитом отрывке «Бог умер»). Встретившись с больным философом, Рудольф Штайнер провозгласил, что ему открылась реальность духовного мира: «Во внутреннем восприятии я видел душу Ницше как бы парящей над его головой, бесконечно прекрасную в своем духосвете, предавшуюся духовным мирам, к которым она так стремилась». Немецкий экспрессионизм, очарованный освобождающими возможностями безумия, нашел в Ницше и глашатая, и пример для подражания. С безумием Ницше, писал Август Хорнеффер несколько более традиционно, пришел лучезарный внутренний покой, конец непрекращающейся борьбы его ранних лет. Именно в этом состоянии магия и величие его личности проявились наиболее полно.

Очевидно, что это была постоянная тема, не ограничивающаяся Германией. Ницшеанцы повсюду рассуждали в подобном ключе. «Откуда нам знать, — писала Айседора Дункан в 1917 году, — что то, что кажется нам безумием, не было видением трансцендентальной истины?» Для Батая движение к целостности начиналось с безумия, и безумие Ницше было наполнено христоподобными ассоциациями. Он напомнил своим читателям пословицу Уильяма Блейка о том, что если бы другие не сошли с ума, мы бы сошли. Безумие нельзя изгнать из человеческой общности, ибо для ее завершенности необходим безумец. Помешательство Ницше — вместо нас — тем самым сделало эту общность возможной; а те, кто терял рассудок прежде, не делали этого столь блестяще.

Мы должны, однако, вернуться к противникам Ницше. Их проект диффамации, конечно, никогда не ограничивался просто фактом безумия. Их атака, как правило, была встроена в более широкую критику цивилизации, которая породила Ницше и которую он предположительно отражал. Самым значительным — и симптоматичным — примером этого жанра стала знаменитая «Дегенерация» Макса Нордау, которая появилась на немецком языке в 1892 году и была быстро переведена на множество языков.

Представление Нордау о тенденциях своего времени было не столько анализом, сколько выражением возмущения, непониманием буржуазного позитивизма, столкнувшегося с зарождающейся модернистской революцией, намеренной подвергнуть сомнению, даже разрушить все его почитаемые постулаты. Как бы ни относиться к культурной и интеллектуальной революции fin de siècle, она явно бросила вызов либеральному мировоззрению и его представлениям о респектабельности, рациональности и дисциплине; его буржуазной морали; и его вере в порядок, науку и прогресс.

Нордау рассматривал fin de siècle в такой же степени как моральную проблему, как и как временной этап. Он писал, что это представляет собой практическое освобождение от традиционной дисциплины. ... Для сластолюбца это означает необузданную похоть, разнуздывание зверя в человеке; для иссохшего сердца эгоиста — презрение ко всякому вниманию к ближним, попирание ногами всех барьеров, сдерживающих грубую жажду наживы и страсть к удовольствиям; для презирающего мир это означает бесстыдное торжество низменных импульсов и мотивов... И для всех это означает конец установленного порядка, который в течение тысяч лет удовлетворял логику, сковывал порочность и в каждом искусстве взращивал нечто прекрасное.

Объединяющей нитью во всех размышлениях Нордау была концепция дегенерации — лозунг, занимавший центральное место в политическом словаре эпохи стремительной урбанизации, индустриализации и массового общества. Это была концепция, которая пронизывала весь идеологический спектр. Если по своему происхождению она была преимущественно консервативной, то ее также использовали сбитые с толку либералы (подобно Нордау), недовольные социалисты и зарождающийся радикально-правый лагерь.

Будучи приверженцем концепции либеральной современности середины XIX века, Нордау стремился отказать в праве на прогрессивность модернистам, которых он критиковал. Как врач, он мог делать это, приписывая этим художникам, философам и их работам явные признаки физической и психической дегенерации. Они, провозглашал он, вовсе не вестники новой эры. Они не направляют нас в будущее, а указывают назад, в минувшие времена. Их слово — не экстатическое пророчество, а бессмысленное бормотание и лепет расстроенных умов, и то, что невежды принимают за излияния бьющей ключом юношеской энергии и бурных созидательных импульсов, на самом деле является лишь конвульсиями и спазмами истощения.

Именно в эту систему координат Нордау поместил Ницше. Философ был не пророком, устремленным вперед, а безумным атавизмом, симптомом и рупором господствующей дегенерации. Насколько вообще можно было извлечь какой-либо смысл из бредовых идей этого дикого безумца, он проистекал из «иллюзий чувств и болезненных органических процессов». Критика Ницше в адрес совести, морали и чувственности, например, была целиком функцией его садизма. Никакой «образ порока и преступления не может возникнуть, не возбуждая его сексуально, и он не способен испытать никакого сексуального возбуждения без появления в его сознании образа какого-либо акта насилия и крови».

Ирония заключается в том, что центральные категории Нордау во многом отражали ницшеанское дискурсивное поле. «Скажите мне, братья мои, — спрашивал Заратустра, — что мы считаем дурным и самым худшим из всего? Не есть ли это дегенерация?» Оба считали, что цивилизация находится под угрозой; оба были озабочены истоками декаданса и утратой жизненной силы, а также вопросами регенерации. В евгенических предложениях Нордау было даже нечто весьма ницшеанское: «Те дегенераты, чье психическое расстройство слишком глубоко укоренилось, должны быть преданы своей неумолимой судьбе. Они не подлежат исцелению или улучшению. Они будут бредить некоторое время, а затем погибнут».

Антиницшеанские трактаты множились в объеме и ярости в ответ на стремительную популяризацию Ницше. Ницше стал привычной частью немецкого культурного и политического ландшафта не только благодаря ученым философским томам, но и через более популярные средства массовой информации. Многочисленные романы и пьесы способствовали более широкому распространению различных версий личности философа и его идей. Еще более важной была роль популярной прессы, которая сделала имя Ницше нарицательным и познакомила широкую национальную аудиторию с основными аспектами его жизни и творчества. Журналы и газеты делали то же самое для конкретных институтов и специальных интересов.

Ницшеана — ее лозунги, тематика, эстетика — начала проникать как в прозаическое, так и в глубокое. По крайней мере для литературных кругов Ницше стал общим местом, одомашненным в мелочах повседневной жизни. Так, Максимилиан Харден, редактор Die Zukunft (журнал), мог написать другу по поводу послеобеденной игры в теннис: «Also spielte Zarathustra!» (Так играл Заратустра!) Бесчисленное количество раз уместные пословицы, выражения и афоризмы Ницше призывались на помощь, превращаясь в своего рода народную мудрость, и применялись к обстоятельствам, варьирующимся от чисто тривиальных до глубоко зловещих («что не убивает меня, делает меня сильнее»; «падающего — подтолкни»).

Многие из этих откликов происходили на непосредственном, экзистенциальном уровне. Популярный писатель Эмиль Людвиг (1881—1948) обнаружил, что Ницше был неизбежно эффективным «магическим» средством против депрессии и ипохондрии. Люди из самых разных слоев общества — и стран — начали испытывать опьяняющие переживания Заратустры. Поэт Рихард Демель пережил восьмидневную одержимость, восхищенный воинственностью (Kampflust) его ритмов. Ле Корбюзье пережил переживание Заратустры в 1908 году.

Распространение ницшеаны было очевидно и в том факте, что концепции Ницше все активнее включались в немецкий и европейский политический словарь, становясь частью доступного запаса лозунгов и крылатых фраз. Яркие и гибкие в применении термины, такие как воля к власти, сверхчеловек и по ту сторону добра и зла, а также концепции вроде морали господ и рабов, переоценки всех ценностей и рессентимента, были интегрированы в язык.

Одним из признаков их растущей популярности является тот факт, что терминология Ницше сама использовалась для подрыва ценностей Ницше. В либеральных и социалистических кругах такие понятия, как белокурая бестия, мораль господ и по ту сторону добра и зла, применялись к политическим врагам. Например, в исследовании М. Г. Конрада 1895 года «Сверхчеловек в политике» это понятие использовалось в совершенно негативном ключе, как критический инструмент для фиксации и критики самовосприятия двух «ницшеанских» элит — политиков власти и самовлюбленных интеллектуалов и художников недемократической Кайзеровской Германии. Конрад уже использовал мотив сверхчеловека почти без отсылки к Ницше, отрывая термин от работ, в которых он был изначально заложен. Как это часто бывает, влияние было наиболее эффективным, когда его истоки оставались размытыми или неактуальными. Идеи Ницше определяли целый образ жизни, отмечал Рауль Рихтер в 1906 году, даже без осознания людьми источника.

Популяризация Ницше и его работ никогда не ограничивалась абстрактными идеями и печатным словом. Это происходило через более конкретные, осязаемые формы выражения, такие как музыка. Ницше не только глубоко повлиял на сознательно современную музыку, но именно через это средство ницшеанский мир и его атмосфера эмоционально передавались. Симфоническая поэма Рихарда Штрауса «Так говорил Заратустра», премьера которой состоялась во Франкфурте-на-Майне в ноябре 1896 года, была, пожалуй, самым известным, но отнюдь не единственным примером. Третья симфония Малера была в значительной степени обязана ницшеанской тематике и первоначально называлась «Веселая наука».

Эти творения, однако, достигали ограниченной аудитории в концертных залах. В визуальную эпоху массовой коммуникации распространение могло охватить гораздо больше людей через создание иконографии Ницше и его идейного мира — предмет превосходного полномасштабного исследования Юргена Краузе. История восприятия Ницше изобилует примерами поиска подходящих визуальных способов представления человека и его послания. Например, в своих первых выпусках глянцевый иллюстрированный журнал «Пан» не только публиковал ницшеанские стихи в его честь, но и многочисленные рисунки и скульптуры философа. Наиболее впечатляющей была иллюстрация Эрнста Морица Гейгера к притче Ницше «Великан». Там великан — по-видимому, версия сверхчеловека, возможно, даже сам Ницше — был представлен в виде монументальной греческой скульптуры, дополненной ангельскими крыльями. Внизу презренные карлики в академических мантиях суетятся, делая все возможное, чтобы помешать великану выполнять работу великана (илл. I).

В то время как «Пан» был особенно заинтересован в распространении мифа о человеке и его идеях, это отнюдь не было единичным примером. В период между 1890 и 1914 годами множество журналов, газет и изданий публиковали портреты, картины, эскизы и скульптуры Ницше. Это был популярный жанр, призванный идеализировать и осязаемо передать миф о человеке, его пророчестве и мученичестве. Во всяком случае, именно так это воспринималось и интерпретировалось.

Примерно в это же время усы Ницше стали его определяющим визуальным символом (илл. 2). Лицо стало таким же знаменитым, как лозунги, а сам образ — желанным товаром. С середины 1890-х годов, при поддержке Архива Ницше, начались продажи того, что Краузе назвал «продуктами культа Ницше» — реплик в технике мелкой пластики: статуэток Ницше, картин и тому подобного. Для тех, кто не мог позволить себе подобное, всегда находились дешевые фотографические репродукции в иллюстрированных журналах и газетах. Так, для Германа Гессе в период его пребывания в Тюбингене в 1895—1898 годах Ницше стал своего рода культурным кумиром: на стене у Гессе висели два его изображения. Подобно Гёте, Ницше начал обретать ауру, некую предполагаемую авторитетность. Его лицо вместе с подходящей цитатой украшало открытки, пропагандирующие экзотические идеи, такие как вегетарианство. Его изображения на частных экслибрисах становились все более распространенными. На одном из них, например, Ницше был изображен как современный Христос, увенчанный терновым венцом (илл. 3). Рабочие журналы начали использовать его знаменитое лицо для сатиры на капиталистическую коммерциализацию культуры. В январе 1914 года, например, Arbeiter-Zeitung опубликовала шутливую рекламу, где Ницше пишет рекомендательный отзыв для Bersons (торговая марка компании Beer & Sohn) (илл. 4).

Потребительская сторона ницшеанства, надо признать, никогда не достигала массовых масштабов культа вокруг Отто фон Бисмарка той же эпохи с его бисмарковскими розами, бисмарковской земляной ягодой и бисмарковской одеждой. Тем не менее, различные круги — особенно архитекторы и ремесленники — стремились придать практическое выражение его вдохновению через создание реальных и воображаемых ницшеанских «стилей жизни». Самым известным и ярким примером была работа Петера Беренса. Беренс спроектировал свою собственную заратустровскую виллу как центральный элемент экспериментальной колонии художников в Дармштадте. Дом был украшен такими символами, как орел, алмаз Заратустры и драгоценный камень, которые излучали «добродетели мира, которого еще нет» (илл. 5).

Беренс стремился реализовать пророчество Ницше о «великом стиле» (Stil) — синтезе, в котором воплотилось бы видение единства искусства и жизни. Он осознавал напряженность, свойственную большинству «социальных применений» ницшеанства. Можно ли было преодолеть противоречие между созданием резиденции в элитарном духе художника как сверхчеловека, с одной стороны, и проектированием пригодного для жизни дома будущего для каждого человека — с другой? Монументальная сторона была менее проблематичной для Беренса, который, подобно своему коллеге, театральному реформатору Георгу Фуксу, стремился соединить красоту с силой, а индивидуальную волю — с государственной властью. Здесь Ницше, более того, символизировал не революционную переоценку, а современную экономическую и политическую мощь Германии. Это было очевидно в немецком павильоне, спроектированном Беренсом для Туринской выставки 1902 года. В сюрреалистической пещере «свет заливал интерьер, в котором была выставлена промышленная мощь Второго рейха. Заратустра, цитируемый в явном виде, движется к свету. Общество немецкого крупного капитала подтвердило свое присутствие, идентифицируя себя как новую духовность».

Это едва ли была архитектура в дионисийском или заратустровском духе. Скорее, как заметили проницательные историки архитектуры Манфредо Тафури и Франческо Даль Ко, это был новый синтез, всё более предназначавшийся для того, чтобы осуществляться «под аполлоническим знаком промышленной организации». Проекты Беренса, особенно для Всеобщей электрической компании (АЭГ), представляли его собственную довольно суженную интерпретацию Ницше: не освобождающее ликование Заратустры, а скорее скорбный поиск нового порядка. Следовательно, не десакрализация, к которой призывал авангард, а стремление к синтезу. Город и промышленная вселенная рассматривались не как следствия или причины разрушения ценностей или наступления мучительного хаоса, а как предпосылки для новой целостности, для сохранения культуры, достигнутого путем поглощения её антитезы — цивилизации.

Другая архитектура, находившаяся под влиянием Ницше, конечно, не была призвана поддерживать государство и формирующийся промышленный порядок, а выражала заратустровское одиночество, подчеркивая противопоставление Ницше «равнин презренной толпы» величию ледяных вершин. Архитектор-экспрессионист Бруно Таут (1880–1938) был самым ярким примером более широкого культа гор, тесно связанного с Ницше и ницшеанской образностью. «Жизнь, — провозглашал Заратустра, — хочет воздвигнуть себя в высоту столпами и ступенями; она хочет смотреть в даль и вширь, туда, где сияет красота: поэтому она нуждается в высоте». «Альпийская архитектура» Таута была, пожалуй, самой радикальной попыткой перевести это видение в графическую форму. Её поразительно заратустровская образность предполагала превращение целых горных цепей в «ландшафты святилищ Грааля и пещер, выложенных кристаллами», а позднее — покрытие целых континентов «стеклом и драгоценными камнями в форме „лучезарных куполов“ и „сверкающих дворцов“». (илл. 6) В честь германской революции после Первой мировой войны он задумал башенный «Памятник новому закону», украшенный многочисленными цитатами на огромных освещенных щитах кристаллических пирамид. Его экспрессионистская эклектика была характерной: речь Заратустры «О новом кумире» сочеталась с цитатами из Лютера и Карла Либкнехта.

В процессе популяризации были свои восхитительные иронии. Заратустра, человек и обстановка, идеально вписывались в антииндустриальную натуралистическую образность, в культ горного одиночества (Bergeinsamkeit), в стремление сбежать из переполненных городов и почувствовать первозданный горный воздух. Художник Джованни Сегантини, восторженный последователь Ницше, писал сцены Энгадина, горной местности, вдохновившей на написание «Так говорил Заратустра». Вскоре толпы паломников и туристов устремились в эти горы. Переживание одиночества (Einsamkeitserlebnis) превратилось в массовый бизнес! Сегантини прекрасно осознавал необходимость обращения к массам с помощью своего рода ницшеанских трюков. Для Всемирной выставки 1900 года в Париже он изначально планировал масштабное энгадинское совокупное произведение искусства (Gesamtkunstwerk), наполненное техническими эффектами для создания тотального переживания (Totalerlebnis).

Появление индустрии ницшеанского китча свидетельствует о проникновении за пределы чисто литературного и философского. Его кричащее качество было именно тем, что Ницше осуждал как симптом филистерства эпохи масс. Например, в пьесе Пауля Фридриха «Третий рейх» Заратустра появлялся на сцене в серебряно-золотом костюме и пурпурном плаще с золотой лентой в светлых волосах и леопардовой шкурой, наброшенной на плечо.

Для враждебно настроенных критиков тех лет культ Ницше становился более тревожным, чем сам Ницше. Культ стал предметом необычайно обширной и беспокойной литературы. Уже в 1892 году Нордау мог писать о различных последователях Ницше так, словно они были очевидно идентифицируемой группой с четкими характеристиками:

Его ученики верят в это хвастовство и с воздетыми к небу глазами блеют его вслед за ним в овечьем хоре. Глубокое невежество этого стада жвачных позволяет им, право слово, верить в оригинальность Ницше. Поскольку они никогда ничему не учились, ничего не читали и ни о чем не размышляли, все, что они подхватывают в барах или во время своего безделья, естественно, является новым и доселе не существовавшим.

Ещё раньше Герман Тюрк выразил это в более социологических терминах. Ницшеанцы, провозгласил он, были «интеллектуальным пролетариатом» больших городов. Они ликовали, открыв для себя Ницше. Именно его сущностная современность как «пророка дьявола и отца лжи» привлекала «свободные умы», не имевшие конструктивной занятости или работы в таких городских центрах, как Копенгаген, Мюнхен и Берлин.

Поскольку раннее академическое восприятие Ницше было одновременно враждебным и медленным, в наблюдении о том, что Ницше имел тенденцию привлекать более маргинальные и «богемные» элементы, возможно, была доля истины. В 1900 году Карл Краус назвал таких модных ницшеанцев «кофейными сверх-обезьянами» (Über affen des Kaffeehauses). Но по мере того, как его привлекательность расширялась, охватывая почти каждое течение культурной жизни, к Ницше потянулось почти бесконечное число первоклассных интеллектуалов. Со временем становилось всё яснее, что никакая упрощенная социология идей не может охватить диапазон, сложность и нюансы его притягательности. К 1910 году Манн — едва ли богемный персонаж — осознал не только многоликие измерения притягательности Ницше, но и дифференцированное очарование, которое он имел для разных поколений:

Мы, родившиеся около 1870 года, слишком близки к Ницше, мы слишком непосредственно участвуем в его трагедии, в его личной судьбе (возможно, самой ужасной, самой внушающей трепет судьбе в интеллектуальной истории). Наш Ницше — это воинствующий Ницше. Триумфальный Ницше принадлежит тем, кто родился через пятнадцать лет после нас. Мы получили от него нашу психологическую чувствительность, нашу лирическую критику, опыт Вагнера, опыт христианства, опыт «современности» — опыт, от которого мы никогда полностью не освободимся, как и сам Ницше никогда не освободился. Они слишком ценны для этого, слишком глубоки, слишком плодотворны. Но двадцатилетние получили от него то, что останется в будущем, его очищенное последействие. Для них он пророк, которого не знаешь слишком точно, которого едва ли нужно было читать, и всё же чьи очищенные результаты инстинктивно носишь в себе. Они получили от него утверждение земли, утверждение тела, антихристианскую и антиинтеллектуальную концепцию благородства, которая включает в себя здоровье, безмятежность и красоту.

Критики культа Ницше, возможно, были ближе к истине, когда пытались объяснить его популярность, фокусируясь на уязвимостях и недостатках Кайзеровской Германии. Молодежь была так привлечена Ницше, согласно знаменитому консервативному педагогу Фридриху Паульсену, потому что fin de siècle (конец века) означал общий крах традиционных моделей авторитета и уважения. В эпоху, по сути переходную, открытие Ницше казалось почти предопределенным. Никто, в конце концов, не питал большего презрения к прошлому и настоящему.

Пока озадаченные консерваторы размышляли о растущем и пагубном влиянии Ницше, единственным противоядием, которое они могли предложить, был именно тот вид традиционализма, который Ницше и ницшеанцы стремились разрушить. Ницше, писал один анонимный лютеранин в 1897 году, был слишком не по-немецки парадоксален и болен для немецкого общества. Только традиционные национальные и религиозные характеристики могли противостоять этим качествам: «Мы верим, что наш немецкий народ, под властью христианской веры, найдет в себе силы без труда преодолеть болезнь культа Ницше».

Ницше, как правило, рассматривался как новый, неожиданный вызов традиционным, безбожным врагам консерватизма. Парадоксальным образом его представляли родственным силам социализма, современным «искусителем», чье послание действовало еще более коварно, чем «гнусное уравнительство социал-демократии». Как бы невероятно это ни казалось, писал философ и публицист Людвиг Штайн, эти кажущиеся враги объединились, и ницшеанство проникло в различные круги самого социализма. Ключом к его последователям был ницшеанский «неоцинизм». Было легко найти подтверждающие ницшеанские тексты; философ писал в книге «По ту сторону добра и зла»: «Цинизм — единственная форма, в которой низкие души приближаются к честности; и высший человек должен внимательно прислушиваться к каждому грубому или тонкому цинизму». «Возможно, — писал он в «Несвоевременных размышлениях», — ни один философ не оправдан больше, чем циник; ибо счастье животного, как совершенного циника, является живым доказательством правоты цинизма».

Интеллектуальные бомбы Ницше, утверждал Штайн, были способны взорвать «все наши религиозные, моральные и политические идеи», а его метафизическая радость от акта разрушения всех культурных благ была верным отражением цинизма того времени. Опьяненная реакция на Ницше была еще одним симптомом циничной реакции fin de siècle на пресыщенность культурой. Эта нечестивая армия ницшеанских неоциников (стремящихся шокировать и подрывать ради самого процесса) была особенно привлечена использованием Ницше афоризма, этой слабейшей из философских аргументаций. Будучи ни последовательным, ни логическим способом мышления, он, настаивал Штайн, идеально подходил для запутанного массового века газетного производства, социалистических библиотек, салонов и будуаров.

Либералы и консерваторы были не единственными, кого тревожил культ Ницше. Демократы и социалисты различных толков выражали схожую обеспокоенность и в своих полемических работах (зачастую объемом с целую книгу!) пытались осмыслить это явление и предложить необходимую терапию, созвучную их собственным идеологическим установкам. Ницшеанство, как утверждал Георг Танчер еще в 1900 году, идеально отвечало потребностям своих адептов, которые все принадлежали к свободно парящей интеллигенции. Неопределенность мысли Ницше в точности отражала социальное положение тех, кто ее выражал, — людей, зажатых между изоляцией и чувством миссии, между стремлением отстраниться от общества и жаждой возглавить его. В глазах Курта Эйснера ницшеанцы не нуждались в особом объяснении: они были просто модными радикалами, бездумно тяготеющими к веяниям, которые казались более современными и экстремальными, чем радикализм вчерашнего дня. В своей книге 1897 года о культе Ницше социолог Фердинанд Тённис пошел дальше и охарактеризовал ницшеанство как псевдоосвободительное. Те, кто принял это учение, писал он, были очарованы обещанием высвобождения творческих сил, призывом преодолеть узколобый авторитет и общепринятые мнения, а также свободой самовыражения. Поэтому было важно показать, что современный, устремленный в будущее дух и тон Ницше были поверхностными. В эпоху обострения классовых различий эти внешне освободительные импульсы служили элитарным, консервативным и либерально-рыночным целям. Для тех, кто не был готов отказаться от своего унаследованного социального положения и ранее не мог оправдать его в моральных или национальных терминах, имморалистские идеи Ницше о господстве и беспощадности предоставляли необходимую доктрину. Эти и другие последователи были, как Тённис озаглавил другую свою публикацию, «ницшеанскими болванами».

Другие «демократические» противники культа Ницше не согласились с Тённисом. Один из таких критиков утверждал, что, хотя юнкеры и промышленники, возможно, и использовали Ницше как философское оправдание своих интересов, очень немногие делали это, поскольку не было способа воплотить его «комичные и жуткие» идеи в реальность. Правящие круги были слишком реалистичны, чтобы пытаться это сделать. Более того, Тённис ошибался, сводя ницшеанство к импульсам «Бури и натиска» у молодежи. В Ницше и его привлекательности не было ничего политического. «Психология культа Ницше» была скорее формой болезненного распада, преждевременного цинизма и усталого отречения. Это и лежало в основе притягательности Ницше для молодежи, зараженной болезнью своего времени. Чуть позже, в 1908 году, в своей книге «Культ Ницше: глава из истории заблуждений человеческого духа» В. Беккер доказывал многоцелевую роль различных ницшеанских культов, хотя и он, по-видимому, был озадачен тем, что столь многие культурные и интеллектуальные круги были так увлечены ницшеанским посланием. Ницше привлекал молодежь, потому что казалось, что он предлагает новую и модную «глубину». Однако они не подхватили эту огрубляющую тематику в той же мере, как «целая плеяда немецких колониальных чиновников в Африке», которые использовали идеал морали господ Ницше как идеально подходящий для колониального способа правления, санкционируя беспощадное господство «высших людей» над людьми низшего ранга. Сверхчеловек стал возможен лишь благодаря беспощадному обращению с теми, кто не принадлежал к элите.

Интересно отметить, что, в отличие от большинства консервативных критиков, многие оппоненты культа Ницше, настроенные на реформы, имели более сложные отношения с Ницше. Отвержение культа не обязательно влекло за собой полное отвержение самого философа. Это, безусловно, относится к Тённису. Решающее влияние Ницше на немецкую социологию рубежа веков было проанализировано в превосходных недавних исследованиях. Однако здесь важно то, что одним из главных импульсов для знаменитой и политически неоднозначной дихотомии Тённиса между общностью и обществом послужило раннее, коммунитарное «Рождение трагедии» Ницше. Органическая природа дионисийской, досократической, дорационалистической общности легла в основу не только описательного анализа общности у Тённиса, но и, вслед за критикой Ницше политической и культурной жизни Германии после объединения, его надежд на её регенерацию и возрождение.

В 1873 году, когда Тённис открыл для себя «Рождение трагедии», он читал его «почти с чувством откровения», а впоследствии писал воображаемые письма философу, навещал его мать в Наумбурге и даже ездил в Сильс-Марию, где видел своего героя, но не смог набраться смелости заговорить с ним! Таким образом, антиницшеанство Тённиса было направлено только на позднего, «имморалистского» Ницше, его антисоциальный и радикально индивидуализированный эстетизм, его элитарность и презрение к массам. Ранний Ницше, провозглашал Тённис, был «своего рода демократом, который всё ещё верил в тайные глубины немецкого народного духа». Ещё в 1893 году Тённис мог рекомендовать молодёжи «Рождение трагедии», ибо там не изолированные сверхлюди, а дионисийская общность могли послужить вдохновляющей основой для возрождения немецкой культуры.

Интересно, что великий трагический ироник, социолог философии жизни и энтузиаст Ницше Георг Зиммель (1858–1918) выстроил диаметрально противоположную социологию, также вдохновлённую Ницше. Карьера Зиммеля представляла собой перевод модернистского идиома на социологический язык. Подобно Ницше, Зиммель растворял все догмы в постоянно меняющемся потоке. Его самая ценная категория, благородство, идеал отличия, была заимствована у Ницше. В отличие от озабоченности Тённиса общностью, Зиммель рассматривал благородство как важнейший способ, с помощью которого индивиды могли быть отделены от толпы и наделены «благородством». Здесь возник совершенно новый идеал, созданный вызовом необходимости поддерживать или создавать личные ценности в условиях денежной экономики. Важным здесь был акцент на различии и на том, что Ницше называл «пафосом дистанции». Дистанция — ключевая для самого выбора тем Зиммелем, таких как посреднические звенья между господством и подчинением, аутсайдерами и инсайдерами — была функцией растущей сложности, а также социальным условием для такого рода ницшеанского благородства. Неудивительно, что в 1897 году Зиммель выступил с критическим обзором «Культа Ницше» Тённиса. Он гневно отверг обвинение в том, что Ницше был просто имморалистом. Ницше критиковал традиционную мораль, утверждал он, только для того, чтобы расчистить путь для высшей морали. Ницше действительно призывал к следованию определённым ценностям — благородству, красоте, силе, — которые возвышали жизнь и которые, отнюдь не поощряя эгоизм, требовали великого самоконтроля.

Центральное место и избирательное использование Ницше в социологиях Тённиса и Зиммеля были хорошо подытожены Гарри Либерсоном: «благородство» (Vornehmheit) не могло быть дальше от слияния воль в однородное единство, описанного в «Рождении трагедии». Оно олицетворяло позднего Ницше, чье неприятие сострадания к другим Тённис не мог вынести... Их противоречивые моральные системы соперничали за наследство великого имморалиста: представление Тённиса о рациональном благополучии целого против преданности Зиммеля безличной индивидуальной дисциплине. Ранний и поздний Ницше служили защитниками их противоречивых идеалов «общности» (Gemeinschaft) и «общества» (Gesellschaft).

Хотя критика Тённиса была продиктована социалистическим импульсом, его анализ не был по-настоящему марксистским. Именно драматург Пауль Эрнст в 1890 году, вероятно, написал первый критический марксистский анализ как самого Ницше, так и его культовой публики. Эрнст (чей марксизм был недолговечным) писал как «диалектик», который видел в Ницше «философа декаданса» и «жестокости», мыслителя, который принадлежал «к тому классу буржуазных декадентов, который противостоял достигнутым целям буржуазной мысли». Его читательская аудитория была аналогичным образом составлена из этих декадентских элементов среднего класса — только им были понятны разрозненные эссе и афоризмы. Ницше был «остроумным (Geistreich), тривиальным, говорящим лозунгами в худшем смысле этого слова».

Более поздняя марксистская критика имела тенденцию рассматривать ницшеанство в том виде, в каком оно служило капитализму, империализму, а впоследствии и фашизму. Ведущий теоретик Социал-демократической партии (СДПГ) Франц Меринг, который был пионером многих из этих идей, предложил простое материалистическое объяснение культа и его мотиваций:

Ницшеанство — это здоровая жратва (Fressen) для literatus vulgaris, которая щекочет их эгоманию... доставляет острые ощущения и позволяет немного поиграть в «Бурю и натиск» (Sturm und Drang), но при всем этом — и это прежде всего! — позволяет им при любых обстоятельствах пировать у «котлов с мясом» капитализма.

Ницшеанцы — и это стало официальной марксистской линией на все времена — были пределом буржуазного псевдорадикализма, никогда не затрагивающим реальные основы эксплуатации и всегда твердо сохраняющим социально-экономическую структуру и классовые различия.

Что поражало во многих враждебных оценках культа Ницше, так это утверждение, что наследие Ницше наверняка будет недолговечным. Культ Ницше, как считалось, был объясним с точки зрения того или иного аспекта социологии или психологии Кайзеровской Германии. Само ницшеанство не обладало никакими прочными или парадигмальными качествами. Оно было лишь симптоматичным и эфемерным. Прогнозы о его скорой кончине начали появляться еще при жизни Ницше. И язык, и содержание удивительно недальновидного заявления Юргена Хабермаса 1968 года о том, что Ницше «больше не заразителен», таким образом, вписались в давнюю традицию. Католический журнал Der Türmer отметил в 1910 году, что «туманную массу» (Dunstmasse) Ницше можно было обнаружить в множестве новых мировоззрений (Weltanschauungen), которые расплодились после его появления, подобного комете. Но человек, провозгласивший смерть Бога, теперь сам безвозвратно покоился в могиле. Он был, по сути, жертвой своих собственных последователей:

Все ученики Ницше умирают по отдельности; нет двух, разделяющих одно и то же мнение; каждый идет своим путем... Ницше мертв, окончательно мертв, не из-за своих врагов, а прежде всего из-за своих собственных прославителей, которые медленно, но верно сделали его холодным.

Эти хронические похороны всегда были преждевременными. Как писал родственник Ницше Рихард Элер, ведущая фигура в Архиве Ницше и впоследствии нацистский публицист, в своем ответе журналу Der Türmer в 1911 году, влияние Ницше только начинало сказываться. Нужно было отличать более глубокие течения мастера, писал исследователь Ницше Рауль Рихтер, от поверхностной, эфемерной тривиализации дня. Существовала огромная разница между философом и грубыми, потакающими своим желаниям кругами, которые на мгновение приняли его как героя дня. (Сам Рихтер олицетворял ницшеанцев в своей склонности отвергать конкурирующие интерпретации и настаивать на глубине и репрезентативности своей собственной версии.)

Сторонники Ницше были ближе к истине, утверждая, что Ницше попросту «непогребим». Это было великое недоразумение, писал прогрессивный критик Франц Сервас в 1895 году, полагать, что можно «опровергнуть» и тем самым «превзойти» Ницше. Ницше был не предметом изучения, а частью жизни, криком против индивидуальной и культурной неаутентичности. Ницше был «самой алой кровью нашего времени», и хотя он должен был умереть уже тысячу раз, умер вовсе не он. «О, нам всем еще придется испить из его крови! Никого из нас это не минует».

Подобный экзистенциально-мифический язык был характерен для дискурса почитателей Ницше. В этом наблюдалась своего рода симметрия между культом и антикультом. В то время как дискредитаторы использовали демонически-патологический модус, сторонники обычно предавались героически-пророческому. Видение Макса Цербста 1892 года о «новом Боге, свежем, радостном земном Боге, Зигфриде в царстве духа, могучем сверхсмелом убийце драконов» представляло собой контрверсию в ответ на психически и морально нездорового Ницше в представлении Тюрка.

Те, кто предрекал скорое исчезновение, не понимали, что именно отсутствие единообразия мнений или обязательной авторитетной организации обеспечило Ницшеанству долгую и разнообразную жизнь. Его гибкость и избирательные интерпретационные возможности составляли его жизнестойкость и способствовали его проникновению во многие сферы культурной и политической жизни.

Архив Ницше под руководством сестры Ницше, Элизабет Фёрстер-Ницше, был в равной степени собранием разнообразных личностей и интересов, по-видимому, всегда раздираемым конфликтами; его влияние никогда не было ни определяющим, ни единственным. Тем не менее он действительно пытался выступать в качестве официального хранителя Ницше, редактора и распространителя его работ, а также институционализировать культ, воздвигать его памятники, сочинять его литургию и организовывать его ритуалы и церемонии.

Выбор Веймара в качестве места его расположения был отчасти призван позволить ему конкурировать с самопровозглашенным защитником немецкой духовности в Байройте. Однако, в отличие от байройтского святилища Рихарда, созданного Козимой Вагнер, отождествление Ницше с Веймаром и его сестрой было в лучшем случае проблематичным. Ничего сопоставимого с объединяющими Bayreuther Blätter не появилось. Более того, поклонников Ницше часто отталкивала деятельность Фёрстер-Ницше и то, что они считали крайне антиницшеанской — провинциальной, конформистской, выхолощенной и мещанской — атмосферой архива. Поэтому было бы грубой ошибкой путать историю Ницшеанства в Германии с историей архива.

Тем не менее Фёрстер-Ницше и ее сотрудники действительно сыграли важную роль в популяризации и монументализации философа. Создатели мифа о Ницше в архиве всегда остро осознавали его культовое значение. Как выразился один активист, это был не просто «архив», а «дом творческих сил». Посещение дома Ницше было не просто действием, а само по себе являлось переживанием! Одно дело — читать Ницше в вагоне-ресторане или кафе, и совсем другое — встретить его в Зильс-Марии или архиве.

С самого начала и вплоть до нацистского периода архив пытался дирижировать мифом и литургией вокруг Ницше. Помимо регулярной редакционной и издательской деятельности, мифологизации способствовали специальные собрания и мемориальные церемонии, связанные с жизнью и смертью Ницше. Действительно, подобные мероприятия устраивались и в честь дня рождения его сестры (вызывая презрение либеральных интеллектуалов, один из которых высмеял ее как «сверхчеловеческий кофейный кружок»).

Печально известная роль Фёрстер-Ницше в архиве к настоящему времени хорошо известна. Здесь нам достаточно лишь упомянуть попытки создать «авторизованного» Ницше, а также то, как Фёрстер-Ницше и её ближайшие соратники пытались выстроить окончательные контрверсии Ницше и ницшеанства. Позднейшая дурная слава Элизабет не должна заслонять от нас её значительные ранние успехи и то уважение, которым она пользовалась. Несмотря на скандалы и критику, которые вызывали её идеализации брата, в течение долгого времени значительная часть прессы считала её версию заслуживающей доверия и изображала её как законную защитницу ницшеанского сокровища, самоотверженно жертвующую собой ради этой священной миссии.

В своей биографии Ницше и в бесчисленных статьях она стремилась как депатологизировать философа, так и лишить его идеи жала подрывной деятельности. Она желала, прежде всего, сделать Ницше респектабельным. Перед нами представал здоровый и патриотичный человек, самоотверженный и любящий брат, сын и друг. Фридрих Ницше был фигурой, подобной святому, человеком как внешней, так и внутренней красоты, общительным и жизнерадостным, но обречённым на одиночество из-за непонимания публики, твёрдо стоящим на патриотических позициях пруссаком, который в военное время поспешил под знамёна своей страны и был при этом ранен.

Фёрстер-Ницше неустанно опровергала утверждения о том, что крах Ницше был результатом венерического заболевания, приобретённого в студенческие годы, или наследственной болезни. Со всех сторон семья была благородного происхождения, сильной и здоровой. Сам Ницше был крепким ребёнком. Его болезнь стала результатом несчастного случая при верховой езде, усугублённого военным опытом, когда он заразился дифтерией. В предыдущие годы не было никаких признаков психического заболевания. Его великая чувствительность была результатом равнодушия и враждебности окружающих. Психический крах произошёл из-за отравления передозировкой опасного снотворного средства: хлоралгидрата. Это, авторитетно утверждала она, была единственно верная версия болезни Ницше.

Эти письменные труды были лишь частью истории. В стремлении превратить Ницше в монументального национального героя становится очевидной более доступная, публично видимая ткань культа Ницше. Архивы играли исключительную роль, поскольку только там были ресурсы, пространство и воля для реализации хотя бы некоторых из множества задуманных проектов.

Иконографы Ницше столкнулись с проблемой, присущей любому политическому присвоению Ницше: примирением его элитарных компонентов с массовыми функциями, направлением индивидуализма в некую форму приемлемой общности. Ницшеанство, почти по определению, было вопросом трансмутации — или растворения — этих напряжений.

В то время как ницшеанские проповедники силы и красоты, такие как Георг Фукс, Курт Брейзиг и Энтони Марио Людовичи, стремились примирить индивидуальную волю и государственную власть, они также стремились экстернализировать ницшеанские союзы жизни и искусства, власти и духа. Различные грандиозные планы по строительству стадионов, памятников и храмов Ницше, как убедительно показал Краузе, ярко демонстрируют эти напряжения и попытки их разрешения.

Многие из этих проектов остались на бумаге, включая проект круглого храма Фрица Шумахера 1898 года, расположенного на уединённых высотах. На вершине храма Шумахер предполагал разместить фигуру с поднятыми руками, в то время как внизу стояли согбенные тёмные гиганты в цепях, символизирующие восхождение от Sklavenmenschen к Höhermenschen (илл. 7).

В архивах были и другие поразительные напоминания о философе. Статуя больного Ницше сидела под героическим изображением философа с заратустровскими символами змеи и орла (илл. 8). Анри ван де Велде, знаменитый бельгийский архитектор, перепроектировал архивы (проект завершён в 1903 году), представив ницшеанскую эстетику в архитектурных терминах посредством оптимистичного, гармоничного классицизма. Это отражало более раннюю, более космополитичную группу ницшеанцев. Ницше ван де Велде был по сути европейцем, поборником высших искупительных ценностей и регенерирующих сил искусства и духа.

Постнацистское воображение склонно путать политическую архитектуру и церемонии с фашистскими наклонностями. И все же в случае с ницшеанством самые монументальные и грандиозные планы исходили от просвещенных, космополитичных приверженцев. В 1911 году соратник ван де Велде, аристократ граф Кесслер, задумал строительство гигантской фестивальной зоны, мемориала Ницше, состоящего из храма, большого стадиона и огромной статуи Аполлона. Тысячи людей должны были стекаться в это общественное пространство, где искусство, танец, театр и спортивные состязания объединились бы в ницшеанскую тотальность. Для Кесслера это был буквальный перевод Ницше в массовую деятельность.

Многие из наиболее культурных «европейцев» сочли эту идею вдохновенной. Кесслер заручился согласием Аристида Майоля создать статую Аполлона, используя в качестве модели Вацлава Нижинского. В свой организационный комитет по сбору средств Кесслер смог привлечь таких международных светил, как Анри Лихтенбергер, Андре Жид, Анатоль Франс, Вальтер Ратенау, Габриэле д’Аннунцио, Гилберт Мюррей и Г. Уэллс, среди прочих. Проект так и не был реализован. По крайней мере одной из причин было отношение Фёрстер-Ницше. Удивительно долго она поддерживала космополитическую деятельность Кесслера и ван де Велде, даже поначалу поддерживая этот проект. Но период согласия уже некоторое время подходил к концу. Хотя официально она отозвала свою поддержку только в 1913 году, она выразила свои сомнения почти сразу после возникновения проекта: «Обезьянничанье под греков этой богатой, праздной толпой со всей Европы внушает мне ужас».

Этот сдвиг был показательным для будущего ницшеанства в Германии. До 1914 года оно охватывало и сплавляло — более того, смешивало — множество политических взглядов. Оно постоянно выражалось в текучем и двусмысленном освободительном идиоме, который размывал условные категории и не поддавался легким суждениям об их политической направленности. С началом Великой войны, как мы увидим в главе 5, ориентация стала все более (хотя и никогда не исключительно) националистической и позже слилась с радикально-правой перспективой.

Все это, однако, было еще в будущем. До Первой мировой войны текстура ницшеанства казалась пестрой. Отдельные лица, группы и движения примыкали к тем или иным из этих видений и стремились избирательными способами сделать их неотъемлемой частью своей жизни. Многие из этих версий — от глубоких до безнадежно прозаических — поначалу можно было обнаружить в деятельности авангарда. Поэтому мы начинаем наш анализ с рассмотрения ницшеанских импульсов в этом секторе немецкого общества.

3. Не столь незаметное ницшеанство авангарда

Всякое упорядоченное общество усыпляет страсти.
Ницше, «Веселая наука»

С годами Ницше оказал влияние на многие слои немецкого общества. Однако его первоначальное, самое взрывное и долговечное воздействие пришлось на разнообразные круги интеллектуального, художественного и литературного авангарда. Это было почти неизбежно, учитывая их fin de siècle (конец века) чувство надвигающегося кризиса и трансформационных возможностей: их темпераментный резонанс и идейная близость к ницшеанской чувствительности были ощутимы.

Ницше сыграл определяющую роль в повестке дня авангарда. Он предоставил основные эпистемологические инструменты его модернистской революции и вдохновил его элитарный, пророческий порыв. Его призыв «быть чем-то новым, означать что-то новое, представлять новые ценности» был, как проницательно заметил граф Кесслер, эмблематичным для этого ницшеанского поколения. Авангард нашел в Ницше подпитку для своего отчуждения от высокой культуры истеблишмента и своего желания преодолеть девятнадцатый век. Он был центральной силой в импульсе к радикальной критике и бунту против позитивизма и материализма. Он был главной силой, стоящей за склонностью к философии жизни и прославлением постпросвещенческих, иррационалистических модальностей.

Как правило, эти круги присваивали два элемента, которые в лучшем случае находились в напряжении друг с другом, а в худшем — были прямо противоречивы: динамический проект радикального, светского самосозидания и дионисийский импульс самопогружения. Почти все проявления ницшеанского авангарда отражали это напряжение, напряжение, о котором многие современные участники были прекрасно осведомлены. Такие люди, как Людвиг Клагес, например, прямо настаивали на отрицании ницшеанского самосозидания и принятии того, что он считал дионисийским поглощением себя философом. Самой распространенной реакцией, однако, было либо приглушение этого напряжения, либо поиск способа слить индивидуалистический и даже антисоциальный импульс с поиском новых форм «тотального» сообщества.

Этот спасительный ницшеанский импульс может показаться чуждым тем, кто настроен на постструктуралистского Ницше конца двадцатого века, который громко провозглашает иллюзорную природу всех систем истины и тотальности. Сегодняшнее ницшеанское послание деконструктивно, его канонический текст — посмертно опубликованный фрагмент 1873 года «О истине и лжи во вненравственном смысле»:

Что же такое истина? Подвижная армия метафор, метонимов и антропоморфизмов — короче говоря, сумма человеческих отношений, которые были поэтически и риторически усилены, перенесены и приукрашены и которые после долгого употребления кажутся народу твердыми, каноническими и обязательными: истины — это иллюзии, о которых забыли, что они таковы; метафоры, которые износились и лишились чувственной силы.

Но сто лет назад модернистские интерпретаторы Ницше — осознавая унаследованную ими нигилистическую дилемму — сосредоточились на творческой, позитивной реконструкции, привлекая Ницше в качестве поборника масштабных видений культурного и политического искупления. Несмотря на гносеологический кризис, подобно самому Ницше, они подчеркивали скорее экспансивные, нежели саморазрушительные возможности новых интерпретаций и разрабатывали переоценивающие программы «возрождения», призванные преодолеть этот нигилизм. Они выступали за формирование нового сверхчеловеческого типа и представляли его в образах, согласующихся с тем, что они считали желательным для преобразованной будущей цивилизации.

Детали и содержание таких видений различались у разных ницшеанцев, и нашей задачей будет очертить некоторые из этих крупных проектов. Эти авангардные проекты стремились бросить вызов стандартным категориям «левые-правые», «прогрессивные-реакционные» и создать им альтернативы. В своих различных проявлениях они подрывали старые догмы и создавали новые эклектичные комбинации и возможности для культурного, политического, литературного и даже чувственного исследования.

Подобно самому Ницше, многие эстетические кружки, описанные в этой главе, претендовали на неполитичность, даже антиполитичность. Привлекательность Ницше для тех, кто был заинтересован в том, чтобы сделать жизнь произведением искусства, была самоочевидной. Но их неприятие банальности современного общества и политической жизни само по себе было политическим. Все они формулировали своего рода критику статус-кво (даже если она ограничивалась обобщенными обвинениями в адрес филистерской посредственности, материализма и нивелирующих сил того времени) и выдвигали контридеалы власти и культуры, индивидуальной и социальной жизни.

В 1890-х годах сочинения Ницше начали регулярно появляться в литературных и экспериментальных журналах, таких как Die Gesellschaft, и стали заметной частью концептуального арсенала немецкого авангарда. Эклектичный восторг, поиск подлинности, чувство превосходства и ощущение грандиозного открытия еще много лет спустя впечатляли этих участников контркультуры: «То, чем я был занят, — вспоминал Эрнст Бласс о кафешной жизни имперского Берлина,

...было ...войной с гигантским филистером тех дней... Да, это была одухотворенная битва против бездуховности, мертвенности, лени и низости филистерского мира.... Душа все еще чего-то стоила... Даже робкие и молчаливые учились говорить и выражать себя, учились осознавать, что именно они на самом деле глубоко чувствовали по этому поводу... Что витало в воздухе? Прежде всего Ван Гог, Ницше, Фрейд, а также Ведекинд. Требовался пост-рациональный Дионис.

Подобно психоанализу (который сам по себе все еще оставался авангардным явлением), ницшеанцы исследовали иррациональные глубины; их также притягивали темные области бессознательного. Сложные, в высшей степени амбивалентные личные отношения Фрейда к философу хорошо известны. Он отрицал, что находился под каким-либо влиянием Ницше — более того, намеренно избегал его чтения, чтобы сохранить свой разум свободным от подобного влияния. И все же этот великий исследователь бессознательного несколько раз заявлял, что Ницше «обладал более глубоким знанием о самом себе, чем любой другой человек, когда-либо живший или способный жить». Между Фрейдом и Ницше существовали тематические сходства. Оба стремились изгнать телеологические и метафизические объяснения и занимались разоблачительной деятельностью; оба подчеркивали «самосозидание» (даже если понимали этот процесс по-разному). Оба, как отмечал Юнг, сформулировали глубокую критику своего времени, оба были ответами «на болезнь девятнадцатого века».

Однако для целей нашего исследования различия столь же важны, как и сходства. Различные комментаторы отмечали, что у Фрейда бессознательное было демократизировано: проект «самостановления» не ограничивался, как у Ницше, лишь избранным меньшинством.

Для Фрейда никто не является скучным до мозга костей, ибо не существует такой вещи, как скучное бессознательное. Что делает Фрейда более полезным и убедительным, чем Ницше, так это то, что он не низводит подавляющее большинство человечества до статуса умирающих животных. Ибо фрейдовское описание бессознательной фантазии показывает нам, как видеть в каждой человеческой жизни стихотворение... как попытку облачиться в свои собственные метафоры. (Рорти, «Контингентность», с. 35-36)

Более того, в отличие от Ницше и его последователей, Фрейд настаивал на проведении своих исследований в «научных» рамках (несмотря на явные признаки того, что он вышел далеко за пределы обычных условностей позитивизма девятнадцатого века). Для Юнга, конечно, именно индивидуалистически-рационалистический склад Фрейда делал Ницше более проницательным мыслителем, более настроенным на глубинные реальности:

Это великое открытие, что под или в стороне от чьей-либо психики, или сознания, или разума находится другой интеллект, творцом которого человек не является и от которого он зависит. Видите ли, великий страх Фрейда заключается в том, что может существовать нечто внешнее, что не является «Я»; сказать, что существует высший интеллект вне собственного разума, означает, что человек должен быть сумасшедшим. Как Ницше. К несчастью для Фрейда, Ницше был не единственным, у кого были такие мысли; это было убеждением всех тысяч лет до Ницше, что интеллект человека не был последним словом, что даже его разум был результатом чего-то за ширмой — что мы не творцы, а мы сотворены. Ваш разум — это не творческий бог, который заставляет целый мир возникнуть из ничего. Существует подготовка. Существует, до сознания, бессознательное, из которого когда-то возникло сознание, и это интеллект, который, безусловно, превосходит наш интеллект неопределенным образом.

Для фрейдистов, таких как Арнольд Цвейг, однако, именно это желание обуздать и лечить бессознательное, наряду с его пониманием, давало Фрейду явное преимущество перед Ницше — и, по-видимому, Юнгом! Цвейг многозначительно назвал свое эссе 1936 года о жизни и достижениях Фрейда «Аполлон повелевает Дионисом». Еще раньше он написал сравнительный анализ в письме к Фрейду:

Мне кажется, что вы достигли всего того, что Ницше интуитивно чувствовал своей задачей, не будучи в состоянии действительно достичь этого со своим поэтическим идеализмом и блестящими озарениями. Он пытался объяснить Рождение трагедии; вы сделали это в «Тотеме и табу». Он жаждал мира по ту сторону добра и зла; посредством анализа вы открыли мир, к которому эта фраза действительно применима. Анализ перевернул все ценности, он победил.

Анализ низвел волю к власти до того, что лежит в ее основе... И благодаря тому, что вы ученый, и к тому же психолог, продвигающийся шаг за шагом, вы достигли того, чего сам Ницше так охотно достиг бы сам: научного описания и объяснения человеческой души — и, более того, поскольку вы врач, вы обучили и создали возможность влиять на нее и исцелять ее.

В то время как психоанализ стремился обрести респектабельность, ницшеанство упивалось своей скандальной известностью, к большому огорчению своих более рассудительных последователей. Ницшеанский имморализм, нападки на совесть и восхваление преступного «здоровья души», давали восхитительно подрывные намеки для открытой атаки на буржуазную респектабельность и возможности беззаконного освобождения. Как выразился один энтузиаст: «Сегодня, я полагаю, лучших и сильнейших отправляют в тюрьмы». Именно там должен был начаться отбор завтрашнего сверхчеловека.

Своим яростно антинаучным, антирационалистическим настроем и дикой дионисийской риторикой романы, стихи и полемические статьи литературных ницшеанцев стремились высвободить имморалистские возможности бессознательного. В Италии Габриэле д’Аннунцио (1863—1938), будущий лидер первой фашистской республики в Фиуме, писал романы («Триумф смерти» [1894]; «Дева скал» [1895]), в которых средиземноморский сверхчеловек открывает свое скрытое «я» через опыт извращенного, экзотического и изысканную жажду смерти. К 1899 году д’Аннунцио был переведен на немецкий язык, но задолго до этого в Германии появилась литература с похожими темами. Герой романа Германа Конради 1887 года «Фразы», например, является самосознающим ницшеанцем, который верит, что невинность, к которой он стремится, возникнет из его великой страсти к проститутке. В то же время появилось множество феминистских романов — таких как «Любовь» Матильды Шванн (1901) — проповедующих заратустровскую поэтику любви и тоску по сексуальному освобождению.

Это радикальное ницшеанское либертарианство и эмансипирующий эротизм не ограничивались художественной литературой. Для некоторых это воплотилось в решительный альтернативный образ жизни, проводимый вне и вопреки мейнстриму. История печально известного Отто Гросса (1877—1920) воплощает некоторые из его наиболее крайних тенденций. Гросс сам был ранним блестящим психоаналитиком, который едва ли вписывался в общепринятые рамки анализа и быстро разошелся с некоторыми из его закостенелых ортодоксий. Наркоман, богема, сексуальный и культурный революционер, анархист и параноик, он был заклятым врагом того, что считал репрессивным, авторитарным, патриархальным порядком своего времени. Этот порядок олицетворял его отец, известный криминолог-позитивист. Они представляли диаметрально и поколенчески противоположные взгляды на мир. Их конфликт вызвал общественный резонанс, когда газеты объявили, что отец заточил сына в сумасшедший дом!

Как и у многих начинающих ницшеанцев, идеи Гросса не могли быть втиснуты ни в какие общепринятые рамки. Его рецепт эмансипации сочетал Ницше с идиосинкразической интерпретацией психоанализа и матриархата Иоганна Бахофена. Для Гросса задача бессознательного состояла в том, чтобы действовать как фермент бунта внутри психики. «Психология бессознательного», — провозглашал Гросс, — «это философия революции... несравненная переоценка всех ценностей, которой будет наполнено грядущее время, начинается в настоящем с мысли Ницше о глубинах души [über die Hintergründe der Seele] и с открытия так называемой психоаналитической техники Фрейдом».

Юнг, аналитик Гросса, так описал Фрейду взгляды своего пациента: «Поистине здоровое состояние для невротика — это сексуальная безнравственность. Отсюда он связывает вас с Ницше».

Как и Ницше, Гросс был особенно озабочен сильной, исключительной личностью. Статус-кво, утверждал он, явно не оставлял таким сильным личностям никакой возможности для самореализации. Капиталистическое общество делало их патологичными, поскольку не давало им простора для того, что сводилось к экстравагантным формам самореализации. Ницше осознал этот конфликт между индивидом и обществом и тем самым основал «дисциплину биологической социологии». Ницше, заявлял Гросс, понимал, что такие противоречия ведут «к устранению именно самых здоровых и сильных индивидов — одаренных величайшими стремлениями к экспансии — посредством репрессий со стороны широкой общественности, к отрицательной селекции, а следовательно, к упадку расы, к прогрессирующему росту наследственного вырождения».

Гросса до сих пор называют ницшеанцем. И все же его случай проясняет, что чаще всего ницшеанство становилось силой именно потому, что оно не функционировало как дискретная, определенная система. Его можно было легко интегрировать в более широкие теории и оппозиционные настроения, где оно было лишь одним из элементов в смеси влияний. Ницшеанство хорошо работало в синкретических политических и идеологических контекстах. Гросс радостно сочетал Маркса, Бахофена, Фрейда и Ницше, не обращая внимания на их различия, и избирательно фокусировался на их общей антирепрессивной, жизнеутверждающей и революционной тематике.

Каким бы экстремальным и своеобразным он ни был, Гросс действовал в контексте небольшой, но значимой контркультуры периода до Первой мировой войны. Существовал даже кружок Отто Гросса, который, по словам Марианны Вебер, «ставил под сомнение обоснованность общеобязательных норм действия и либо искал „индивидуальный закон“, либо отрицал любой „закон“, чтобы позволить только чувству влиять на поток жизни».

Как и многое из либертарианского ницшеанства до Первой мировой войны, это имело решительно международный колорит, пересекая границы так же легко, как политические и интеллектуальные ортодоксии. Мартин Грин недавно напомнил нам, что, возможно, наиболее примечательный очаг для таких контркультурных проектов находился в небольшой швейцарской деревне Аскона, где Гросс был знакомой фигурой. Там некоторые выдающиеся феминистки, пацифисты, литературные деятели, анархисты, танцоры-модернисты и сюрреалисты собирались вместе, чтобы развивать свои радикальные идеи и проводить разнообразные «жизненные эксперименты». Аскона была отчасти толстовской, отчасти анархистской, с решительно натуралистической, временами даже оккультной ориентацией. Среди более известных вовлеченных светил были Д. Г. Лоуренс, Франц Кафка, Юнг и Герман Гессе.

Ницшеанство смешивалось со всеми этими тенденциями, не обязательно функционируя как отдельная программа. Оно играло более тонкую роль вдохновляющего подтекста, вездесущего атмосферного присутствия. Насколько можно определить природу этого присутствия, асконцы подчеркивали отнюдь не мужественного и героического Ницше. Они были не ницшеанцами воли к власти, а дионисийскими ницшеанцами, которые стремились к своего рода экстатическому динамизму. Они стремились создавать красоту в движении и утверждать жизнесозидающие ценности — прежде всего ценность эроса. Асконский поиск эроса и красоты, освобождения тела и души в движении нашел свое наиболее динамичное физическое выражение в идее и развитии современного танца. Здесь понятия самосозидания и дионисийской общности могли слиться воедино.

Танец был той областью, где Аскона внесла наиболее прочный вклад в развитие европейской высокой культуры. В этом начинании ницшеанский импульс был решающим. Асконцы не рассматривали танец как разрозненную специализацию, а как часть большей целостности и как существенный элемент бунта против репрессивных физических и ментальных ограничений буржуазного общества.

В «Заратустре» Ницше писал: «И всякий день, в который мы не танцевали хотя бы раз, мы должны считать потерянным». Задолго до этого он связал культурное и политическое возрождение с эстетикой. И танец, и танцор занимали центральное место как чувственные воплощения его освободительного видения. В «Рождении трагедии» танцор мыслился как тот, в ком заключена вся производительная сила, и включал в себя одного богоподобного танцора, который сам превращался в произведение искусства. Рудольф Лабан (1879—1958) был движущей силой асконского применения этого видения. Его случай иллюстрирует сущностную незавершенность этого дионисийского ницшеанства, политическую двусмысленность, которая могла в равной степени привести как к правым, так и к анархистским способам искупления. Современники считали Лабана воплощением современного танца, человеком, который представлял себя бородатым дионисийским сатиром. Он считал себя аполитичным, однако его утопической целью было воссоздание общинного коллективного экстаза, очень близкого к видению «Рождения трагедии» с его отказом от человеческой фрагментации на отдельные и отчужденные личности. Он постулировал жизнь как своего рода вечный праздник, «на котором [все] являются участниками совместного мышления, чувствования и делания». Его полная приверженность танцу, его представление о том, что он возродит жизнь в целом, были способом претворения раннего Ницше в жизнь.

Именно потому, что акцент здесь делался не на форме, а на выразительности и на обобщенном идеале общности без уточнения ее содержания, коллективность «Рождения трагедии» Лабана могла найти выражение как в асконском, так и в национал-социалистическом контексте. Первоначально Лабан мог с относительной легкостью переходить от одного к другому. В 1934 году он стал директором «Немецкой танцевальной сцены» в нацистской Германии. Те же динамические понятия, которые сформировали его асконский либертарианство, теперь были просто национализированы. 20 июня 1936 года двадцать тысяч человек наблюдали за масштабным танцевальным представлением Лабана к Одиннадцатым Олимпийским играм под названием «О теплом ветре и новой радости», основанным на ницшеанских темах и тексте из «Так говорил Заратустра». Нацисты с подозрением относились к «свободным» творениям Лабана, и перед главным представлением этого шоу он был объявлен враждебным государству.

Асконский танец и разновидность ницшеанского феминистского радикализма также, казалось, сочетались друг с другом. Асконская танцовщица и близкая соратница Лабана, Мэри Вигман, была увлеченным читателем Ницше. Ее экстатически одержимый (некоторые говорили — демонический) танец, высвобождающий напряжение через кружащиеся, дергающиеся и резкие движения, был явно дионисийским, причем большая его часть исполнялась под барабанный бой и декламацию «Заратустры». Соратники считали ее феминистской реализацией ницшеанской программы автономного самосозидания. «Мэри Вигман созидательна. Женщина, которая создает великое искусство из собственного тела. Она не приспособление к мужчинам. Она суверенная женщина». Она тоже с относительной легкостью переходила от одной формы радикализма к другой. Танцы Вигман, писал Лабан в 1934 году, были немецкими именно потому, что они подчеркивали выражение, а не форму, и в 1935 году и Вигман, и Лабан потребовали искусства, которое было бы связано с немецким мифом.

Авангардный танец и феминистско-эротическое ницшеанство легко пересекали границы. Айседора Дункан, которую Карл Федерн описал как воплощение интуиции Ницше, также была асконской преданной. Вместе с Федерном танцовщица в экстазе впервые прочитала Ницше в Берлине в 1902 году: «Соблазн философии Ницше пленил мое существо». Действительно, в ее мемуарах Ницше назывался «первым танцующим философом» и открывался его девизом: «Если моя добродетель — добродетель танцора, и если я часто прыгала обеими ногами в золотисто-изумрудный восторг, и если мое Альфа и Омега в том, что все тяжелое должно стать легким, каждый — танцором, а каждый дух — птицей: воистину, это мое Альфа и Омега». В своей лекции 1903 года «Танец будущего» асконская преданная подытожила свое видение переоцененной сверхженщины в четко ницшеанских терминах: «О, она идет, танцовщица будущего: более славная, чем любая женщина, которая была до сих пор: прекраснее египтянки, гречанки, итальянки раннего периода, всех женщин прошлых веков — высочайший интеллект в свободнейшем теле!»

Без сомнения, самым экзотическим примером такого радикализма была Валентина де Сен-Пуан (1875–1953), автор возмутительного «Футуристического манифеста похоти» 1913 года. Правнучка Альфонса де Ламартина, она была теоретиком и практиком танца и представила свои собственные постановки в театре Елисейских полей в 1913 году и в «Метрополитен-опера» в 1917 году. Манифест, который де Сен-Пуан отчасти адресовала «тем женщинам, которые лишь думают о том, что я осмелилась сказать», был почти пародией на эклектичное, эротическое — освободительное ницшеанство. В этом видении женщины представляют собой «великий гальванизирующий принцип, которому все приносится в жертву»:

Похоть, если рассматривать ее без моральных предубеждений и как неотъемлемую часть жизненного динамизма, есть сила.

Похоть, как и гордость, не является смертным грехом для сильной расы. Похоть, подобно гордости, — это добродетель, которая подталкивает вперед, мощный источник энергии.

Похоть — это... чувственный и сенсорный синтез, ведущий к величайшему освобождению духа...

Похоть — это акт созидания, это Творение...

Одна лишь христианская мораль, следуя за языческой, была фатально предрасположена считать похоть слабостью. Из здоровой радости, которая является расцветом плоти во всей ее мощи, она сделала нечто постыдное, что следует скрывать, порок, который нужно отрицать. Она покрыла ее лицемерием, и это превратило ее в грех...

Мы должны превратить похоть в произведение искусства.

Даже самые откровенные ницшеанки, работавшие в организованных рамках немецкого феминизма, не могли бы и мечтать о том, чтобы пропагандировать то, что предлагал ее манифест: «Сильный мужчина должен реализовать весь свой плотский и духовный потенциал. Удовлетворение их похоти — это право завоевателей. После битвы, в которой погибли люди, нормально для победителей обращаться к изнасилованию на завоеванной земле, чтобы жизнь могла быть воссоздана».

Помимо того, что де Сен-Пуан была танцовщицей, она была драматургом, поэтом и романистом, чьими темами были война, смерть, инстинкт и женское желание. Ее «Манифест женщины-футуриста» (1912) ясно продемонстрировал ее ницшеанские наклонности. Там она перевела понятие сверхчеловека в новый миф о маскулинизированной суперженщине. По ее утверждению, было абсурдно делить человечество на мужчин и женщин. На самом деле разделение проходило между маскулинностью и феминностью. Цельное существо, герой и сверхчеловек, по определению объединял в себе и то, и другое: «Исключительно мужская особь — это не что иное, как грубое животное; исключительно женская — не что иное, как слабость». Но, как соглашались коллеги-футуристы де Сен-Пуан, они жили в исторический период, который был по сути слабым и женственным: маскулинности не хватало как мужчинам, так и женщинам. Для обоих нужно было преподать новую доктрину энергии, чтобы можно было достичь эпохи высшего человечества. Для обоих «грубое животное должно было стать моделью». Феминность теперь, безусловно, не была желательной. Женщины позволили себя приручить: «Но провозгласите ей новое слово, дайте ей боевой клич, и с радостью она снова устремится на зов своего инстинкта и поведет вас к невообразимым завоеваниям. ... Пусть женщина вновь откроет в себе жестокость и насилие, которые заставляют ее набрасываться на побежденных только потому, что они побеждены, и калечить их».

Эту ницшеанскую динамику, конечно, было довольно трудно поддерживать, и после ухода из футуристического движения в начале 1914 года де Сен-Пуан увлеклась эзотерикой, переехала в Египет, приняла ислам (где взяла имя Раухия Нур эд-Дин) и стала арабской националисткой, основав в поддержку этого газету «Феникс»!

Футуризм был, конечно, итальянским модернистским националистическим движением, которое активно использовало Ницше. В имперской Германии не было эквивалентного авангардного и протофашистского прославления скорости и технологий. Только во времена Веймарской республики подобный ориентированный на машины радикальный национализм стал очевиден. Конечно, модернизм не обязательно подразумевал какое-то особое отношение к индустриальному обществу. Его характеристики, на которые повлиял Ницше — радикальное сомнение во всех принятых канонах; экспрессивная, а не миметическая позиция; вера в то, что истина, ценности и красота являются самосозданными, а не объективно открытыми сущностями, — могли действовать и действовали в обоих направлениях: как бурное прославление и как отчужденное осуждение современного технологического мира. До 1914 года немецкий модернизм выражал себя в своеобразном обличье экспрессионизма — движения, чье отношение к индустриально-технологическому порядку было значительно более амбивалентным, чем у футуризма.

Практически во всех своих многообразных проявлениях — в живописи, скульптуре, архитектуре, литературе, драме и политике — экспрессионизм и Ницше были связаны. Хотя существовали некоторые исключения, большинство экспрессионистов были — в той или иной степени — либо признанными ницшеанцами, либо ницшеанцами по осмосу. Самый талантливый и противоречивый немецкий экспрессионист, Готфрид Бенн, ретроспективно подытожил эти отношения так:

На самом деле, всё то, что обсуждало моё поколение, препарировало в своих глубочайших мыслях — можно сказать, выстрадало; можно сказать: развило — всё это уже было выражено и исследовано, уже нашло свою окончательную формулировку у Ницше; всё, что было после, — это экзегеза. Его коварная, бурная, молниеносная манера, его лихорадочная дикция, его отказ от всех идиллий и всех общих принципов, его постулирование психологии инстинктивного поведения как диалектики — «познание как аффект», весь психоанализ и экзистенциализм. Всё это было его достижениями. Как становится всё более очевидным, он — великий гигант постгётевской эпохи.

Для экспрессионистов ницшеанская гносеология была освобождающей, поскольку она низводила метафизическую истину и объективную реальность до уровня немногим большего, чем иллюзии. Курт Пинтус, редактор важной экспрессионистской антологии «Сумерки человечества», выразил это так: «Реальность не вне нас, а скорее в нас... Все великие идеи человечества порождались не силой фактов, не требованиями реальности, а непосредственно из самосозидающего, устремленного в будущее духа человека». Тем не менее кризис существовал, и никто не понимал его глубину острее, чем Бенн. Он признавал, что ницшеанский мир был посттеистическим и нигилистическим, миром, в котором никакая система или философия была невозможна — или даже нежелательна. Действительно, ещё в начале своего пути он наметил темы, которые должны были стать уделом ницшеанцев конца двадцатого века. Ницше, писал он, разрушил философию, теологию, филологию, биологию, причинность, политику, эрос, истину, бытие и идентичность. Не существовало никакой трансцендентной, связующей архимедовой точки. Ницше продемонстрировал ошибочность предположения о том, что люди обладают внутренним или метафизическим содержанием. Действительно, не существовало такой вещи, как «личность» — были только симптомы. Что было самым фундаментальным у Ницше, подчеркивал Бенн, так это переход от содержания к выражению, угасание субстанции в пользу выражения.

Свободное и творческое самовыражение было прежде всего призванием художника, и немецкий экспрессионизм периода до Первой мировой войны воспевал ницшеанское элитарное видение возвышенной, хотя и болезненной роли одинокого художника-сверхчеловека, который в процессе творчества познавал то, чего никогда не узнает стадо. Учитывая их изображение давления буржуазного конформизма и зарождающегося массового общества, художник-экспрессионист обычно придерживался элитарного, ницшеанского имморализма. В метафорическом ландшафте одиноких заратустровских высот, в тени смерти Бога, стоял художник, находящийся по ту сторону общепринятых представлений о добре и зле: ницшеанский закон для самого себя. Например, в пьесе Пауля Корнфельда «Соблазн» (1913) герой-изгой берет на себя право убить буржуа только потому, что герой испытывает к нему отвращение. Когда на Георга Кайзера подали в суд из-за долгов, которые он наделал, он провозгласил, что допущение «Все равны перед законом» — это чепуха. Для гения акт творчества, самого производства смысла, был превыше всего, «даже если его жена и дети должны погибнуть из-за этого».

Подобный имморализм распространялся и на прославление безумия. Для экспрессионизма безумие могло служить просвещающей перспективой. Язык душевнобольных выражал свободу от повседневных условностей и гнетущих законов. В некотором смысле высшим экспрессионистским сверхчеловеком был безумец, мыслимый как воплощение освобождающего беззакония. Георг Гейм в 1906 году доверил своему дневнику стремление реализовать идеал сверхчеловека в собственной личности, и довел этот порыв до предела в своем рассказе под названием «Сумасшедший». Там безумие изображено как форма окончательного спасения. Поскольку обычные законы не применимы к тем, кто безумен, помешательство приравнивается к абсолютной свободе, символизируемой финальным образом: сумасшедший, парящий, подобно птице, высоко над реальностью.

Замечание Ницше о том, что «упорядоченное общество усыпляет страсти», типично для экспрессионистской критики омертвляющего буржуазного мира. Подобно другим сегментам авангарда, экспрессионисты обычно сочетали это неприятие современного общества с разнообразными виталистскими дионисийскими решениями. Большинство из них открыто отвергали сдерживающее и упорядочивающее аполлоническое начало: «Даже статуи греков», — писал Курт Пинтус, — «не... стремятся к "благородной простоте и спокойному величию"».

Многие экспрессионисты вторили строгим суждениям Ницше из его философии жизни. «Должна ли жизнь господствовать над познанием и наукой», — спрашивал Ницше, — «или познание должно господствовать над жизнью? Какая из этих двух сил выше и решительнее? Сомнений быть не может: жизнь — это высшая, господствующая сила, ибо познание, которое уничтожило бы жизнь, уничтожило бы вместе с ней и само себя». Этот экспрессионистский витализм, как отмечал Вальтер Сокель, отличался от своего французского аналога и отдавал предпочтение антиинтеллектуальной интерпретации Ницше. Жизненный порыв Анри Бергсона постулировал различие между бессознательным потоком жизни и окостеневающим интеллектом. Однако частично рациональная способность памяти была инструментом для постижения иррационального потока жизни (роль, которую для Фрейда выполнял психоанализ). В немецком экспрессионизме этот опосредующий, контролирующий фактор по большей части отсутствовал. Дионисийский антицеребрализм должен был протекать беспрепятственно. Экспрессионисты склонны были терять чувство напряжения между интеллектом и антиинтеллектом, которое, по мнению Сокеля, характеризовало немецкую традицию.

Немецкий экспрессионистский витализм обычно озвучивал горькую критику одурманивающей системы образования и отстаивал открытие освобождающих сил юности. Такие тексты, как «Несвоевременные размышления» Ницше (1874—1876), особенно «О пользе и вреде истории для жизни» (1874), послужили важным источником вдохновения и легитимации для этих импульсов. Там Ницше беспощадно высмеивал образовательные институты того времени и издевался над тем видом стерильного рационализма, который, как он утверждал, был препятствием для жизни. Юность, провозглашал он, является главным носителем возрождающих сил жизни, и ее главная миссия — освободить их.

Неудивительно, что типичной «немезидой» экспрессионистского воображения оказывался либо профессор, либо репрессивный отец. В своей драме «Итака» представитель Готфрида Бенна, Рённе, решается на убийство профессора, который настаивает на высшей ценности научного знания. Пламенная речь Рённе, подстрекающая сокурсников совершить это деяние, сформулирована в терминах, мгновенно узнаваемых теми, кто знаком с ницшеанской вселенной дискурса: «Мы — юность. Наша кровь взывает к небу и земле, а не к клеткам и червям... Мы хотим мечтать. Мы хотим экстаза. Мы взываем к Дионису и Итаке!»

Разумеется, именно Франк Ведекинд через свою новаторскую и сенсационную пьесу «Пробуждение весны» (1895) стал моделью для последующих экспрессионистских подходов. Подобно Ницше, он сочетал яростное обвинение репрессивной системы образования с призывом к жизни, но Ведекинд заострил внимание, приравняв жизнь к освобождению подросткового сексуального инстинкта.

Первоначальный экспрессионистский импульс был сосредоточен на индивиде, а не на обществе, и был в основном безразличен к конкретным вопросам политики и экономики, будучи больше озабоченным симптомами буржуазной болезни, нежели ее причинами. Его экстатические, беспрограммные, ницшеанские, революционные настроения были слишком неорганизованными и расплывчатыми, чтобы иметь какой-либо реальный политический эффект. Неоформленное экспрессионистское стремление к избавлению — основанное, как правило, на эмоциях, а не на конкретном социальном анализе — могло принять осязаемую форму только в сочетании с более широкими политическими структурами. Для многих из тех экспрессионистов, которые все же политизировались, будь то в сторону правых или левых, их открытый ницшеанский радикализм оставался центральным в том, как они определяли свою принадлежность.

В воображении таких людей, как Арнольт Броннен и Ганс Йост, которые позже стали активно участвовать в национал-социализме, ницшеанская образность юношеской и освободительной жизнеутверждающей жестокости была центральной и принимала все более грубую форму. Пьесы Броннена иллюстрируют брутализацию связи экспрессионизма и ницшеанства. В «Отцеубийстве» (Vatermord) подросток убивает своего отца-социал-демократа, прогоняет мать и уходит в мир. Нет никакого мотива для этого поступка, кроме виталистской свободы, которую дает само действие. Акцент на действии как таковом, на динамике ради нее самой, был лейтмотивом ницшеанского активизма. В еще более экстремальном продолжении, «Рождение юности» (Die Geburt der Jugend), постницшеанские последствия темы смерти Бога представлены еще более наглядно. Бродячие банды молодежи верхом на лошадях топчут стариков и кричат, что они — Бог.

Однако больше, чем кто-либо другой из экспрессионистов, именно Готфрид Бенн боролся с последствиями смерти Бога. Вся его карьера, включая его короткую, но страстную привязанность к нацизму, была попыткой справиться с этим ницшеанским затруднением. Он принял нигилизм Ницше, как заметил Майкл Гамбургер, «как принимают погоду». До 1933 года Бенн постулировал теоретический нигилизм, который отрицал возможность какой-либо метафизической истины. На том этапе его решение проблемы нигилизма указывало на форму примитивизма двадцатого века. Преодоление нигилизма означало избавление от мук современной саморефлексии, вызванной разрывом человечества с природой. Это означало возвращение к досознательному, дологическому, первобытному и инертному состоянию. Закрепление в этом дионисийском сверхиндивидуальном (Uberindividuellen) состоянии было, однако, возможно только в органической, животной форме. Как выразился Бенн в своем выступлении в Прусской академии искусств в апреле 1932 года: «Одно из классических восприятий постницшеанской эпохи исходит от Томаса Манна и гласит: „все трансцендентное — животно, все животное — трансцендентно“».

Осуждение Бенном науки и гуманитаризма и его тоска по примитивистским формам, однако, также позволили ему найти (пусть и временно) этот принцип трансцендентности в более осязаемом политическом доме, в том типе сообщества, который провозглашал нацизм. Для Бенна национал-социализм, казалось, воплощал ницшеанскую динамику как в ее первобытном, так и в ориентированном на будущее смыслах. Он удовлетворял тоску по подлинности, символизируемую современным варваром, укорененность в народе, а также обещание создания нового человека — нового биологического типа — арийца, чьей великой задачей была борьба против декаданса во всех его проявлениях.

Экспрессионисты, как и многие другие ницшеанцы, колебались между аполитичной индивидуальной позицией и чувством искупительной социальной миссии, жаждой единения с сообществами. Даже для тех левых, которые определяли себя в явно социальных и политических терминах — таких как пацифистские и анархистские круги вокруг журнала Die Aktion Франца Пфемерта или Курта Хиллера, — их анализ игнорировал конкретные социальные институты; они постулировали свою искупительную цель в субъективных и крайне абстрактных терминах индивидуальной «самореализации».

Курт Хиллер и его «новый клуб», основанный в марте 1909 года, например, считали Ницше своим главным источником вдохновения. Их «новый пафос», подчеркивающий «повышенную психическую температуру» и всеобщую безмятежность (Heiterkeit), был пронизан знакомым дионисийским измерением. Новый пафос, отмечал Хиллер, был пронизан тем, что Ницше сказал в работе «Ecce Homo»: «Я оцениваю ценность людей, рас, согласно необходимости, по которой они не могут мыслить бога отдельно от сатира». Хиллер преследовал, как он это описывал, радикализм, который имел мало общего с «математизированной старой моралью». Требовался новый посттеистический и неоэллинский героизм (Heldentum), как провозглашал его Ницше.

Тем не менее Хиллер олицетворял то крыло экспрессионистского движения, которое отвергало недифференцированный антиинтеллектуализм и настаивало вместо этого на использовании формирующего, сдерживающего аполлонического измерения: пожалуй, его самым известным лозунгом был «дух да станет господином» (Geist werde Herr). Уолтер Сокел указал, что идеал Хиллера, в отличие от других версий виталистского Нового человека, стремившихся к действию ради самого действия, подчеркивал «действие, направляемое разумом во имя любви».

Большинство экспрессионистов, однако, были привлечены ницшеанским видением самозаконодательного, творческого сверхчеловеческого (Übermenschlich) художника, работающего в великолепной изоляции от масс. В этом отношении одним из показателей влияния Ницше является тот факт, что многие ранние экспрессионисты, которые пришли к отрицанию этой антисоциальной позиции и к новому утверждению уз человеческой солидарности, сочли необходимым предать себя открытому и страстному перерезанию ницшеанской пуповины.

Это отречение вело в разных направлениях. В 1896 году, например, Генрих Манн сконструировал довольно праворадикального, националистического Ницше: его сверхчеловека следовало понимать как позитивный «социальный и расовый символ». Позже, с поворотом от романтического эстетизма к социал-демократии, Манн написал демократическую критику высокомерного сверхчеловека, который теперь был отрезан от забот и достоинства простых людей. (Его брат Томас совершил аналогичный сдвиг, но уже после Первой мировой войны. В обоих случаях дистанцирование от антидемократической предвзятости не означало отрицания философа: теперь подчеркивались другие, более подходящие аспекты.)

В случае с Рейнхардом Зорге (1892—1916) поворот от первоначального энтузиазма по отношению к Ницше — его «Одиссей» основывался на идее вечного возвращения, а более поздний «Прометей» изображал земное установление расы сверхлюдей — к отвержению мифа о сверхчеловеке привел его к обращению в римский католицизм и «радикализму братской любви». В своем обличительном произведении «Суд над Заратустрой: видение» (1912; «Суд над Заратустрой: видение») он горько описывал свое разочарование на языке, который иронично выдавал продолжающееся, болезненное влияние Ницше:

Знаешь ли ты, кто этот мальчик? Смотри, Заратустра, он любил тебя, он был твоим учеником. Твой пыл овладел его пылом, и он растратил всё ради тебя. Ибо его пыл был таков, что он любил тебя превыше всего... твой дух был обращен к земле, мой дух позволил себя обмануть. Ради твоего пыла он обманул сам себя.

Затем настал час, когда он устремился вверх, не спрашивай как, дух сам себе ответ... Свыше пришел приказ стать борцом против духа-брата (Заратустры), судить его авторитетом Небес. Если Ницше был вездесущим присутствием в экспрессионизме, то же самое можно сказать о его роли в авангардном кружке вокруг Стефана Георге, известном как Кружок Георге. Недовольство истеблишментом и буржуазной культурой, акцент на творческом художнике и духовной элите как воплощении сверхчеловека, а также двусмысленно понимаемая политика возрождения в равной степени характеризовали этот круг. Существовали также значительные различия между ними и в том, как они использовали Ницше для своих нужд. Экспрессионистский субъективизм и иррационализм обеспечивали собственную самооправдывающую динамику. Для Георге оправданием служил эстетизм: интуитивное и иррациональное способствовали постижению поэтического и прекрасного. Экспрессионизм был незрелым проявлением настроения и импульса. В случае с поэтом-провидцем Георге всё проистекало из его собственной патрицианской личности. Подобно персонажам экспрессионистского воображения, перед нами был самопровозглашенный пророк, который не следовал никаким правилам, а вместо этого создавал законы и ценности. Однако, будучи сформулированными, они обретали авторитет, немыслимый для более динамичной, по сути хаотичной, экспрессионистской чувствительности.

Кружок Георге был общиной посвященных, сектой, не имевшей формальных или обязательных уставов, но полностью находившейся под властью своего учителя. Подвижный внутренний круг, эта «тайная Германия», вероятно, никогда не превышал сорока членов. И всё же он преуспел далеко за пределами своей численности, став своего рода элитарной культурной моделью; его влияние на антиистеблишментскую немецкую поэзию, критику и историографию было огромным.

Наследие Ницше затронуло Стефана Георге и его кружок как скрытым, так и явным образом. Сознательные и бессознательные функции, которые Ницше выполнял для учителя и его учеников, их зависимость от философа, а также их прямая попытка превзойти его, заручиться его авторитетом и дистанцироваться от него, служат хорошим примером сложности присвоения Ницше. Эта сложность, однако, не должна заслонять тот факт, что проект Георге практически непостижим вне постницшеанского контекста.

В предисловии к изданию Рождения трагедии 1886 года Ницше сетовал, что не осмелился говорить на поэтическом языке, соразмерном его работе: «Ей следовало бы петь, этой "новой душе", — а не говорить!» В своем некрологе Ницше 1900 года Георге дал понять, что возьмется за этот проект. Журнал его кружка (основанный в 1892 году), Blätter für die Kunst (журнал), родился, как писал в 1910 году ученик Георге и поэт Карл Вольфскель, «потому что один поэт [Ницше] зажег пламя в другом [Георге]».

Что, по мнению Кружка Георге, дал Ницше? Он предоставил инструменты для их критики девятнадцатого века и озвучил героическое обещание возрожденной немецкой духовности на новой творческой основе. Именно он задал элитарный тон их патрицианской борьбе против века посредственности. Природа этой борьбы была определена в динамичных ницшеанских терминах: обновление возможно только через инновационную деятельность пророческого, законотворческого поэта, который жил в то время, когда возвращение к ушедшей эпохе было невозможно. Поскольку классические религиозные, мифические и философские традиции рухнули, его сложнейшей задачей было создать их заново. Обновление определялось через идеал красоты и эстетической формы. Это также было сформировано по образцу ницшеанской концепции воли к власти, не политической власти, а власти провидца, который преобразит нацию, особенно с помощью прекрасной и героической молодежи.

Более того, именно у Ницше они почерпнули многое из своей антинаучной позиции и виталистского эстетизма. Они регулярно использовали ницшеанские концепции героического и мифического — категории, которые затем применяли к самому Ницше:

С ним весь огромный клад немецкой духовности, который со времени угасания римского мира... оставался под спудом, наконец вышел на свет. С этого началась настоящая, великая борьба, под знаменем которой мы стоим сегодня. Последняя непримиримая битва сил, сформировавших наши жизни, стала с Ницше общественным делом.

В сбившемся с пути мире он «увидел путь, который ведет из этого хаоса в космос».

Для Георге и его последователей космические и по-настоящему значимые измерения жизни не могли быть постигнуты рационально или научными средствами. Этого можно было достичь лишь с помощью эстетической и поэтической чувствительности. Подобные романтические убеждения, разумеется, не были для Георге чем-то новым. Как недавно показал Вольф Лепенис, эти взгляды имели давнюю родословную. Однако георгианцы наполнили эту романтическую критику по существу ницшеанскими компонентами. Их критика науки и академического образования, особенно недопустимость его самореферентного обоснования, началась с изречения Ницше в «Рождении трагедии» о том, что «проблема науки... не может быть осознана в контексте науки».

Георге противопоставил коллективное научное знание ницшеанскому аристократизму одинокого мудреца. «Одно знание, одинаковое для всех, — писал он, — есть мошенничество». Если в его кругу и существовали различные оценки возможностей рациональности, все были согласны с тем, что ошибки художественных героев важнее истин посредственностей. Они читали Ницше как человека, который, преодолев девятнадцатый век, учил, что общество не имеет ничего общего с жизнью и, безусловно, не может претендовать на право навязывать ей законы.

Наука и ученые не могли научить людей, как жить; поэзия и поэт, наделенный интуитивными и пророческими силами, могли. «Внутренний опыт» был одновременно методом и ключом к спасению — история должна была быть преображена обратно в сознательно выкованный миф. В качестве оправдания постоянно призывалось видение Ницше «поэта как указателя пути в будущее»:

Той поэтической силы, доступной людям сегодняшнего дня, которая не исчерпана в изображении жизни, следует посвятить себя не столько представлению современного мира или оживлению и творческой реконструкции прошлого, сколько указанию пути в будущее: — не так, однако, будто поэт мог бы, подобно сказочному экономисту, фигурально предвосхитить, при каких условиях нации и общества процветали бы лучше и как их можно было бы затем осуществить. Скорее, он будет подражать художникам прежних времен, которые творчески развивали существующие образы богов, и творчески развивать прекрасный образ человека; он вынюхает те случаи, в которых посреди нашего современного мира и реальности и без какого-либо искусственного ухода от этого мира или ограждения от него, великая и прекрасная душа все еще возможна, все еще способна воплотиться в гармоничном и соразмерном и тем самым обрести видимость, длительность и статус образца, и тем самым, через возбуждение зависти и подражания, помочь создать будущее.

Этот поэт и его поэзия, в соответствии с идеалом Ницше, создавали бы искусство, в которое проникла сама жизнь. Анализ и отвержение масс, сделанные учеником Георге Фридрихом Гундольфом, были написаны перефразированными ницшеанскими терминами: «Тот, кто наблюдал этот "народ" в воскресенье после обеда в городах больших или малых, и делал это с открытыми глазами, не затуманенными гуманитарными, социальными или прогрессивными лозунгами, теряет всякое желание вступать в какие-либо разумные отношения с ним».

Нам следует отметить здесь общественные контуры, в которых Георге хотел видеть свое отношение к Ницше. Несмотря на то, что его панегирик 1900 года был полон восхищения, в конечном счете Ницше приходилось рассматривать как трагическую фигуру:

Тупо рысит внизу толпа, не тревожь ее! Зачем колоть медузу или резать водоросль? Пусть еще некоторое время царит благочестивое молчание, и пусть паразиты, которые пачкают его похвалами и все еще жиреют в затхлых испарениях, что помогли его задушить, сначала сгинут! Но затем, блистающий, ты предстанешь перед веками, как другие вожди с кровавой короной. Искупитель, ты сам — самый неблагословенный... Ты создал богов лишь для того, чтобы низвергнуть их, никогда не наслаждаясь покоем или тем, что ты построил? Ты уничтожил то, что было в тебе самом ближе всего, чтобы дрожать после этого с новым желанием и взывать в боли одиночества.

Слишком поздно пришел тот, кто сказал тебе, умоляя: не осталось пути через ледяные скалы и гнезда страшных птиц — теперь нужно вот что: ограничение в кругу, замкнутом любовью.

Ницшеанство Георге умирает в героической тщетности, не в силах войти в новый мир, который он предсказал. Сам Георге является воплощением этого ницшеанского видения. Это, безусловно, была официальная линия кружка: Ницше проложил путь к тому, что должно было наступить, он был предтечей, а не свершителем. «Ницше, — писал Курт Хильдебрандт, — был первопроходцем и предтечей, а не свершителем». Завершая это стихотворение словами: «теперь это нужно / Ограничение внутри круга, замкнутого любовью», Георге ясно дал понять, что он превзошел философа. Видение Ницше должно было быть заключено в круг. Только через такое сообщество могло быть реализовано политическое и духовное Рейх. Чего не хватало Ницше, писал Георге, так это «пластичного Бога».

Тем не менее структура самого сообщества Георге имела отчетливо ницшеанскую текстуру. Сознательно аристократическое, оно должно было держаться вместе благодаря культурной близости, а не обязательным правилам. Этот способ организации мог применяться только к особым элитам. Рудольф Паннвиц, еще один член кружка Георге, выразил это лучше всего: Ницше был «не пророком для народа, а скорее пророком для пророков».

Подобно другим ницшеанским авангардным кружкам, кружок Георге считал себя фундаментально аполитичным и был совершенно равнодушен, если не активно враждебен, к политическим партиям. Однако их эстетический импульс к трансформации и национальному обновлению был политическим в самом широком смысле. Как и другим ницшеанским радикальным течениям, ему не хватало формальной программы, из-за чего природа этого обновления оставалась расплывчатой. Кружок охватывал людей в диапазоне от будущего лидера немецкого сопротивления нацизму, графа фон Штауффенберга, до антисемитов вроде Людвига Клагеса; евреев, таких как Эрнст Канторович, Гундольф и Вольфскель; и тех, кто, подобно Эрнсту Бертраму, был увлечен нацизмом. Кружок был, как отмечает Лепенис, «способен не только на политическое маневрирование, но и на политический ревизионизм: ... Георге был так же прав, подчеркивая свою дистанцию от Вильгельмовской Германии, как Рудольф Борхардт был прав, подчеркивая принятие кружка Георге прусским государством».

Какими бы ни были внутренние разногласия, все приверженцы кружка открыто критиковали демократическую систему, особенно ее американизированный веймарский вариант. Они были патрициями, далекими от вульгарной нацистской чувствительности. Они способствовали антиэгалитарному, антидемократическому дискурсу, который, тем не менее, помог подъему силы, которую они презирали. Они также призывали к созданию новой немецкой мифологии. Связанный с этим акцент на интуиции, внутреннем опыте и жизненном, в противоположность мертвому (Lebensfeindlich) научному знанию, антиакадемическая концепция истории была вдохновлена непосредственно Ницше.

Задача написания истории рассматривалась как явное создание легенд, поскольку она описывала образцовых сверхлюдей. Только великие фигуры стоили изучения, и только поэты с подобным образом устроенными душами могли по-настоящему постичь и представить своих героев. Ни объективность, ни научный дух не подходили — великие фигуры должны были быть представлены как современные модели. Герои, комментировал Гундольф, не должны стать очеловеченными (vermenschlicht werden). Хотя призывались Гёте и Гёльдерлин, именно Ницше прежде всего был представлен как вдохновитель этих концепций.

Однако Ницше фигурировал в чрезвычайно важной работе Эрнста Бертрама 1918 года «Ницше» не просто как методологическое вдохновение, но и как героический субъект такого мифотворчества. Эта работа, переиздававшаяся семь раз в период с 1918 по 1927 год, сыграла решающую роль в истории фёлькише-апроприации Ницше и его преображения в германского праворадикального пророка. Мы будем заниматься деталями и казуистической структурой этого процесса в различных частях этой книги. Здесь нам достаточно отметить прямую связь Бертрама с кружком Георге. Опубликованная под эгидой серии «Werke der Wissenschaft aus dem Kreise der Blätter für die Kunst» (журнал), работа — как позже ясно дал понять разочарованный Бертрам в своей переписке — была попыткой Георге продиктовать, каким должен быть этот ницшеанский образ. Ее георгианский подзаголовок, «Попытка мифологии», говорил сам за себя. Существовало открытое нежелание исследовать жизнь Ницше в соответствии с традиционными методами исторической науки. Вместо этого Ницше был превращен в германскую легенду, его жизнь и мысли трансмутированы в спасительный для нации пророческий миф.

Для других соратников Георге это мифическое измерение указывало на религиозно-космические, а также национально-политические аспекты. «Ницше жил и творил в этом мире исполненного и свободного мифа, который также является логосом и психикой космоса», — писал Паннвиц, маргинальная фигура в кружке и убежденный ницшеанец, который, среди прочего, опубликовал различные работы, пытавшиеся дать поэтическое выражение философскому видению мастера. Паннвиц считал ницшеанского сверхчеловека не чем иным, как «космическим человеком... синтезом всех человеческих типов... кристаллическим индивидуальным представителем космоса». Рассматриваемый таким образом, Ницше был творцом религии, которая преодолела трансцендентность и была «полностью мифической, полностью космической». Для Паннвица это привело к своего рода мистической восточной религии, сочетающей индивидуализм с немецким возрождением.

Как бы эксцентричен он ни был, Паннвиц отнюдь не был единственной фигурой кружка, привлеченной подобными видениями. Ранние соратники Георге, Альфред Шулер (1865–1923) и Людвиг Клагес (1872–1956), аналогичным образом провозгласили мифическое мировоззрение, основанное на оккультном поиске космических излучений (Ausstrahlungen.)_

Это особое космическое видение сопровождалось ярым антисемитизмом, представлениями о крови и первобытными земными видениями. Один историк диагностировал эти концепции как часть «мистических истоков национал-социализма». Подобно другим радикальным течениям, затронутым ницшеанским импульсом, этот духовный аспект также непредсказуемым образом сочетал в себе прогрессивные и реакционные элементы.

С 1897 по 1904 год Георге, Шулер и Клагес были членами эзотерического языческо-гностического кружка в Мюнхен-Швабинге, известного как Космисты. Находясь под влиянием различных источников (особенно «Материнского права» Бахофена), он также присвоил себе соответствующую ницшеанскую сторону. Это отразилось в его критике либерального рационализма и индустриальной современности, антихристианской направленности и, прежде всего, в стремлении к дионисийской общине, которая, по мнению этой группы, могла быть практически достигнута через воссоздание и празднование языческих фестивалей.

Влияние Ницше на эклектичного Шулера, харизматичного лидера группы, было очевидным. Ницше Шулера не был пророком индивидуализма. По мнению Шулера, индивид не имел значения; решающее значение имели более глубокие, бессознательные слои и объединяющие силы расы, «души» и крови. Он ценил мифическое возрождение и витализм Ницше, апокалиптическую структуру и веру в то, что скрытые творческие и инстинктивные силы могут быть высвобождены. Историческая периодизация Шулера, его отказ от Реформации и Французской революции как от иудаизированных и лишенных жизненной силы явлений рессентимента были, как он полагал, сформированы по образцу характеристики Ницше в «К генеалогии морали». Его Ницше, более того, учил циклу ужасающего разрушения и новых начинаний. «Ницше говорил, — читал он лекции, — что с крахом открываются новые источники, так же обстоит дело и в жизни. Сначала должны произойти насильственные разрушения, прежде чем новые источники, из которых течет будущее, будут выведены на свет».

Философ был даже предполагаемым объектом оккультной терапии Шулера. В течение двух лет Шулер готовился исцелить безумие Ницше посредством свободно интерпретированного обряда древнего корибантского танца. Он так и не был осуществлен, отчасти из-за трудности привлечения подходящих юношей для культового танца! Тот факт, что и Клагес, и Вольфскель одобрили этот план, свидетельствует об атмосфере, создававшейся в таких эзотерических кругах.

Самым влиятельным учеником Шулера был Людвиг Клагес (который в 1904 году горько порвал с Георге). Ярый антисемит Клагес, плодовитый публицист, известный графолог и культовый философ Веймарской республики, посвятил свою карьеру разработке и артикуляции космического мировоззрения, которое он приобрел за те годы в Швабинге. Клагес был постницшеанцем во всех смыслах этого слова. Подобно Бенну и экспрессионистам, его работу можно понять как критический экзегетический диалог с Ницше. Будучи одновременно толкователем его мысли и разработчиком ключевых идей, система Клагеса также избирательно присваивала Ницше.

Клагесианский Ницше был великим глашатаем космической души, явно отсылающим к дионисийскому Ницше дикого самозабвения. Как и в случае с Шулером, Клагес не оставил места для индивидуализма Ницше. Его великое достижение состояло в понимании греческой трагедии как «разрыва цепей индивидуальной жизни космической жизнью». Действительно, движущей силой системы Клагеса был поиск этого первозданного, космического «дионисийского опьянения». Его программно иррационалистические категории — например, «стихийный экстаз» и «эротический восторг» — были заимствованы из «Рождения трагедии», которое стремилось, как выразился Клагес, проникнуть «сквозь пределы "индивидуации" в жизнь стихий».

Для Клагеса дионисийская сфера была важна, потому что именно там проявляла себя жизнь. Клагес был самым радикальным немецким представителем иррационалистической философии жизни, доводя ее ницшеанские предпосылки до самых крайних выводов. Чтобы создать эту философию, он провел фундаментальное различие между жизнеутверждающей душой и жизнеразрушающим духом, как предельно ясно гласило название его самой известной работы «Дух как враг души». Это различие, писал Клагес, было фундаментальным, первопонятием, подобным противопоставлению Ницше дионисийского и сократического начал. Дух, с одной стороны, представлял все те силы современной, индустриальной и интеллектуальной рационализации, которые разрушали природу, покой, органичность и космическое измерение. Душа, с другой стороны, представляла возможность подлинно проживаемой жизни — преодоление отчужденной интеллектуальности в пользу вновь обретенной земной укорененности.

Не следует забывать, что Клагес был также известным графологом. В соответствии со своим более широким антинаучным, антипозитивистским мировоззрением он описывал себя не как психолога, а как «исследователя души» (Seelenforschung), и провозгласил Ницше отцом «исследования души». Для Клагеса психологическим достижением Ницше было разграничение поля битвы между аскетическими жрецами Яхве и оргиастами Диониса; его психологическая чуткость обеспечивала необычайное прозрение, достигаемое через его беспощадно честное самопознание и «технику разочарования» (Enttäuschungstechnik).

Как и многие другие комментаторы, Клагес не ограничивал свой анализ мыслью Ницше: посредством своего исследования души и графологии он также обеспечил необходимую мифологизацию личности Ницше. Подобно другим исключительным индивидам, он приобщился к первобытному бытию и потому был обречен играть трагическую роль. Ницше был одним из «мучеников язычества: их души боролись и умирали ради пыла Жизни». Его эпохальной заслугой было разрушение церковных стен. Этот «величайший разрушитель оков во всей истории человечества» прорвался сквозь «океаны ошибок перед нами... но также и для нас». Но — и здесь Клагес возобновил старую линию кружка Георге — это был Ницше, который мог интуитивно постичь новый мир, на который он указал, но никогда не мог войти в него сам.

Трагедия Ницше заключалась в том, что его раздирало несовместимое дионисийское стремление к самозабвению и постоянное сверхчеловеческое стремление к самопреодолению. Будучи столь же притянутым к рационалистическому сократизму, сколь и отталкиваемым им, Ницше никогда не преодолевал внутреннее напряжение между оргиастическими языческими и христианскими элементами самопреодоления в своем характере.

Клагес указал на двойной импульс, который вызывал равное восхищение у различных авангардных кругов Германии. Эти две ницшеанские темы — «мужской» императив динамичного и суверенного самосозидания и более «женственное» погружение в трансиндивидуальное дионисийское целое — были вплетены, пусть и неясно, в его устремления. Некоторые подчеркивали один аспект больше, чем другой. Временами предпринимались попытки объединить их, или же напряжение просто оставляли неразрешенным. Так или иначе, эта тематика поощряла и подкрепляла открытый и эклектичный радикализм, характерный для ницшеанского авангарда.

Клагес олицетворяет классификационные трудности этого постлиберального ницшеанского радикализма. Его иррационализм был всеобъемлющим, виталистская политика антимодернистского, космического дионисизма подпитывалась антисемитизмом, антииндивидуализмом и мистикой «крови». Его обычно отождествляют с идеологической линией, которая вела прямо к нацизму. Марксистские критики рассматривали его органическую дионисийскую эпистемологию как глубоко реакционную, как средство отрицания всякого исторического прогресса. Клагес, как заявил Эрнст Блох, изгнал будущее как возможность. Частично он сделал это, атакуя пропитанное мечтами утопическое ядро Ницше: он «половинит героизм Ницше, удаляя волю к власти; он "половинит" телеологию Ницше: человек — это не то, что должно быть преодолено, а лишь то, что должно быть архаически обойдено, лишено целей». Более того, добавил Блох, он разрушил «мост в будущее, на котором как раз и располагались все обители грез Ницше». Вопрос об истине и лжи всегда был обременителен для фашистов. Архаическая мифология Клагеса почти полностью погасила эту проблему.

Тем не менее, как отметил Хинтон Томас, в своей атаке на ницшеанское самопреодоление и мужскую волю к власти Клагес также сформулировал критику власти, которая была полной противоположностью нацистского её прославления. Согласно этому анализу, Клагес предложил критику власти, подавления и агрессии, при которой все современные альтернативы — либерализм, социализм и капитализм — казались виновными. С этой точки зрения идеи Клагеса принадлежали к анархистско-освободительной асконской традиции, а не к авторитарной.

Это сочетание элементов всегда привлекало немецкий и европейский авангард. Их радикализм был ответом на реальные проблемы либеральной и индустриальной современности. Почти по определению враждебный буржуазным вкусам и политике, Ницше предоставил им чудесный тематический резервуар, с помощью которого они могли двигаться в постлиберальный мир. Возможно, именно это объясняет ту лёгкость, с которой некоторые асконцы, реформаторы жизни, экспрессионисты и приверженцы кружка Георге могли переходить от анархистско-освободительных к фашистским и нацистским позициям. Эти диссидентские импульсы пересекались и сочетались с самыми разными политическими и культурными позициями. Все они характеризовались пострационалистическими склонностями. Один путь отсюда мог привести и действительно приводил к фашизму и нацизму, но это был не единственный выбранный путь.

Авангард, однако, состоял из ограниченных кружков творческих художников и интеллектуалов. Чтобы задокументировать процесс, посредством которого идеи Ницше получили более широкое распространение, мы должны обратить внимание на более популярные сферы, на те группы по интересам и движения, и даже целые сообщества, которые стремились каким-то образом вплести ницшеанский узор в ткань своих институтов.

4. Институционализация ницшеанства

Желудок общества крепче моего, он может переварить меня.
Ницше, «Человеческое, слишком человеческое»

Ницшеанство не было — и не могло быть — отдельной политической идеологией, поддерживаемой собственной политической партией или движением. Ницшеанский импульс стал мощной, изменчивой силой именно потому, что он не был организован. Не требуя формальных обязательств, не обладая установленной догмой, его эластичность способствовала проникновению во многие сферы немецкой институциональной и общественной жизни. Это неизбежно происходило через процессы динамического и контекстуального отбора; он формировался и фильтровался в соответствии с воспринимаемыми потребностями присваивающего его института. У одних восприятие было искренним и восторженным, у других — более робким и фрагментарным. Как правило, он принимал явную, осознанную форму; иногда он действовал подсознательно, проникая в тематику тех самых групп, которые высказывали антиницшеанские настроения. Будучи, как правило, стимулом для радикальных целей, он часто приводил к непредвиденным консервативным последствиям. Поскольку ницшеанство редко было независимой конститутивной силой, оно зависело от институциональных ограничений и конкурирующих идеологических императивов. Тем не менее оно выполняло ряд важнейших функций: действовало как растворитель, закваска, катализатор и «овод», бросая вызов устоявшимся позициям и категориям, будучи при этом поглощённым или воссозданным ими.

История ницшеанского момента в немецком феминизме конца XIX — начала XX века наглядно иллюстрирует эти характеристики. В этом восторженном феминистском присвоении было нечто типично ироничное. Акцент Ницше на власти, твёрдости и маскулинности; его оценка того, что «добродушие у женщины — это форма вырождения»; его резкие комментарии о женской эмансипации; и его знаменитое предостережение: «Ты идёшь к женщинам? Не забудь плётку!» вряд ли способствовали тому, чтобы он стал поборником феминистского дела. Как выразился один язвительный критик-мужчина, «современная женщина» имела амбивалентные отношения с плёткой Ницше: во имя «эмансипации» она стремилась освободиться от неё, но в то же время древний инстинкт влек её обратно к ней.

Для тех женщин, которых привлекали идеи Ницше, существовали две широкие стратегии решения этой проблемы: можно было утверждать, что, несмотря на его враждебные взгляды на женский вопрос, его общее послание имело фундаментальное значение или что восприятие враждебности Ницше к женщинам было поверхностным и неверным: Ницше, на самом деле, был необычайно проницателен и отстаивал дело феминизма на самом высоком уровне самореализации. Какова бы ни была конкретная линия рассуждений, Ницше открывал перспективу нового вида женского освобождения, при котором исторические и институциональные репрессии прошлого могли быть преодолены. Подобно многим другим современникам рубежа веков, эти женщины использовали Ницше как для критического диагноза, так и в качестве вдохновения для того, чтобы Позвольте мне здесь рискнуть предположить, что я знаю женщин? Это часть моего дионисийского приданого. Кто знает? Возможно, я первый психолог вечно женственного. Они все любят меня — старая история — не считая несостоявшихся самок, «эмансипированных», у которых нет задатков для детей. — К счастью, я не желаю быть разорванным на части: совершенная женщина разрывает на части, когда любит... Ах, какой опасный, крадущийся, подземный маленький хищный зверь она! И все же такой приятный!... Женщина невыразимо злее мужчины; также умнее; доброта у женщины — это форма вырождения. (Ecce Homo, 266) обретенной свободы, выходящей за рамки всех ранее санкционированных социальных ограничений.

Эти настроения наиболее доступно отражались и выражались в популярной литературе того времени. Еще в 1894 году рассказ Хедвиг Дом — с его явно ницшеанским названием «Стань тем, кто ты есть» (Werde, die du bist) — исследовал разочарования женщины, чья жизнь, прожитая в соответствии с предписанной ей ролью служения другим, превратилась в одиссею самоотречения и самоистребления. Дом не делала секрета из виновника: общепринятая мораль постановила, что у женщин «не может быть своего „я“», поэтому ее скрижали «должны быть разрушены». Героиня, что неудивительно, считает Ницше «величайшим из ныне живущих философов», источником своей страсти «превзойти вещи такими, какие они есть, и подняться к большим высотам». Типичным для этого жанра был и роман Матиу Шванна «Любовь» (Liebe, 1901). Он был пересыпан цитатами из «Заратустры», а его «новая женщина» была движима ницшеански-вдохновленным желанием «глубоко окунуться в полную, цельную, неразделенную жизнь». Роман ясно давал понять, что репрессивная мораль делает невозможной подлинную любовь и что «жизнеразрушительное ханжество» поощряет проституцию. В романе Кэте Ширрмахер 1895 года «Половина» (Halb) «новая женщина» уже провозгласила:

Мы хотим быть современными! Это означает разрыв с неправильно понятыми греческими и римскими идеями — разрыв с ортодоксальной религией — свободу, использование нашей энергии, природы — независимость, экспериментирование вместо абстракции и стереотипов — торжествующее эго! В таком переходе слабые могут пасть, те переходные типы, которые уже не очень старые и еще не очень новые — но мы, мы справимся!

Но феминистское ницшеанство, конечно, не ограничивалось литературной сферой: оно также стало неотъемлемой частью нового вида радикальной феминистской политики. Немецкие женские организации, как и многие другие сферы вильгельмовского общества, были разделены на рабочие и буржуазные компоненты. До середины 1890-х годов и те, и другие придерживались примерно обычных курсов. Социалистические женщины соответствовали широким партийным взглядам и интегрировали свой феминизм в дисциплинированную марксистскую идеологию. Буржуазные феминистки, критикуя распространенный сексизм и дискриминационную практику, в целом стремились сохранить такие социальные институты, как политическая система, существующие имущественные отношения, моногамная семья и церковь. Их консервативный темперамент часто шел рука об руку с нежеланием обсуждать неловкие темы, такие как проституция, сексуальность и венерические заболевания. В таких кругах присутствие Ницше было явно нежелательным.

Только с очевидной радикализацией женского движения примерно в середине 1890-х годов ницшеанский импульс начал проявлять себя. В немецком феминизме ницшеанство было диссидентским моментом, выражением внутреннего брожения. Иконоборка-социал-демократ Лили Браун (1865—1916) и радикально настроенная буржуазная феминистка Элен Штёкер (1869—1943) олицетворяли эту тенденцию. Для Браун Ницше поначалу означал опьяняющую возможность индивидуальной эмансипации и всеобщего человеческого освобождения, а не конкретное феминистское послание. В своих мемуарах, рассказывая о беседе с Джорджем Бернардом Шоу, она выразила этот восторг:

Воля к власти, максимально возможное развитие личности как цель для индивида, высший человек как цель человечества: тона, которые на этот раз встретили меня в Англии, внезапно слились в один единственный полный аккорд. Мое сердце билось почти до разрыва, как у заключенного, с которого снимают кандалы и чья тюремная дверь открывается, чтобы он мог свободно бродить. Он не видит ничего, кроме старого знакомого мира своей юности, и все же он кажется ему чудесно новым. Я была еще полуребенком, когда услышала первый призыв к личному освобождению из «Веселой науки» Ницше: «Жизнь говорит: не следуй за мной, а за собой! За своим собственным "я"!» Не был ли этот же самый призыв сегодня обращен ко всему человечеству?

Женское освободительное движение Браун поэтому рассматривалось как героический ницшеанский акт самосозидания, кульминацией которого должно было стать формирование сверхженщины. Будучи социалисткой, она также коллективизировала этот ницшеанский акт: как по моральным, так и по политическим причинам создание сверхженщины должно было осуществляться в солидарности с другими, столь же угнетенными. Конечным результатом стало бы высвобождение творческих сил женщин во всех сферах жизни, особенно в тех, которые традиционно были для них закрыты.

Этот обобщенный призыв к женщинам жить полной жизнью и отвергнуть узкие роли, предписанные буржуазным обществом, также был неотъемлемой частью послания, которое Штёкер — самая выдающаяся и влиятельная ницшеанская феминистка в Германии — передавала в своих многочисленных трудах, начиная с 1893 года. Ницше требовал от обоих полов «более высокой, более светлой, более радостной культуры». Он поставил задачу будущего, вызов объединить, казалось бы, непримиримое: «быть одновременно свободным человеком, уникальной личностью и любящей женщиной».

Примерно до 1900 года феминистский ницшеанство Штёкер, каким бы радикальным оно ни было, не выходило за рамки требований, приемлемых для движения в целом. Только тогда она мобилизовала свой ницшеанство, чтобы начать лобовую атаку на общепринятые сексуальные практики и институты. Новая мораль, которую она отстаивала, выходила далеко за рамки традиционного феминизма женской организации «Союз немецких женских обществ» (Bund Deutscher Frauenvereine).

Новая мораль прямо черпала вдохновение у Ницше, который «возглавил великий поиск». Она стремилась к «реформе половой морали», что должно было стать неотъемлемой частью радостного создания «новых форм и новых чувств для новых людей». Новая мораль выдвинула критику как традиционного брака, так и сексуального жизнеотрицающего аскетизма. Сексуальность, как для женщин, так и для мужчин, была фундаментальной частью жизни, законной и позитивной частью человеческого бытия.

Именно один художник в частности — один из величайших в прошлом столетии — подарил нам религию радости, которая одухотворяет, возвышает и боготворит все земное. Фридрих Ницше научил нас, как «преодолевать» страсти. Веками Церковь знала только одно средство борьбы с ними: кастрацию. Ницше понимал, что таким радикальным лечением мы уничтожаем саму жизнь, что мы атакуем саму жизнь в ее корнях. Поэтому он учит спиритуализации чувственности, «любви» как величайшему триумфу над бесплодным аскетизмом.

Как биологический и духовный императив, любовь должна была быть дозволена вне рамок брака. Двойной стандарт, который позволял только мужчинам сексуальное удовлетворение вне брака, должен был быть отменен. Сторонники Новой морали неоднократно утверждали, что между любовью и формальным юридическим институтом брака нет необходимой связи. Брак, настаивали они, слишком часто превращал отношения в вопрос собственности. Лили Браун считала, что дети, рожденные вне брака, потенциально являются элитой человечества, будучи продуктами чистой любви, однако в христианском обществе и при капитализме этим самым ценным членам человечества суждено было погибнуть.

Институциональным выражением «новой морали» стал отколовшийся «Союз защиты материнства» (Bund für Mutterschutz), основанный в 1905 году. К 1912 году он насчитывал около четырех тысяч членов. Помимо Штекер и Браун, его деятельность поддерживали такие известные фигуры, как Иван Блох, Хедвиг Дом, Эллен Кей, Макс Маркузе, Вернер Зомбарт и Макс Вебер. Союз выступал за государственное признание незарегистрированных браков, создавал приюты для матерей-одиночек, пропагандировал свободную любовь и обеспечивал более легкий доступ к контрацепции. Он находился в постоянном напряжении с более консервативным «Союзом немецких женских обществ» (Bund Deutscher Frauenvereine), который сопротивлялся их попыткам легализовать аборты, а после 1909 года отказал им в членстве.

Либералы и основные женские организации рассматривали союз, особенно его связь с Ницше, как оскорбление вильгельмовской респектабельности. Антон Эркеленц многозначительно советовал Штекер «преследовать свое ницшеанство вне Союза». Его критики, прежде всего Элен Ланге, рассматривали эротическое ницшеанство как предательство умеренной, облагораживающей, образовательной концепции личности и как прямой выпад против «чести буржуазной морали». Источник этой безграничности, этого порабощения страстями и разрушения сексуального контроля неизбежно прослеживался в трудах Ницше. Интересно, что были и такие критики, которые восхищались Ницше, предпочитая винить его «ультрарадикальных феминистских» последователей — полуобразованных дилетантов, которые, в отличие от своего учителя, не имели чувства исторической эволюции и ошибочно видели в нем лишь глашатая немедленного и безграничного удовлетворения.

Эти возмущенные протесты против анархического эротизма и имморалистической безграничности были довольно неуместны. Штекер и женщины, связанные с «Союзом защиты материнства», были гораздо более степенными, чем авангардные ницшеанские феминистки, обсуждавшиеся в прошлой главе. Действительно, во многом их ницшеанский феминизм обнаруживал консервативный уклон, иронично подрывающий расширение прав и возможностей, к которому они стремились. В то время как де Сен-Пуан требовала маскулинизации женщин, они настаивали на необходимости полной реализации отдельной, по своей сути женской природы. Бесконечно цитируемый призыв Ницше «стать тем, кто ты есть» интерпретировался не столько как призыв к индивидуальному самосозиданию, сколько как императив к выполнению врожденных женских склонностей. Таким образом, эти феминистки были склонны цитировать утверждение Заратустры о том, что «во всем женском есть одна только загадка, и имя ей — беременность» и что «целью всегда является ребенок». Основательница союза, Рут Бри, всегда подчеркивала любовь и материнство. Браун также постоянно воспевала материнство как важнейшее предназначение женщин и как самую благородную форму самоактуализации. Это общее понятие женской самореализации все больше становилось центром «новой морали». Очень рано проницательный критик, связанный с мейнстримным женским движением, отметил, что этот акцент на чистой женской природе (reine Weibnatur) неявно подтверждает мужское превосходство. «По правде говоря, — писала она, — ницшеанство в женском мире означает отказ от требований "радикальных эгалитаристов". Оно заново устанавливает [центральную роль] биологической функции, а также в преображенной форме подтверждает мужское господство».

Подобно другим ницшеанским ответвлениям, этот вид феминизма размывал общепринятые различия, делая его политическую направленность опасно двусмысленной. Критики были столь же настороженно настроены по отношению к евгенике «новой морали», которая, как заметил один историк, «далеко не просто будучи гедонистическим призывом сбросить оковы старомодных репрессивных кодексов... была прежде всего теорией практического эволюционизма, основанной на дарвинистских и ницшеанских идеях».

Задолго до прихода нацизма к власти евгеника была привлекательна как для прогрессивных, так и для реакционных кругов fin de siècle (конца века). Немецкое феминистское евгеническое движение было тесно связано с ницшеанской философией жизни, что было совершенно очевидно в руководящих принципах лиги. Она пропагандировала «радостное, жизнеутверждающее мировоззрение» и стремилась «защитить жизнь прежде всего у ее истоков, позволить ей проявиться чистой и сильной». С самого начала Штёкер считала ницшеанское евгеническое видение обоснованным. Хотя это явно не было расистской концепцией, и хотя предложенные ею меры всегда носили просветительский и добровольный характер, она тем не менее выступала за разновидность ницшеанской «социальной гигиены», которая сегодня кажется подозрительной. Ее новая этика была биологически обоснованной и, в конечном счете, была направлена не на что иное, как на «создание нового человека. Нужно будет найти средства, чтобы помешать неизлечимо больным или вырожденцам размножаться». Подобные биоевгенические принципы характеризовали деятельность лиги и определяли выбор женщин, которым они помогали. Как и многое другое в политическом ницшеанстве, неприятие настоящего и поиск новых миров и нового человечества влекли за собой своеобразные сочетания и социально и морально неоднозначные результаты.

Феминистское ницшеанство было выражением диссидентского импульса внутри единого политического движения. Немецкое еврейство предоставляет более широкую, общественную панораму, на которой можно изобразить многоуровневый процесс восприятия Ницше. Здесь была важная группа меньшинства, которая ассимилировала Ницше в различные аспекты своего самосознания, а также культурной и институциональной жизни.

Мы должны ограничиться изучением организованных течений еврейской общественной жизни, опуская значительное участие отдельных евреев в осмыслении Ницше. Мы не можем рассматривать раннюю и заметную роль таких людей, как Зигфрид Липинер, Георг Брандес и Георг Зиммель в интерпретации и популяризации Ницше; эти начинания совершались во имя общей, а не еврейской культуры (и рассматривались как таковые в данном исследовании). Конечно, их не всегда воспринимали именно так. После 1890 года, например, ницшеанские антисемиты приписывали то, что они считали преобладающим искаженным пониманием философа — как либертарианского и нигилистического интернационалиста — еврейству его посредников, тогда как в середине 1930-х годов, когда Ницше достиг чего-то близкого к официальному государственному признанию, еврейские комментаторы одобрительно подчеркивали этническое происхождение его популяризаторов. Мы должны оставить нерешенным недавно выдвинутое утверждение о том, что именно их маргинальность предрасполагала евреев к проявлению страстного интереса к Ницше, поскольку его темы были столь благоприятны для их посттрадиционных и ассимиляционных потребностей. Здесь мы должны ограничиться рассмотрением разрозненных функций, которые Ницше выполнял в рамках сугубо еврейского контекста.

Дифференцированная, но в основном положительная реакция даже самых консервативных и официальных органов немецкой еврейской общины отражала сложную центральную роль евреев и иудаизма в творчестве Ницше. Как в своих враждебных, так и в дружелюбных рассуждениях он настаивал на роковой роли евреев в европейской истории. Рассматривает ли кто-либо эти взгляды как единый и связный элемент более широкого систематического мировоззрения Ницше или как разрозненные и противоречивые, с еврейской точки зрения в его творчестве было много такого, что требовало осмысления и могло быть полезно использовано. Как можно было избежать обсуждения и интерпретации таких неоднозначных отрывков, как следующий из «Утренней зари», с его одновременно утвердительным и зловещим тоном?:

Среди зрелищ, к которым нас приглашает грядущий век, — решение вопроса о судьбе евреев Европы. То, что жребий их брошен, что они перешли свой Рубикон, теперь ощутимо очевидно: им остается либо стать хозяевами Европы, либо потерять Европу... Они сами лучше всех знают, что о завоевании Европы или каком-либо акте насилия с их стороны не может быть и речи: но они также знают, что в какое-то будущее время Европа может упасть им в руки, как спелый плод, если они только протянут их. Чтобы добиться этого, им нужно тем временем отличиться во всех областях европейского отличия и повсюду стоять в первом ряду, пока они не достигнут той точки, в которой сами будут определять, что является отличительным... Тогда, когда евреи смогут выставить в качестве своей работы такие драгоценности и золотые сосуды, какие европейские народы с их более кратким и менее глубоким опытом не могли и не могут произвести, когда Израиль превратит свою вечную месть в вечное благословение для Европы: тогда снова наступит тот седьмой день, в который древний еврейский Бог сможет порадоваться самому себе, своему творению и своему избранному народу — и давайте все, все мы, порадуемся вместе с ним!

С самого начала еврейские аналитики осознавали, что Ницше охватывал как негативные, так и позитивные крайности. С одной стороны, он наделил евреев всемирно-историческим пятном. В «К генеалогии морали» «жреческий народ» был объявлен ответственным не менее чем за начало «восстания рабов в морали: того восстания, за которым стоит двухтысячелетняя история и которого мы больше не видим, потому что оно — победило». История Израиля, как она изображена в «Антихристе», состояла из «радикальной фальсификации всей природы, всей естественности, всей реальности, всего внутреннего мира, так же как и внешнего». Однако в то же время еврейские читатели находили в Ницше, пожалуй, самого ярко выраженного нееврейского противника расистского и антисемитского «мошенничества» и самого откровенного поклонника способностей европейских евреев своего времени. Его взгляды на Библию также невозможно было улучшить:

Ветхий Завет — это нечто совсем другое: вся честь Ветхому Завету! Я нахожу в нем великих людей, героический ландшафт и нечто самого редкого качества в мире, несравненную наивность сильного сердца; более того, я нахожу народ. В Новом же, напротив, я нахожу лишь мелкое сектантство, простое рококо души, одни лишь завитки, закоулки, странности.

Еврейское освоение Ницше начало появляться параллельно с его общей популяризацией. Несмотря на его проблемную сторону, прославляющее, апологетическое и защитное использование Ницше евреями очень скоро приобрело значимость. В конце концов, ни один другой современный европейский мыслитель подобного масштаба не был более комплиментарен к евреям и более язвителен к их врагам. Подавляющее большинство либеральной еврейской общины среднего класса было, таким образом, предрасположено смотреть на Ницше более благосклонно, чем другие — либеральные или консервативные — слои буржуазии.

Кто читает меня сегодня в Германии, тот сначала основательно дегерманизировал себя, как это сделал я: моя формула известна, «быть хорошим немцем означает дегерманизировать себя»; или же он — что немалое отличие среди немцев — еврейского происхождения. — Евреи среди немцев всегда являются высшей расой — более утонченной, духовной, доброй. L’adorable Гейне, говорят они в Париже, (с. 262)

Краткое изложение этих более позитивных взглядов см. в книге Кауфмана «Ницше», гл. 10.

В то же время Ницше часто использовали как авторитетный костыль в продолжающейся защите от антисемитизма: действительно, сам антисемитизм иногда диагностировался в рамках ницшеанства и классифицировался как классическая форма рессентимента. При национал-социализме (в котором Ницше стал официальным национальным пророком) потребовались, конечно, совершенно новые формы апологетики и приспособленчества. Евреи подчеркивали свою роль в антипозитивистском бунте и в открытии Ницше и превращали это в добродетель, инвертируя старые антисемитские обвинения: «Сегодня нужно вбить в мозг, — писал один еврейский комментатор в 1934 году, — что именно евреи почти в одиночку выступили за Ницше и против банального материализма: Георг Брандес на севере, Анри Бергсон на западе, Бердичевский на востоке». Было распространенным заблуждением, что «в начале века среди наших родителей были только коммерческие советники и «исторические» материалисты. Все обстоит как раз наоборот».

Это были не единственные общие функции, которые Ницше выполнял в еврейской жизни. Как и повсюду в Германии, ницшеанский идиом, его лозунги и крылатые фразы вскоре стали обычным явлением и применялись к самым разным еврейским ситуациям. У них было различное применение. Они помогали, например, в качестве инструментов при формулировании нового осмысления еврейской солидарности. Так, популярный немецко-еврейский журнал «Восток и Запад» — издание, посвященное представлению по большей части доэмансипированного еврейского мира Восточной Европы аккультурированной немецко-еврейской аудитории — не упоминая имени Ницше, изображал взаимно противоположные, но дополняющие друг друга качества восточного и западного еврейства в категориях, заимствованных непосредственно из «Рождения трагедии». Восточные евреи были фундаментально дионисийскими, западные евреи — аполлоническими, и их взаимно плодотворный синтез привел бы к тому же самому еврейскому возрождению, которое Ницше предвидел для Германии. Ницшеанская народная мудрость также утешала; в попытке дать хоть немного надежды и смысла в условиях преобладающих страданий при нацизме, немецко-еврейские лидеры неоднократно обращались к знаменитому афоризму: «То, что меня не убивает, делает меня сильнее».

Конечно, ницшеанский идиом так же легко использовался для подрыва еврейской солидарности, как и для её укрепления. Так, в 1910 году Фридрих Блах превратил еврейскую ассимиляцию в жизнеутверждающий ницшеанский акт. Настойчиво призывая к коллективному еврейскому самосожжению, он писал: «Ну что ж, пусть будет так, свободное и радостное самоубийство. Ибо я больше не хочу быть тем «я», которым я родился. «Умри вовремя: так учил Заратустра». Мы слишком долго терпели».

Но всё это было случайным использованием. Существовали гораздо более прямые и содержательные заимствования. Интересным показателем популярности ницшеанских лозунгов является то, что ведущий либеральный раввин Цезарь Зелигман придумал часто цитируемую фразу: «воля к иудаизму». Зелигман представляет собой интересный пример многослойной реакции, которую Ницше вызывал в кругах либерального иудаизма. На первый взгляд, это была встреча полных противоположностей. Зелигман олицетворял либеральную образовательную традицию основного течения немецкого еврейства. Не было ничего менее ницшеанского, чем его упор на тихую, размеренную, трудолюбивую и патриотичную жизнь. И всё же, как либеральный раввин, Зелигман считал необходимым быть открытым к течениям современной мысли. Ницше, в чём Зелигман не сомневался, занимал центральное место в этом начинании. Он превозносил Ницше как воплощение современности, не догматичного искателя истины без какой-либо окончательной или замкнутой системы, пророка наших дней, которого нельзя заставить замолчать или умереть. Хотя он прекрасно осознавал более сомнительные аспекты ницшеанской версии еврейской истории, его больше впечатлял тот факт, что даже самый шовинистически настроенный еврей не наделял евреев и иудаизм большим значением, чем Ницше.

Для Зелигмана знакомство с Ницше само по себе было признаком культурной открытости евреев. В конечном счете, однако, его образовательный либерализм повлек за собой отказ от ницшеанского послания. Проблема, писал он, заключалась не в пророческой идее морали, как полагал Ницше, а скорее в её нереализованности. Для иудаизма, в отличие от Ницше, преодолеть нужно было не человека, а нечеловека.

Видный ортодоксальный деятель раввин Н. А. Нобель также в конечном итоге отверг ницшеанский антилиберализм. Ницшеанский имморализм и презрение к слабым были неприемлемы. «Существует, — писал Нобель, — только одна мораль, и она демократична, не культивирует непропорциональный культ гения, не проповедует романтическую, мистическую любовь к дальнему, но говорит: «Возлюби ближнего своего, как самого себя»».

Нобель, тем не менее, пошел значительно дальше Зелигмана и в тандеме с некоторыми протестантскими формулировками того же периода в 1898 году изложил, пожалуй, первую версию немецко-еврейского искушения ницшеанизировать иудаизм (а порой и иудаизировать Ницше). Для Нобеля преобладающее описание того, что Ницше говорил о евреях и антисемитизме, не проникало в самую суть. Куда более существенной была сравнительная внутренняя связь между этими двумя структурами. Подобно Ницше, провозглашал Нобель, иудаизм всегда подчеркивал элемент воли. Действительно, именно этот волевой компонент и обеспечил иудаизму его славу. Более того, ницшеанский призыв к сверхлюдям, понятие развития человечества в терминах все более высоких целей, было основой еврейской мессианской веры. Здесь Ницше и пророки были едины.

В противовес пессимистическому шопенгауэровскому мировоззрению иудаизм всегда характеризовался своего рода утвердительной ницшеанской философией жизни:

Поскольку еврейская мораль считает бегство от мира и отречение аморальными, она создает весьма имманентные, весьма земные моральные ценности. Заповеди иудаизма относятся к самой жизни во всех ее деталях. Он возвышает самые обыденные вещи в сфере религии: он облагораживает труд и отдых, пищу и питье. Каждый еврей, который сознательно исполняет один из так называемых обрядовых законов, тем самым осуществляет переоценку всех ценностей, о которой говорил Ницше.

Подобные сентенции не пользовались всеобщей популярностью. Одно дело — изучать Ницше и противостоять ему, жаловался один критик, и совсем другое — когда раввины, из всех людей, превращают Ницше в еврейского пророка. Истерическая раввинская попытка «превратить немецкого философа в еврея» была не чем иным, как смехотворным, еще одним ошибочным примером еврейского «модернизма».

И все же казуистическая ницшеанизация иудаизма стала постоянным искушением. В 1925 году в Centralverein-Zeitung, журнале, посвященном защите еврейских прав и интересов против антисемитизма, была опубликована статья, применяющая категории Ницше к иудаизму.

Хайнеман применил ницшеанские категории к иудаизму критически. Другие были гораздо менее сдержанны. В 1932 году Генрих Берль провозгласил Ницше не чем иным, как «пророком еврейского духа». Здесь была связь, которую следовало понимать скорее в терминах духовной близости, нежели кровного родства. Иудаизм и Ницше совпадали в своей психологии и этике и разделяли одну и ту же парадигмальную ментальность. Ницше следовало воспринимать в контексте великого западного культурного конфликта между Грецией (которую он презирал) и иудаизмом (которым он восхищался). Это, как утверждал Берль в момент эксцентричности, экстремальной даже среди ницшеанцев, отражалось в направляющих категориях Ницше: пластичная и аполлоническая Греция против музыкального и дионисийского иудаизма!

Для Берля существовали важнейшие еврейско-ницшеанские параллели. Еврейская этика была родовой этикой, а Ницше был первым сторонником родовой этики. Более того, это была мораль, которая — в своей целеустремленной преданности Яхве — стояла по ту сторону добра и зла. Ницше, провозглашал Берль, ошибался в своем изображении еврейской морали рабов: на протяжении всей своей истории евреи обладали первобытными ницшеанскими характеристиками! Что Ницше упустил из виду, так это то, что воля рабов к господству была сильнее, чем у господ, потому что господа уже обладали внешней властью, в то время как рабы оставались голодными до нее.

Хотя большинство представленных выше презентаций были удивительными, учитывая их религиозное или истеблишментское происхождение, все они, тем не менее, были вариациями на консервативную тему, выявляющими параллели и интегрирующими иудаизм и ницшеанскую тематику. Все они были продуктами кругов, озабоченных увековечиванием, тем или иным образом, нормативного иудаизма. Однако, как и в случае с ницшеанством в других местах, реальная сила влияния Ницше ощущалась среди нонконформистских и диссидентских элементов еврейской общины. Среди этих групп Ницше стал гальванизирующим элементом в посттрадиционном поиске регенеративных еврейских форм и постлиберальных способов идентичности.

Едва ли стоит удивляться тому, что в жизни и мысли Франца Розенцвейга (1886–1929), самого новаторского немецко-еврейского теолога двадцатого века, Ницше — человек и его образ мышления, если не его философия, — был путеводной звездой. Движимый потрясением от Первой мировой войны, труд Розенцвейга, подобно многим другим значительным культурным явлениям Веймарской республики, стремился переосмыслить всё заново. Это была теология радикального обновления, характеризующаяся критическим разрушением принятых категорий. Как описал это Гершом Шолем в 1930 году, существовала «очевидная невозможность распознать сферы ортодоксии или либерализма в мире Розенцвейга». Розенцвейг описывал свою работу как «совершенно фантастическую, абсолютно не подлежащую публикации, в равной степени скандальную для "христиан, иудеев и язычников"». Ницше занимал центральное место в неприятии Розенцвейгом гегельянского идеализма и абстрактной академической науки, в его открытии «живого» иудаизма, в его эпистемологическом акценте на «становлении» и в его настаивании на личностной философии, в которой человек должен быть отправной точкой мышления. В 1918 году он писал о Гегеле: «Жаль его! Только Ницше (и Кант) выдерживают проверку!»

Совершенно независимо от содержания его собственной теологии, Розенцвейг призывал к теологу-философу, побуждаемому переводить «теологические проблемы на человеческий язык» и привносить «человеческие проблемы в сферу теологии». Ницше-еретик был именно воплощением такого видения. Ницшеанское неприятие догм и формул, а также утверждение полной и конкретной свободы индивидуального выбора характеризовали проект Розенцвейга, как и лежащее в его основе осознание нигилизма и искушение им на пути к вере. Как выразился Розенцвейг в своем главном труде 1921 года «Звезда избавления», Ницше был человеком, который знал свою жизнь и свою душу, как поэт, и повиновался их голосу, как святой, и который при всем том был философом. То, что он философствовал, теперь стало почти безразличным. Дионисийский и сверхчеловек, белокурая бестия и вечное возвращение — где они теперь? Но никто из тех, кто сейчас чувствует потребность философствовать, уже не может обойти самого человека, который преобразил себя в преображении своих ментальных образов, чья душа не боялась высоты, кто карабкался вслед за Духом, этим сорвиголовой-альпинистом, на крутую вершину безумия, где не было больше пути вперед. Страшный и вызывающий образ безоговорочного вассалитета души перед духом отныне нельзя было искоренить... Для философа философия была прохладной высотой, на которую он сбежал от туманов равнины. Для Ницше этой дихотомии между высотой и равниной не существовало в его собственном «я»: он был цельным, душа и дух — единство, человек и мыслитель — единство до конца.

Если труд Розенцвейга был сознательной частью немецко-еврейского импульса к обновлению, то он оставался глубоко личным начинанием, независимым от какого-либо более широкого социального и политического движения. Для этого мы должны обратиться к сионизму и той роли, которую Ницше сыграл в нем.

Классический сионизм, это по сути светское и модернизирующее движение, остро осознавал кризис еврейской традиции и поддерживающих её институтов. Ницше был привлечён в качестве авторитета для формулирования разорванных отношений движения с прошлым и как сила в его стремлении к нормализации и его активистском идеале самосозидающего еврейского нового человека. В отличие от упомянутых выше кругов, сионисты не были особо заинтересованы в гармонизации иудаизма с ницшеанством. Ими двигали не труды Ницше об иудаизме, а его радикальный антитрадиционализм, его мятежные, переоценивающие установки, которые они могли применить к своему собственному еврейскому опыту. Сионизм, безусловно, всегда нёс в себе внутреннее напряжение — давление в пользу еврейской преемственности вопреки императиву бунта, — которое приглушало этот ницшеанский импульс или отклоняло его в более консервативные направления.

Тем не менее, до конца Первой мировой войны радикальная ницшеанская нота служила средством выражения активистских и искупительных сионистских надежд. В 1902 году, например, будущий первый президент Государства Израиль Хаим Вейцман писал из Швейцарии своей тогдашней возлюбленной Вере Хацман: «Вера, радость моя, я посылаю тебе Ницше: учись читать и понимать его. Это лучшее и прекраснейшее, что я могу тебе послать». Вейцман никогда не объяснял причин своего восхищения, однако, возможно, это подразумевалось в его более раннем комментарии: «Французы не способны понять Ницше. Они слишком поверхностны для переоценки всех ценностей». По-видимому, евреи, движимые сионизмом, таковыми не были.

В рамках немецкого сионизма увлечение Ницше было в значительной степени делом поколений. Первое сионистское поколение, будучи далёким от участия в бунте против либерального рационализма и позитивизма, воплощало их ценности. Официальный сионистский журнал Die Welt оставался равнодушным к культу Ницше на рубеже веков. Близкий друг Теодора Герцля и самый известный сионист своего времени Макс Нордау в своей «Дегенерации» написал, пожалуй, самую яростную атаку на Ницше. Сам Герцль почти не обращал внимания на Ницше, упомянув его лишь однажды как «сумасшедшего».

Второе немецкое сионистское поколение бросило вызов сионизму своих старших, определяя его не как филантропическое и дипломатическое дело, а как императив личной метаморфозы и культурного омоложения. Поскольку еврейское возрождение всё чаще воспринималось как вопрос личной реализации, ницшеанский момент вошёл в немецкий сионизм. Интеллектуальное руководство этого поколения больше не принимало рационалистическую традицию Просвещения как нечто само собой разумеющееся. Более широкое, антибуржуазное, неоромантическое настроение того времени с его акцентом на творческую роль мифа удивительно соответствовало потребностям обновлённого сионизма коллективного возрождения и личной аутентичности.

Риторика переоценки была основным продуктом в интеллектуальном рационе этого поколения. На одном уровне Ницше выступал как модель мятежной аутентичности для того, что составляло нового светского еврея. Robert Weltsch цитировал распространённый парадоксальный довод о том, что Ницше (и Гёльдерлин) создадут более сильных евреев, чем «принудительное возвращение к ритуалу, в который мы не верим». В 1922 году Hans Kohn — тогда ещё сионист — изобразил Ницше как отца новой, менее институциональной, гуманизирующей формы национализма, той, которая «становится вопросом личной этики, личного формирования жизни»:

Повсюду люди ощущают отчаяние времени, лишенного веры или мифа, усталость от завершенности, но они пытаются уйти от этого. Должна начаться новая песня жизнеутверждения и мощного мужества. Ницше, уникальный гений, одинокий, словно исполинская фигура, затмевающая закат эпохи веры, — отец этой отчаянной дерзости, этой бесконечной надежды на новые небеса.

Часть этого ницшеанского динамизма вышла за пределы риторики и проникла в сионистскую практику. Радикальное молодежное сионистское движение «Ха-шомер ха-цаир», основанное в Вене в 1916 году, отчетливо включило ницшеанскую тематику в свой сплав влияний, среди которых были Ханс Блюхер, Фрейд, Густав Ландауэр и Густав Винекен. Оно активно стремилось к созданию сексуально и духовно раскрепощенной, антибуржуазной молодежной культуры, основанной на добровольных и элитарных общинных формах, отвергая любые «механические» отношения и партийную организацию. Перенесенный в Палестину, этот радикальный центральноевропейский молодежный этос вскоре приобрел скандальную известность. Коммуна «Ха-шомер ха-цаир», Битания, постоянно конфликтовала с партийными функционерами, которые стремились кооптировать их в господствующие политические структуры. Они громко провозглашали свою независимость от любой навязанной идеологии и организации. Их решительное настаивание на установлении «взволнованного» (т’сиса), а не оседлого образа общинной жизни как основы для их главной цели — вечного самосозидания, их яростные призывы к эротической и интеллектуальной свободе были пропитаны ницшеанским духом, который они упаковали в культурный багаж, привезенный из Вены.

Даже в менее суровой среде было бы трудно поддерживать такой сектантский ницшеанский динамизм вне посреднических идеологических рамок. Неудивительно, что около 1926 года группа приняла революционную марксистскую идеологию. Тем не менее их прежняя приверженность волюнтаризму и индивидуальной свободе оставалась сильной.

Все эти сионистские круги так или иначе находились под влиянием наиболее значимой интеллектуальной фигуры для этого поколения молодых евреев — Мартина Бубера (1878–1965). Именно через него, прежде всего, Ницше был ассимилирован немецким сионизмом. Его особое посредничество хорошо иллюстрирует как возможности, так и ограничения, которые представляло ницшеанство при включении в религиозные и национальные рамки.

Бубер на протяжении многих лет поддерживал страстные и меняющиеся отношения с Ницше, и Ницше оказал глубокое влияние на его творчество. Молодой Бубер находил Ницше одновременно опьяняющим и угрожающим, но его публичные высказывания были полны лести, а ранние работы пронизаны ницшеанскими темами и языком. Ницше, писал Бубер в своем некрологе 1900 года, принадлежал к тем «апостолам жизни», чье величие было столь же неопределимо, как сама жизнь. Он был провидцем, способным интуитивно постигать будущие человеческие формы способами, выходящими за рамки повседневного языка и стремлений. Он был пророком имманентности и творческого обновления: «из мертвых культур он собирал элементы новых образований в свет». Он «воздвиг перед нашими глазами статую героического человека, который создает себя и выходит за пределы самого себя... Против Бога Бытия он выставил великого противника: Бога становления, в развитии которого мы можем участвовать».

Именно эти ценности легли в основу влиятельного видения Бубером сионистского еврейского возрождения в духе fin de siècle, возрожденной нации, состоящей из свободных и творческих личностей:

...путь из средневекового аскетизма к теплому, текучему чувству жизни, из принуждения узколобых общин к свободе личности. Тайна нового, богатое чувство первооткрывателя, свободная жизнь, полная риска, и переполняющая радость творчества (Schaffenslust) доминируют в это время.

Еврейское возрождение 1900 года было не возвращением к старым традициям и практикам, а, как писал Бубер, тем, что было задумано и возглавлено людьми, «одержимыми чувством будущего» («Грядущие»)

В сионистском видении Бубера исторической предпосылкой еврейского возрождения было преодоление «отрицающих жизнь», лишающих силы аномалий галута (изгнания) и искажений «несвободной духовности» гетто. Это способствовало бы возрождению «стихийного» еврея, способного вновь жить жизнью «безусловности». Источники для этого восстановления содержались в еще здоровых материалах и первобытной энергии еврейского народа. Использование Бубером Ницше, подобно другим националистическим заимствованиям, должно было каким-то образом примирить акцент на активистской переоценке ценностей, на интенсивно проживаемом переживании с верой в вечные, органические свойства нации. Бубер осуществил этот компромисс, утверждая, что только динамическое движение, такое как сионизм, сможет высвободить несломленное, но исторически подавленное «чувство жизни евреев». Такое экспансивное чувство жизни, необходимое противоядие от «чистой духовности» (reine Geistigkeit), нуждалось в срочном восстановлении. Изгнание вырвало эту витальность «из ее естественного выражения, свободного творчества в реальности и искусстве».

Сионизм в этой ранней буберовской интерпретации заключался в восстановлении правильного, проживаемого еврейского отношения к космосу, проекта ницшеанской ренатурализации. Юношеский ницшеанский сионизм Бубера был эстетическим, виталистским видением «безусловности», в котором евреи вновь смогли бы вести свободно творческую, радостную и здоровую жизнь. Даже его концепция творческой национальной жизни была насыщена языком, перекликающимся с «Рождением трагедии». «Искупительное утверждение антагонизма, — писал он, — есть сущность всякого творчества».

Ранний сионизм переживания и ренатурализации Бубера никогда не подчеркивал воинственные аспекты Ницше и не возвышал одну национальную группу над другой в своей воле к власти. Он продемонстрировал, что национализированный Ницше может быть в равной степени использован как на гуманистической, так и на антигуманистической службе. Однако активистский сионистский импульс все больше укрощался буберовским акцентом на святости и, по-видимому, отклонялся в сторону из-за постоянной мифологизации Бубером хасидизма как живой модели возвышенного, подлинного опыта.

Ницшеанский сионистский витализм, однако, сохранялся в трудах противоречивого немецко-еврейского философа Теодора Лессинга (1872–1933) в конце 1920-х и начале 1930-х годов. Но теории Лессинга писались под тенью нацизма (жертвой которого он стал в числе первых) и как последняя отчаянная попытка дать еврейский ответ. Лессинг уже написал ряд общих работ о Ницше, а также общие критические статьи, написанные в духе Ницше. Теперь он применил многие из этих ницшеанских тем в своих анализах и решениях для современного еврейского положения. Диагноз Лессинга относительно еврейской самоненависти — идеи, во многом почерпнутые из его собственного опыта этого недуга, — а также предписанное им сионистское лекарство проистекали из своего рода фёлькише-ницшеанского кредо. Еврейская самоненависть была продуктом изгнания и чрезмерно интеллектуальной жизни, отчужденной от земли. В этой неестественной ситуации, во враждебной среде, евреи обратили свои собственные сверхдуховные характеристики против самих себя. Результатом стала патологическая психология.

Как евреи могли перейти от своего патологического состояния к состоянию здорового самоутверждения? Лессинг прямо ссылался на ницшеанское предписание: «Стань тем, кто ты есть». Для него, однако, было ясно, что становление тем, кто ты есть, будет далеко от обычного буржуазного еврейского самоутверждения. Это означало, скорее, своего рода ницшеанский процесс ренатурализации, утверждение еврейской воли к власти и мужественного, даже инстинктивного активизма. Еврей изгнания должен был превратиться в нового сионистского Человека, выкованного в духе «ветхозаветного, языческого мифа о природе».

Конечно, поздние ницшеанские средства Лессинга были продиктованы не радостью, а отчаянием. Чтобы увидеть по-настоящему освобождающий ницшеанский сионизм, нужно обратиться к восточноевропейской еврейской интеллигенции, ибо именно там он оказал наиболее устойчивое и радикальное влияние. «Ни один европейский мыслитель, — отметил недавно израильский критик Менахем Бринкер, — не имел такого глубокого влияния на еврейскую литературу в этот период».

Причины этого должны быть сразу очевидны. Западноевропейский сионизм был по своей сути постассимиляционистским феноменом, проектом возвращения к забытым еврейским истокам. В доэмансипационной Восточной Европе сионизм, напротив, функционировал как мощная секуляризирующая сила, модернизирующий способ бегства от ограничений традиционной еврейской жизни. В то время как Бубер обращался к постассимиляционистской аудитории, которая воспринимала разрыв с прошлым как нечто само собой разумеющееся, «еврейский Ницше» был предназначен для публики, которая еще не разорвала эту связь. Антитрадиционный Ницше был сразу понятен многим восточноевропейским евреям именно потому, что они все еще активно формировались под влиянием этой традиции.

Историческое совпадение усилило заметность Ницше: европеизация этих еврейских восточноевропейских интеллектуалов совпала с периодом, когда Ницше был наиболее популярен. Таким образом, ницшеанство легко влилось в некоторые основные темы сионистского национального восстания.

Самым известным и активным восточноевропейским еврейским ницшеанцем был Миха Йосеф Бердичевский (1865–1921; псевд. Бин-Горион). Явно ницшеанское название его сборника эссе, написанных между 1890 и 1896 годами, «Shinui Arachim» («Переоценка ценностей»), провозглашало его программу. Бердичевский провозгласил не что иное, как ницшеанскую философию жизни, примененную ко всему еврейскому опыту. В своем радикальном неприятии в ранних работах как диаспоральной жизни, так и нормативной традиции с ее антииндивидуалистическими ограничениями, Бердичевский постулировал сионистскую переоценку еврейских ценностей, основанную на осознанной потребности в расширении прав и возможностей евреев.

По мнению Бердичевского, еврейский религиозный и идеологический истеблишмент превратил жалкое бессилие в моральную добродетель. Не обладая национальной властью и способностью влиять на историю, евреи были просто «по ту сторону добра и зла». Только их воссоздание в качестве национального субъекта, основанного на силе и ответственности, сделало бы их снова способными творить добро и совершать зло. «У любого другого народа национальность — это единственное хранилище, в котором сохраняются человеческие индивидуальности и где индивид видит свои достижения обеспеченными, а свои приобретения — защищенными. У нас же индивид находит в своей еврейской национальности силу, враждебную тому, что у него на сердце. Каждый из нас чувствует это противостояние в тот момент, когда начинает совершенствоваться и стремиться к культуре». Ницшеанство было, пожалуй, самым радикальным средством, с помощью которого это течение сионизма могло выразить свое стремление к расширению прав и возможностей и «нормализации».

Ницшеанская философия жизни также легла в основу его радикального переосмысления еврейского прошлого, его порабощенности историей и постоянного предпочтения «книги» «мечу».

Есть время для людей и народов, которые живут мечом, своей силой и крепкой рукой, жизненной смелостью. Это время — час интенсивности, жизни в ее сущностном значении. Но книга — не более чем тень жизни, жизнь в ее увядании.

Клинок — это не нечто абстрактное, стоящее в стороне от жизни; это материализация жизни в ее самых смелых чертах, в ее сущностном и субстанциальном подобии. Не то книга.

Бердичевский начал важный и продолжающийся сдвиг в (преимущественно сионистской) историографии, сделав новый акцент на еврейской силе и суверенитете в противовес превозносимой духовности и политической пассивности. Жреческо-раввинистическая удавка на еврейской жизни, писал он, выхолостила жизненную силу народа, подавив его изначальную, витальную, естественную религию — «противоестественная» Тора Моисея была более поздним наслоением — и превратив ее в абстрактную, спиритуализированную доктрину. Пророки также внесли свой вклад: их подмена жизни этикой настолько ослабила национальный стержень, что изгнание стало неизбежным следствием.

Как проницательно заметил Дэвид Биале, Бердичевский предложил ницшеанскую контристорию, поиск тех витальных элементов, которые были подавлены при искаженном конструировании монолитного, антиплюралистического «исторического иудаизма». Он верил, что в богатом резервуаре еврейской традиции можно найти материалы для виталистского возрождения, особенно в тех домоисеевых традициях меча и их оргиастическом отождествлении с природой. Опираясь на ницшеанское утверждение о разрушении как необходимом условии созидания, Бердичевский настаивал: «чтобы построить храм, необходимо сначала разрушить храм».

Однако даже для самых восторженных националистических ницшеанцев существовали внутренние пределы и неизбежная ирония, окружавшие ницшеанский бунт против нормативной традиции и стремление к натурализации и расширению прав и возможностей. Несмотря на глубокое стремление Бердичевского преодолеть неестественные искажения гетто и жизни в изгнании, он воплощал в себе продолжающееся и совершенно неразрешенное внутреннее сионистское напряжение между нормальностью и моральной уникальностью, традиционным прошлым и открытым будущим:

Когда мы побеждаем прошлое, мы побеждаем самих себя. Но если прошлое побеждает, то побежденными оказываемся мы, и наши сыновья, и сыновья наших сыновей... Эликсир и яд в одном и том же веществе.

В конечном счете Бердичевский принял то, о чем спорили его критики: после того как современная еврейская нация была создана и суверенитет восстановлен, ею действительно будет управлять тот самый моральный дух, который он так порицал. Поздний Бердичевский обратился к забытым аспектам еврейской традиции, включая хасидизм, а также к пренебрегаемым легендам, изречениям и фольклору. Возможно, они также были элементами его хваленой контристории, путями к утраченным альтернативам еврейского прошлого. Тем не менее Бердичевский все чаще рассматривал себя как историка, летописца, а не сознательного мифотворца еврейского прошлого, и в более поздних сборниках своих ранних работ он часто удалял упоминания о Ницше.

В 1934 году немецко-еврейский комментатор мог написать о повороте Бердичевского и Бубера к народным сказкам не как о консервативном отходе от Ницше, а как о логическом продолжении их интереса к нему. Они достигли точки, «где крайности соприкасаются и сверхчеловек превращается в народный дух. (Путь от Баал-Шема к Ницше и от Ницше к Баал-Шему возможен, только путь коммерческого советника и партийного функционера к Баал-Шему или к Ницше не может привести туда.)» Более того, существовали явные общие черты: «С Ницше и хасидизмом Бин-Горион разделял страсть со страстью, жизнеутверждение... и недоверие ко всем словам, лозунгам и программам». В слиянии Ницше и хасидизма пластичность ницшеанства была доведена до предела.

Но ведь вся история ницшеанства изобилует маловероятными комбинациями и политически неоднозначными присвоениями, содержащими как новые радикализирующие, так и, порой, неожиданные консервативные свойства. Трудности классификации становятся наиболее очевидными, как только мы обращаемся к квазиполитическим, контркультурным институтам, которые процветали в период между 1890 и 1914 годами, и к исследованию ницшеанского импульса внутри тогда еще зарождавшихся правых радикалов.

Нелегко классифицировать мириады движений реформы жизни, которые как грибы после дождя росли в имперской Германии перед Первой мировой войной. Эти группы — выражающие, без сомнения, стрессы быстрой индустриализации — каждая имела свою излюбленную натуралистическую проблему: вегетарианство; нудизм и «культуру тела»; или воздержание от алкоголя или курения. Эти группы реформы жизни были воодушевлены сильным регенерационистским, по сути евгеническим, импульсом и были совместимы с многообразными анархистскими, социалистическими, фёлькише и расистскими видениями обновления.

Ницше был легко интегрирован в эту политику антидекадентства. Его утвердительный витализм, его евгеническая критика слабости и отрицающих жизнь сил, прославление силы и здоровья были эмблематичными для этих движений. Существовала даже иконография Ницше в рамках реформы жизни. Фидус (Хуго Хёппенер) нарисовал обнаженную пару, связанную брачными узами, с подходящей цитатой из Заратустры, а Альфред Содер изобразил обнаженного Ницше в возвышенном одиночестве высоких гор (илл. 9 и 10). В начале века вегетарианская открытка — с ксилографией знаменитого портрета Ницше работы Ганса Ольде — содержала апокрифическую цитату из Ницше: «Я верю, что вегетарианец с его предписанием есть меньше и проще, принес больше пользы, чем все новые моральные системы вместе взятые» (илл. 11).

Если у движения «реформа жизни» и был ницшеанский теоретик, то это Вальтер Хаммер. Его работа «Фридрих Ницше: реформатор жизни и его культура будущего» приобщила Ницше к стремлению движения упростить жизнь и отвергнуть городскую, индустриальную, механистическую массовую культуру Западной Европы. Культура будущего и укрепление личности были возможны только через возвышение над господствующим материализмом. Ницше был жизненно важен для этого начинания благодаря своим идеям и личному примеру: например, в Генуе он не ел ни супа, ни мяса, а жил на фруктах и овощах, особенно на миндале! Как Хаммер писал читателям «Здоровой жизни», Ницше олицетворял очищающую «волю к здоровью». Своим регенеративным идеалом сверхчеловека он «вернул нам волю к жизни». В другой серии статей он утверждал, что такой здоровой жизни можно достичь, следуя «основам масштабной вегетарианской культурной политики в духе Ницше».

Подобная регенерационистская риторика характеризовала и другой важный контркультурный институт — немецкое молодежное движение. Именно там самосознание отдельной молодежной культуры нашло свое наиболее четкое выражение. Лозунг одного из ее пророков, Густава Винекена, — «Молодежь только для самой себя» — воплощал в себе неприятие родителей, школы и буржуазных условностей, а также стремление к свободному развитию духа молодежи.

Влияние Ницше на их этос было ощутимым, хотя, конечно, никогда не было чистым. Выявление соответствующих направлений осложняется разнообразными протополитическими тенденциями движения. После Первой мировой войны мало кто из наблюдателей утруждал себя этими различиями. Ницше широко описывали как «пророка немецкого молодежного движения». Как выразился один из его историков в 1929 году, философ установил магически привлекательные, блестящие, новые человеческие цели и призвал молодежь на ее новое поле сражений (Kampfbahnen)... Ницше — великий пророк будущего, пробудивший в молодежи осознание их ценности и их призвания формировать будущее. Его презрение к филистерству и... к общественной лжи и лени глубоко проникло в молодежное движение. ...Ибо он — пророк той неоткрытой земли, которую стремится построить молодежное движение.

Молодежное движение было попыткой воплощения ницшеанского переоценивающего самосозидания и ответственности, а также попыткой построения культуры через развитие лидерских качеств.

Некоторые более поздние историки, заинтересованные в реабилитации политически корректного, эмансипаторного Ницше, утверждали, что Ницше вошел в молодежное движение только через прогрессивных свободных немцев после 1912 года. Согласно этой точке зрения, как лидеры, так и сторонники первоначального Вандерфогеля с их все более фёлькише и антисемитским уклоном считали философа опасной и еретической силой. Это изменилось только в совершенно иной атмосфере Веймарской республики, когда Ницше начали ретроспективно изображать как самое значительное из всех влияний на Вандерфогель.

Влияние Ницше на свободных немцев и их наставника Густава Винекена бесспорно. Отказ Винекена от фёлькише и националистических тем и его гуманистический акцент на достижении высшего уровня индивидуального творчества эклектично сочетали Ницше с Гегелем и Иоганном Готлибом Фихте. Винекен стремился интегрировать индивидуалистическое творчество в молодежное движение, создавая альтернативу фёлькише-концепциям сообщества. Здесь индивидуальное освобождение рассматривалось как предпосылка для создания по-настоящему свободного сообщества. Проект этого сообщества — как он был выражен на страницах журнала Винекена «Начало» (Der Anfang) — был наполнен ницшеанскими акцентами на воле, самосозидании и мирских стремлениях.

Свидетельства влияния философа на молодежь Вандерфогеля неоднозначны. У Ницше, безусловно, были свои противники. Основатель движения Карл Фишер был равнодушен к Ницше, увлекаясь вместо этого другой, яростно фёлькише звездой молодежного движения — Паулем де Лагардом. Убежденный антисемит Теодор Фрич также сопротивлялся проникновению Ницше в молодежные круги и отчаянно пытался вычеркнуть его и его антинационалистическую, проеврейскую ориентацию из пантеона вдохновителей. По иронии судьбы, большая часть политического словаря Фрича — воля, мужественность и героизм — была заимствована из ницшеанского лексикона. Даже название его журнала — «Молот» — имело ницшеанский отзвук. Тем не менее он считал идеи Ницше болезненными, источником опасной личной и национальной заразы. Он также рекомендовал де Лагарда в качестве правильного и здорового наставника для немецкой молодежи. Фюрер-газета «Авангарда» Германа Поперта аналогичным образом рекомендовала своим членам держаться подальше от безумного философа и его дикого ландшафта по ту сторону добра и зла.

При всем при том эта экзорцистская страсть обнаруживала осознание привлекательности Ницше. Ницшеанская риторика пронизывала атмосферу молодежного движения, проникая в подтекст даже его противников. Действительно, влияние на Вандерфогель зашло значительно дальше. Среди руководства было множество явных попыток привлечь его в качестве направляющей силы. Вальтер Хаммер, например, стремился сделать для молодежного движения то, что он уже сделал в кругах реформы жизни. Его работа «Ницше как воспитатель» (1914) была призвана дать им совместимое и приемлемое изложение взглядов философа. Его двадцать писем к члену Вандерфогеля, безусловно, содержали совет о том, что Ницше не подходит для его юных новобранцев. Однако для тех, кто прошел через движение и имел мужество для борьбы, он предоставлял лишь устойчивый полюс, вокруг которого вращалась культура того времени. Теперь можно было выйти за пределы Ницше именно потому, что время было настолько глубоко пропитано его присутствием.

Такое избирательное использование Ницше практиковалось и в кругах реформы образования. Никто иной, как заклятый враг Винекена, Людвиг Гурлитт, ведущий теоретик движения за реформу школы в духе фёлькише и первый председатель консультативного совета Вандерфогеля, называл себя почитателем Ницше и ставил философа в центр «новой реформации, в которой мы находимся». Ницше был великим учителем, который подчеркивал важность самодисциплины и воли. И Вандерфогель, и свободные немцы стремились пробудить все лучшее «в нашем юном народе к новой жизни — все то, что есть в духе Ницше».

Ницшеанские темы были встроены в философию образования Гурлитта, которая должна была воспринимать и рассматривать своих подопечных как полноценных людей; образование должно было стать делом «радости» и свободного раскрытия «личности». Более того, он отвергал рационализм, порицал буржуазную эпоху и превозносил творческие и героические измерения. Хинтон Томас, игнорируя проницшеанские статьи Гурлитта, утверждал, что «причина, по которой Гурлитт хотел, чтобы ученики прежде всего получали удовольствие, заключается в совершенно неницшеанском подходе: чтобы они тогда лучше любили свою страну и были более естественно склонны думать и действовать патриотично». Но именно эта способность к применению в рамках фёлькише и других структур была ключевым свойством ницшеанства и основой его широкого влияния.

Это не было скрытым процессом. Лидеры молодежного движения прекрасно осознавали необходимость примирения напряжения между индивидуалистической позицией Ницше и растущим стремлением включить его в коллективные и национальные рамки. Ойген Дидерихс считал, что напряжение можно разрешить в новом виде синтеза. Ницше Дидерихса обретал смысл только тогда, когда преображался в нечто большее. Молодежное движение и его импульсы к самоискуплению, утверждал он, проистекали из пророчества Ницше о сверхлюдях. Личность была действительно важна, но грядущее поколение пола не могло существовать в изолированной самопоглощенности; оно должно было быть интегрировано в сообщество. Таким образом, ницшеанская реализация личности была призвана слиться с народностью.

Оскар Шютц зашел так далеко, что стал рассматривать это противоречие как главный источник постоянного раскола внутри молодежного движения. Общим для Вандерфогеля и «свободных немцев», писал он, был их ницшеанский индивидуалистический элитизм и антипатия к массам. Всю историю молодежного движения можно было бы представить как колебание маятника между руководством через автократию и через бунт. Не было ли это, задавался вопросом Шютц, следствием безграничного индивидуализма Ницше? Ответ был отрицательным, ибо Ницше понимал, что автономная личность — это достояние немногих и что великой ошибкой было бы обобщать ее. Молодежное движение вышло за эти рамки, и как социалистические, так и фёлькише лидеры стремились смягчить это коллективными идеалами, которые превосходили индивида. Именно отношения между элитами и последователями, индивидом и сообществом молодежное движение так и не разрешило. Если Ницше был пророком молодежного движения, заключал Шютц, то его более поздние коммунитарные и фёлькише идеи происходили из других источников.

Несмотря на свой острый анализ, в своих выводах Шютц не смог удержаться от гармонизации противоречий. Он сформулировал фёлькише-ницшеанский ответ на эту дилемму! Только лидеры, провозгласил он, имеют право создавать свои собственные законы, но они должны быть сконструированы таким образом, чтобы благо народа было высшим законом.

Большинство тенденций, которые мы обсуждали до сих пор, были диссидентскими, нетрадиционными. Для традиционных правых — несмотря на несколько исключений — Ницше оставался анафемой как для консерваторов и правящих элит, так и для националистов. До 1914 года истеблишмент по большей части продолжал считать философа подрывным и опасным, несмотря на неистовые усилия Фёрстер-Ницше наделить Ницше патриотической родословной. Граф Кесслер рассказывал в своем дневнике, что молодых людей, которые воспитывались в консервативных семьях и читали философа, «запирали со священником на шесть месяцев». «Немецкая аристократия», — заявлял ее ведущий журнал, — «не имеет абсолютно ничего общего с Ницше и его аристократизмом».

Современники, правда, были удивлены этой неприязнью. Как заметил один наблюдатель, горный воздух и отсутствие какого-либо индустриального пейзажа в мышлении Ницше идеально подходили для консервативных представлений. Их необъяснимое в остальном пренебрежение было результатом прославления Ницше в либеральной и демократической прессе!

Аристократия, очевидно, не считала, что аристократический радикализм Ницше относится к ним, и не отождествляла себя с его радикальной критикой традиционного и церковного порядка. Когда Ницше все же появился в качестве представителя правых, это были новые и радикальные правые, отличные от традиционно консервативных правых, возникших после Первой мировой войны. Зарождающиеся контуры этого нового правого крыла, тем не менее, уже становились заметны в 1890-х годах. Здесь мы прослеживаем первые шаги этой новой конъюнктуры.

Мы уже видели некоторые из ее разнообразных тем, сформулированных в Кружке Георге, у Космистов, в аспектах экспрессионизма и проекте Аскона. Но не все строительные блоки, вошедшие в эту конструкцию, происходили из авангарда. Помимо молодежного движения существовали различные националистические и фёлькише тенденции, которые шли против преобладающего консервативного течения и извлекали полезные ницшеанские крупицы для своего дела. Например, меньшинство националистических и фёлькише педагогов не согласилось с преобладающим представлением о Ницше как об аморальном, атеистическом развратителе молодежи; они провозгласили его «королем педагогики» и вдохновителем нового живого образования, призванного противостоять омертвляющим эффектам официального обучения. Ницше, писал Мартин Хавенштейн в 1906 году, следует приветствовать как пробудителя и освободителя личности и души, «Колумба внутреннего мира», противостоящего, как он позже объяснил, поверхностному интеллектуализму и распространяющимся вырождающимся силам александрийского рационализма и уравнительной демократии.

Восприятие Ницше в националистических студенческих братствах — это почти исследование когнитивного диссонанса. Из-за своих четких националистических и христианских убеждений они легко осуждали его. И все же, как признавались авторы Akademische Blätter для Кифхойзерского союза, их также привлекали его антилиберализм, антисоциализм, поэтический гений и критика морального и религиозного лицемерия. Некоторые пытались объяснить противоречия, отделяя раннего эстетического, патриотического Ницше от позднего больного, нигилистического. Эти братства могли безопасно отождествлять себя с ранним Ницше времен «Рождения трагедии» и все больше склонялись к его критике рационализма и филистерства, а также к его риторике активистского обновления. «Здоровая культура, — провозглашал их ведущий журнал, — здоровая национальная жизнь требует дионисийской преданности».

Каким бы неуловимым он ни казался, Ницше стал настолько центральной новой силой в немецкой культуре, что его нужно было как-то включить в жизнь братств. Проще всего это было сделать через статьи, рассказывающие о собственном опыте Ницше как члена братства. Эти статьи обычно переходили к аргументации в пользу избирательного использования довольно озадачивающего мыслителя, который, тем не менее, был «явлением первого порядка в европейской культуре, чье влияние на будущее еще невозможно оценить». Даже в явно враждебных кругах влияние Ницше давало о себе знать.

Внутри идеологически аморфного движения фёлькише некоторых из его самых крайних и антисемитских членов можно было найти по обе стороны ницшеанского раскола. Например, при посредничестве Фёрстер-Ницше влиятельный писатель-фёлькише и основатель театра под открытым небом фёлькише Эрнст Вахлер с энтузиазмом создал образ Ницше как германского пророка новорожденной расы героев. Публицисту Вильгельму Шванеру Ницше показался бы последним возможным кандидатом для его спасительной схемы, которая предлагала объединить арийский расизм и доктрины превосходства крови с очищенным и деиудаизированным немецким христианством. Его эмблема эклектично сочетала крест со свастикой! И все же, как объявил Шванер в своем панегирике 1900 года, широко распространенное мнение о том, что Ницше был врагом религии и народа, было ошибкой. Ницше рассматривал самые глубокие человеческие проблемы на абстрактном языке. При правильном понимании становилось ясно, что он проповедовал то, что Христос впервые провозгласил на горе: благословенное создание царственной расы и превращение земли в рай. «Библия германцев» Шванера, сборник «священных писаний германских народов», содержала отрывки из «священных» трудов Ницше.

Антисемиты фёлькише до 1914 года приходили к Ницше с разных, заинтересованных сторон. Франц Хайзер, будущий нацист, писал работы с подчеркнуто ницшеанскими названиями, такими как «Аристократический императив», которые отстаивали Ницше в борьбе против христианства, плебейской науки и рессентимента «рабского восстания» 1789 года. Ницше, писал Хайзер, понимал и противостоял тем силам, которые способствовали европейскому космополитизму и дерасизации (Entrassung),

Заядлый антисемит Адольф Бартельс олицетворял собой направление будущего присвоения Ницше фёлькише-лагерем. В своем исследовании современной немецкой поэзии 1897 года он описал Ницше просто как «философа и поэта декаданса». Несколько лет спустя он более тщательно оценил положительные и отрицательные стороны Ницше, осудив его европеизм и нападки на немецкий дух, но похвалив его как проницательного наблюдателя культуры и превосходного психолога-моралиста. Однако притягательность Ницше перевесила все сомнения и оговорки, и вскоре после этого Ницше был полностью ассимилирован в националистическое, антисемитское мировоззрение Бартельса. Народ, писал Бартельс в работе «Фридрих Ницше и немецкость», должен держаться за своих великих людей, даже если они стремятся отделиться! Отстраненность в любом случае была невозможна, ибо великие люди черпали свои сокровища из народа, и связь между ними была абсолютной. Великие люди были обязаны говорить своему народу суровую правду. Они могли превзойти своих современников, но не свой собственный народ. Мы никогда, провозгласил Бартельс, не позволим Фридриху Ницше отнять у нас его самого! Таким образом, Бартельс мог представить Ницше как истинного немца. Он отвернулся от немецкости лишь потому, что не предвидел того «более глубокого и свободного» национализма, который внесли такие люди, как Пауль де Лагард. Ницше написал конструктивную, свободолюбивую критику Германии, которая не имела ничего общего с ядом Людвига Бёрне и Генриха Гейне, прикрывавших свою расовую ненависть маской любви к свободе. Безусловно, европеизм Ницше был ошибкой. Более того, он поступил несправедливо по отношению к собственной нации, когда неоднократно воспевал Израиль, полностью осознавая при этом реальную, пагубную природу евреев. Если не считать этих оговорок, Бартельс не оставил сомнений в том, к какому лагерю принадлежал Ницше.

Постепенно евгеники, социал-дарвинисты и пангерманские националисты начали относиться к Ницше соответствующим образом. Одни обращались с ним осторожно, другие отвергали его с порога, а третьи с энтузиазмом принимали его. В самом начале социал-дарвинист Виллибальд Хенчель решительно отмежевался от того, что он называл «юдофильством» Ницше. Позже, на конференции немецких врачей и ученых в 1909 году, он ясно дал понять, что идея выведения сверхчеловека — это идиотизм. Тем не менее Хенчель эклектично заимствовал элементы ницшеанской чувствительности в свою концепцию возрожденного расового дворянства и свои сельские утопические видения. Неудивительно, что его привлек Ницше периода «Рождения трагедии»; он восхищался ранними провагнеровскими сочинениями и поиском Ницше «чистой духовности». Что еще важнее, несмотря на внешние противоречия, его германская евгеника резонировала с ницшеанскими темами: витализм и «высшее развитие», выведение нового и более сильного народа, культ силы и «гибель слабых» — все это занимало видное место. Он призывал к созданию расово-омолаживающей утопии под названием Миттгарт, призванной создать элитную арийскую касту дворян и воинов. Над ее входом можно было бы «начертать те слова... которыми Ницше связал тайну расового разведения с именем Диониса: „Благороднейшая глина, драгоценнейший мрамор здесь вылеплены и высечены, а именно — человек“».

Ведущий расовый теоретик Вильгельм Шалльмайер также использовал Ницше избирательно и критически. Будучи человеком, интересующимся расой, Шалльмайер считал акцент Ницше на личности чрезмерным. Тем не менее он включил философа в число тех, кто способствовал представлению о том, что «мы находимся на пути к прогрессивной социализации, то есть к повышению силы и эффективности социальной организации... и это соответствует морали, способствующей развитию высших общественных сил».

Были, однако, и другие, кто проводил эту связь гораздо более явно. В «Политико-антропологическом ежемесячнике» за 1906 год, например, был опубликован пространный отчет известного лейпцигского исследователя Ницше Рауля Рихтера. Там Ницше был охарактеризован не иначе как «философ биологической антропологии». В своей развернутой истории культуры Ницше делал упор на выведении сверхчеловека и подчеркивал важность неискоренимого человеческого неравенства. Более того, он обосновывал индивидуальные различия постоянными расовыми характеристиками. В своей оценке арийцев как высшего вида, чья кровь отравляется низшими расами, Ницше, настаивал Рихтер, был солидарен с графом Артюром де Гобино, Рихардом Вагнером, Хьюстоном Стюартом Чемберленом и их последователями! Ницше был первым, кто «стал отстаивать тесную связь между расовой антропологией (Rassenanthropologie) и биологической этикой». Представление Рихтера было явно расистским, но не антисемитским. Он подчеркивал, что выведение сверхчеловека должно происходить в соответствии с наиболее благоприятным смешением доступных антропологических типов — предпочтительнее всего смесь германо-славянских и еврейских компонентов!

Самым ярым ницшеанцем в социал-дарвинистских и пангерманских кругах был Александр Тилле (1866–1912). Тилле был ведущим членом Пангерманского союза после 1898 года и ранним, активным публицистом, писавшим о Ницше. Он также был важным популяризатором Ницше в Британии, десять лет преподавал немецкий язык в Университете Глазго, а в 1895 году стал редактором английского перевода сочинений Ницше. Он также был заместителем директора Организации немецких промышленников в Берлине, а позже стал представителем ассоциации работодателей в Саарбрюккене. Ницшеанство Тилле подчеркивало неприятие философом гуманизма, равенства, христианской этики, социализма и демократии и сочеталось с жестоким социал-дарвинизмом. Тилле выступал за то, чтобы «помогать» природе путем уничтожения непродуктивных элементов общества (калек, душевнобольных и так далее) и предоставления большего количества пищи его эффективным и одаренным членам. Трущобы были полезны тем, что очищали нацию от бесполезных граждан. Его книга «От Дарвина к Ницше» (1895) четко обозначила эти связи. Ницше предоставил этику, созвучную эволюционным учениям Дарвина и применимую к развитию человечества. Самым важным для Тилле был тот факт, что, в отличие от Дарвина, Ницше считал новое учение несовместимым с «христианско-гуманистическо-демократической этикой». Только с Ницше пришло осознание того, что новая мораль должна дистанцироваться от традиционной этики любви к ближнему. Фундаментальный урок Ницше для вида заключался в том, что люди не обладают равной ценностью; в то время как сильные олицетворяли восходящее развитие, слабые олицетворяли упадок. Конечно, Ницше не всегда осознавал, что его заратустровский идеал вырос из почвы эволюционной мысли, однако не было сомнений в том, что он сделал этические выводы из дарвинистского мировоззрения: физиологически более высокая форма человеческого существа была также и моральной целью человечества.

Как и большинство тех, кто присваивал идеи Ницше, Тилле превратил его философию в мировоззрение, которое подразумевало отказ от определенных аспектов видения мастера. Тилле, как активный сторонник дела промышленников, считал, что этика Ницше недооценивает внутреннюю ценность труда. Он подозревал, что тень феодализма все еще витала в аристократическом идеале Ницше и что тот не до конца осмыслил аристократию заслуг. Более того, Ницше не уделял достаточного внимания конфликтам между племенами, нациями и расами. Он также был отчасти связан традиционным гуманизмом, который был слеп к тому факту, что только через служение своему собственному народу можно служить человечеству.

Несмотря на эти оговорки, вывод, к которому пришел один недавний комментатор, что в случае с Тилле «в конечном счете имели значение именно недостатки Ницше», является не только грубым преувеличением, но и упускает суть. Вся карьера Тилле была своего рода расширенным и прикладным прославлением Ницше. Еще в начале своего пути он называл мастера «Вестником современной Германии» и воспринимался как «яростный ницшеанец». Его неожиданный роман с Элен Штёкер основывался на их общем страстном ницшеанстве. Те немногие оговорки, которые высказывал Тилле, имели смысл только в свете той всеобъемлющей функции, которую Ницше выполнял в формировании социал-дарвинистских и пангерманских целей Тилле.

Несмотря на все усилия, диссидентские правые Кайзеровской Германии не смогли создать окончательную версию Ницше, соразмерную их собственным потребностям и мировоззрению. Только в конце Первой мировой войны Эрнст Бертрам создаст образ Ницше, прекрасно настроенный на изменившиеся обстоятельства и настроения новых радикальных правых. Условия вильгельмовской эпохи, очевидно, не способствовали созданию столь же всеобъемлющего, радикального и, следовательно, теоретически удовлетворительного описания (хотя кружок Георге, из которого вышел Бертрам, подошел к этому ближе всего). Большинство интерпретаций оставались либо слишком раздробленными, либо слишком фракционными, привязанными к старому порядку или слишком избирательно критичными по отношению к философу, чтобы допустить всеобщую мифологизацию. Тем не менее, были правые теоретики, которые начали бороться с феноменом Ницше. Уже в 1899 году Артур Мёллер ван ден Брук — позже культовая фигура консервативных революционеров — написал исследовательскую работу, в которой указал на элементы более позднего радикального присвоения. Этот Ницше ценился за выражение разочарования, которое испытывали недовольные круги вильгельмовского общества, и за потребность в создании новой культуры. Культура будущего по Ницше казалась единой с требованиями Мёллера ван ден Брука: будущее, избавленное от повседневной посредственности и эгоистических интересов (кодовые слова в лексиконе фёлькише для обозначения либерализма и раскольнического парламентаризма). Предложение Ницше в «Рождении трагедии» метаморфизировать настоящее через сознательное использование мифа было с готовностью поддержано Мёллером ван ден Бруком.

Иронично, но наиболее утонченное прочтение Ницше, созвучное зарождающейся правой интерпретации, исходило не от активиста фёлькише, а от ученого Карла Йоэля (1864—1934), который, подобно Ницше, писал в отстраненном, патрицианском спокойствии Базеля. Его работа «Ницше и романтизм» (1905) стремилась определить — и частично одомашнить — Ницше в рамках немецкой романтической традиции. И жизнь, и мысли Ницше были непостижимы вне «опьяненных» романтических рамок; книга Йоэля была посвящена последовательному сравнению. Жизнь Ницше была изображена как героическая борьба за освобождение от романтизма при одновременном возвращении к нему в трансформированной форме.

Контекст, в который Йоэль поместил своего квинтэссенциально германского Ницше, мог непреднамеренно послужить строительным материалом для нового политического видения. «Ницше видится на мрачном фоне социализма, дарвинизма и пессимизма, от которых он освободился. Без этого Ницше кажется безумцем и преступником. С этим он кажется героем». Йоэль предвосхитил многие ницшеанские и романтические темы, которые позже будут подчеркивать радикальные правые: пренебрежение к системам и акцент на динамическом движении; попытка объединить волю и чувство; восхваление страсти над разумом; и, прежде всего, акцент на «жизни в опасности» и «преодолении».

Что наиболее важно, Йоэль сформулировал различия между ранним романтизмом и более поздним ницшеанским направлением. Уже в 1900 году Ницше был определен как симптом неоромантического настроения, но Йоэль сделал это последовательно и убедительно. Он указал, что существует огромная разница между раннеромантической «женственной душой» и «мужественным духом» Ницше. В то время как для ранних романтиков не было ничего хуже преувеличенной мужественности, Ницше призывал «стать твердым». В то время как романтизм феминизировал до степени сентиментальности, Ницше стремился к мужественности до степени жестокости. Его главной целью была «маскулинизация культуры» — тема, которая в последующем развитии Германии станет слишком знакомой.

На еще более глубоком уровне Джоэл интуитивно уловил различия, которые должны были стать критически важными для политического присвоения Ницше. В романтическом каноне, писал он, не было ничего, что хотя бы отдаленно напоминало ницшеанское упоенное прославление внутренней ценности войны и жестокости. В то время как для романтика не существовало зла, Ницше считал зло лучшим качеством человечества. Романтик жаждал «морализации природы»; Ницше искал ледяные зоны, дикую, необузданную мощь разрушительной, расчеловеченной (entmenschten) природы. Романтик был обращенным в прошлое, мечтательным существом, тогда как Ницше делал акцент на устремленном в будущее, активном созидании: только будущее было очарованием. История для романтика была прикладной моралью и религией; Ницше же был великим секуляризатором и философом профанного и всех его безграничных возможностей.

Джоэл многозначительно, хотя и невольно, обозначил великие ницшеанские темы, которые оказались вплетены в трансформированную правую политику будущего и в безграничную профанацию, какой стала Первая мировая война.

5. Заратустра в окопах: миф о Ницше, Первая мировая война и Веймарская республика

Все властные структуры старого общества будут взорваны — все они основаны на лжи; будут войны, подобных которым еще не видели на земле.
Ницше, Ecce Homo

Современному европейцу требуется не просто война, а величайшие и самые страшные войны — таким образом, временный рецидив варварства, — если средства культуры не должны лишить его самой культуры и самого существования.
Ницше, Человеческое, слишком человеческое

Вскоре после начала войны лондонский книготорговец окрестил конфликт 1914 года евро-ницшеанской войной. Он имел в виду не только резкий рост продаж произведений Ницше. Он намекал на широко распространенное среди врагов Германии убеждение, что этот мыслитель каким-то образом несет прямую ответственность за ее развязывание и особенно жестокое ведение. В Британии и Империи, во Франции и Соединенных Штатах Ницше внезапно оказался в центре внимания. Его постоянно обсуждали в популярной прессе, его имя проникало в обычные дома как, пожалуй, главного злодея войны. Легенда о том, что Ницше был мыслителем, порождающим опасные действия, теперь стала интернациональной. Как писал позднее один наблюдатель, ни один другой философ не был объявлен ответственным за европейскую войну.

Подобные убеждения подтверждали, что к 1914 году Фридрих Ницше превратился в многоликий культурный символ для многих великих проблем европейской жизни. Наследие Ницше было формирующей силой, которая сама постоянно переопределялась меняющимися политическими потребностями и идеологическими обстоятельствами. Великая война поразительно иллюстрирует действие этого наследия. Мужественная поза Ницше и его призывы жить опасно оказали решающее влияние на отношение к грядущей войне на рубеже веков; в то же время сама война побуждала различные группы, даже целые нации, воссоздавать Ницше в терминах, созвучных их меняющимся интересам. Неудивительно, что Первая мировая война подтолкнула ницшеанство глубже в немецкие националистические и правые лагеря. Как никогда прежде, реальность, казалось, принимала (или ее заставляли принимать) ницшеанскую форму, поскольку ницшеанские образы сливались с продолжающимся пожаром войны. В результате обожествление и демонизация этого мыслителя достигли новых крайностей.

Самым простым уровнем ницшеанского военного мифа была его виктимизация врагами Германии в пропагандистских целях. Было удобно приравнять ницшеанский экстремизм к самому состоянию Германии и использовать его как фон, на котором строилась антигерманская атака. Как выразился Г. Л. Стюарт в своем трактате «Ницше и идеалы Германии» (1915), война шла между Германией, олицетворявшей беспринципный «ницшеанский имморализм», и теми, кто боролся за заветные принципы «христианской сдержанности». В тандеме с прусским правящим классом ницшеанские идеи сделали свое дело: «Я спрашиваю вас... не оставило ли кредо "По ту сторону добра и зла" свой след на дымящихся руинах Арсхота и изувеченных трупах женщин Динана?» Негативное отождествление Ницше с Германией и немецким духом было суждено стать традицией, и во время Второй мировой войны оно было успешно возрождено.

Хотя несогласные голоса и выступали против этой демонизации, они, по сути, оставались в тени, особенно в начале Великой войны.

Типичными для ранних настроений были письма Томаса Харди в английские газеты «Дейли мейл» и «Манчестер гардиан»: «Мне кажется, в истории еще не было случая, чтобы одна страна была настолько деморализована одним писателем». Ницшеанские идеи легко трансформировались в немецкие политические характеристики. Харди считал, что немецкое руководство заражено волей к власти. Более того, Германия стала отождествляться с нацией алчных сверхлюдей. Искушенные мыслители, такие как Дж. Х. Мьюрхед, осознавали антипрусский, антинационалистический настрой Ницше. Тем не менее он утверждал, что присвоение идей Ницше привело к взрывоопасным результатам:

Пусть эго Ницше будет истолковано в терминах нации и облечено властью государства; пусть в высших кругах начнут проповедовать со всем пылом пророчества, что именно из чрева немецкой нации суждено появиться сверхчеловеку, в то время как на главных ее врагах в том направлении, где были сосредоточены ее надежды, уже лежит печать тлена; наконец, пусть со всем авторитетом экспертного знания будет объявлено, что час вот-вот пробьет, и нетрудно увидеть, каким, вероятно, будет урожай этого долгого сева.

Во Франции интеллектуальные светила также начали воспринимать немецкого врага через ницшеанский фильтр. Ромен Роллан, например, утверждал, что развитие войны было в некоторой степени продуктом того, «что массы делают из слов мудреца. Один сверхчеловек — это возвышенное зрелище. Десять или двадцать сверхлюдей — это неприятно. Но сотни тысяч, которые сочетают в себе высокомерную экстравагантность с посредственностью или природной низостью, становятся бичом Божьим, который опустошает Бельгию и Францию». Эти заявления послужили ярлыком для всего негативного и агрессивного в немецком наследии. Безусловно, именно Первая мировая война подстегнула англо-американскую тенденцию усматривать милитаризм и империализм в концепции власти Ницше. Сами названия оксфордской брошюры Эрнеста Баркера времен войны «Ницше и Трейчке: культ силы в современной Германии» и работы каноника Э. Макклюра «Вдохновители немецкой войны Ницше и Трейчке» обвиняли Ницше просто за националистическую и империалистическую компанию, в которой его заставили состоять. Кроме того, его часто связывали с главным милитаристом и империалистом, генералом Фридрихом фон Бернгарди. Солидные журналы, такие как «Атенеум», объясняли, как ницшеанская паутина была сплетена по всей Германии:

Мы находим принципы Ницше действующими в жизни немецкой нации, в учениях ее профессоров и школьных учителей, и, что еще более поразительно, мы находим их воплощенными в текстах немецкой военной академии — по крайней мере, у Бернгарди — и, если не воплощенными, то подразумеваемыми даже в разговорах дипломатов с иностранными публицистами. Эта смертельная серьезность, которая может вырвать профессора из его лекционной аудитории и пронести его с триумфом по всей стране — ибо это можно сказать о Ницше, — не могла не закончиться взрывом.

Но если не считать эмблематического и декоративного использования заратустровского призыва в качестве девиза для знаменитой книги Бернгарди «Германия и грядущая война», эта связь — как отмечали многие возмущенные критики — была крайне слабой. Как и вся военная пропаганда, эти дискуссии о Ницше характеризовались скорее инсинуациями, чем точностью. Действительно, порой такая демонизация доходила до фарса. Американский популяризатор Ницше Г. Л. Менкен был фактически арестован и обвинен в том, что он является военным агентом «немецкого монстра Ницского». Современное описание Менкена (1915 г.) того, что он назвал «слабоумной легендой о Ницше», сатирически отразило эту популярную тривиализацию Ницше до «верховного жреца дьяволизма», ответственного за все грехи и кровавые расправы антихристианской войны.

Обычно Ницше, Трейчке и Бернгарди связывали вместе — гротескная какофония для слуха всех интеллектуальных немцев, и не только немцев. Можно было бы представить, что Трейчке и генерала фон Бернгарди называют на одном дыхании, хотя это было большой несправедливостью по отношению к Трейчке. Но было нелепо приплетать Ницше, чтобы завершить символ немецкого злодейства.

(Томас Манн, «Немецкое письмо», «Дайл» 74 [1923], 610—611)

Ницшеанский имморализм, символическая антитеза добропорядочности, плавно трансформировался в метафору немецкого имморализма. Уильям Арчер выразил это максимально прямолинейно. Война была войной против философии Ницше. Ницшеанские предписания не только совпадали с прусской практикой, но и ницшеанские идеи оправдывали жестокость немецкого солдата: «обыватель прижимает к сердцу яростно догматические утверждения философа, изложенные в квазибиблейских ритмах, о том, что сила, хищность, беспринципность, безжалостность являются неотъемлемыми частями этики будущего». Эти слова представляют собой миф на самом базовом уровне. Однако существовали и более сложные представления, связывавшие Ницше с войной, которые выходили далеко за рамки элементарной мотивации негативного навешивания ярлыков на врага.

Один из аспектов истории довоенного ницшеанства отчасти объясняет последующее соединение ницшеанских тем с военным опытом. Для бесчисленного множества европейских интеллектуалов привлекательность Ницше до 1914 года была тесно связана с широко распространенной критикой декаданса и регенеративной предрасположенностью, которая прославляла будущую, катарсическую, искупительную войну. Не было недостатка в удобных цитатах, в которых Ницше воспевал войну и воинские добродетели, независимо от их контекста. «Война — отец всех благих вещей». Призывы Заратустры к тому, что война и мужество достигли вещей гораздо больших, чем любовь к ближнему, побуждали ницшеанцев сделать мужество ценностью независимо от целей. «Что хорошо, спрашиваешь ты? Быть храбрым — хорошо». Ницше, по-видимому, поощрял концепцию войны как средства преодоления повседневной банальности, как очищающей формы индивидуального и коллективного действия. С 1900 по 1945 год крик Заратустры призывался бесконечно: «Вы говорите, что доброе дело освящает даже войну? А я говорю вам: добрая война освящает любое дело».

Не все ницшеанцы были обязательно «военными ницшеанцами», и не все интеллектуалы, выступавшие за войну, делали это на ницшеанских основаниях. Тем не менее взаимосвязь была ясна. Многим эстетам, поэтам и интеллектуалам авангарда война в духе философии жизни, лишенная идеологических наслоений, казалась ответом на великие вопросы времени, как их диагностировал Ницше. Разве не принесла бы война осуществление ницшеанского изречения «жить опасно», не способствовала бы поиску обостренного, подлинного опыта и преодолению всепроникающего декаданса?

Такие настроения были распространены в европейских интеллектуальных кругах. Они были частью нового культурного и политического стиля. Габриэле Д’Аннунцио, эстет-денди и важный посредник Ницше в итальянском мире, писал в своем знаменитом романе «Девы скал» (1894–1895), о своих предках, которых он прославлял как «благородную расу воинов». В других местах он воспевал дикие акты в ницшеанской литературной рапсодии о «страшных энергиях, чувстве власти, инстинкте битвы и господства, изобилии продуктивных и плодотворных сил, всех добродетелях дионисийского человека, победителя, разрушителя, творца».

Футуристы осовременили это стремление в своем манифесте 1909 года, резонирующем с постницшеанскими темами, образами и страстью:

Мы хотим воспеть агрессивные движения... форсированный марш, опасный прыжок, пощечину и удар кулаком... Мы хотим прославить войну — единственное лекарство для мира — и милитаризм, патриотизм, разрушительный жест анархистов, прекрасные идеи, которые убивают, и презрение к женщинам... Мы хотим разрушить музеи и библиотеки, бороться с моралью, феминизмом и всей оппортунистической и утилитарной трусостью.

Во Франции Жорж Сорель олицетворял эту новую политическую эстетику, выражая надежду, что великая война пробудит декадентские энергии и выдвинет на первый план людей, обладающих необходимой волей к власти. Акцент на действии и динамизме, а не на статичности, облегчал прославление войны. Молодой Муссолини, например, начинал в социалистическом лагере, но его марксизм всегда находился под влиянием Ницше, был интегрирован с философией жизни того времени и был менее озабочен идеологией, чем героической волей и витальностью. Это был мужественный марксизм, основанный на воинственном отношении к реальности. Эти категории не просто способствовали более позднему переходу Муссолини к фашизму, они также обусловили его отношение к грядущей Великой войне. Его проинтервенционизм сочетал социалистическое восприятие войны как прелюдии к революции с менее инструментальным ницшеанским витализмом.

Ницшеанство до Первой мировой войны, таким образом, развивалось независимо от фиксированных национальных или политических границ. Ницше с некоторой гибкостью адаптировался к целому ряду идеологий. Более того, он, возможно, даже сыграл роль в зарождении Великой войны, ибо проник в тайное движение «Млада Босна», откуда вышли убийцы эрцгерцога Франца Фердинанда. Его члены, горячие сербские студенты, впитали определенные радикальные ницшеанские настроения и стремились претворить их в жизнь. Их интеллектуальный наставник, Владимир Черина, преподал им откровенно трансцендентно-оценочные уроки:

Мысль, свободная мысль, — величайший и храбрейший властитель вселенной. У нее огромные космические крылья самой свободной и самой дерзкой птицы, для которой не существует страха и опасности.

Ее дикий полет устремлен в бесконечность и вечность. Она разрушает сегодня то, что было создано вчера. Она разрушает всякую догму, всякую норму, всякий авторитет. У нее нет иной веры, кроме веры в свою силу. Она создает критиков, подрывников, бунтарей и разрушителей.

Убийца эрцгерцога, Гаврило Принцип, спровоцировавший кризис 1914 года, любил декламировать короткое стихотворение Ницше «Ecce Homo»: «Ненасытный, как пламя, я жгу и пожираю себя».

Какова бы ни была степень влияния Ницше на сербских студентов, нет сомнений, что довоенная привлекательность Ницше для интеллектуалов всей Европы позволила им без труда упаковать экземпляр «Заратустры» в свои вещмешки, когда они отправлялись на Великую войну. Писатели, такие как Роберт Грейвс в Англии, д’Аннунцио в Италии (война превратила его в военного героя, способствовавшего захвату им города Фиуме в 1919 году), и будущий фашист Дриё ла Рошель во Франции — лишь несколько примеров. Все они могли взять Ницше с собой в бой, потому что Ницше превосходил национальные различия и условные политические категории. Подобно самому ожидаемому опыту войны, «Заратустра» символизировал стремление к трансцендентности, к исключительности и к героическому.

В то время как ницшеанская чувствительность помогала сформировать позитивное отношение к грядущей войне, Великая война перекроила ницшеанский миф в соответствии со своими собственными нуждами. Почти с началом военных действий Заратустра, казалось, утратил свои индивидуалистические и транснациональные характеристики. Ницшеанство претерпело быструю политизацию и национализацию, которые намного опередили его довоенные темпы. Космополитические и индивидуалистические мотивы все больше заглушались разжигаемыми националистическими страстями. Братские транснациональные моменты, такие как Герберт Рид, безмятежно обсуждающий Ницше с пленным немцем через несколько минут после того, как он едва не убил его в окопном бою, становились все более редкими. Французская и англо-американская демонизация Ницше была лишь одной стороной этой медали. В Германии Ницше связывали с военными усилиями и прославляли как национальное вдохновение, воплощение лучшего, что есть в немецкой культуре. Некоторые голоса действительно оспаривали эту тенденцию — из уважения к Ницше или потому, что продолжали презирать его, — но в грохоте битвы они все больше заглушались. Действительно, меняющееся содержание канонизации Ницше верно отражало различные стадии немецкого военного опыта, который эволюционировал от воинственного энтузиазма через недоумение к отчаянию и поражению.

В начале войны британские комментаторы обвиняли Ницше в её развязывании; немецкие писатели призывали его на помощь как самое эффективное средство борьбы с ней. В Германии также наблюдался резкий рост продаж произведений Ницше. Наряду с «Фаустом» Гёте и Новым Заветом, «Заратустра» был самым популярным произведением, которое грамотные солдаты брали с собой в бой для вдохновения и утешения. «Прекрасные слова» Заратустры, писал один автор, были особенно уместны для немцев, которые «более чем любой другой народ обладали натурами борцов в заратустровском смысле». Около 150 000 экземпляров специально изданного для военного времени прочного «Заратустры» было распространено среди войск. Даже христианские комментаторы были поражены тем, что «Заратустра» занял место рядом с Библией на фронте. Действительно, именно это сочетание стало для интерпретаторов ключевым способом придать респектабельности печально известному автору «Антихриста». Эрнст Вурхе, герой очень успешного ницшеанского военного романа Вальтера Флекса «Странник между двумя мирами» (1917), утверждал, что такие, казалось бы, противоречивые книги подобны людям в окопах. Они могут быть сколь угодно разными: «они должны быть лишь сильными и достойными и уметь постоять за себя; это создает лучшее товарищество». В своем военном трактате Карл Йоэль заявил, что тот факт, что немецкие солдаты шли в бой с Библией, «Фаустом» и «Заратустрой», является наилучшим доказательством «идеалистической» природы немецкого народа и лучшим ответом тем, кто упрекал немцев в том, что они «варвары». Другие превозносили «Заратустру» как в высшей степени подходящий для немецких войск. Будучи столь неотъемлемой частью национальной жизни, он, безусловно, соответствовал возможному часу смерти.

Помимо этого, конечно, акцент Ницше на героизме и воле соответствовал вызову, брошенному войной. То, чем Эрнст Вурхе больше всего восхищался в Заратустре, например, было постоянным напоминанием о том, что человек — это «то, что должно превзойти». Война была заратустровской бездной и окончательной проверкой себя. По крайней мере, именно так создатели немецкого ницшеанского военного мифа представляли это своим читателям.

У нас просто нет точных данных о том, сколько солдат на самом деле читали эту книгу. Критики националистического присвоения утверждали, что их было не так уж много. Как бы то ни было, можно вполне обоснованно скептически относиться к тому, сколько солдат на фронте действительно воспринимали «Заратустру» как живое руководство к экстатическому военному опыту. Предварительное изучение военных писем, дневников и мемуаров показывает, что в суровой реальности окопов заратустровская тема не всегда находила глубокий отклик. Было нелегко совместить убожество Соммы с возвышенным ницшеанским горным пейзажем. Заратустровское восхваление войны ради самой войны, заметил один язвительный критик, было катастрофическим рецептом. Если бы войскам не внушали, что немецкое дело — правое и что борьба сама по себе является оправданием, они никогда бы не вступили в войну.

Некоторые солдаты действительно испытали своего рода заратустровское воодушевление. Однако обычно, когда они воспринимали войну через ницшеанскую призму, они склонны были делать это довольно тривиально и отстраненно. Полевое письмо 1915 года, написанное студентом-теологом, описывающим своего командира-сверхчеловека, демонстрирует персонализацию подобных восприятий. Перед нами был бесстрашный офицер, который считал христианство религией слабых и был в высшей степени равнодушен к мнению других: «Я не так много знаю о Ницше, но мне кажется, что он должен был быть именно таким. Я не хочу выступать в роли судьи, но когда я нахожусь рядом с ним, мне совершенно ясно, что я один из слабых». Если сверхчеловек и существовал, большинство солдат не считали себя таковыми; этот образ проецировался на более далекие фигуры. С другой стороны, ницшеанские категории фильтровали восприятие в соответствии с более идиосинкразическими критериями. Художник Франц Марк, например, приспособил Ницше для своих профессиональных целей. Идея вечного возвращения стала метафорой для сделанного Марком во время войны наблюдения о том, что существует лишь несколько стандартизированных человеческих типов, которые постоянно появляются вновь. Это вряд ли можно назвать глубоким идеологическим материалом.

Вероятно, можно с уверенностью заключить, что на фронте «Заратустра» не был так популярен, как утверждали сторонники ницшеанского мифа. Но именно это утверждение имеет решающее значение для понимания ницшеанского дискурса как во время, так и после Первой мировой войны, поскольку оно легло в основу общественного мифотворчества и политической символической мобилизации. Эта пропаганда способствовала адаптации ницшеанства для по сути националистической и истеблишментской цели — победы в войне. Не менее важно и то, что ницшеанство постепенно стало включаться в формирующуюся радикальную правую политику.

Это было новое явление. Как мы видели, до 1914 года большинство ницшеанцев не отличались особым патриотизмом в своих взглядах. Действительно, практически единственной связующей нитью между довоенными течениями ницшеанства была антиистеблишментская, антиортодоксальная позиция. Война предоставила почву для более правдоподобного конструирования националистического Ницше. Более того, она сделала прогрессивную версию менее привлекательной. Освободительным кругам стало все труднее верить, что Ницше все-таки является подходящим поборником их дела.

Арнольд Цвейг — интересный тому пример. До войны он был убежденным ницшеанцем. Ницше был его подспорьем в выражении недовольства вильгельмовским материализмом и филистерством и давал надежду на дионисийское избавление от этого бедственного положения. Более того, с началом войны Цвейг стал считать себя милитаристом на ницшеанских основаниях. В разгар войны он писал, что немецкий дух отличается своей по существу «музыкально-политической» природой, примером которой был Ницше. Величие войны заключалось в том, что она пробудила этот творческий дух. Но Цвейг недолго придерживался этих взглядов. Массовые разрушения и гибель людей превратили его в одного из величайших критиков войны в Германии. Соответственно, он изменил свое отношение к Ницше. Как он писал позже Зигмунду Фрейду: «Вы знаете, что с самого конца войны я с горечью отвернулся от этого кумира моей юности».

Цвейг признавал то, что было общим у Фрейда и Ницше: смелую новую перспективу античности, переворот ценностей, критику христианства и всестороннюю переоценку цивилизации. Но, по мнению Цвейга в послевоенный период, Фрейда отличало слияние таких идей с гуманизмом и рационализмом. Война сделала такое слияние необходимым, поскольку она высветила проблему высвобождения инстинктивного без посреднического контроля рационального. Цвейг «Взгляните на добрых и праведных! Кого они ненавидят больше всего? Того, кто разбивает их скрижали ценностей, разрушителя, нарушителя закона; но он — творец. Взгляните на верующих всех вер! Кого они ненавидят больше всего? Того, кто разбивает их скрижали ценностей, разрушителя, нарушителя закона; но он — творец». (Кауфман, «Портативный Ницше», 135—136)

См. «Дело Толлера: комментарии и материалы», ред. Вольфганг Фрювальд и Джон М. Спалек (Мюнхен и Вена: Карл Ханзер, 1979), 54.

выразил это Фрейду так: «вы избежали его [Ницше] искажений и безумств только потому, что изобрели анализ, а не Заратустру». Когда нацисты пришли к власти, Цвейг утверждал, что в ходе войны будущая национал-социалистическая элита получила свое вульгаризированное ницшеанское образование. Акустика битвы создала резонанс для ницшеанских идей прославления «белокурой бестии»; его борьбы против ratio, просвещения и разума; ...его крайне заряженного отрицания буржуазных идеалов, христианской морали и медленного восхождения социалистических масс; и, прежде всего, его истерического отбрасывания милосердия и любви к ближнему.

Французские прогнозы времен Великой войны теперь сбылись: тот, кто философствовал молотом, разрушил все ценности.

Современники осознавали, что события подталкивают Ницше в новом символическом направлении. Как сетовал Эрвин Пискатор, радикальный режиссер немецкого политического театра, до войны Ницше был «бичом среднего класса», помогая ему сбросить свое «мелкобуржуазное прошлое». Война, однако, породила нового Ницше на волне массовой националистической истерии:

Вся интеллектуальная элита Европы как один человек поднялась на защиту своего «Заветного наследия», на которое они до тех пор смотрели с некоторым скептицизмом... Они восстали против таких «врагов», как Толстой, Достоевский, Пушкин, Золя, Бальзак, Анатоль Франс, Шоу и Шекспир, и отправились на войну с Гёте и Ницше в своих вещмешках. И так это поколение поставило печать на собственном духовном банкротстве. Что бы они ни думали и что бы они ни делали, четвертого августа стало очевидно, что все, что они думали и делали, было ничем.

В этой ура-патриотической атмосфере оппозиция войне на ницшеанских основаниях вряд ли могла вызвать восторженный отклик. В любом случае, как можно было выступать против войны с ницшеанской точки зрения? Пример некоторых немецких экспрессионистов поучителен. До 1914 года их Ницше был творцом искусства, который сам себе закон и весьма далек от обычных социальных и патриотических соображений. Так, в драме Густава Сака 1914 года «Der Refraktair» (Отказник) герой Эгон, нищий писатель, отказывается покидать Швейцарию и вступать в германскую армию, когда объявляется война. Возражения Эгона, как напоминает нам Вальтер Сокель, не квакерские, не социалистические и не толстовские, а ницшеанские и прямо противопоставлены гуманитарному пацифизму. Его возражения целиком сосредоточены вокруг «я» художника. Эгон испытывает лишь презрение к массам, к судьбе которых он безразличен; он считает, что они заслужили эту войну. Здесь ницшеанское возражение направлено не против войны как таковой, а против этой мелкобуржуазной войны, основанной на унизительном поиске наживы.

До 1914 года экспрессионисты приветствовали видения ницшеанской апокалиптической войны, возникающие из сочетания скуки и нигилистического отвращения. Такая война предвещала бы смерть буржуазного общества, из пепла которого возник бы более благородный мир. В первом романе Сака «Ein verbummelter Student» (1910) его главный герой громко провозглашает: «Пусть придет война! Она таится в сверкающих шпилях облаков—: пусть пробудится звезда и разбудит ее от таящегося сна ... ! Народ против народа ... ничего, кроме одного яростного шторма, сумерек человечества, ликующего разрушения—! о, возможно, тогда родится что-то высшее [будет рождено].» Экспрессионисты такого толка стали рассматривать Великую войну как капиталистическое предприятие, а не то ницшеанское, которое они предвидели.

Что еще более важно, по мере того как гротескные реалии войны становились все яснее, многие экспрессионисты становились главными противниками войны, принимая все более пацифистские и гуманитарные позиции. Поэтому было последовательно, что радикальный экспрессионистский журнал «Die Aktion» страстно возражал против военной германизации Ницше. Его редактор Франц Пфемерт обрушился на это превращение философа в великого патриота, на этого Ницше, «чью прусскую и немецкую ненависть не может превзойти ни один иностранец».

Стефан Георге также с тоской говорил о будущей священной войне. В своем стихотворении 1914 года «Der Stern des Bundes» он подробно описывал, как такая война очистит духовно умирающее общество его времени. Однако то же стихотворение давало понять, что грядущая европейская война была далека от героического, ницшеанского видения возрождения Георге. Ницше изображен как человек, который изо всех сил трудился, чтобы предотвратить грядущую катастрофу:

Один человек восстал, который, острый как молния, расколол расщелины и, подобно стали, разделил лагеря, создав Потустороннее, перевернув ваше старое Здешнее — который так долго и с такой силой вбивал в вас ваше безумие, что его горло разорвалось. А вы? Одни немые, другие умные, фальшивые или подлинные, заметили и выглядели так, будто ничего не произошло — Вы продолжаете говорить, смеяться и замышлять. Предостерегающий ушел — колесо, которое несется вниз к пустоте, ни одна рука не пытается остановить.

Военное стихотворение Георга 1917 года «Война» (Der Krieg) недвусмысленно признает, что это была вовсе не священная ницшеанская война. Там «отшельник на горе» (Георг, Ницше и Заратустра в одном лице) косо смотрит на битву и заявляет: «Я не принимаю участия в борьбе, как вы ее переживаете».

Это, однако, были маргинальные отклики. Куда важнее была мобилизация Ницше в националистических и военных целях. Конечно, многие, кто выступал против такого присвоения, делали это не потому, что считали войну слишком грязной для Ницше, а скорее потому, что Ницше был слишком грязен для войны! Хинтон Томас утверждал, что Ницше на самом деле в целом не приветствовался как часть военных усилий, что националисты, аннексионисты и пропагандисты продолжали делать антиницшеанские заявления и что поэтому наследие Ницше оставалось в безопасности в руках прогрессистов на протяжении всей войны. Хотя Ницше никогда не был исключительной собственностью одной политической фракции, точка зрения Хинтона Томаса просто не выдерживает критики: национализация и аннексия Ницше все более радикализирующимися правыми во время Первой мировой войны несомненны. Действительно, эта тенденция была подтверждена и встретила ожесточенное сопротивление как со стороны некоторых прогрессивных интеллектуалов, некоторых прокоммунистических кругов, так и, что более важно, со стороны непреклонных антиницшеанцев правого толка. Теодор Фрич, например, протестовал в выражениях более возмущенных, чем когда-либо. Сам Ницше, заявил он ироничным ницшеанским языком, «должен быть преодолен». Но возражение Фрича было едва слышным ответом на подавляюще торжествующую тенденцию.

Война наконец принесла успех долгосрочному проекту Фёрстер-Ницше и ее соратников в Веймарском архиве. Она была, в конце концов, главным сторонником патриотической, консервативной версии Ницше. В начале войны ее очищенный образ наконец упал на благодатную почву. Ее статьи появлялись на протяжении всей войны. Примечательно, что один из ее первых материалов появился в важной либеральной газете Berliner Tageblatt в сентябре 1914 года. «"Подлинный пруссак" Фридрих Ницше», написанный в поддержку статьи Вернера Зомбарта в той же газете, укрепил восприятие Ницше как воплощения всего лучшего, что было в прусской традиции. Его идеалы включали благородные прусские ценности дисциплины, воспитания, порядка и долга. Это был «истинный» Ницше, который имел мало общего с той версией, которую распространяли интеллектуалы-неудачники из кофеен.

Начиная с биографии своего брата (1904), Фёрстер-Ницше неустанно представляла его в контексте прусского опыта. Ницше был патриотом и человеком военным — во многом отражение собственной склонности Фёрстер-Ницше к марширующим солдатам и ярким мундирам. Возможно, было знаменательно, что крайне фёлькише Эрнст Вахлер подвел итог вкладу Фёрстер-Ницше в ницшеанское наследие в Германии. Если нация, писал он, стала все больше пропитываться духовными сокровищами (Geistesschätze) Ницше, то это произошло благодаря благородным усилиям Фёрстер-Ницше. Ницше Вахлера в интерпретации Фёрстер-Ницше был не так уж далек от героического, политического, нацифицированного Ницше, которого вскоре предстояло сконструировать Альфреду Боймлеру и другим.

Воинствующий национализм в начале войны совпал с семидесятилетием Ницше. Это предоставило удобную площадку для того, чтобы быстро впитать ницшеанские категории в новую военную реальность. Эти размышления регулярно появлялись не просто в академических и маргинальных журналах, но и в популярной и национальной прессе. Они представляли германского Ницше, настроенного на нужды воюющей нации.

Риторика, связывающая германское начало с ницшеанским героизмом, исходила из либеральной прессы. Их связывала утвердительная философия борьбы и героизма, в которой дисциплина и страдание (а не поверхностная английская утилитарная цель счастья) могли привести к духу и величию. Эти трудные задачи доказывали, что «знаменитый и опороченный "сверхчеловек" Ницше несет на себе глубоко немецкую печать». Тот же автор, национализируя ницшеанского сверхчеловека, также цитировал «Сумерки идолов», чтобы обеспечить необходимую антианглийскую, антилиберальную и антидемократическую идеологию:

А война воспитывает к свободе. Ибо что такое свобода? То, что имеешь волю к ответственности за самого себя. То, что сохраняешь дистанцию, которая отделяет нас. То, что становишься равнодушным к трудностям, лишениям, нужде, даже к самой жизни. То, что готов жертвовать людьми ради своего дела, не исключая себя самого. Свобода означает, что мужественные инстинкты, которые радуются войне и победе, господствуют над другими инстинктами, например, над инстинктами «удовольствия». Человек, ставший свободным — а тем более дух, ставший свободным, — плюет на презренный тип благополучия, о котором мечтают лавочники, христиане, коровы, женщины, англичане и прочие демократы. Свободный человек — это воин.

Подчеркивалось, что Ницше был не академическим мыслителем, а тем, кто имел дело с более масштабными вопросами, неразрывно связанными с судьбой Германии. Одним из таких жизненно важных вопросов было значение индивидуальной и национальной смерти. Ницше было легко приспособить к этой теме. Его обычно изображали как «философа мировой войны», потому что он воспитал целое поколение в духе «опасной для жизни честности, презрения к смерти... к жертве на алтарь целого, к героизму и тихому, радостному величию». Эти акценты социализировали Заратустру и, в согласии с мобилизацией на войну, превратили ницшеанское преодоление в моральное прославление личной и коллективной смерти.

Этот Ницше распространялся среди солдат и общественности в потоке публикаций. Он был одной из первых фигур в «Иллюстрированной библиотеке героев»; специальные военные выпуски различных журналов содержали отрывки из Ницше и «Воли к власти». Писались стихи, призывающие людей подражать его воинственному германизму. Было распространено не менее 20 000 экземпляров антологии Ницше Германа Ичнера, представленной как вдохновляющее руководство для великих времен. Темы героизма, патриотизма и воли были связаны с Ницше как великим жизнеутвердителем и пророком великого послевоенного возрождения.

Для определенных кругов радикальных правых, фёлькише и молодежного движения война соединила воинские ценности с видением грандиозной национальной, культурной и духовной трансформации. Ницшеанские метафоры имели решающее значение для этого видения, которое стало неотъемлемой частью арсенала консервативной революции Веймарской республики. Здесь Ницше мог выступать в качестве эффективного противовеса Марксу, подчеркивая культурное в противовес материальному и духовное в противовес экономическому. Безусловно, в определенных кругах этот акцент возник еще до войны. Неоромантическая группа Ойгена Дидерихса, сосредоточенная вокруг Die Tat (журнал), например, с самого начала основывала свой идеал немецкого культурного возрождения на ницшеанском влиянии. Война лишь усилила их ожидания. Ее комментаторы настаивали на том, что через горнило войны прорыв к новой национальной ницшеанской аутентичности действительно возможен.

Для других важных групп фёлькише, однако, именно война послужила толчком к новому отношению к Ницше. Молодежное движение Германа Поперта, «Авангард» (Vortrupp), которое отвергало Ницше как глубоко опасного для здорового национального мировоззрения, совершило полный разворот. Война превратила Ницше в их путеводную звезду фёлькише. Пауль Шульце-Бергхоф (впоследствии активный распространитель нацистского мифа о Заратустре) продемонстрировал новое отношение «Авангарда», назвав Ницше «культурным пророком Германской мировой империи». Ницшеанское самоискупление, в конечном счете, было «самоискуплением немецкого человечества как нации». Скрижали Заратустры были для немцев тем же, чем скрижали Моисея для израильтян. Война стала боевым крещением, которое открыло, что Заратустра — это «великая бурная песнь нашего времени, героика нашей народной души, собственная немецкая песнь героев».

Радикальные правые, националистические революционеры, которые как грибы после дождя появились во время Веймарской республики, отнюдь не были очевидной силой до 1918 года. Тем не менее, во время войны признаки их присутствия начали появляться на культурном ландшафте. Война, конечно, послужила основой для их главных тем и целей. Ницшеанские образы, подчеркивающие мужественность, волю, героизм и борьбу, пронизывали их политический словарь. Комментаторы, такие как Макс Бран, сочетали эти ценности с акцентом на Ницше как на «учителе организации». Этот политизированный Ницше подчеркивал государство как жизненно важное средство для реализации конечной ницшеанской цели — сверхчеловека. Хотя этот союз позже стал характерен для аннексий правыми, их акцент все еще делался на идеалах новой культуры, закаленной военным опытом. В некоторых эзотерических праворадикальных журналах Ницше влиял на зарождающееся протофашистское мировоззрение. Der Panther: Deutsche Monatsschrift für Politik und Volkstum (Der Panther: Немецкий ежемесячник о политике и народности), например, последовательно представлял Ницше как поборника культурной целостности, возникающей в результате слияния эстетических и героических ценностей, в противовес раздробленному, либеральному, интеллектуалистскому и морализаторскому миру. Эта культурная целостность, более того, могла быть создана только через борьбу и силу. Ницше в Der Panther предвосхитил Ницше послевоенных радикальных правых, превратил политику в проблему воли и стремился национализировать ницшеанскую волю к власти в бесстрашную немецкую волю к власти и самоутверждению.

Ницше был одомашнен до уровня национальной респектабельности через его включение в патриотический военный опыт. Карл Йоэль, что неудивительно, утверждал, что профранцузская ориентация Ницше вводит в заблуждение и что «в действительности» он был частью немецкой «мужественной» линии, характеризующейся единством мысли и действия. В этом ключе подчеркивались тонкие связи между Бисмарком и Ницше. Оба отдавали предпочтение духу воина и борьбе; «кровь и железо» и сверхчеловек были взаимодополняющими, а не противоречащими друг другу понятиями. Аналогичным образом, работы Макса Шелера «Гений войны и немецкая война» и «Рессентимент», обе 1915 года, восхваляли облагораживающие аспекты войны, написанные в духе ницшеанской философии жизни. Шелер стремился примирить христианскую этику с этикой воина; не христиане, как утверждал Ницше, были носителями морали рабов или презираемых идей рессентимента, а буржуазия.

Критика буржуазии никогда не была монополией левых в немецкой политической культуре. Со времен Вильгельма в ней участвовали как традиционные консерваторы, так и недовольные представители фёлькише правых. Это было идеализированное национальное самопредставление в обществе, еще не примирившемся с собственным капитализмом. До 1914 года и после 1918 года уравнение «евреи — буржуазия» направляло это недовольство. Однако во время самой войны именно англичане часто изображались как настоящая буржуазия, торгаши, воплощавшие негативные черты менталитета рессентимента. Таким образом, Ницше стал удобным крючком, на который можно было повесить этот негативный ярлык врага. Никто не сделал это более эффективно, чем Вернер Зомбарт в своей чрезвычайно популярной книге «Торгаши и герои» (1915). Зомбарт, как и многие другие поборники консервативной революции, сводил эмпирические социально-экономические явления к гипостазированиям духа. «Торгаши и герои» лишь перенесли на англичан то, что Зомбарт ранее писал о евреях. Сопоставление духа торгашества и героического духа было, по мнению Зомбарта, не просто вопросом индивидуального темперамента, а отражало различие между англичанами и немецкой народной душой. Эта концептуальная рамка имела явные ницшеанские отголоски. Ницшеанский акцент Зомбарта на центральной роли воли и героизма легко перетекал в его гипостазированные типы; в то время как англичане представляли типы торгашей, ницшеанский дух незаметно метаморфизировал в немецкий героический дух.

Когда иностранцы философствуют о нынешней войне, они странным образом всегда возвращаются к одной и той же мысли: война 1914 года — это война Ницше. Германия призвала его, и душа Германии была наполнена ницшеанским духом. Это, если не считать лжи о том, что только мы желали войны, верно, но лишь отчасти. Насколько можно называть это войной Ницше, настолько же можно назвать её войной Фридриха Великого, Гёте, Шиллера, Бетховена, Фихте, Гегеля или Бисмарка: ибо это немецкая война. И Фридрих Ницше был лишь последним певцом и провидцем, который, придя с небес, принес нам весть о том, что от нас родится сын Божий, которого на своем языке он называл сверхчеловеком.

Для Зомбарта немецкий милитаризм был лишь внешним выражением внутреннего героического духа, Потсдама и Веймара в высшем единстве, и «Фауста, Заратустры и бетховенской партитуры окопов», как он это называл. Тем не менее ему также пришлось иметь дело с предполагаемым антинационализмом Ницше. Он утверждал, что ницшеанская героическая жизнь неизбежно ведет к националистическому, фёлькише мировоззрению, ибо не может быть героизма без отечества, а сверхчеловек — это условие национального существования. В самом деле, разве учение Заратустры у самого Ницше не противоречило его доктрине транснационального «хорошего европейца»? Метанациональный сверхчеловек был абсурдом.

Все сторонники националистического ницшеанского мифа о войне были в равной степени вынуждены оправдываться за многочисленные антигерманские диатрибы Ницше. Как правило, проводились различия между настоящим, или глубоким, и лишь кажущимся Ницше. В отличие от Фрича, радикальные ницшеанские антисемиты утверждали, что необходимо открыть истинного германского Ницше, которого евреи систематически скрывали от общественного сознания, монополизировав его посредничество в Германии. Они исказили его, превратив в нигилиста и интернационалиста, созвучного их собственным деструктивным интересам. Другие утверждали, что 1914 год ознаменовал бы радикальную трансформацию отношения Ницше к отечеству. Один критик полагал, что Ницше оказался бы вторым Фихте, осознав величие борьбы и поднявшись на страстную защиту Германии. Для других язвительная критика Ницше подразумевала любовь и страстную преданность. Подобно еврейским пророкам, он был органом своего народа, своими бичеваниями подталкивая его ко все новым высотам.

Ницше был важным ресурсом для создания заряженных и меняющихся политических смыслов по мере развития событий. Его меняющаяся канонизация отражала этапы войны. Сначала, как мы видели, он был великим мобилизатором, обеспечивающим героическое обоснование и триумфализм, необходимые для битвы.

По мере того как война близилась к концу, а поражение казалось неминуемым, на смену этому жизнерадостному триумфализму пришли недоумение и тревога. Немецкие размышления 1918 года характеризовались не столько самоуверенными провозглашениями единства мысли и дела, сколько осознанием национальной незащищенности, неудачи и незавершенности. Традиционный призрак культуры (Kultur), которой угрожает чуждая западная цивилизация, стал реальностью. Ницше стал центральной фигурой в попытке дать утешительное и вдохновляющее объяснение текущего момента. Этот новый Ницше был одновременно воплощением самого растерзанного немецкого состояния и свидетельством его все еще развивающейся природы.

Наиболее изощренные построения образа Ницше, возникшие в годы войны, — это «Размышления аполитичного» Томаса Манна и «Ницше: попытка мифологии» Эрнста Бертрама, которые вышли в 1918 году. Они выражали настроение и указывали на общее видение, характерное для многих интеллектуалов того времени. Хотя оба автора признавали свою близость, позже их пути разошлись: Манн пересмотрел свою антидемократическую позицию и стал защитником Веймарской республики; Бертрам все больше склонялся вправо, вплоть до того, что некоторое время симпатизировал национал-социалистам. Однако во время войны и в ее непосредственном продолжении эти люди были близкими друзьями и сходились во мнении о германском и символическом значении Ницше. Как записал Манн в своем дневнике:

После ужина закончил «Ницше» Бертрама. Приятно думать, что без «Тонио Крёгера» и «Смерти в Венеции» эта книга была бы невозможна — ни в некоторых конкретных поворотах, ни, безусловно, в целом. Трогательно видеть, как она стоит как нечто достойное, благоразумное, властное, неоспоримое, безупречное, но при этом братское рядом с моей неблагоразумной, неученой, косноязычной и компромиссной книгой художника... Поистине, я горжусь этой работой так, как если бы написал ее сам.

Именно надвигающееся поражение Германии обе эти работы фиксируют и стремятся превзойти. Возмущенная полемика Манна, как он позже сообщал, была продиктована отчаянной защитой его собственного консервативного бюргерского наследия при полном осознании того, что дело, которому он противостоял, победит. Гораздо более лиричная работа Бертрама, изображающая Ницше как мученика-героя культуры, даже не упоминала о великом пожаре. И все же его возвышенные размышления были явно зашифрованным, сублимированным продуктом того события в его критический переломный момент. Его заявленной неоромантической, антирационалистической целью было создание «мифологии последнего великого немца», чтобы постичь Ницше «в исторический момент настоящего».

Наше знание «хорошего» Томаса Манна постфактум не должно ослеплять нас в отношении его яростно антидемократической, антизападной позиции до Веймарской республики или, собственно, ее сложных двусмысленностей долгое время спустя. В «Размышлениях аполитичного» Ницше был центральной оправдательной фигурой, вокруг которой он выстраивал свои антицивилизационные аргументы. Его откровенно политическое использование философа было особенно ироничным, учитывая его постоянные нападки на тех «латинян», которые политизировали Ницше: «Политизация Ницше — это не что иное, как искажение Ницше, и если эта война вообще принесла что-то интеллектуальное, то это именно оно: неспособность латинян разделять философию и политику».

Но сам Манн явно испытывал трудности с тем, чтобы их разделять: «Колоссальная мужественность его [Ницше] души, его антифеминизм, его противостояние демократии — что может быть более немецким? Что может быть более немецким, чем его презрение к „современным идеям“, к идеям восемнадцатого века, к „французским идеям“, которые, как он настаивал, имели английское происхождение?»

Для Бертрама германизм был по сути иным эстетическим и психическим способом бытия, выраженным через металингвистическую среду музыкальности:

Тождество музыки и германизма, которое молодой Ницше чувствовал повсюду, позволило ему воспринимать этот германизм как самого серьезного и вечного противника всего, что было лишь цивилизацией... (Идея полярности между цивилизацией и культурой столь же типично ницшеанская, сколь и типично немецкая.)

И Ницше Манна, и Ницше Бертрама вышли за рамки более статичных представлений прошлого. Перед лицом поражения оба делали акцент на парадоксе, процессе и двойственности. Таким образом, Ницше Манна (во многом отражение его собственных амбивалентностей) обладает сложными и противоречивыми притягательными чертами: Ницше расщеплен на «эстетические» и «силовые» компоненты в противовес его «этическим» и «ироническим» сторонам. (Манн явно склонялся к последним качествам.) Его Ницше, более того, становится соучастником в конфликтующем наследии, из-за которого велась война.

Не в ущерб глубокой германскости своего духа, Ницше, с его глубоким европеизмом, внес больший вклад, чем кто-либо другой, в воспитание Германии в духе критики, в её интеллектуализацию, психологизацию, литературизацию, радикализацию или, чтобы не избегать политического термина, в её демократизацию... Мощное усиление литературно-критического элемента в Германии, вызванное Ницше, означает прогресс в самом сомнительном, самом политическом смысле, в смысле «гуманизации» — прогресс в сторону западной демократии, и то, что он стал учителем, — это не совсем то, что можно назвать воспитанием в духе сохранения немецкой традиции.

Личный пример Ницше был еще важнее для Манна; «этическая трагедия его жизни, этой бессмертной европейской драмы самопреодоления, самодисциплины и самораспятия с интеллектуальной, жертвенной смертью в качестве душераздирающего и мозговыносящего финала». Ницше Бертрама был схожим образом охарактеризован этим разладом (Zwiespalt). Работа структурирована по заранее заданной схеме полярностей (культура против цивилизации, Север против Юга и так далее). Ницше становится эпическим воплощением германской судьбы, чья душа зажата между противоположными духовными состояниями. Эти конфликты были воплощением немецкого опыта в его самом возвышенном виде; в результате германизм Ницше парадоксальным образом достиг своего наиболее глубокого выражения в момент радикальной самокритики.

При всей общности между Манном и Бертрамом, их различия дают ключ к пониманию разграничения между старыми и новыми правыми. Труд Манна был переходным документом, раздираемым противоречиями, наполненным амбивалентностью, но тем не менее сформированным старым, исчезающим порядком и приверженным ему. Его видение оставалось квиетистским, ироничным и глубоко консервативным. «Радикализм, — писал он, — это нигилизм. Ироник — консерватор». Неудивительно, что Манн изобразил радикализм Ницше как антирадикализм «в смысле и до такой степени, которые до того были неслыханными». Здесь его «немецкий характер пришел к беспрецедентному первобытному извержению. Ибо антирадикализм... является специфическим отличительным и решающим качеством или особенностью немецкого духа».

Но те радикальные силовые элементы, которые отвергал ироничный, консервативный Манн, характеризовали зарождающиеся новые немецкие правые. Ирония была последним, что интересовало этих веймарских радикалов. В то время как Манн был не в состоянии разрешить противоречия, которые он так остро ощущал по мере того, как историческая эпоха подходила к концу, Бертрам указывал путь вперед, разрешая конфликты путем интеграции Ницше в рамки целостного и позитивного фёлькише мифоса. Стоя на пороге новой эры, работа Бертрама имела решающее значение для националистического присвоения Ницше после 1918 года и его преображения в то, что Бертрам называл кульминационным немцем, воплощением сверхнемецкости (Überdeutschtum). Его Ницше вышел за пределы двойственности и стал одновременно метафорой и агентом искупительной надежды самой Германии.

Аутентичный германизм, согласно Бертраму, заключался в своего рода непрерывном ницшеанском процессе трансцендентности и творческого становления. Ницше был глубочайшим выражением германскости и её стремления к самореализации на всё более высоких уровнях. Посреди поражения и недоумения это действительно было утешительным посланием. Трансцендентность была всё ещё возможна, а интенсивность отчаяния и страданий была неотъемлемой частью искупительного процесса.

Этот регенерирующий прорыв (Durchbruch) мог быть достигнут с помощью ницшеанской силы воли. Здесь и ницшеанские идеи, и Ницше как героическая личность служили объединению мифоса с чаяниями народа. Ницше, восклицал Бертрам, представляет собой «самопознание народа в момент... его величайшей внутренней опасности — и является одновременно пробуждением и развитием спасительных инстинктов и спасительной воли».

«Ницше» Бертрама также служил примером откровенно иррационалистической эпистемологии, которая должна была стать отличительной чертой веймарских радикальных правых. Подобно элитарному, антидемократическому «Георг Крайс», с которым он был связан, Бертрам настаивал на том, что история должна быть превращена в задачу по созданию мифов. Объективность была одновременно недостижимой и нежелательной: ценность имели лишь интуиция и активирующее знание. «Все события стремятся к образу, все живое — к легенде, вся реальность — к мифу». Ницше теперь стал воплощением вневременного нордического опыта, метафизическим присутствием, превосходящим исторические ограничения, и постоянной метафорой для продолжающегося противостояния Германии с миром. Бертрам и Манн подчеркивали любовь Ницше к знаменитой картине Альбрехта Дюрера «Рыцарь, смерть и дьявол», которая в мировоззрении фёлькише символизировала нордическое бедствие и призывала к героическому действию. Ницшеанский миф слился с германским рыцарем. Его качества воли, выносливости и мужества были именно теми, что требовались в Германии 1918 года.

Едва ли было удивительно, что по мере окончания войны и проявления бедственного положения Германии радикальные правые ухватились за этого мифологизированного германского Ницше. Ему предстояло доминировать в немецких представлениях с начала Веймарской республики до конца нацизма.

Этот политический союз был новым, ставшим возможным только благодаря трансформации как Ницше, так и правых. В то время как Ницше подвергся широкой национализации, правые претерпели соответствующую радикализацию, чтобы стать модернизированными и освободиться от своих традиционных связей с церковью, монархией и аристократией. Они приняли оппозиционную динамику, повестка которой могла быть обогащена выборочным заимствованием из ницшеанской вселенной. Война и ее непосредственные последствия несомненно завершили эту взаимозависимую трансформацию. Старое напряжение между истеблишментом правых и подрывным Ницше было стерто. Оба теперь были радикальными диссидентами, презирающими статус-кво и находящимися в поиске революционного, но еще не классифицируемого будущего. Оба способствовали и отражали все более жестокую атмосферу Веймарской республики.

Нам не нужно тратить много времени на установление центральной роли Ницше для веймарских радикальных правых в период между 1918 и 1933 годами. Несмотря на несколько инакомыслящих голосов, он был их самым авторитетным и вдохновляющим источником. Как выразился их сочувствующий летописец Армин Молер, «консервативная революция» была бы «немыслима» без Ницше. В его многогранных трудах новые правые обнаружили удивительно пластичный, почти неисчерпаемый источник для формулирования радикального мировоззрения и для определения как своих врагов, так и позитивных идеалов. В 1931 году Фридрих Хильшер, активный публицист радикальных правых, подытожил многочисленные функции Ницше для этой политической вселенной: «Ницше стоит как вопрошающий, как борец, как одиночка. Он выступает за Рейх как защитник прошлого, как сокрушитель настоящего, как преобразователь будущего».

Ницше предоставил важные инструменты для тем, которые отличали

яростную критику веймарского либерализма, марксизма и массовой культуры; а также контуры для его героического, постбуржуазного Нового Человека будущего.

Пожалуй, самое важное: Ницше снабдил правых самым плодовитым арсеналом для философии жизни, переживающей беспрецедентную политизацию. Радикальные правые постоянно повторяли переоцененное ницшеанское видение постранционального, постхристианского общественного порядка «по ту сторону добра и зла». Более того, Ницше предоставил виталистские критерии для выявления здоровых, жизнеутверждающих сил и диагностики тех декадентских и вырожденческих элементов, враждебных жизни (Lebensfeindlich), которые считались недостойными продолжения.

В период радикальных потрясений и поляризации детальные проекты идеального будущего ницшеанского порядка множились как грибы. Масштабный труд Фридриха Месса 1930 года «Ницше: Законодатель» был лишь самым систематизированным из множества подобных начинаний. «Подобно тому как каноническое право происходило из Библии и трудов отцов Церкви, — провозглашал Месс, — так и lex Futurana Europearum должно быть построено на мудрости Ницше». В подобных комментариях — а позднее и в нацистских — была сформулирована новая концепция права и морали. Ницшеанская юриспруденция, настаивал Месс, не была ни абстрактной, ни кодификацией неизменного разума, но функцией того, что возвышает жизнь. И право, и мораль представлялись инструментами в жизни народа, поставленными на службу нуждам нации (или расы). Борьба за национальное самоутверждение и повышение мощи была источником как права, так и морали, и менялась в соответствии с меняющимися потребностями. Ницшеанское право было динамичным, а не статичным. В каждой такой интерпретации ницшеанское общество представлялось в антитрансцендентных терминах: имманентным, ренатурализованным и деморализованным.

Этот антикультурный Ницше немедленно сделал анахронизмом обращение Германа Гессе в 1919 году к иному пониманию философа. Его «Возвращение Заратустры» было облечено в довоенный культурный язык образования (бильдунга), обращаясь к немецкой молодежи через эту традицию критической мысли. Но в крайне политизированном, поляризованном послевоенном климате Веймара старый нонконформистский, либертарианский и интернационалистский Ницше утратил свой резонанс. Несмотря на некоторые противоречивые свидетельства (встревоженная Фёрстер-Ницше отмечала, что когда разразилась революция, около 25 000 экземпляров дешевого издания «Заратустры» были распроданы за четыре недели!), его уже заменил совсем другой Заратустра правого толка.

Нового Заратустру следует рассматривать в контексте определенной брутализации, которая выплеснулась из войны и стала неотъемлемой частью послевоенных настроений. Последующее обесценивание жизни, привнесение большей лингвистической и физической жестокости в общественную сферу и деперсонализация, возможно, были общеевропейским явлением, но в Германии оно усугублялось поражением, революцией и затяжным социально-экономическим кризисом. Это все больше создавало пространство для политически экстремистских альтернатив.

Само собой разумеется, что как радикальные правые, так и эта брутализация возникли бы и без Ницше. Социал-дарвинизм, доктрины насилия, антисемитизм и расизм были вполне независимыми факторами влияния. Но Ницше мог обеспечить как философскую легитимность, так и более широкое видение, с помощью которого можно было направлять подобные настроения. Это также включало процесс постоянного избирательного заимствования и переосмысления — придание Ницше требуемой брутализированной формы.

С 1918 по 1933 год правые насчитывали более 550 клубов и 530 журналов. Радикальные правые никогда не были монолитными и варьировались от якобы консервативной Немецкой национальной народной партии до нацистов, но они никогда не ограничивались какой-либо одной политической партией. Хотя это была податливая чувствительность, совместимая с большим количеством организационных принадлежностей и идеологий, даже в своих более скромных и консервативных формах Ницше играл руководящую роль. Всегда находились те, кто оставался подозрительным. Тем не менее он оставался ключевой фигурой для многочисленных кругов фёлькише; дионисийских иррационалистов; некоторых экспрессионистов; культурных и политических регенерационистов, связанных с Ойгеном Дидериксом и Гансом Фрайером; различных ответвлений немецкого молодежного движения; и даже элитарных христианских радикальных правых, таких как Эдгар Юнг.

Веймарский архив играл ключевую роль в этой конструкции радикальных правых. Его ницшеанство распространялось через публикации и празднества, в которых участвовали такие светила, как Освальд Шпенглер. Один встревоженный наблюдатель метко подытожил результат в 1932 году: «Внутри Архива все, от привратника до главы, — нацисты». Но проникновение Ницше в немецкую политическую культуру всегда было гораздо более широким и спонтанным, чем это единственное институциональное выражение. Поэтому мы должны вернуться к наиболее радикальным и симптоматичным из этих послевоенных извержений новых правых.

Эти извержения наиболее отчетливо проявлялись в их позитивных представлениях и идеальных типах. Для Гитлера и Муссолини, например, война и конфликт стали нормативными, моделью для повседневной жизни и политики. Политические обстоятельства теперь предоставляли реальные выходы для насилия. В некотором смысле фрайкоры, состоявшие из солдат, которые продолжали сражаться после окончания войны, были самым ранним политическим проявлением обновленной националистически-нигилистической ницшеанской практики. Она воплощала возглас Заратустры о том, что добрая война освящает любое дело. Члены фрайкоров описывали себя в карикатурных ницшеанских терминах: отряд безжалостных людей, влюбленных в борьбу и действие ради самого действия, чья задача состояла в том, чтобы «стать твердыми» и «жить опасно». Будучи ярыми националистами и антибольшевиками, они, тем не менее, считали себя лишенными идеологии. «Чего мы хотели, мы не знали, — писал Эрнст фон Саломон, певец фрайкоров и соучастник убийства Вальтера Ратенау, — а чего мы знали, того мы не хотели. Война и приключения, восстание и разрушение, и неизвестная, мучительная... тоска». Они изображали себя уникально сформированным сообществом в новой форме человеческой связи, закаленным окопным опытом. Послевоенная эпоха, как заявил Саломон в 1930 году, «создала уникальную новую расу, новый тип воина. Никакой порядок не может терпеть их, но никакой не может быть создан без них». Довоенное стремление к моральному и личностному очищению, к преодолению буржуазного недомогания и сопутствующего ему лицемерия все чаще заменялось видением высвобождения инстинктов.

В 1930 году Вернер Бест, ставший впоследствии важным функционером в деле истребления европейского еврейства, сформулировал это ницшеанское видение в терминах того, что, по его мнению, должно было стать судебной нормой будущего. Война, писал он, не была грехом против природы, и не существовало универсального закона, превосходящего права наций, как того хотел бы либеральный рационалист. Война не противоречила жизни, а была, по сути, ее самым существенным элементом. У жизни, в конце концов, не было конечной цели — и здесь Бест сослался на изречение Ницше: «Если бы у мира была цель, она должна была быть достигнута». Оставалась лишь вечная, динамичная борьба и необходимость перед лицом этого нигилистического затруднения принять позицию «героического реализма». Эта позиция, преодолевающая нигилизм через волю, сформировала центр нацистской трансформации Ницше в 1931 году в мыслителя великой политики, чья воля к власти открыла великую постлиберальную, постбуржуазную эпоху. Она также сформировала философскую основу приверженности Хайдеггера радикальным правым в начале 1930-х годов.

Множество призывов к жесткой, мужественной элите для решения послевоенного положения было пропитано ницшеанским словарем. Разворачивающееся видение Освальда Шпенглера о неоварварской элите, его призыв 1931 года к «хищному зверю» (Raubtier), чья воля еще не была кастрирована феминизирующим влиянием буржуазной и христианской морали, было лишь одной из вариаций на эту тему.

Тем не менее веймарские радикальные правые смягчили это присвоение двумя характерными и взаимосвязанными способами. Во-первых, они фундаментально трансформировали ницшеанский индивидуализм. Новый человек Ницше перестал быть одиноким или даже обладать уникальными характеристиками и вместо этого стал почти полностью типизированным. Эта деперсонализация была еще одним симптомом вышеупомянутой брутализации. Во-вторых, динамика Ницше также была регламентирована, подчинена служению жестко контролируемой нации. Эти процессы формирования были необходимы, прежде чем Ницше можно было сделать полезным для радикальных правых.

Эрнст Юнгер лучше всего иллюстрирует эти тенденции. Он сформулировал видение неприкрытой ницшеанской динамики, борьбы, ведущейся как эстетическая и искупительная мужская форма созидания. В своих весьма популярных работах — прежде всего в книге 1919 года «В стальных грозах» — он изобразил свое видение насилия. Более того, Юнгер перенес трепет перед насилием с поля боя в гражданскую жизнь. Но, подобно всем немецким радикально-правым ницшеанцам, он влил свою эстетику послевоенного ницшеанского человека в абстрактную форму и укротил его в рамках более крупных, поддающихся контролю структур. Когда Заратустра Юнгера вышел из окопов, его уникальное лицо превратилось во взаимозаменяемый винтик. Мало различий между этим и гитлеровским физическим описанием новоявленного штурмового пионера, который должен был составить элиту Центральной Европы. Это абстрактная новая раса, характеризующаяся не только своей жесткой волей, но и собственной стереотипной физиономией: «Гибкое, худощавое, жилистое тело, лицо с сильными чертами, глаза, закаленные тысячью потрясений под каской [в бою]».

Индивидуалистическая ницшеанская динамика отступает, поскольку Юнгер помещает своего бойца в национальные и индустриальные рамки, в мобилизованное общество, где энергия и динамизм войны разряжаются через дисциплинированное, послушное подчинение.

Это подчинение происходило в рамках явно модернизирующегося индустриального контекста, весьма далекого от старых консервативных образов ретроградного, деревенского пасторализма. Джеффри Херф проницательно продемонстрировал, как радикально-правые Веймарской республики включили новое индустриальное и технологическое измерение в свое мировоззрение. Ницше — несмотря на его совершенно неиндустриальный заратустровский ландшафт — сыграл решающую роль в этом упражнении. Юнгер выразил это так:

Да, машина прекрасна; ее красота самоочевидна для каждого, кто любит жизнь во всей ее полноте и силе. Ницше вполне мог писать о машине (хотя ей еще не было места в его ренессансном ландшафте), когда утверждал, что жизнь — это нечто большее, чем жалкая дарвиновская борьба за существование, но воля к более высоким и глубоким целям. Машина должна стать чем-то большим, чем просто средством производства для удовлетворения наших жалких базовых потребностей; она должна давать нам более высокое и глубокое удовлетворение. Когда она начнет это делать, многие вопросы будут решены; художник-творец внезапно воспримет машину не как прагматичный набор железных деталей, а как целостность; а стратег будет освобожден от чар войны производства. Эти люди будут столь же активны, как любой техник или социалист в этом процессе решения.

Наиболее последовательный пример попытки представить Ницше как философа как технической, так и даже посттехнической эпохи содержался в томе Георга Фёрстера 1930 года «Воля к власти и мир машин». Здесь не было эстетического ренессансного ландшафта. Ницше был не трагически разорванным, одиноким мыслителем, а жгуче актуальным «посредником технологий, пионером машины, глашатаем новой сверхъестественной реальности». Фёрстер прямо стремился модернизировать и коллективизировать ницшеанскую волю к власти в индустриальных рамках, связывая рождение сверхчеловека с творческим овладением технологиями и возможностью планетарного контроля. Материальная основа сверхлюдей «это не бледная, самореферентная... мысль, а железный мир технологий». Рабочий Юнгера аналогичным образом не имел ничего общего с традиционным феодальным порядком в смысле девятнадцатого века. Юнгер представлял его как нового человека, который не будет воспринимать себя как цель, а только как средство, носитель стихийной воли к власти.

Подобные размышления появлялись по всей Веймарской республике, несмотря на критику, которую вызывал брак Ницше и технологий. С самого начала скептики отмечали, что нельзя усидеть на двух стульях. У человека был «выбор: жить (или, скорее, умереть) дионисийским образом без технологий или жить технологически упорядоченной жизнью без дионисийского начала. Никакой синтез здесь невозможен».

Однако это было не самое лучшее время для скептиков. В самом деле, Ницше не только подпитывал позитивные революционные образы обновленного человечества, бытовавшие у правых, но, что, возможно, имело более роковые последствия, — и их антитезы. Политизированная ницшеанская философия жизни могла легко использоваться для выявления рессентимента и врагов жизни, а также для предписания соответствующих безжалостных мер по борьбе с ними. Она обрела новую значимость в дезориентированном обществе, где понятия регенерации и дегенерации стали расхожей монетой, а требование решительных действий против внешних и внутренних врагов звучало все более пронзительно.

Более известные фигуры радикальных правых, такие теоретики, как Шпенглер и Мёллер ван ден Брук, обычно обозначали врага архетипически, на чем и останавливались. Вездесущий «буржуа» Юнгера — самый очевидный тому пример. Однако нам следует обратить внимание на настоящий взрыв менее известной литературы по расовой гигиене, антисемитской и антикоммунистической направленности, которая распространялась на всех уровнях веймарского общества и которую продвигали не только нацисты. Она появлялась не только в виде грубых, параноидальных уличных брошюр, но и в более изощренной форме, проникая в якобы возвышенный мир науки. Многие из этих настроений, несомненно, возникли бы в любом случае, но ницшеанское обоснование придало им более широкий смысл и определенную легитимность. Тем, кто в этом нуждался, Ницше предоставил словарь, который сделал веймарские импульсы к дегуманизации респектабельными.

Новая практика навешивания ярлыков на политических врагов, нежелательных аутсайдеров и девиантов как на «недочеловеков» служит одним из лингвистических примеров такой дегуманизации. Это слово, правда, появилось еще в конце XVIII века, и Ницше использовал его редко и в совершенно ином контексте. Однако в Веймарской республике его брутализированные коннотации и связь с родственным ницшеанским «сверхчеловеком» и антиэгалитаризмом были очевидны. Эти связи действительно были доведены до своего логического завершения при нацистах несколько лет спустя.

Виталистский имморализм был в высшей степени пригоден для послевоенного подъема, пропагандирующего расистские и евгенические варианты. Брошюра Эрнста Манна 1920 года «Мораль силы» типизировала эту тенденцию в ее наиболее вопиющей форме. «Хорошо то, — писал он в унисон с Ницше, — что увеличивает умственную и физическую силу народа. Зло — это то, что ослабляет [такую] силу». Здесь призывы Ницше предотвращать деторождение антижизненных элементов и его пропаганда эвтаназии пересказаны настолько грубо, насколько это возможно. «Всех слабаков и больных, — писал Манн, — нужно истребить». Он включил сюда больных туберкулезом и психически больных, всех калек и слепых; все те, кто придавал обществу пессимистический тон и был неспособен внести свой вклад в жизнь общества, должны были расстаться с жизнью. Их уничтожение было предпосылкой для развития здоровых, сильных людей. «Мужественные мужчины» были самыми ценными членами — поэтому гомосексуалисты должны были быть уничтожены. Как и в природе, человеческий хищный зверь должен был действовать как «полиция здоровья» (Gesundsheitspolizei): истребительный инстинкт сильных должен был утвердить свою мораль над своими слабыми, охваченными рессентиментом подрывателями.

Брутализация означала как расширение, так и радикализацию сферы исключения. Название нацистской работы Франца Хайзера 1926 года «Еврейский вопрос с точки зрения морали господ» говорит само за себя. В ней пропагандировалось буквальное и операционализированное прочтение того, что Ницше сказал в «Антихристе» и «К генеалогии морали» о еврейской денатурализации всех ценностей, самой морали. Дегенерация и расовый хаос Веймара и Европы были результатом еврейского правления и сопутствующего ослабления «человека-господина». Возвращение изначального «человека-господина» и его возвышение до статуса земного «сверхчеловека» было биологическим императивом. Для достижения этого был необходим масштабный ницшеанский пожар между арийскими нордическими народами и их еврейскими и другими врагами.

Работы, подобные этой и книге Арно Шикеданца 1927 года «Социальный паразитизм в жизни народов», делали такую философию жизни все более суровой и апокалиптической. Мир балансировал между силами здорового арийского света и семитской тьмы. Ницшеанский императив «быть собой» был призван стать священным краеугольным камнем фундаментального противостояния: «Мы стоим, — писал Шикеданц, — на пороге мировых перемен. Если природа иудаизма — это непрерывное разрушение, то наша — возвышение жизни. Существует только один "священный" закон бытия: быть тем, что мы есть!»

Степень, в которой поздневеймарский антисемитизм резонировал с ницшеанскими темами и вдохновением, была совершенно необычайной, отметил один пораженный еврейский комментатор. Дискуссии о еврейском вопросе включали в себя сильно отредактированные подборки (естественно, из «Антихриста» и «К генеалогии морали»!), сопровождавшиеся комментариями о том, что эти отрывки доказывают, что Ницше был самым радикальным антиеврейским мыслителем, которого только можно вообразить.

Эти трактаты, как правило, ассоциировались с лобовыми атаками на традиционные и кантовские представления о морали. Зависимость от этической совести, писал некий Рудольф Клагес в 1918 году, есть «клеймо тех... кого Ницше называл "людьми-рабами". ... Антрополог признает в феномене морали только один фактор: духовное выражение неполноценной крови... Но принцип всякого греха против жизни — это так называемый категорический императив. Учитель морали бессознательно является систематическим грешником против жизни».

Такого рода мышление проникло и в более ученые круги. Один журнал приветствовал Ницше как основателя расовой гигиены и за его полезность в классовой борьбе. Как выразился Э. Кирхнер, «враждебность» Ницше «по отношению к пролетариату» была жизненно важным и здоровым ответом, ибо

«рост лишенного традиций пролетариата ведет к вырождению расы». В 1920 году Карл Биндинг и Альфред Хох опубликовали «Освобождение жизни, недостойной жизни, для её уничтожения» (Die Freigabe der Vernichtung Lebensunwertes Leben), работу, которую один комментатор назвал «творческим решением» проблем, поставленных Платоном, Томасом Мором и Ницше. Она дала ответ на наблюдение Ницше о том, что «больной человек — это паразит общества». С тех пор и вплоть до нацистской реализации ницшеанское прославление эвтаназии постоянно призывалось её сторонниками и последующими практиками как важнейший ингредиент в создании здорового общества.

Когда нацисты пришли к власти, строительные блоки вдохновленного Ницше виталистского, ренатурализованного, стихийного общества уже были внедрены, во многих случаях источниками, которые оставались вне национал-социализма или даже противостояли ему. Захватив государственный аппарат, эти позитивные и негативные послания могли быть выведены из сферы риторики и воплощены в жизнь.

Первая мировая война и опыт Веймара наглядно показали, что наследие Ницше как формировало, так и формировалось доминирующими культурными, политическими и идеологическими представлениями того времени. Ницше также был обречен взаимодействовать с другими великими нерешенными вопросами того времени: социализмом, религией и, впоследствии, нацизмом.

6. Ницшеанский социализм: левые и правые

Бедный, бедный Ницше... эти господа социалисты пытаются натянуть свою маленькую красную шапочку на голову этого гениального великана.
Хаим Вейцман

Социализм — это моральный вопрос, поскольку он дает миру новый способ суждения обо всех человеческих действиях, или — если использовать знаменитое выражение Ницше — полную переоценку вещей.
Жорж Сорель, «Основы социальной критики»

Едкое, элитарное презрение Ницше к уравнительному и деспотическому социализму, а также к массам и их отрицающей жизнь морали рессентимента хорошо известно. Враги социализма, безусловно, знали об этом и часто использовали Ницше для нападок на левых. Как выразился один консервативный британский комментатор в 1909 году: «Джон Булль сейчас болен. Ницше — единственный врач, который может ему помочь, ибо его величайшая болезнь — социализм... Доктор Ницше либо радикально излечивает своих пациентов, либо убивает их». В 1890-х годах Франц Меринг положил начало традиции, которая столь же четко излагала ортодоксальную марксистскую позицию. Ницше был антиэгалитарным «философом развитого капитализма», одновременно симптомом и глашатаем иррационалистической постгегельянской философии, которая отражала интересы буржуазии и капитализма в их наиболее агрессивных формах. Будучи совершенно невежественным в научном социализме, он был великим врагом пролетариата.

В этом свете, какой смысл могло иметь выражение «ницшеанский социализм»? Ответ позволит увидеть срез крайне изменчивого политического сознания, которое после 1890 года постоянно считало себя находящимся в кризисе. Во всей политической культуре границы между левыми и правыми постоянно оспаривались и размывались; восприятие политических и ментальных рубежей становилось все более проницаемым для активистов и мыслителей, искавших новые способы самоидентификации. Ницшеанские категории способствовали общему ощущению текучести, ослабляли традиционные моральные и интеллектуальные определения и помогали выстраивать более гибкие политические позиции.

Эти события затронули социалистическое самосознание в той же мере, что и другие секторы культурного и политического спектра. По всей Европе строгие марксистские определения социализма оспаривались различными диссидентскими тенденциями внутри левого движения. На политическом ландшафте как грибы после дождя возникали решительно антиортодоксальные, анархистские, синдикалистские и ревизионистские формулировки. Идея социализма — вне обобщенной идентификации с рабочим классом и той или иной формы эгалитарных обязательств — становилась все более расплывчатой и восприимчивой к внешним влияниям и альтернативным интерпретациям. Ницше часто служил в этих упражнениях важным ресурсом для артикуляции многих из этих диссидентских интересов.

Не следует забывать, что в представлении некоторых его ранних критиков, как вспоминал граф Кесслер, Ницше «считался революционером и почти таким же непатриотичным субъектом, как социалисты». В массовом сознании их иногда просто приравнивали друг к другу. Например, в относительно малоизвестной пьесе Роберта Миша «Дети» (1906) один персонаж заявляет: «Ницше — это чепуха... [он] социал-демократ!»

Некоторые из почитателей Ницше проводили столь же вольные параллели. Весной 1921 года Айседора Дункан, сообщая из Москвы для французской коммунистической ежедневной газеты «Юманите», предваряла свой репортаж о революции словами Заратустры: «Я люблю того, кто творит сверх себя и при этом погибает». Она заключила, что это «сияющее видение будущего. Пророчества Бетховена, Ницше, Уолта Уитмена сбываются. Все люди станут братьями, увлеченные великой волной освобождения, которая только что родилась здесь, в России».

Многим связь Ницше и социализма казалась совершенно естественной и беспроблемной. Ницшеанство Хелены Штёкер сопровождало не только ее феминизм, но и ее внепартийную левую и все более пацифистскую позицию. Для нее Ницше и социализм разделяли конечную цель — «эмансипированное человечество». Она признавала, что у каждого из них был свой особый уклон. Социальные реформаторы были настолько заняты повседневной жизнью, что пренебрегали высотами, в то время как Ницше с «его перспективы вечности», возможно, не уделял достаточного внимания внешним условиям. Тем не менее, спрашивала она, «не было бы безумием требовать от пророка сверхчеловека, чтобы он также изучал экономику и социальные науки, дабы определить точный путь, которым нужно следовать, чтобы достичь своей цели?» В своем автобиографическом фрагменте 1939 года она объяснила свое давнее понимание этой связи:

Два полюса человеческой эволюции, стремление к социальной справедливости и порыв к высшему личностному развитию, для меня всегда оставались неразрывно связанными. Для меня это, возможно, последние полвека выражалось словами «Ницше и социализм».

Радикалов привлекал Ницше из-за его сокрушительного обвинения буржуазии и потому, что он предоставил контр-язык, риторику тотального возрождения нового человека, которая могла направить революционный импульс, сохраняя при этом содержание этого импульса расплывчатым и не поддающимся классификации.

Когда радикально-правые стремились присвоить социализм для своих собственных целей, Ницше стал центральной движущей силой этого перехода. То, что новые правые решили обозначить себя как социалисты, было, возможно, парадоксом, но это отражало осознание того, что данный термин стал важным лозунгом в современной массовой политике. В глазах радикально-правых было чрезвычайно важно вырвать у левых как социалистический электорат, так и монополию на определение этого понятия. Формируя собственное представление о социализме, они лишили эту концепцию почти всех марксистских ориентиров и сделали любое точное понимание её контуров еще более неуловимым.

Правые теперь предлагали национал-социализм в качестве противовеса марксистской идее международной пролетарской революции. Их идеологи могли провозглашать себя социалистами не только потому, что наделяли государство авторитарными полномочиями регулировать социально-экономическую жизнь по квазикорпоративному образцу, но и потому, что облекали свой анализ общества в едкую критику буржуазии и отводили низшим классам главную роль в своих видениях национального возрождения. Ницше послужил плодотворным источником для этих тем. Его радикализм легко вписывался в рамки новых правых, которые, в отличие от своих более старых консервативных собратьев, делали ставку на национальную мобилизацию и интеграцию рабочих классов. Социализм здесь означал слияние национального с социальным. Он был нацелен на инклюзивность и участие рабочих масс в более широком целом. Преданность нации должна была создать социализм народного сообщества (Volksgemeinschaft), жизнеспособную замену социализму класса.

Ницшеанский импульс в социализме как левых, так и правых может быть понят только в контексте этого кризиса политической переоценки. Хотя он принимал многочисленные обличья и часто был делом рук противоборствующих кругов, все это были нонконформистские выражения несогласия с консервативной традицией, буржуазной респектабельностью или левой ортодоксией. Ницшеанский социализм был частью непрерывного поиска новых форм политико-культурной интеграции, предоставляя наводящие образы идеализированного будущего, выходящего за рамки традиционных классовых категорий.

Хотя здесь мы будем рассматривать только немецкий случай, варианты ницшеанского социализма появлялись по всей Европе. Он варьировался от индивидуалистической этики, превосходящей обязательные нормы, и эмансипаторного коммунизма по ту сторону добра и зла, как их излагали дореволюционные российские марксисты, такие как Анатолий Луначарский и Станислав Вольский, до сионистского социализма Битании. Он наполнил вливание Виктором Адлером в австрийскую социал-демократию дионисийских импульсов, призванных пробудить в зарождающемся пролетариате волевое осознание собственной силы. Он жизненно повлиял на синдикализм и его превращение марксизма в прославление насилия и динамического активизма. Жорж Сорель, переносящий элитизм Ницше на новую аристократию революционеров, которые поведут пролетариат сначала к классовой войне, а затем к героической, постдекадентской цивилизации, является, пожалуй, самым известным примером этой тенденции. Он охватывал марксизм «философии жизни» Муссолини периода до 1914 года с его акцентом на волю, энергичную жизненную силу и его воинственное отношение к реальности.

Мы должны, однако, сосредоточиться на Германии. Присутствие Ницше начало серьезно проявляться в немецкой социал-демократии в 1890-х годах, совпав с его общей популяризацией и возникновением различных культов Ницше. Ницшеанский язык и категории стали тогда частью словаря организованного социалистического мира. Несмотря на свой политический сепаратизм, ни социалистическое движение, ни рабочий класс не были застрахованы от более широкого культурного влияния. Это правда, что определенные элементы ницшеанской терминологии стали частью системы негативных лозунгов, способом осуждения своих политических врагов. Социалистическая пропаганда все чаще поносила оппонентов за их самовозвеличивающую «волю к власти», называя буржуазию безжалостными сверхлюдьми или людьми насилия (Gewaltmenschen), хищными зверями и тому подобным.

Но ницшеанские термины также начали приобретать более утвердительные значения. Позитивные социалистические цели эмансипации рабочих формулировались в рамках ницшеанства. «Пролетарская нагорная проповедь: интермеццо из переоценки всех ценностей» И. Кармелюка 1904 года, например, была социалистической контрлитургией, основанной на явном ницшеанском вдохновении. Это было социалистическое евангелие, утверждавшее волю к власти рабочего и доказывавшее, что только борьба и восстание приведут к рабочему раю. Социализм и Антихрист в тандеме были ключами к новому земному освобождению.

Степень, в которой ницшеанское присутствие проникло в реальные рабочие сообщества, неясна из-за скудности доказательств. Тем не менее, доступны некоторые разрозненные свидетельства. То, что Ницше начал проникать по крайней мере в среду грамотных рабочих, демонстрирует опрос библиотек лейпцигских рабочих 1897 года. Его автор сообщил, что работы Ницше брали читать гораздо чаще, чем работы Маркса, Лассаля или даже Бебеля. В 1914 году Адольф Левенштейн представил результаты опроса, дополненные письмами-интервью, в которых он стремился изучить как масштаб, так и характер этого влияния. Его работа «Фридрих Ницше в суждении рабочих классов» показала не только то, что многие образованные рабочие были знакомы с философом, но и то, что в подавляющем большинстве случаев Ницше выполнял позитивную функцию. Только двое из опрошенных отвергли Ницше, но даже они признались, что он их стимулировал. Левенштейн предположил, что в их жизнях, их трагической изоляции и их компенсаторных попытках культивировать «внутреннюю жизнь» существовало неожиданное сходство между рабочими и Ницше. И те, и другие были типичными аутсайдерами. Это объясняло парадокс, как выразился один рецензент, что самая центробежная из всех философий так сильно и связующе воздействовала на самую заброшенную часть общества. Для наших целей ответы на вопросы Левенштейна продемонстрировали степень пролетарского знакомства с Ницше; независимо от того, был ли он воспринят позитивно или негативно, Ницше стал признанной точкой отсчета. Тем не менее, историческое значение ницшеанского социализма не зависит от предполагаемого влияния Ницше на повседневные настроения рабочего класса. Скорее, его значимость проистекает из того, как он функционировал для ведущих активистов и теоретиков в качестве критического и визионерского инструмента, способа продвижения альтернативных, постортодоксальных представлений о социализме. Приключения ницшеанской идеи внутри Социал-демократической партии Германии почти всегда проявлялись как форма инакомыслия — будь то левого или правого толка. Ее многочисленные версии были выражением развивающегося кризиса внутри марксизма. Защитники и противники веры прекрасно понимали, что ницшеанские импульсы внутри социал-демократии были почти по определению еретическими.

Сама формулировка ортодоксальной линии Францем Мерингом, объявившим Ницше «философом капитализма», была реакцией на привнесение Ницше в Социал-демократическую партию в 1890-х годах группой радикалов, ставших известными как юнгены. Возглавляемый Бруно Вилле, этот кружок обвинил партию в соглашательском обуржуазивании. Утопические и анархистские течения внутри этой критики были вдохновлены и узаконены ницшеанским индивидуализмом. Пьеса Вилле «Враг народа», поставленная «Свободной народной сценой» в 1890 году, и серия полемических работ убедительно донесли мысль юнгенов: Ницше был идеальным поборником критики партийного бездумья и конформизма, которые подавляли все возможности творческого самовыражения. Этот индивидуализм, как утверждали юнгены, не означал отказа от социализма. Ницшеанские идеалы должны были быть универсализированы, стать неотъемлемой частью социалистического начинания. Пролетарии не должны были быть частью анонимной массы; они тоже могли быть «высшими людьми». Личная свобода и социализм были совместимы.

Прямая атака юнгенов на партийное руководство неизбежно привела к борьбе, которая могла закончиться только их поражением. Многие из его приверженцев покинули партию и стали независимыми социалистами. Их журнал, «Социалист» (Der Sozialist), вскоре приобрел антицентралистский, антигосударственный оттенок. Ницшеанская воля наполняла их анархическое социалистическое видение будущего. Никто не проработал основы этого ницшеанского анархизма более радикально, чем бывший редактор «Социалиста» (Der Sozialist) Густав Ландауэр (1870—1919).

Ландауэр, как показал Юджин Ланн, сумел обуздать ницшеанский иррационализм и волюнтаризм и направить их влево. Он создал анархизм, основанный на форме витализма и представлении об индивидуальном и коллективном волевом самопреобразовании. Ландауэр отфильтровал из своей системы ницшеанское отрицание человеческой солидарности и общности, включив при этом критику философом материализма и подозрительность по отношению к государству. Ландауэр настаивал на том, что социальные вопросы лучше всего решать посредством волевых преобразований сознания. Как выразился Ландауэр в своем труде «Призыв к социализму» (1911): «Социализм возможен и невозможен во все времена; он возможен, когда есть нужные люди, чтобы желать его и осуществлять его; он невозможен, когда люди либо не желают его, либо лишь якобы желают его, но не способны его осуществить». Таким образом, ницшеанский анархический социализм послужил альтернативой холодной, детерминистской марксистской ортодоксии. Ландауэр открыто поддерживал ницшеанское утверждение о том, что жизнь и культура нуждаются в иллюзии. С этой точки зрения социализм был сознательно порожденным антиисторицистским мифом о вечном самосозидании.

Хотя дело юнгенов вызвало в то время большой резонанс, его единственным долгосрочным эффектом стало усиление скептицизма партийного руководства по отношению к модным интеллектуалам. Меринг одобрительно процитировал характеристику юнгенов (и натурализма, который они часто поддерживали), данную Куртом Эйснером, как «декадентствующих юнцов, эксплуататоров гнили и копателей в руинах», тех самых людей, которые «хвастаются сифилисом, чтобы доказать свою мужественность». В своем томе о Ницше 1892 года Эйснер проницательно заметил, что радикальный шик этих культов Ницше делает старый радикализм социализма тривиальным, скучным и старомодным.

Тем не менее юнгены и Ландауэр не были случайными явлениями. Хотя они никогда не становились нормой, история немецкого социализма была отмечена подобными вызовами с самых разных сторон. В то время как Ландауэр и юнгены создавали левую радикальную критику, схожий ницшеанский импульс исходил от определенной части ревизионистского крыла. В 1893 году Эдуард Бернштейн действительно отверг литературных ницшеанцев и юнгенов как элитарных сторонников простого ницшеанского анархизма господ. Тем не менее реформисты, связанные с независимым журналом Sozialistische Monatshefte и его редактором Йозефом Блохом, присоединили Ницше в качестве главного авторитета и источника вдохновения для своего бренда социализма (илл. 12). И снова ницшеанские образы и метафоры направляли очередную внутреннюю социалистическую ересь, причем совершенно отличную от ереси юнгенов. Ницше в интерпретации Sozialistische Monatshefte легитимизировал новую концепцию интеграции рабочего класса в Германии и за рубежом. В ней было мало той пламенной, революционной риторики, которая сопровождала ницшеанство Вилле и Ландауэра. Sozialistische Monatshefte способствовал ревизионистской ницшеанской национализации масс.

Эта национализация должна была быть достигнута двумя путями. Внутри страны она влекла за собой ницшеанскую индивидуацию, которая постепенно дифференцировала бы слишком однородный и изолированный рабочий класс и предоставила бы ему возможность войти в мейнстрим национальной жизни. Как писал Вилли Хелльпах в 1900 году, это была та стадия социалистического и пролетарского развития, на которой Ницше мог стать решающей фигурой. Несмотря на собственное отчуждение Ницше, его следовало рассматривать как пророка социализма. Хелльпах предавался казуистическому упражнению, знакомому всем ветвям ницшеанства. Подобно тому как феминистки феминизировали его, евреи иудаизировали его, а фёлькише-круги национализировали его, так и Хелльпах стремился продемонстрировать зарождающийся социализм Ницше.

Ницше выступал против политической демократии, утверждал Хелльпах, потому что она лишь поощряла стадное чувство и массовое нивелирование. Экономическая демократизация, однако, просто свелась бы к применению ницшеанского принципа индивидуальности к пролетариям, пробуждая в них чувство самости. Постепенно индивиды смогли бы подняться за счет собственных усилий, что увеличило бы классовую мобильность. Социалисты должны были принять аристократический принцип Ницше как свой собственный. По мере того как рабочий класс становился дифференцированным, пролетарии также смогли бы претендовать на членство в той элите, которую Ницше идеализировал как законодателей будущего.

«Ежемесячник» приберегал своего воинственного Ницше и сопутствующую ему образность, вызывающую ассоциации с конфликтом, мужеством и твердостью, для пропаганды экспансионистской внешней политики. Рабочий также должен был быть интегрирован в немецкое общество посредством германского империализма. Журналист Карл Лойтнер был энергичным глашатаем этой линии. Лойтнер обучал своих читателей экстатическому ницшеанскому языку воли к власти, выковывая и коллективизируя его в национальный инструмент. Он использовал ницшеанский витализм и акцент на борьбе для формирования социалистической политики имперской экспансии, связанной с интересами рабочего класса.

Подобно тому как партийные лидеры отмежевывались от левых ницшеанцев, они дистанцировались и от подобных представлений. Имя Лойтнера, писал Карл Каутский, стало синонимом «немецкого высокомерия фёлькише» и «пангерманского мировоззрения, которое в нем перевешивает другие соображения». Отто Бауэр обвинил Лойтнера в том, что он «заражает широкие слои народа циничной националистической идеологией господ (Herrenideologie), которая идет вразрез со всей этикой».

В веймарский период «Ежемесячник» опубликовал еще один экскурс, превращающий Ницше в «социалистического империалиста», но уже в совершенно ином духе. Регина Баркан писала, что нет сомнений в том, что ницшеанская воля к власти была основана на империалистической философии. Но его империализм не имел ничего общего с агрессивной национальной политикой завоеваний и экспансии. Он был основан на его концепции мира как единого целого, утверждении целостной природы (Gesamtnatur) и стремлении преодолеть все дуальности. Это был империализм не материального приобретения, не обладания большим, а скорее становления большим. Это была великая политика Ницше: концепция европейского и мирового единства, связанная проектом общечеловеческого творчества. Консолидированные мировые экономические и политические структуры, заявляла Баркан, были лишь формами, служащими реализации более глубоких ницшеанских творческих процессов. «Имея перед глазами такой империализм, следует определить волю к власти в общественной жизни как волю к общности. ... Такой империализм един с внешней политикой прикладного социализма. (Несмотря ни на что, Ницше уже смутно предчувствовал эту связь.)»

Другие части партии также придерживались изменчивых и эволюционирующих ницшеанских позиций. До Первой мировой войны такие люди, как Макс Мауренбрехер (1874—1930), искали практические пути достижения рабочих классов через создание постхристианской социалистической ницшеанской веры. Мауренбрехер был одновременно протестантским пастором и политическим активистом. И его политика, и его религия были крайне изменчивы. Он занимал видное место в «Национал-социальном союзе» Фридриха Наумана, пока тот не был распущен в 1903 году, когда он вступил в Социал-демократическую партию. В 1907 году он покинул евангелическую церковь и связался с новыми свободно-религиозными общинами, которые, хотя и были независимы от официального социалистического аппарата, пытались отлучить рабочих от традиционных источников религиозного вдохновения. Ницше был для Мауренбрехера парадигмой модернистской светской религиозности, а Заратустра — моделью богоподобного самосозидания мира.

Примечательно, что Мауренбрехер рассматривал свое ницшеанство как дополнение к коммунистическому видению. Как он выразился, его работа была посвящена «взаимопроникновению Маркса и Ницше». Мауренбрехер подчеркивал их общие светские компоненты. И Маркс, и Ницше разделяли антиклерикализм Просвещения, отвергали христианство и решительно отстаивали идею земного искупления.

Но это был Мауренбрехер эпохи до Первой мировой войны. Во время войны он вернулся в церковь и перешел от Маркса и социал-демократии к немецко-национальной позиции. Однако все эти перемены не повлекли за собой ослабления приверженности ницшеанским ценностям. Героизм, воля и трагедия прекрасно уживались по обе стороны политического барьера.

Мауренбрехер был отнюдь не единственным ницшеанским социалистом, сменившим свои позиции, зачастую на явно ницшеанских основаниях. Мы уже обсуждали ницшеанский феминизм Лили Браун. Будучи активным членом Социал-демократической партии, Браун изначально пришла к феминизму из марксизма. К огорчению партийного руководства, её марксизм всегда был глубоко неортодоксальным, реформистским и основывался не на кантианских, христианских или гегелевских, а на ницшеанских принципах. Она выступала против догм, бюрократического контроля и регламентации, делая упор на творчество. Независимо от того, прав ли Альфред Мейер, считая Браун важным радикальным предшественником западного марксизма после Первой мировой войны, она, несомненно, стремилась к своего рода гуманистическому социализму и героическому «самопреодолению через революционную практику», которые проистекали из Ницше. «Социализм, — писала она, — является необходимой предпосылкой для индивидуализма, точно так же, как индивидуализм должен быть необходимым дополнением к социализму». Акцент на человеческом сообществе никогда не должен был подчинять себе свободное развитие человеческой личности, а, напротив, должен был служить его опорой. Её акцент на эстетике также придавал её марксизму ницшеанский оттенок. Хотя она не игнорировала социально-экономическое угнетение, грядущая революция должна была быть в равной степени духовной и эстетической: рабочий класс должен был разделить радость эстетического восприятия и созидания.

Браун настаивала на «духе отрицания» (Geist der Verneinung) как на принципе обновленного социализма. Этот дух явно исключал кантианство как руководство для социализма. Ницше должен был стать его пророческой силой, ибо «он дал социализму то, в чем мы нуждаемся: этический фундамент».

Все его великие идеи живут в нас: стремление к личности, переоценка всех ценностей, утверждение жизни, воля к власти. Нам нужно сверкающее оружие из его арсенала... С идеалом наибольшего счастья для наибольшего числа людей... мы создаем лишь общество флегматичных обывателей. ... Разве вы не чувствуете дух отрицания во всем, что сегодня является жизненно важным и стремится к движению вперед? ... Если бы ваши знамена были полностью развернуты, трусы отделились бы от храбрых, сильные от слабых, и все, что обладает юношеским духом, в чем есть будущее, устремилось бы к вам. Мы найдем путь к нашей цели только тогда, когда идея нравственной революции придаст крылья идее экономической трансформации.

Как и в случае с Мауренбрехером, ницшеанство Браун было совместимо как с марксистско-космополитическими, так и с националистически-патриотическими целями. Те же категории героизма, воли, эстетизма и самопреодоления, которые лежали в основе её радикализации ортодоксального марксизма, питали её более позднюю приверженность национализму в годы Первой мировой войны; её антипацифизм и поддержку немецких аннексионистских целей; и даже её поворот к авторитарному культу государства и тоске по вдохновенному молодому лидеру. Ницше времен войны в представлении Браун не сильно отличался от тем предыдущей главы: философ героизма, мобилизатор коллективного и индивидуального, провидец культуры, выходящей за рамки повседневных буржуазных забот, и утвердитель воинственных, мужественных ценностей.

Хотя она оставалась последовательно антихристианской, война пробудила в ней религиозные стремления. Совершенно не по-марксистски она теперь призывала к ницшеанскому герою, который принес бы с собой ницшеанскую религию, соразмерную нуждам продолжающейся войны:

Если бы пришел новый спаситель, который нашел бы верное слово, чтобы придать форму всей нашей тоске, чтобы провозгласить — прямо сейчас, перед лицом смерти — религию жизни (я не имею в виду это в обычном тривиальном смысле религии для повседневной жизни, но религию творческой, вечной жизни, вечно возрождающей саму себя), это был бы топор, который выкорчевал бы христианство с корнем.

Изменчивое ницшеанство Браун не было целиком и полностью плодом деятельности изолированного эксцентрика. В 1903 году она вместе со своим мужем Генрихом сформировала независимую институциональную базу — спорный журнал «Общество» (Die Gesellschaft), в котором они и их круги выражали свои иконоборческие взгляды. Перед лицом партийной оппозиции (что, возможно, объясняет его эпизодический и недолговечный характер) диссиденты формулировали альтернативные и порой неожиданные позиции. В статье Франца Лауфкёттера «Тактика слабых и тактика сильных» ницшеанство использовалось как радикализирующий и одновременно сдерживающий фактор. В этом применении ницшеанских идей к классовой борьбе Лауфкёттер изобразил пролетариат, характеризующийся силой, мужеством и готовностью к борьбе. Он обладал такими характеристиками, поскольку был восходящим, а не декадентским классом, воплощающим жизнь и волю к власти. Но руководящие принципы Лауфкёттера для воинствующих профсоюзов и партийной тактики в Германии также проповедовали щепетильное отношение к классовому врагу. Рабочие должны были быть честными, ибо нечестность была оружием рессентимента слабых. Пролетариат стремился к ницшеанской цели более высокой, более благородной культуры: их поведение должно было соответствовать этой этике.

Даже там, где журнал прямо не ссылался на Ницше, он распространял установки, которые совпадали с его акцентами: неверие в железные законы исторического материализма; больший упор на роль личности в истории; растущий скептицизм по отношению к массам; и акцент на воле.

Тема «Ницше и Маркс» или «Ницше и социализм», однако, выходила далеко за рамки этих относительно организованных социал-демократических течений. На протяжении всей истории рецепции Ницше признавалась эпохальная и в некотором роде взаимосвязанная природа этих двух мыслителей. Размышления в духе критики культуры стали почти отдельным жанром, качество и глубина которого варьировались от философски дифференцированных до пустых. Критики и практики по всему политическому спектру стремились либо подчеркнуть негативные или позитивные сходства — революционный порыв, антиклерикализм, непреклонная критика идеологии, антибуржуазный импульс, общая цель свободного человечества, — либо акцентировать их непреодолимые различия.

С самого начала некоторые социалистические интеллектуалы осознавали, что Ницше поставил некоторые из фундаментальных вопросов, касающихся современной культуры. Он представлял собой важнейший постмарксистский модернистский вызов, который помог бы углубить социализм. Ницше, писал Самуэль Люблинский в 1905 году, принадлежит к числу тех «по-настоящему ценных врагов, которые заставляют нас все более остро и тонко формулировать наши проблемы и тем самым углублять их и придавать им еще большую силу и убедительность». Ницше должен был быть усвоен, будучи преодоленным: «Это было бы благородным и мощным реваншем социализма над Ницше, если бы он оказался его единственным наследником».

Действительно, следы этой иронии были видны даже в социалистических упражнениях, специально предназначенных для того, чтобы отбросить Ницше. Лучший пример — Psychopathia Spiritualis Курта Эйснера, написанная за много лет до того, как он стал лидером злополучной послевоенной баварской революции. С одной стороны, критика Эйснера была достаточно ясной. Ницше предлагал не более чем романтическую мечту, в то время как социализм был рациональным и практичным. И этот кантианский социалист не мог принять ницшеанскую этику. Нельзя, отмечал Эйснер, строить идеологию на эгоцентрическом отсутствии сострадания или на чисто негативных понятиях, таких как антифеминизм или антисемитизм. Более того, ницшеанский императив «стать жестким» приводил к вырождению. Философ будущего, в отличие от Ницше, воскликнул бы: «Станьте нежными (weich)!»

Однако еще более значимым, чем критика, был тот факт, что эта работа была написана как явный акт самоосвобождения от Ницше, почти как экзорцизм. Айснер совершенно открыто признавал мощное и почти сверхъестественное влияние Ницше. Ницше был навязчивым искушением того времени: только через прямое противостояние, писал он, можно было овладеть «проблемой Ницше» (bewältigen können). Его привлекали магический лиризм, опьяняющая речь и «наркотический стиль» Ницше, и он уважал его проницательную критику современной поверхностности и посредственности. Скептицизм Айснера в отношении исторического материализма, должно быть, помог сделать Ницше более убедительным, чем догматические истины партийной линии. Его кантианство, как ни парадоксально, побуждало его сочувствовать акценту Ницше на свободном и максимальном развитии личности.

Этот компонент сделал экзорцизм Айснера лишь частично завершенным, ибо в конечном счете его критическое видение социалистического самоосвобождения сохранило ницшеанское ядро. Социалисты, полагал Айснер, все еще могли избирательно учиться у Ницше. Хотя властный культ эгоцентризма Ницше увел его за пределы социализма, тем не менее было необходимо объединить ницшеанский аристократический принцип и императив индивидуальности с демократией и социализмом. Социализм Айснера призывал к демократизации аристократического принципа Ницше — аристократизации масс. Демократия стала бы «панаристократией», в которой смысл аристократии проявился бы как альтруизм, а не как безжалостность и эгоизм.

Мышление Айснера было частью более масштабного начинания. 1890-е годы ознаменовали начало проекта среди европейских социалистических теоретиков и активистов по модному синтезу Ницше с Марксом. Его наиболее распространенная форма вращалась вокруг осознанной необходимости примирить императивы сообщества с индивидуальностью, свободное развитие личности со справедливым обществом. Ницше, безусловно, специально предостерегал от подобных усилий:

Не следует судить об одиноком типе с точки зрения стада; и о стаде с точки зрения одинокого. Если смотреть сверху: оба необходимы, так же как необходим их антагонизм, и ничто не должно быть более запретным, чем «желательность» выработать третий путь из обоих.

Излишне говорить, что те, кто был заинтересован в осуществлении такого союза, беззаботно игнорировали это предупреждение.

Это упражнение осуществлялось на многочисленных уровнях и порой в весьма неожиданных кругах. Еще в 1925 году в статье под названием «Что для нас Ницше?» журнал Heimstunden лирически принял Ницше как современного коммунистического пророка. Его психологически обоснованные прозрения, его атеизм и его утверждение жизни были едины с социализмом. Самое важное, его аристократический тип, чьей задачей было преодоление нигилизма, напоминал не традиционные элиты, а «пролетарскую аристократию», о которой говорил Лев Троцкий. Разве Ленин не был в гораздо большей степени воплощением ницшеанской «личности», чем старые феодальные олигархии? Существовала огромная разница между псевдоиндивидуализмом (Schein-Individualismen) наследственной аристократии и плутократии и тем «рабочей аристократии», которая вышла из квалифицированных слоев пролетариата, подлинными индивидуалистами, которым предстояло сыграть будущую, решающую, революционную роль. Более того, хотя Ницше официально не одобрялся, он также время от времени проникал в официальные публикации Социал-демократической партии. В антологии 1911 года, которую они опубликовали, он был включен в сборник революционных буржуазных и пролетарских поэтов. Сознательный пролетарский романист Карл Хенкель посвятил философу хвалебное стихотворение и привнес воинственно ницшеанский тон в свой призыв к оружию против буржуазии. В работе, посвященной Францу Мерингу!, Альфред Клайнберг провозгласил, что критика Ницше сделала его вслед за Марксом «возможно, величайшей интеллектуальной повивальной бабкой нашего немецкого настоящего», чья работа помогла подготовить почву для будущего бесклассового общества. Даже Меринг признавал определенную функцию Ницше как «переход к социализму».

В некоторых случаях описание Меринга было совершенно точным. Например, у таких людей, как Клара Цеткин и Эрих Мюзам, увлечение Ницше было лишь преходящим этапом в их развитии. Точно так же ранняя философия жизни (Lebensphilosophie) Георга Лукача и его пропаганда трагического мировоззрения находились под влиянием мастера, которого он позже отверг, и подражали ему. По иронии судьбы, он придерживался именно того самого ницшеанского романтического антикапитализма, который позже так яростно осуждал в философе.

Однако для других неортодоксальных социалистов ницшеанский импульс оказался более долговечным, имеющим решающее значение в построении свободных постмарксистских видений. Мы рассматривали ницшеанский экспрессионизм Курта Хиллера в главе 3. Для Хиллера не столько индивидуализм, сколько откровенно исповедуемый элитизм должен был быть соединен с социализмом. Его журнал Das Ziel был наполнен радикалами всех мастей, критикующими отсутствие духа в буржуазном обществе и призывающими к социальной революции. Его главной целью было устранение барьеров, воздвигнутых против создания необходимой элиты, естественной аристократии интеллектуалов, которая пополнялась бы свежей пролетарской кровью. В конце 1918 года он основал недолговечный Совет работников умственного труда, чтобы продвигать объединенные цели социализма, пацифизма и интеллектуальной аристократии. Ницше занимал центральное место в его эклектичном «логократическом» видении: «Миссия века состоит в том, чтобы позволить интеллектуальной линии, ведущей от Нагорной проповеди к «Коммунистическому манифесту», слиться с той другой могучей линией: Платон — Ницше».

Для некоторых социалистическо-ницшеанское искушение не умерло даже после опыта нацизма. Томас Манн в типично сублимированной и консервативной форме отстаивал его вариацию еще в 1947 году. Его новый Ницше, уже не поборник старого антидемократического порядка, теперь стал проводником собственной патрицианской и спиритуализированной концепции социализма Манна. Он провозгласил эстетизм Ницше в конечном счете несовместимым с этическими взглядами социализма. Тем не менее, настаивал он, существовали точки значимого соприкосновения, в установлении которых додемократический Манн не был бы особо заинтересован. Ницше, писал Манн, был озабочен тем, чтобы сделать «частную собственность более моральной», осознавал, насколько «опасен человек, который обладает слишком многим», призывал международные державы «практиковать мировую перспективу» и, действительно, предсказал как неизбежное будущее единое экономическое управление землей.

Социалистический оттенок в его видении постбуржуазной жизни столь же силен, как и тот, который мы могли бы назвать фашистским. Что это, в конце концов, такое, когда Заратустра восклицает: «Заклинаю вас, братья мои, оставайтесь верны земле! Не зарывайте больше голов в песок небесных вещей, но несите их свободно, впереди этой земли, создавая смысл земли! ... Направьте нашу расточенную добродетель обратно к земле, как это делаю я — да, обратно к жизни и любви: чтобы она придала смысл земле, человеческий смысл!» Это означает волю к тому, чтобы пронизать материальный элемент человеческим, это означает материализм духа, это социализм.

Кое-где его концепция цивилизации демонстрирует ярко выраженную социалистическую, безусловно, уже не буржуазную окраску. Он выступает против раскола между образованными и необразованными, и его юношеское ученичество у Вагнера означает прежде всего это: конец цивилизации эпохи Возрождения, этого великого века буржуазии, искусство для высоких и низких, никаких больше наслаждений, которые не были бы общими для сердец всех людей.

Это не свидетельствует о враждебности к рабочим, напротив, это свидетельствует об обратном, когда он говорит: «Рабочие должны научиться чувствовать себя солдатами: вознаграждение, жалованье, но не плата. Они будут жить однажды как средний класс сейчас, но выше них, выделяясь своей неприхотливостью, высшая каста, т.е. более бедная и простая, но обладающая властью».

Идиосинкразическое мышление Манна, однако, оставалось оторванным от традиционных политических или идеологических рамок марксизма и социализма, как бы широко они ни понимались. Чтобы обнаружить наиболее важные следы левого ницшеанства после Первой мировой войны, мы должны поэтому обратиться к тому, что стало известно как западный марксизм. В этом корпусе культурной и все более постортодоксальной мысли — особенно в работах Эрнста Блоха и Франкфуртской школы — Ницше играл решающую роль. В гораздо более последовательной и утонченной манере, чем разрозненные довоенные вызовы, которые мы до сих пор рассматривали, и в свете многочисленных кризисов (октябрь 1917 года; неудавшиеся немецкие революции; непредвиденная консолидация развитого капитализма; тоталитаризм в его фашистской, сталинской и нацистской формах), эта разнообразная гетеродоксия одновременно бросала вызов нормативному марксизму и стремилась его пересмотреть. Ницше был отчасти вдохновением, а отчасти бенефициаром «существенной готовности», как выразился Мартин Джей, «черпать из немарксистских интеллектуальных течений, чтобы восполнить недостатки (или развить зарождающиеся идеи) в наследии девятнадцатого века». Обогатили ли и омолодили ли такие эклектичные перекрестные опыты традицию изнутри, как утверждали ее приверженцы, или же они подорвали или вытеснили ее, превратив в совершенно иного немарксистского зверя, как утверждают ее критики, должно остаться здесь без ответа. Безусловно, однако, это стало марксистской традицией, все более критичной по отношению к своим собственным наивным рационалистическим и прогрессистским основам. Ее осторожно-утонченные размышления, ее предпосылки и эпистемология, чувство краха и порой отчаянный поиск обновления не могут быть полностью поняты вне ее мучительного диалога с Ницше.

Сочинения Беньяминина в решающем смысле постницшеанские, немыслимые без этого поразительного иконоборчества; однако он также знал, что существуют традиции политической борьбы, «более ранние смыслы», которые, если бы их только можно было вспомнить, развеяли бы грубую политику самого Ницше в ту историческую чернь, которую он сам же и создал. (Вальтер Беньямин: К революционной критике [Лондон: Версо, 1985], 66).

временной культуре и его по сути музыкальной чувствительности, именно волевое «преодоление» Ницше, критико-революционный импульс, он интегрировал в свой эзотерический марксизм. В видении Блоха дионисийская динамика была радикализирована в «подрывное контрдвижение субъекта» против отчуждающей объективности и стала универсальным символом человеческой способности к искуплению.

В отличие от Блоха, Франкфуртская школа всё более скептически относилась к этим тотализирующим искупительным возможностям. Опыт их поколения, возможно, сделал их подозрительными к инклюзивным идеологиям и системам — ницшеанская склонность. Их постмарксистская «критика идеологии» и чувствительность к ницшеанской эпистемологии не допускали простых схем прогрессивной исторической телеологии и делали проблематичными допущения об окончательном единстве объекта и субъекта. Франкфуртская школа смогла поставить критику идеологии в центр — что редко встречается в истории политизированного присвоения Ницше, — поскольку они всё больше дистанцировались от тотальных политических программ. Вместо этого они рассматривали себя как участников спасительного проекта критической теории. Такой акцент на критическом отрицании свидетельствовал не о днях пламенной надежды, которые воодушевляли Блоха, а о тёмных годах 1930-х и 1940-х годов. Критическая теория была озабочена противостоянием постоянной фальши целого, хотя они и цеплялись за слабую надежду на возможную всеобщую человеческую эмансипацию. Менее озабоченная механикой прогресса, чем истоками всеобъемлющего современного варварства, и всё более скептически относясь к поиску человеческих агентов искупления, Франкфуртская школа, тем не менее, также действовала, как недавно выразился один учёный, с парадоксальной надеждой на спасение безнадёжных. Путь к её реализации, конечно, становился всё более размытым, а указатели к утопии представлялись во всё более абстрактных терминах — превратившись, по словам Мартина Джея, в «нюансированную защиту теории как таковой, как формы непокорной практики».

Существовал, конечно, целый ряд влияний, воздействовавших на Франкфуртскую школу (гуманистический Маркс, Гегель, Фрейд, Хайдеггер и так далее). Тем не менее, их подход был, как недавно убедительно доказывал Райнхарт Маурер, ницшеанским неомарксизмом. Как создатели критической теории, так и более поздние исследователи осознавали эту связь. Безусловно, это был сильно пересмотренный марксизм, который мог побудить позднего Макса Хоркхаймера (в интервью итальянской газете «L’Espresso») заявить, что Ницше, скорее всего, был более великим мыслителем, чем Маркс.

Ницше играл сложную роль в рамках критической теории, выполняя как явные, так и скрытые функции. На самом очевидном уровне он был привлекателен для Франкфуртской школы именно потому, что бросал вызов всем ортодоксиям, потому что настаивал на необходимости и сложности интерпретации и из-за своего отказа мириться с партийными и упрощёнными формулами. «Бог знает, — упрекал Теодор Адорно более ортодоксального Вальтера Беньямина, — есть только одна истина... В конечном счёте, в «К генеалогии морали» Ницше больше этой одной истины, чем в «Азбуке коммунизма» [Николая Ивановича] Бухарина». Они также восхищались непоколебимым критическим духом Ницше и его дистанцированием, как выразился Адорно, «от соучастия с миром». Действительно, для Адорно негативизм Ницше олицетворял миссию, которую критическая теория поставила перед собой: это была «уникальная демонстрация репрессивного характера западной культуры» и «выражение человечного в мире, в котором человечность стала фикцией».

Восхищение Франкфуртской школы Ницше часто выражалось через их комментарии о его вульгаризирующих, реакционных последователях. «Гимн Ницше человеческому хищному зверю, — отмечал Хоркхаймер в 1933 году, — всегда сохраняет общественно-критический подтекст .... Некоторые тенденции Просвещения остаются живы в нём». Его одобрение стало ещё более весомым в 1937 году, когда он писал о Ницше: «Независимость, которая выражена в его философии, свобода от порабощающих идеологических сил — вот корень его мысли».

Такая критическая независимость была крайне важна для марксизма без пролетариата, в котором сама теория становилась праксисом. Даже пессимистично настроенный Герберт Маркузе в «Одномерном человеке» мог рассматривать это как «освобождающий дух ницшеанской мысли, вторгающийся в Закон и Порядок». В своей более ранней — и для критической теории весьма нехарактерно оптимистичной — работе «Эрос и цивилизация» (1955) Маркузе представил конкретную демонстрацию таких освободительных ницшеанских возможностей. Этот труд с его акцентом на освобождающей силе воспоминания содержал критические зачатки социально искупительного действия — то, чего не могло дать фрейдистское понятие вытеснения как психической потребности забыть индивидуальную боль и травму. Ницшеанская концепция вытеснения как реакции на отрицающие жизнь внешние социальные давления, однако, придавала ему отчетливо социально-исторический и, следовательно, обратимый характер:

Ницше видел в тренировке памяти начало цивилизованной морали — особенно памяти об обязательствах, контрактах, долгах. Этот контекст выявляет односторонность тренировки памяти в цивилизации: эта способность была главным образом направлена на запоминание обязанностей, а не удовольствий; память была связана с нечистой совестью, виной и грехом. Несчастье и угроза наказания, а не счастье и обещание свободы, задерживаются в памяти.

Ницше Маркузе «разоблачил гигантское заблуждение, на котором строились западная философия и мораль, — а именно превращение фактов в сущности, исторических условий в метафизические»; тот Ницше, чье «полное утверждение инстинктов жизни, отвергающее всякое бегство и отрицание», представляло собой «принцип реальности, фундаментально антагонистичный принципу западной цивилизации». Критика западной цивилизации в исполнении Маркузе включала и официальные проявления марксизма. Действительно, он рассматривал его ортодоксальные нападки на ницшеанские и другие «буржуазные иррационализмы» как показатель «черт, общих для советской и западной рациональности, а именно преобладания технологических элементов над гуманистическими». Шопенгауэр, Ницше, виталисты и прочие взрывают технологическую рациональность современной цивилизации. Они делают это, указывая на психические и биологические силы, лежащие в основе этой рациональности, и на неискупимые жертвы, которые она требует от человека. Результатом является переоценка всех ценностей, которая разрушает идеологию прогресса — не путем романтистского и сентиментального регресса, а путем вторжения в табуированные измерения самого буржуазного общества. Эта переоценка воздействует именно на те ценности, которые советское общество должно защищать любой ценой: этическая ценность конкурентной эффективности, общественно необходимый труд, самовоспроизводящаяся трудовая дисциплина, отложенное и вытесненное счастье.

Хотя позитивная программа Ницше никогда не была центральной для критической теории, она все же играла определенную роль. Хоркхаймер также время от времени намекал на утвердительное социальное содержание видения Ницше, а не только на его индивидуалистический критический порыв. Благодаря большему контролю над природой цель Ницше на будущее заключалась в освобождении неопределенного числа человеческих сил. Его понятие сверхлюдей обозначало такую ситуацию и было не таким индивидуалистическим, как могло показаться. «Несмотря ни на что, — писал Хоркхаймер, — он [Ницше] знал, что будет много "сверхлюдей" или не будет ни одного».

Мы не можем здесь подробно останавливаться на многочисленных параллелях. Те, что касаются стиля и формы, очевидны. «Minima Moralia» Адорно, например, явно воспроизводила афористичного Ницше среднего периода. Его система отсчета была схожим образом ницшеанской: там Адорно охарактеризовал свою «негативную диалектику» (в которой отрицание отрицания приводило не к новой позитивной позиции, а скорее к инклюзивной нетождественности субъектов) как «меланхолическую науку», явный контраст к «Веселой науке» Ницше. Отношение критической теории к Ницше, однако, должно быть выявлено и на более глубоком, латентном уровне: в отношении к лежащей в основе постановке вопроса, ее рабочим категориям, а также ее методологическим и философским предпосылкам и интересам.

Огромный интерес Франкфуртской школы к надстройке и культуре был обусловлен многочисленными источниками, помимо Ницше. Тем не менее, её анализ филистерской, дегуманизирующей и нивелирующей природы современной массовой культуры носил неизгладимый, пусть и обновленный, ницшеанский отпечаток. В решительном эстетизме и индивидуализме критической теории — а не в её классовой ориентированности — также присутствовал ницшеанский элемент. «Если искусство "существует" для какого-либо коллективного сознания вообще, — полагал Маркузе, — то это сознание индивидов, объединенных осознанием всеобщей потребности в освобождении, независимо от их классового положения. Посвящение в ницшеанском "Заратустре" "Für Allé und Keinen" [Для всех и ни для кого] может быть применимо и к истине искусства».

Наряду с критикой массовой культуры и эстетизмом шла определенная симпатия к философии жизни. Она представляла собой, как утверждал Хоркхаймер, подлинный протест против развитого капитализма с его неумолимым нивелированием индивидуального существования и растущей жесткостью абстрактного рационализма. Франкфуртская школа, в отличие от Лукача, проводила различия между различными видами иррационализма. Они стремились выявить полезные критические потенциалы среди этих доктрин и отделить их от реакционных версий. Витализм Ницше был примером первого, а философия жизни 1930-х годов, призванная примирить людей с иррациональностью господствующего порядка, — примером второго.

Более того, осознание Франкфуртской школой краха моральных и эпистемологических определенностей западной традиции и её центральное прозрение относительно «диалектики Просвещения» во многом обязаны своей остротой Ницше. Он наиболее радикально применил субъективный релятивизм и перспективизм Просвещения и обратил их против просвещенного субъекта. Критическая теория радикализировала это ещё больше, применяя данный подход недифференцированным образом к мрачному тоталитарному опыту 1930-х и 1940-х годов: сталинизму, фашизму и американскому потребительскому капитализму. Критическая теория считала себя всеобъемлющей критикой идеологии, задуманной как «просвещение просвещения» и радикально критичной по отношению к культуркритике! Адорно был одержим иронической внутренней динамикой этих процессов.

Несмотря на эти влияния, Франкфуртская школа также выражала определенную критическую амбивалентность по отношению к Ницше (наиболее четко выраженную в «Диалектике Просвещения»). Эта амбивалентность служила напоминанием о марксистских истоках критической теории. В этом настроении Ницше оставался, несмотря ни на что, буржуазным философом, неспособным признать важность общества в своих анализах, и тем, кто недостаточно развил свои идеи о диалектике. Материалистическая, но уважительная критика Хоркхаймера 1935 года ясно иллюстрирует этот аргумент:

Единственный великий дух, который перед лицом грубого сгущения этого тумана, произошедшего с середины прошлого века, достиг свободы от иллюзий и всестороннего взгляда, возможных с точки зрения крупной буржуазии, — это Ницше. От него действительно должно было ускользнуть то, что интеллектуальная честность, которая его заботила, не сочеталась с этой социальной позицией. Причина той гнили, с которой он боролся, кроется ни в индивидуальном, ни в национальном характере, а в структуре общества в целом, которая включает в себя и то, и другое. Поскольку как истинный буржуазный философ он сделал психологию, пусть даже самую глубокую из существующих сегодня, фундаментальной наукой об истории, он неверно понял происхождение духовного распада и путь выхода, и судьба, постигшая его собственную работу, была поэтому неизбежной.

Оценки критической теории и её ницшеанской связи, разумеется, кардинально различаются. Некоторые, как Маурер, обвиняли её в недостатке мужества в своих ницшеанских убеждениях. Для Маурера Ницше олицетворяет собой предельного антиутописта, чья «критика идеологии» ставит под вопрос всё, включая приглушённый утопизм Франкфуртской школы. С этой точки зрения Ницше остаётся более последовательно радикальным, чем критическая теория. Это, в некотором смысле, может пролить свет на замечание Джорджа Фридмана о том, что Франкфуртская школа была «слишком ницшеанской, не будучи при этом достаточно ницшеанской». Для других критиков проблема критической теории заключалась не в недостаточности, а, скорее, в безнадёжной передозировке Ницше. Как недавно выразился Ж. Г. Меркиор:

В основе большей части последующего идеала негативной диалектики Адорно лежала тень Ницше, мастера мизологии, то есть нападок на логику и разум. В своей «Генеалогии морали» (1887) Ницше утверждал, что «определимо лишь то, что не имеет истории»; теперь же, как было замечено, Адорно попытался применить тот же тезис к обществу, среде истории. В результате он лишил себя устойчивости концептуального понимания социальной структуры и культурного процесса. Поэтому его негативной диалектике не хватало не только направления, но даже содержания, согласно проницательному замечанию [Зигфрида] Кракауэра.

Показательно, что в стремлении Юргена Хабермаса реконструировать социалистический гуманизм уважительная критика Франкфуртской школы сочетается с фундаментальным неприятием её ницшеанского компонента. Это относится прежде всего к поиску Хабермасом последовательной рациональности, которую Франкфуртская школа — поддавшись ницшеанскому искушению — явно не смогла обеспечить: «Хоркхаймер и Адорно... предались безудержному скептицизму в отношении разума, вместо того чтобы взвесить основания, ставящие под сомнение сам этот скептицизм».

Двадцать лет назад Хабермас высоко оценил связь Ницше между «знанием и интересами», не принимая при этом склонности философа психологизировать подобные связи и радикализировать скептицизм до такой степени, чтобы он охватывал всё знание, особенно самые утончённые концепции разума. Это была «критика идеологии», которая вышла далеко за рамки своих традиционных, искупительных функций. «Ницше довёл до конца самоотмену эпистемологии, начатую Гегелем и продолженную Марксом, придя к самоотрицанию рефлексии». Для Хабермаса это была уже не диалектика Просвещения, а просто форма позднебуржуазного иррационализма; в последнее время он обновил своё убеждение, включив в него новейшие «ницшеанства», проявившиеся в неохаййдеггерианстве, фукольдианском постструктурализме и дерридианском деконструктивизме.

Несмотря на усилия Хабермаса, сомнительно, что на столь позднем этапе постмодернистского сознания Ницше действительно можно просто исключить из радикальных, левых или даже марксистских формирований. Он, безусловно, находится в оправдывающем центре современных французских радикальных концепций культуры, характеризующихся гетерогенностью, акцентом на игру и смех, плюрализмом, противоречием, желанием, различием и верой в то, что эрозия веры в стабильную и единую истину представляет собой форму освобождения. Как и у многих других ницшеанских проектов, их политическая родословная неуловима. Хотя Хабермас осудил эти течения как формы политического иррационализма, их по-разному называли постмарксистскими продолжениями левого радикализма, нигилистическим анархизмом и даже консервативным квиетизмом, неспособным вообразить даже возможность значимых перемен.

Часто запутанная попытка объединить Ницше с Марксом все еще продолжается, но что касается организованного социалистического движения левых, то ницшеанское влияние никогда не было центральным. Хотя оно имело различные проявления и функционировало как изменчивый и переоценивающий раздражитель, оно не могло стать частью мейнстрима.

Это было неверно для многочисленных идеологий немецкого социализма, разработанных полемистами радикальных правых Веймара. Там Ницше играл ключевую роль в попытке консервативных революционеров перехватить социалистическую монополию у левых и использовать ее в правых целях. В этом упражнении Ницше выступал в качестве авторитетного противовеса Марксу и как пророк, который одновременно воплощал и провозглашал подлинный немецкий дух и ценности. Авторы этого упражнения, конечно, выискивали из ницшеанской сокровищницы только те образы, категории и метафоры, которые соответствовали их цели. Они сформулировали преображенную концепцию социализма, которая оставила позади все свои марксистские ассоциации. Многие создатели немецкого социализма считали только Ницше достаточно пророческим и революционным, способным предоставить арсенал необходимых концепций, идиому героической борьбы и власти, чтобы придать форму привлекательной и современной контрконцепции социализма.

Хотя в немецком ницшеанском социализме правых существовали различные направления, можно выделить несколько основных общих черт. Ему тоже приходилось прибегать к казуистике. Ненависть Ницше к социальным целям, писал один комментатор в начале нацистского периода, была лишь видимостью. В действительности он предписывал союз между социалистическими стремлениями и властным руководством: более того, он приветствовал бы тот факт, что борьба между классами закончилась, уступив место задачам большой политики. По сути, он проводил различие между «хорошим и плохим социализмом. Демократия — это социализм, возведенный в самоцель, в то время как для Ницше социализм — это средство, необходимый фундамент, с которого великие лидеры могли бы воздвигнуть новые народы из стратифицированных структур».

Эти ницшеанские социализмы правых были увлечены откровенно иррационалистической философией жизни, которая изображала абстрактный рационализм марксизма и либерализма как безнадежно непригодный для улавливания подлинных источников жизни. Поскольку считалось, что правые воплощают жизнь, они стояли выше рационального анализа. Политика рассматривалась как по существу эстетический вопрос. Слившись с волюнтаристской концепцией действия, политика трансформировалась и социализировалась в национальную ницшеанскую волю к власти. Эта концепция социализма была неразрывно связана с темами и мифологией Первой мировой войны. Она стремилась заменить язык класса языком мужского сообщества на войне. Это должно было стать основой новой интеграции рабочего в общество, для чего ницшеанство подходило как нельзя лучше.

В 1919 году в качестве прямого ответа на немецкую революцию и попытки переосмыслить её цели Артур Мёллер ван ден Брук провозгласил союз Ницше и социализма. Впервые он изложил основы этой точки зрения в популярном журнале «Иллюстрированная газета» в статье с характерным названием «Ницше и социализм». Ницше, утверждал ван ден Брук, начал чувствовать, что социализм обладает как позитивным, так и негативным потенциалом. Если социализм правильно понимать, он может стать «волей к утверждению жизни». Все революции, если ими правильно управлять, могут быть созидательными и привести к новым человеческим силам, способным укрепить нацию. Это также можно было применить к текущим событиям. Ван ден Брук процитировал предсказание Ницше (то самое, на которое позже ссылался Томас Манн): «Однажды рабочий будет жить как буржуа; но над ним — высшая каста, характеризующаяся своей бережливостью: следовательно, более бедная и простая, но обладающая властью».

Видение Ницше, писал элитарист ван ден Брук, уже было частично верным для рабочих. Но на данном этапе революции они должны были решить, какие ценности выбрать: либо материализм чисто политического социализма, либо идеалистический, «духовный социализм», этические последствия которого Ницше прояснил.

В 1923 году, когда угроза захвата власти рабочими, казалось, пошла на убыль, ван ден Брук опубликовал свой знаменитый «Третий рейх», в котором сформулировал менее радикальную концепцию немецкого социализма и развил свои прежние идеи. Социализм ван ден Брука сочетал индивидуалистические и корпоративистские представления о более открытой социальной структуре с огромной дозой антимарксизма и явно покровительственным отношением к рабочим классам, которые он стремился освободить. Ницше, настаивал ван ден Брук, стремился привести в нацию новых индивидов из пролетариата. В настоящее время они, несомненно, были лишены идеалов, материальными людьми в экономически регулируемом мире, которые были частью пролетариата, всё ещё влачившего животное существование. Несмотря на их материалистическое и аморфное состояние, их можно было постепенно включить в жизнь нации посредством формирования и спиритуализации. Разве не о достоинстве рабочего думал Ницше, когда провозглашал: «Не должно быть никакой связи между оплатой и достижением. Каждый индивид в соответствии со своими дарованиями должен быть поставлен так, чтобы он делал лучшее, на что способен».

Ницшеанская интерпретация коммунизма была более благородной, заявлял ван ден Брук, ибо он заменил нивелирующую идею равенства идеей равенства прав на более высоком моральном уровне. Он признавал только одну меру человеческих ценностей и требовал, чтобы пролетариат достиг её. Концепция социализма ван ден Брука была также неразрывно связана с нацией; когда рабочие помещали себя в её рамки, их действия трансформировались из простой силы в творческую мощь. Социализм обретал смысл только тогда, когда он охватывал весь народ и его экономические потребности. Включение рабочих было основой национального возрождения: «Этот новый социализм должен стать фундаментом Третьего рейха Германии». Его социализм начинался там, где заканчивались либерализм и марксизм, он был неразрывно связан с национальным возрождением, выраженным в явно ницшеанских терминах: «Рабочая сила шестидесяти миллионов, — писал ван ден Брук, — должна быть преобразована в волю к власти шестидесяти миллионов... Эта воля — единственное, на что мы можем наверняка рассчитывать».

Ницшеанские социалисты правого толка также использовали Ницше для анализа декаданса и пути к выздоровлению. Хуго Фишер, соратник радикально-консервативного кружка вокруг Ганса Фрайера, превозносил и Маркса, и Ницше как аналитиков декаданса буржуазного общества: тем не менее, Ницше был более выдающимся мыслителем. Он поставил декаданс в самый центр и, в отличие от Маркса, смог различить просто симптоматический и реальный декаданс. Социализм правого толка был порожден поиском здорового, постдекадентского и антибуржуазного нового человека.

Ницшеанские ценности героизма, борьбы и власти были первостепенными для солидарности, основанной не на заводских конвейерах, а на окопном братстве. Пожалуй, самой повторяемой цитатой, подчеркивающей эту форму социализма, было изречение Ницше относительно будущего рабочего: «Рабочие должны научиться чувствовать себя солдатами. Гонорар, доход, но никакой платы!»

Вернер Зомбарт утверждал, что существует фундаментальное различие между материалистическим марксистским социализмом, отмеченным расчетливым духом торгашества, и идеалистическим и героическим немецким социализмом, который предпочитал быть львом в течение дня, чем овцой в течение столетия. Это был антипод культа труда, вся идеология которого покоилась на фундаменте глубокого рессентимента.

Этот социализм правых был призван противостоять западному гедонизму, прогрессу и утилитаризму — ценностям, ассоциирующимся с отвергнутыми марксистским и либеральным мировоззрениями. Эти ценности должны были быть заменены трагическим ницшеанским антиисторицистским витализмом, который поощрял бы социализм долга наряду с правами и подчеркивал бы самопожертвование ради сверхиндивидуальной цели. Как правило, эта цель переносилась с международного пролетариата на нацию.

Не все сторонники той или иной формы национал-социализма были нацистами. И все же попытка свести социальное к национальному и наоборот все больше характеризовала все сегменты немецких радикальных правых. Как выразился Гитлер в 1932 году:

Всякая истинно национальная мысль в конечном счете социальна... [Т]от, кто целиком посвящает себя своему народу... тот, кто постигает наш великий гимн «Германия, Германия превыше всего», для кого нет в мире ничего выше этой Германии... тот социалист. Это был и есть социализм фронтовиков, Адольфа Гитлера, и был и есть социализм «Стального шлема».

Различные версии этого социализма смогли заменить марксистские традиции прусскими как составляющими «истинного» социализма. Их главными социалистическими добродетелями были мужество, дисциплина, порядок и послушное подчинение. Ницше предоставил обновленный маскулинный словарь для таких ценностей. Но более того, он также смог предоставить то, что один комментатор описал как динамический «революционный элемент в социализме», отбросив при этом его «демократически-экономический элемент». Что было ценно прежде всего в социализме и нуждалось в отвлекающем использовании, так это его революционная энергия. Более того, сверхисторические ницшеанские ценности жизни и воля к власти были интегрированы в социализм, который был сосредоточен на рабочих классах, не нападая открыто на институт частной собственности и не обещая положить конец экономическому неравенству.

Ницшеанские социалисты правого толка начинали свой анализ с диагнозов нынешнего упадка, утверждая, что Германия погружается в состояние безнадежной дегенерации; только радикальные, даже апокалиптические социалистические меры могли привести к необходимому возрождению. Чрезвычайно популярный Освальд Шпенглер — «умная обезьяна» Ницше, как окрестил его Томас Манн — сформулировал обе эти темы.

Примечательно, что в своем первом томе «Заката Европы» (1918) Шпенглер объединил свой анализ социализма как культурного феномена с единственным в книге полным обсуждением Ницше. На этом этапе Шпенглер демонстрировал амбивалентное и критическое отношение как к Ницше, так и к социализму. Социализм изображался как часть позднего западного состояния, универсальное и окончательное выражение фаустовской этики на ее закатной и негативной стадии. Подобно науке, ему не хватало творческого начала фаустовской этики, каким оно проявлялось в период расцвета культуры; он был практичным, бездушным и лишенным всяких метафизических качеств. Он сводил все к внешнему, социальному характеру, нетерпимо стремясь социализировать все по своему образцу. Как таковой, он был универсальной, неизбежной частью современности:

Если мы допустим, что социализм (в этическом, а не в экономическом смысле) — это то мироощущение, которое стремится навязать свои взгляды всем, то мы все без исключения, вольно или невольно, сознательно или нет, социалисты. Даже Ницше, этот самый страстный противник «стадной морали», был совершенно неспособен ограничить свое рвение самим собой в классическом смысле. Он думал только о «человечестве» и нападал на каждого, кто отличался от него самого... Ницшеанский Заратустра — хотя он якобы стоит по ту сторону добра и зла — от начала до конца дышит болью от того, что видит людей не такими, какими он хотел бы их видеть...

Социализм — в его высшем, а не уличном смысле — подобно любому другому фаустовскому идеалу, исключителен... Когда Ницше впервые записал фразу «переоценка всех ценностей», духовное движение столетий, в которых мы живем, наконец обрело свою формулу. ... Именно это, всеобщая переоценка, и делает... — используя слово в новом и глубоком смысле — социализмом.

Ницше, писал Шпенглер, не хватило мужества сделать собственные выводы. Он утверждал, что Джорджу Бернарду Шоу осталось завершить аргумент, который Заратустра был слишком брезглив, чтобы высказать. Его «Человек и сверхчеловек» и «Майор Барбара» придали практические и точные формы этим смутным ницшеанским импульсам. Шоу преследовал ницшеанскую идею выведения сверхчеловека. При этом он признавал дарвиновскую природу проекта; он также понимал, что Ницше, по сути, требовал «превращения человечества в племенную ферму». Как бы иронично это ни казалось, утверждал Шпенглер, мораль господ Ницше с ее схемой систематического разведения — «совершенно материалистическое и утилитарное понятие» — «происходит... из того источника всей интеллектуальной современности, атмосферы английской фабрики».

Столь захватывающий, критический материал полностью изменил общепринятые значения социализма. Однако Шпенглер уже здесь намекал на ту позитивную оценку, которую он позже даст ницшеанскому социализму. Фридрих Вильгельм I Прусский, заявлял он, был «прототипом социалиста в великом смысле». Социализм, более того, был не системой сострадания, гуманности, мира и доброй заботы, а системой воли к власти. Любое другое его прочтение иллюзорно. Его цель насквозь империалистическая; благосостояние, но благосостояние в экспансивном смысле, благосостояние не больного, а энергичного человека, которому должна быть дана свобода действовать, невзирая на препятствия в виде богатства, происхождения и традиций.

Хотя Шпенглер не упомянул соответствующий отрывок, Ницше действительно обрисовал похожую концепцию:

Социализм — это лишь средство агитации, используемое индивидуализмом: он понимает, что для достижения чего-либо нужно организоваться для коллективного действия, для «власти». Но он желает не социального порядка как цели индивида, а социального порядка как средства, делающего возможным существование множества индивидов: это инстинкт социалистов, в котором они часто сами себя обманывают.

Социализм Шпенглера становится свободой подняться над собственным классом и предоставить должным образом одаренным возможность выразить волю к власти. Во втором томе «Заката Европы» (1922) он значительно вышел за рамки этой позиции. Он изобразил космическую борьбу, в которой капитализм играл роль разрушительных денежных сил. Социализм же был трудолюбивым, самоотверженным, заботливым слугой государства, «внезапно ставшим фокусом огромных жизненных сил». Это было, по сути, не что иное, как «воля призвать к жизни могучий политико-экономический порядок, который превосходит все классовые интересы, систему высокой вдумчивости и чувства долга, которая поддерживает целое в прекрасном состоянии для решающей битвы его истории».

«Закат Европы» был, однако, квазинаучным томом, и тема социализма была склонна затеряться в его лабиринтообразных блужданиях. Этого не произошло с полемической работой Шпенглера 1920 года «Пруссачество и социализм». Там социализм становится просто идентичным прусским добродетелям лидерства, мужества, дисциплины и послушания. Это были ключи к интеграции рабочего класса в более широкое сообщество и основа для национального возрождения. В этом томе Ницше едва упоминается по имени, однако его дух, язык и ценности пронизывают видение Шпенглера. Социализм, писал Шпенглер, не имеет ничего общего с противоречием между богатыми и бедными, но связан со способностью господствовать над жизнью:

Я обращаюсь к молодежи... Станьте мужчинами! Нам больше не нужны идеологи, никаких речей об образовании (бильдунге) и духовной миссии немцев. Нам нужна твердость, нам нужен бесстрашный скептицизм, нам нужен класс социалистических господ. Еще раз: социализм означает власть, власть и еще раз власть.

Именно в книге Эрнста Юнгера «Рабочий» (Der Arbeiter, 1932) эта тенденция нашла свой апофеоз. Границы Юнгера между левыми и правыми стали весьма размытыми. В конце 1920-х годов он выражал симпатию к коммунистам и их позитивной, воинствующей воле к власти. В 1930-е годы он стал ассоциироваться с национал-большевизмом и поиском общей почвы с Россией против Запада. «Рабочий», эта радикальная попытка предвидеть грядущий порядок и переосмыслить значение рабочего, должен был стать манифестом национал-большевиков. Именно из-за их способности к тотальной мобилизации и созданию нового порядка Юнгер мог восхищаться как итальянским фашизмом, так и большевизмом.

«Рабочий» Юнгера довел до предела радикальное видение, в котором новая концепция труда становится принципом всего общества. В его трансмутации Ницше и его своеобразном образе национализированного социализма рабочий становится центром всей жизни — самой основой существования и его способности к регенерации. Однако рабочий Юнгера никоим образом не напоминает привычного, повседневного пролетария. Он — стилизованный прототип. Рабочий рассматривается не через социально-экономические категории, а как метаисторический тип, деиндивидуализированный гештальт. Этот гештальт имел свою основу в своего рода эстетической политике и находился по ту сторону добра и зла, будучи ни ложным, ни истинным. Скорее, это был феномен, постижимый только в своих собственных терминах. Либо вы испытывали его динамику, либо нет.

На безошибочно ницшеанском языке послевоенное веймарское видение будущего общества рабочих Юнгера стремилось сделать военный опыт частью повседневной современной жизни. Рабочий и новый порядок излучали чистую волю к власти, весьма далекую от всех предыдущих буржуазных выражений. Действительно, рабочий представляет собой антитезу буржуа, чей весь проект заключался в том, чтобы отрицать стихийное и опасное как существенное для жизни. Война, писал Юнгер, восстановила их центральное значение и низвела буржуазный порядок в прошлое. Новый порядок будущего уже можно было предвидеть: «Стало ненужным заниматься переоценкой всех ценностей — достаточно увидеть новое и участвовать в нем».

Новая эпоха казалась не чем иным, как воплощением призыва Ницше жить в опасности. Юнгер без Ницше немыслим. Как он писал в «Леске 125»: «Почти всем, что сильнее всего волновало нас... мы были обязаны одинокому Ницше». Весь его корпус текстов дышит духом Ницше, обновленным в своеобразной страстной манере. «Рабочий» (Der Arbeiter) казался предвестником ницшеанской эпохи, общества, созданного по динамичному и нигилистическому образу Ницше.

Однако Юнгер укротил эту динамику, социализировав рабочего в высокодисциплинированном мире. Он типизировал и коллективизировал своего ницшеанского человека и впряг его в безличные национальные и индустриальные рамки. Ницше был помещен на верстак, превратив Заратустру в безликий винтик индустриальной машины, нацеленной на тотальную мобилизацию. Примитивное и утонченное соединились в фантазии Юнгера, сделав волю посреднической силой. Чувство власти и дисциплина были объединены через волевой контроль над технологией и производством. Труд всегда был ключом к целостности вещей. Благодаря своим стихийным способностям и своему труду рабочие были призваны стать регенеративной и правящей силой.

Создание нового человечества было целью рабочего. Это не имело ничего общего с классическими марксистскими идеями. Основанный на принципе героического реализма, новый порядок олицетворял смерть индивида и возвышение типа. Новый человек Юнгера не воспринимал бы себя как цель, а только как средство, носитель стихийной воли к власти. Как и на войне, где индивидуальный характер значил меньше, чем коллективное, механизированное действие, новая эпоха сделала бы индивидуальный характер устаревшим. Аппарат современного индустриального государства стал бы выражением воли к власти рабочего.

В этом новом обществе законы войны и тотальной мобилизации должны были применяться ко всем сферам жизни, а различие между комбатантами и некомбатантами — стерто. Свобода больше не мыслилась как выражение индивидуальной независимости, а как акт становления частью целого. Это был мир, в котором воля к власти рабочих сделала свободу и послушание тождественными. В окончательной версии правого ницшеанского социалистического движения индивидуализм Ницше был полностью поглощен его послевоенной брутализацией. Накануне прихода нацистов к власти и Ницше, и социализм претерпели свое окончательное преображение.

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  1. Иллюстрация Эрнста Морица Гейгера к притче Ницше «Великан» (1895). Pan 1, № 2 (1895/96), стр. 91.

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  1. Офорт Ганса Ольде (1899). Pan 5, № 4 (1899/1900), стр. 233.

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  1. Аноним. Ницше в терновом венце. Экслибрис для Георга Лаппера (ок. 1900). Предоставлено Архивом Гёте и Шиллера, Веймар.

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  1. Ницше пишет рекомендательное письмо для Берсонов. Die Fackel, № 5—6 (январь 1914), стр. 391-392.

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  1. Дом в Дармштадте работы Петера Беренса: мозаика в вестибюле с четырьмя стилизованными орлами. Тильман Буддензиг, «Жилой дом как культовое сооружение», в книге Петер Беренс и Нюрнберг (Мюнхен: Prestel, 1980), стр. 39. Предоставлено Германским национальным музеем, Нюрнберг.

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6. Бруно Таут, Альпийская архитектура (Хаген: Folkwang, 1919).

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  1. Фриц Шумахер, проект памятника Ницше (1898). Фриц Шумахер, Этюды (Лейпциг: Baumgärtner, 1900), таблица 1.

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  1. Арнольд Крамер, скульптура Ницше в кресле для больных (1898). Выставка в отреставрированном архиве Ницше. На заднем плане — неизвестная работа с изображением Ницше с заратустровскими символами змеи и орла. Предоставлено Архивом Гёте и Шиллера, Веймар.

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  1. Фидус (Хуго Хёппенер), свадебная церемония в сочетании с цитатой из Заратустры (1906). Jugend 11 (1906), стр. 369.

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  1. Альфред Содер, изображение Ницше обнаженным в горах. Экслибрис для Фридриха Бертольда Саттера (1907). Предоставлено Архивом Гёте и Шиллера, Веймар.

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  1. Аноним. Открытка с вегетарианской цитатой. Ксилография Ницше по Гансу Ольде (ок. 1900). Предоставлено Архивом Гёте и Шиллера, Веймар.

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  1. Рисунок Ницше из «Sozialistische Monatshefte» (журнал), № 10 (октябрь 1900 г.), стр. 626.

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  1. Макс Клингер, бюст Ницше. «Die Tat» (журнал) I, № 1 (апрель 1909 г.).

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  1. «Два недочеловека» (Untermenschen) и «Два человека». «Недочеловек» (Der Untermensch) (Берлин, 1942 г.).

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  1. Гитлер рядом с бюстом Ницше, 1934 г. Предоставлено Архивом Гёте и Шиллера, Веймар.

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  1. Восьмидесятивосьмилетняя Элизабет Фёрстер-Ницше встречает Гитлера у входа в Архив Ницше. Предоставлено Архивом Гёте и Шиллера, Веймар.

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  1. «Возвращение философа: Ницше — мыслитель, Гитлер — преступник». Обложка «Der Spiegel» 35, № 24 (8 июня 1981 г.). Предоставлено «Der Spiegel: Das Deutsche Nachrichten-Magazin».

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7. После смерти Бога: разновидности ницшеанской религии

И сколько еще возможных новых богов! Что касается меня самого, у которого религиозный, то есть богосозидающий инстинкт временами просыпается в самые неподходящие моменты — как по-разному, как разнообразно божественное открывалось мне каждый раз! ... Нужно ли уточнять, что бог предпочитает оставаться вне всего буржуазного и рационального? И, между нами, также вне добра и зла?
Ницше, «Воля к власти»

Общеизвестно, что Ницше и его последователи внесли ключевой вклад в фундаментальный кризис христианской веры в Европе, начиная с XIX века. Однако никто до сих пор не проследил сложные пути, которыми поколения ницшеанцев одновременно пытались преодолеть этот кризис, перенаправляя и возрождая религиозный импульс, а не уничтожая его. Создание ряда альтернативных контррелигиозных концепций стало важным компонентом ассимиляции ницшеанства в европейской, особенно немецкой, культуре. Наша задача здесь — представить анатомию этих суррогатных верований, поместить их в идеологический контекст и изучить некоторые из их политических последствий в Германии с 1890-х годов до Третьего рейха.

Ницшеанство было отчасти творцом, отчасти бенефициаром общего упадка традиционной веры и недовольства официальной церковью. Для многих это недовольство, отнюдь не утоляя жажду религии, придавало ей новый импульс. В Германии эпохи fin de siècle (конец века) предпринимались разнообразные попытки либо омолодить религиозное сознание, либо привить ему сознательно светскую форму. Растущая «недостоверность» догматов и последовавшая за этим духовная потеря — усугубленные процессом быстрой и интенсивной индустриализации — породили множество реформистских течений (как внутри Церкви, так и вне ее), натуралистических религий, а также оккультных и мистических обществ. Многие из них имели налет чудачества и маргинальности, но они указывали на существование новых конфигураций веры, в которых религиозная и политическая сферы все больше переплетались. Формы и содержание этих альтернативных религий были неизбежно эклектичными и, подобно другим областям ницшеанских начинаний, размывали традиционные границы политического размежевания. Адепты новых культов, нащупывающие новые формы духовного самопредставления, были, таким образом, часто идеологически двусмысленными и политически мобильными.

Тот факт, что искавшие религиозной веры люди зачастую черпали вдохновение у самого радикального из всех атеистов, был иронией, типичной для восприятия Ницше. Тем не менее, конструирование ницшеанской религиозности никогда не было полностью произвольным — из работ мастера можно было выборочно извлечь правдоподобные проекции, как показывает вступительная цитата этой главы. Смерть Бога, как утверждал Ницше в некоторых местах, не обязательно предвещала эпоху нигилизма и конец религии как таковой. «Мне кажется, что религиозный инстинкт действительно находится в процессе мощного роста, но теистическое удовлетворение он отвергает с глубоким подозрением».

Те, кто искал религиозного Ницше, могли найти аллюзии во всем его творчестве. Сами язык и стиль «Так говорил Заратустра» (по общему мнению, одного из величайших лирических достижений на немецком языке) дышали библейским духом. Религиозное измерение, конечно, выходило далеко за рамки вопросов языка и стиля. Оно пронизывало весь проект Ницше. Его настойчивое требование создания новых скрижалей, возвышение дионисийской божественности в прямом сопоставлении с распятым (а в конце — в сочетании с ним), его учение о вечном возвращении и его видение сверхчеловека как земного наследника старого Бога — всё это поощряло ницшеанские религиозные построения.

Эти построения охватывали весь политико-идеологический спектр. Ницшеанские религиозные темы появлялись в различных левых обличьях, вдохновляя образы бесчисленных неоромантических и фёлькише группировок, а также якобы аполитичных спиритуалистических, литературных и интеллектуальных кругов.

При всем разнообразии, некоторые базовые элементы составляли основу большинства ницшеанских религий. Все они взращивали гуманистическую ницшеанскую вселенную волюнтаризма, воли, витализма, мифа и героизма. Все они стремились распространить среди различных христианских или постхристианских групп населения регенеративную чувствительность, в которой Ницше был центральной фигурой.

Это распространение началось поразительным образом. Приключения ницшеанской религии в Германии начались как сила внутри веры, стремящаяся оживить, а не уничтожить христианство! Будучи по сути протестантским феноменом, оно возглавлялось рядом критически настроенных, но преданных пасторов и теологов, которые взывали к ницшеанскому религиозному импульсу в борьбе за возрождение подлинного христианского послания.

Мы знаем, как большинство христиан относились к Ницше. Разве не он был человеком, который растерзал их веру и определил себя как антихрист? Большая часть его дурной славы проистекала из беспощадного осуждения христианства как жизнеотрицающей силы и источника постоянного и изнуряющего рессентимента морали рабов. Вместо женоподобной, декадентской этики христианства, отравившей внутренности западной цивилизации, он предложил имморалистский мир по ту сторону добра и зла.

Неудивительно, что многие христиане ответили тем же. Ницше, утверждали они, был аморальным человеком, проповедующим доктрины, которые были кощунственно антихристианскими и социально опасными. Его провозглашение того, что Бог умер и что теперь всё дозволено, обладало демоническими измерениями. Его учения, как и его разум, были безумными, разрушительными и болезненными.

Однако были и значимые другие, кто не соглашался. Во времена глубокого внутреннего недомогания ряд протестантов находили ницшеанский язык регенерации и жизнеутверждения особенно привлекательным. Протестантизм, сам по себе являющийся продуктом разрыва с мощной нормативной традицией, всегда был особенно восприимчив к внешним, современным влияниям. Несмотря на эту способность к инновациям, включение Ницше в христианство требовало даже большего, чем обычная казуистика. Многочисленные попытки свидетельствуют о притягательности ницшеанского видения и проливают свет на крайности протестантского самопредставления начиная с 1890-х годов.

Уже в 1896 году теолог Ганс Галльвиц придал протестантизму четкий ницшеанский импульс. Для него мужественные, воинские ценности Ницше были не только достойны подражания, но и составляли сердце изначального, подлинного христианства. Мужественные, героические добродетели ницшеанства и «настоящего» христианства были практически неразличимы. Они были настолько близки, что Галльвиц (писавший в этом оплоте респектабельного немецкого мнения, «Прусских ежегодниках») пропагандировал «Фридриха Ницше как воспитателя к христианству».

Если проникнуть в «парадокс» мышления Ницше и добраться до самой сути его этики, провозглашал Галльвиц, то можно обнаружить, что Христос и антихрист отстаивали одни и те же ценности и истины. Вооружившись цитатами из Нового Завета и ницшеанскими изречениями, Галльвиц продемонстрировал это сходство. В такой экзегезе Христос метаморфизировал в ницшеанца. Поведение самого Спасителя характеризовалось приравниванием добра к чувству силы, в то время как зло было тождественно слабости. Когда Христос провозглашал (в Евангелии от Матфея 10:34): «Не думайте, что Я пришел принести мир на землю; не мир пришел Я принести, но меч», — он был полностью согласен с ницшеанским видением. Их общность была очевидна для всех: оба стремились пробудить свой истощенный век новой жизненной энергией; оба любили истину; и их утверждение собственного «я» и отвращение к трусости связывали их воедино.

Конечно, Ницше ошибался в своей оценке христианства; это была вовсе не жалкая религия рессентимента. Далекое от поощрения эгалитаризма и болезненной посредственности, изначальное христианство постулировало исцеление от ложной, стерильной реальности и переход к той, что основана на природе, силе и красоте. Нападки Павла на языческий разум и презрение Иисуса к фарисейскому легализму, с точки зрения Галльвица, были сродни ранним версиям ницшеанской философии жизни, частью возвращения к смыслу земли.

В эпоху, когда мужественность все чаще отождествлялась с нормальностью и национальной самобытностью, попытка Галльвица перекроить христианство в духе ницшеанской этики силы, героизма и маскулинности становится более понятной. Возмущенные католические критики рассматривали эту ницшеанизацию христианства как отражение протестантского состояния. Лишенные какой-либо миссии и лишенные авторитета, протестанты, вполне понятно, начали считать себя сверхлюдьми. Это ниспровержение традиционной морали ради витализма, который породил существо, стоящее по ту сторону греха и которому ничто не запрещено, было радикально злым.

Существовали и другие пути, по которым шла попытка ницшеанизировать протестантизм — и протестантизировать Ницше. Росло признание незаменимости Ницше как критика, поднимавшего вопросы фундаментальной важности для современной культуры. Протестанты, заимствовавшие идеи у Ницше, обычно делали это как часть своего критического осмысления протестантского состояния. Они применяли неоромантический язык декаданса и дегенерации к своему собственному христианскому положению. Роль Ницше здесь мыслилась как пробуждение христианства от обманчивого сна, предупреждение его о собственной ситуации и недостатках, и тем самым прокладывание пути к более аутентичной, обновленной религиозности. Ницше был поставлен на службу протестантизму, находящемуся в кризисе.

Чтобы делать это эффективно, Ницше требовалась законная родословная. Философ, писал один протестантский критик в 1900 году, может преподать христианам важные уроки, потому что вся его жизнь была пронизана духовностью. Его пиетистское прошлое, пожизненная вовлеченность в теологические вопросы и его собственная непоколебимо религиозная натура сделали его важным источником для современных христиан. Предполагаемый атеизм Ницше выдавал ощутимую жажду веры: разве не воскликнул Заратустра, что Бог сам обратил его в безбожие? Контрпослание Ницше о вечном возвращении было неприемлемо для христиан, заявил нюрнбергский пастор Ф. Риттельмейер, но его послание оставалось глубоко религиозным. Разве его призыв к соответствию между мышлением и бытием не был неявным признанием веры в «скрытого Бога», который привносил порядок в мир?

Присваивая Ницше, протестанты следовали знакомому шаблону, который использовали все, кто запрягал философа в свою повозку: нужно было открыть настоящего, глубокого Ницше. Таким образом, как настаивал теолог Теодор Оденвальд, истинное христианское использование Ницше влекло за собой отделение его от мириад поверхностных, сенсационных культов, окружавших его. Ницше, утверждал он, нельзя эксплуатировать как символ всеобщей антирелигиозности; его отрицание христианства проистекало из его тоски по нему. Действительно, Ницше был понятен, с удовольствием аргументировал Оденвальд, только в «той целостности европейской духовности, которая всегда была связана с христианством». В системе мышления Ницше католические, протестантские и мистические потоки христианского опыта нашли свое место.

Такое одомашнивание Ницше, превращение его в выражение европейской религиозной интеллектуальной традиции, выполняло важную функцию. Будучи интегрированными, ницшеанские цели могли преследоваться на законных основаниях. Таким образом, Оденвальд мог сплавить христианство с общим процессом переоценки (Umtwertungsprozess). Ницше мог стать центральной фигурой, вдохновляющей собственный процесс переоценки христианства, его борьбу за то, чтобы относиться к вере в мирских терминах, и его переход от догм и застывших форм к акценту на динамических действиях. Противостояние Ницше с христианством, настаивал Оденвальд, было противостоянием «нашей борьбе за новое понимание христианства». Стремление Ницше к возрождению должно было стать нормативным для тех, кто заботится о будущем жизнеспособной религии. Его борьба против собственного времени и христианства своей эпохи представляла собой «предвосхищение нашей собственной борьбы; внутреннее напряжение Ницше, из которого возник его дух, — это наше напряжение».

Самым влиятельным и активным проводником идей Ницше в протестантской церкви был колоритно своеобразный бременский пастор Альберт Кальтхофф (1850—1906). Как заметил один критик, это был человек, якобы служивший евангелической общине, который подрывно протаскивал Ницше и ницшеанство в Церковь. Критик имел в виду серию обращений Кальтхоффа, которые тот произнес перед своей паствой и опубликовал под названием «Проповеди Заратустры». Кальтхофф выступал везде, где только мог, перед рабочей аудиторией. Хотя он оставался в лоне протестантизма, его деятельность напоминала деятельность тех свободно-религиозных проповедников, модных в 1890-х годах, которые основывали общины вне Церкви.

Эклектичное мышление и карьера Кальтхоффа были симптоматичны для тех искателей, которых привлекала ницшеанская религия в той или иной форме. Он без особых мучений объединил монизм, социализм и ницшеанство. Подобно другим ницшеанцам, он не соглашался с господствующими позициями и предавался свободно парящему радикализму, который выражался через еретические взгляды. Учитывая их марксистский уклон, его труды о христианстве произвели сенсацию. Первоначальное христианство, писал он, дало миру «самый широкий коммунистический манифест из всех когда-либо созданных», в то время как Иисус, по сути, никогда не существовал. Он был скорее мифическим воплощением нужд и желаний низших слоев древнего мира.

Основанное на марксизме неприятие Иисуса Кальтхоффом было связано с ницшеанским виталистским антиисторизмом. Человек, живший в другую историческую эпоху, не мог быть превращен в абсолютный закон для своего собственного времени. Те, кто искал спасения в прошлом, утверждал Кальтхофф, заблуждались. Только ориентированные на будущее решения, которые объединяли бы религиозное сознание с императивами современной жизни, принесли бы избавление. Как и большинство ницшеанцев, он набрасывал миф о человеке как неотъемлемой части искупительных ницшеанских идей. Ницше, писал Кальтхофф, был воплощением своей эпохи и ее возможностей, ее болезни и потенциала для выздоровления. Сознательно или нет, провозглашал Кальтхофф, «мы все несем часть его в себе».

Церковь могла присвоить своего величайшего врага, считал Кальтхофф, как только осознала бы, что у этого мыслителя «больше морали, у этого антихриста больше христианства, чем у тех, кто его хулит». Основой для восстановления христианства было восстановление его первоначального радикализма. Первоначальное христианство разделяло с Ницше такой радикальный порыв. Оно тоже переоценило все старые ценности веры и морали. Если бы христианство осталось верным самому себе, оно бы и сегодня было недовольно божественным, оно бы тоже стало «заговорщиком будущего».

Кальтхофф сформулировал отчетливо современную религиозную чувствительность, практически взаимозаменяемую с ницшеанскими категориями. Она должна была быть освобождена от оков изнуряющей истории. Свободное индивидуальное присвоение, а не внешние предписания, было путем как к позитивной жизни, так и к утвердительному христианству, в котором и Церковь стала бы свободной. Следуя примеру Ницше, новая религия должна была стать полностью «антитеологической, внецерковной» и занять свою позицию «по ту сторону веры и неверия». Она возникла бы не из стерильной схоластики, а из творческих источников собственной жизни.

Большинство диссидентских идеологий fin de siècle проецировали свои позитивные видения на идеализированного Нового Человека будущего. Кальтхофф нашел свою модель в ницшеанизированном протестантском сверхчеловеке, который воплотил бы новое религиозное сознание, утверждающее взаимосвязанность мира и преодолевающее фрагментацию буржуазно-коммерческого общества. Новый человек достиг бы целостности, выходящей за рамки обычных индивидуалистических или социалистических категорий.

Ницше Кальтхоффа — пророк этого нового человека и новой культуры — был эмансипационным. Ницше предвидел культуру, которая обещала реализацию еще не воплощенного потенциала свободного человечества. Это новое христианство приняло бы по существу ницшеанскую форму, поставив человечество своей целью, красоту — своей формой, а жизнь — своим законом, создавая вечность в настоящем.

Как и многие другие прогрессивные ницшеанцы, Кальхоф интегрировал то, что мы сегодня рассматриваем как более проблематичный евгенический элемент. Его новый протестантизм стремился к миру, «в котором всё неживое, несвободное, умирающее, слабое и больное в человеке устранено». Это была христианская утопия с подрывными предпосылками, призванная сделать устаревшими прежние представления о христианской морали и действии. Она стремилась привить протестантской жизни виталистскую эстетику философии жизни, которая опрокинула бы «стерильную, отрицающую жизнь этику» схоластического христианства.

Гармонизация Ницше с протестантизмом, однако, приняла более четко выраженное политическое направление, когда ницшеанский импульс был выборочно интегрирован в ту часть движения фёлькише, которая была озабочена построением специфически германской формы христианства. Таким образом, Ницше стал силой в более широком националистическом присвоении и переосмыслении религии.

Ницше отнюдь не был очевидным кандидатом на святость в стремлении создать германское христианство. В конце концов, он, казалось, выступал против как германского, так и христианского компонентов. Поль де Лагард был гораздо более вероятным поборником. И всё же Ницше, обретая всё больший культурный авторитет, выразил достаточно пригодных и вдохновляющих тем, чтобы стать частью этого пантеона. Его непревзойденная радикальная критика современной культуры, его акцент на игре мифических и иррациональных сил, а также его внимание к жизненным, регенеративным импульсам привлекали центральные фигуры христианского возрождения фёлькише.

Ключевые популяризаторы, такие как Артур Бонус, наполнили германское христианство ницшеанской текстурой, которую они не всегда полностью признавали. Германская религия, заявлял Бонус, противостояла еврейско-греческому акценту на знании. Она, напротив, основывалась на центральной роли формирования и творения (Schaffen). Она была связана с индивидом и со свободой личности; сама её сущность была заключена в ницшеанском названии одной из книг Бонуса — «Религия как воля». Основа для германизации христианства, утверждал Бонус, была мужской. Эта национализация религии заменила бы старый, робкий и трусливый дух христианства духом «мужественного, справедливого и свободного» дойчтума (немецкости) (Deutschtum).

Бонус, безусловно, критически относился к различным ницшеанским понятиям. Сверхчеловек Ницше был сформирован по существу римским мировоззрением. Германская альтернатива, воплощенная в Дитрихе Бернском, представляла собой совершенно иной идеал. Но даже если он ставил под сомнение содержание идеала сверхчеловека, эта идея оставалась центральной и была интегрирована в концепцию религии, где ницшеанская воля была главным локомотивом. Действительно, почти само собой разумеющееся, дорефлексивное использование Бонусом ницшеанских категорий и терминов для своих собственных целей знаменовало глубину влияния Ницше.

Конструкция сверхчеловека Бонуса подкрепляла его собственную точку зрения. Инвертируя принятое понимание термина, он утверждал, что на самом деле только сверхчеловек может вступить в надлежащие отношения с Богом. Далекий от того, чтобы быть воплощением краха веры, его сверхчеловек теперь стал образцом подлинной веры! Для Бонуса Лютер и Эрнст Мориц Арндт представляли такой человеческий тип. «Германский христианин, — писал Бонус, — не боится даже самых шумных сверхлюдей. Переполненный дерзкой силой, он чувствует себя сверхчеловеком и благодаря этому любит и боится Бога, о котором знает, что тот дал ему силу».

Эта зарождающаяся вера влекла за собой новую морально-религиозную решимость, обозначенную Бонусом как «непреклонная воля к власти», которая создала бы предрасположенность воспринимать Бога как союзника, а не как врага. Германское христианство основывалось бы не на страхе, а на чувствах власти и силы. Даже Бог в этом представлении был наделен ницшеанскими характеристиками. Должна была существовать симметрия, заявлял Бонус, между личностью немцев и Богом, которому они поклоняются. Они либо откроют сильного и свободного Бога, который, в свою очередь, сделает их сильными и свободными, либо полностью отвернутся от него. Таким образом, немецкий атеизм не был безбожным. Он был, скорее, лишь оторван от того Бога, который требовал рабского самоотречения и который отрицал силу воли и творческое посюстороннее утверждение.

Все эти религии должны были направить потенциально анархические понятия Ницше о воле, витализме, имморализме и индивидуализме в управляемые социально-политические и интеллектуальные рамки. Приверженцы германского христианства фёлькише делали это, помещая ницшеанскую динамику в границы нации. Интересно, что это давало пространство как для выражения, так и для сдерживания этого радикального порыва.

Германский христианский Ницше был связан с его общей «одомашненностью», типичным примером которой является работа Карла Йоэля «Ницше и романтизм». Как он выразился, жизненный труд Ницше был устойчивым выражением совести, написанным «наследником немецкой религиозности тысячелетий». Отражая свою национализацию, германский христианский Ницше стал еще более доминирующим в результате Первой мировой войны. Освящение Заратустры как священной национальной книги сопровождалось комментариями, подобными тем, что писал Пауль Шульце-Бергхоф, описывая «метафизический эфир Заратустры» как полностью созвучный немецкому мистическому христианству.

Фёлькише круги часто утверждали, что подобный немецкий мистицизм открывает доступ к высшей реальности, лежащей за пределами поверхностного разума и механистического мышления Просвещения. Шульце-Бергхоф не только ассимилировал Ницше в эту традицию, но и переплавил этот мистицизм в фундаментально ницшеанские формы. Таким образом, великий немецкий мистик Якоб Бёме (1575—1625), подобно Ницше, отрицал абсолютное различие между добром и злом. Он тоже утверждал жизнь во всей ее дикой красоте. Действительно, еще до Бёме, как утверждал Шульце-Бергхоф, средневековый мистик Мастер Экхарт (1260—1327) по-ницшеански поместил божественное творчество внутрь человечества. Немецкий христианский мистицизм, писал Шульце-Бергхоф, в отличие от библейской религии, признавал, что человеческие силы составляют основу искупления. Ницше должен был пониматься как апофеоз этой традиции. Его идеал сверхчеловека был выражением этого акцента на божественном человечестве.

Процесс, связывающий Мастера Экхарта с Ницше, писал другой комментатор, был частью разворачивающейся секуляризации Бога или обожествления человека. Это способствовало формированию гораздо более глубокой религиозности, характеризующейся любовью к опасному, которая стремилась постичь жизнь-в-себе. Те, кто формулировал такое ницшеанское германское христианство, не направляли ницшеанскую динамику в квиетистские мистические формы. Скорее, они пытались использовать ее «революционные» последствия, направляя этот неоиррационализм в националистическое русло для целей фёлькише.

Неудивительно, что Эрнст Бертрам в полной мере использовал ницшеанскую религиозную тему в своем связанном с войной мифотворческом труде «Ницше». Религиозная проблематика Ницше, согласно Бертраму, была центральной для всего его проекта. Великий человек был «верующим сомневающимся... богоищущим богохульником» и «необычайным явлением в истории нордического христианства». Здесь Ницше даже становится неотъемлемой частью церковной истории. Герой народа, он был кульминационным выражением всех его позитивных, имманентных сил. Или, по крайней мере, все в Ницше, что было творческим и добрым, происходило из его «лютеранского, реформационного, нордического, романтического наследия». Как бы ни был он опьянен классическим и южным мирами, писал Бертрам, весь этический импульс Ницше проистекал из его нордического христианства. Он был последним и квинтэссенциальным выражением протестантизма.

Лютеранское и заратустрианское наследия, провозглашал Бертрам, были противопоставлены поверхностным, внешним образом; на более глубоком уровне существовала глубокая внутренняя связь. Кто, как не Ницше, олицетворял протест? Изучение его работ показало бы, более того, что этот великий атеист отнюдь не завершил свою одиссею христианством. Разве его парадоксальное видение Диониса на кресте не было доказательством? Жизнь и творчество Ницше были не чем иным, как «последним исполнением вечной нордической тоски по жизнеутверждающему христианству». Вечное дионисийское «Да» учения о вечном возвращении имело паскалевское, а не греческое происхождение. Это было «Да» христианина бесконечно затянутому пари и вечно возобновляющемуся самопреодолению. И человек, и его мысли были легендарными представлениями веры, которая предполагала внешнее предательство, но которая на самом деле составляла спасение божественного через убийство Бога, по крайней мере, в его аспекте восточного Иеговы.

По мнению Бертрама, если Ницше воплощал конфликт между сократическими, индивидуалистическими и деструктивными порывами, с одной стороны, и пророческой, общинной и мистической волей — с другой, он также предвидел их разрешение, причем его собственное существо возвышало эти антиномии до высшей трансперсональной реальности. В конечном счете, ницшеанство Бертрама приобрело мифические, даже христоподобные измерения.

Очевидно, что не все, кто был вовлечен в ницшеанский религиозный импульс, подтверждали смерть Бога. Те, кто провозглашал многочисленные оттенки протестантизированного ницшеанства, стремились не похоронить, а воскресить христианского Бога и предоставить ему — и его последователям — переоцененный лик, отмеченный ницшеанскими чертами. Эти упражнения, как правило, становились возможными только благодаря раскрытию его более глубокой, скрытой сущности. Таким образом, Ницше был кооптирован в качестве важнейшего агента протестантского возрождения, что имело двойной эффект. Это интегрировало Ницше как респектабельную часть немецкой культуры и традиции, позволяя при этом проводникам этого течения способствовать проникновению радикальных и иррационалистических идей на различные протестантские форумы.

Ницше выполнял важнейшую функцию именно потому, что существовало ощущение кризиса и потому что он, казалось, предлагал как подходящий диагноз, так и средства для выздоровления. Эти протестантские круги были, по сути, живым опровержением собственного изречения Ницше: «Все возможности христианской жизни, самые целеустремленные и самые поверхностные, самые глупые и самые продуманные, были испробованы: пора открыть что-то новое».

Ницшеанские христиане были по преимуществу протестантами, но некоторые католики также чувствовали искушение. Мы уже упоминали случай Макса Шелера. Мюнхенский богемный деятель Людвиг Дерлет и его окружение представляют собой, пожалуй, самый экзотический пример. Дерлет предложил создание монастыря сверхлюдей нового времени. Это, конечно, не должно было быть обычной общиной. Его «Прокламации» 1904 года предполагали создание нового, отрешенного от мира элитарного ордена, основанного на сильном цезаристском принципе, в котором должна была соблюдаться строгая дихотомия между лидером и последователями. Цезаристский принцип был важен, поскольку Дерлет рассматривал себя как воплощение определения Ницше, называвшего сверхчеловека «римским цезарем с душой Христа». Мюнхенские острословы не воспринимали Дерлета всерьез и сочиняли стишки про «Иисуса Бонапарта!» Тем не менее, его «Прокламации» искренне проповедовали переоценку всех ценностей на христианской почве и создание дионисийского католицизма. Один современник описывал Дерлета как «религиозного католика с ницшеанскими идеями! Его мечтой было реформировать и очистить церковь и сформировать новую теократию, в которой он сам занимал бы высокое положение». Сколь бы своеобразной ни была эта деятельность, она доказывала, что даже верующие католики не были полностью застрахованы от ницшеанского искушения.

Другая сторона ницшеанской религии касалась тех, кто принимал нападки Ницше на иудеохристианство, стремясь при этом вернуть искупительный импульс вне традиционного сверхъестественного и привычных форм монотеистической религии.

Отнюдь не все постхристианские суррогатные верования, которые как грибы после дождя появлялись с 1890-х годов среди научных монистов, анархистов, социалистов различных толков, неоромантических пророков национального культурного возрождения, натуралистов, богемы и фёлькише-расистов, были вдохновлены Ницше. И все же, как отмечал один авангардный журнал, работы Ницше особенно удовлетворяли современную тоску по подлинной религиозности, которая выходила за рамки традиционной конфессиональной религии.

Для многих появлявшихся предвестников обновленного духовного смысла, тех «босоногих пророков» того времени, Ницше мог выполнять самые разные функции. Большинство таких пророков канули в безвестность, хотя некоторые достигли непреходящей славы, как, например, Рудольф Штайнер (1861–1925). Его антропософия была столь привлекательна, потому что она, казалось, демократизировала спиритуализм, лишая его элитарного характера. Штайнер утверждал, что сверхчувственный, духовный мир, стоящий за материальным миром, столь же реален, как и материальный, и что он в целом доступен через простые тренировки. Ницше, как отмечал биограф Штайнера Колин Уилсон, вряд ли одобрил бы это представление о раздельных, но одинаково реальных физическом и метафизическом мирах. Тем не менее, Штайнера сильно влекло к философу, он некоторое время работал в Архиве Ницше (и неизбежно конфликтовал с Фёрстер-Ницше). В Ницше молодой Штайнер, вероятно, видел самого себя. Название его ранней полноценной работы о мастере одинаково хорошо описывало его самовосприятие и чувство миссии: «Фридрих Ницше — борец против своего времени». Штайнер рассматривал Ницше и как критика, и как провидца, человека, который, подобно ему самому, понимал, что люди создают свои собственные реальности, и предвидел будущее человеческого существования, лишенного религиозных иллюзий.

Встреча Штайнера с больным философом в Наумбурге подтвердила всё, что он ранее интуитивно ощущал о природе духовного мира; Ницше воплощал его глубочайшую истину:

Внутреннее потрясение, которое я испытал, привело к тому, что я могу описать лишь как прозрение в гений Ницше, чей взгляд, хотя и был направлен на меня, не встречался с моим. Сама пассивность этого взгляда, долго покоившегося на мне, высвободила моё внутреннее понимание. ... Во внутреннем восприятии я видел душу Ницше словно парящей над его головой, бесконечно прекрасную в своём духосвете, предавшуюся духовным мирам, к которым она так стремилась, но не могла найти до того, как болезнь затуманила его разум... Раньше я читал Ницше. Теперь я видел подлинного носителя идей из высочайших духовных сфер, идей, которые даже здесь сияли своей красотой, несмотря на то, что утратили своё первоначальное сияние по пути. Душа, которая принесла из прошлых жизней на земле золотые богатства великой духовности, но была не в силах дать им полностью воссиять в нынешней жизни. Я восхищался тем, что написал Ницше; теперь я видел его сияющий дух за тем, чем я так сильно восхищался.

Различные культы и суррогатные верования того времени были связаны с широко распространённым ощущением, что эпоха была особенно пустой, материалистической и лишённой духовности. Многие определяли свои проекты как непосредственно ницшеанские по своей природе, как ответы на знаменитое провозглашение о том, что Бог умер. Эти постхристианские ницшеанские верования получили названия «религиозный атеизм», «светский политеизм» и «панкосмическая религия без трансцендентности». Как бы их ни определяли, они были многочисленны и демонстрировали приспособляемость к ряду расходящихся политических и культурных тенденций.

Даже там, где Ницше подвергался ожесточённым нападкам, его категории формировали базовые предпосылки дискурса для прогрессивных интеллектуалов в поисках новых форм религиозности. «Новый Бог» Юлиуса Харта служит прекрасным примером. Его анализ кризиса и преодоления христианства, его построение образа нового человека на смену старому божеству, его акцент на динамическом становлении и человеческом творчестве, а также его стиль — всё это, как поспешил отметить современный критик, было неразрывно связано с ницшеанским наследием.

Содержание новой религии Харта, однако, временами определялось в явном противопоставлении Ницше. Подобно Ницше, Харт отвергал Назарет, но он также решительно отвергал Элладу. Ницше, утверждал Харт, был обращён в прошлое, в то время как новая религия должна быть динамичной, прогрессивной и основанной на объединяющем пантеистическом принципе. Это было, как заявлял Харт, полной противоположностью дионисийскому принципу, который, будучи далёким от объединения Бога, природы и человечества, олицетворял хаос и отрицание. Сверхчеловек Ницше, кроме того, представлял «южно-арийский» принцип безжалостного эгоизма, который был противоположен «северно-арийской» или германской морали, которой обладали свободные и радостные духи. Эти люди создали бы цветущую, гармоничную культуру, а не ницшеанскую пустошь, в которой сильные не доминировали бы, а поддерживали слабых. По иронии судьбы, северные арийцы Харта воспроизводили ницшеанский идеал. Они были людьми дела, «людьми воли, счастливыми в борьбе и труде, утверждающими Жизнь и Землю... чувствующими её трагедию, но преодолевающими её». Новая культура преодолела бы фрагментарность девятнадцатого века и заменила бы её постоянным творчеством и трансформацией.

Ницшеанское влияние было ощутимым. Харт провозгласил: «Почему вы ищете вещь в себе, а затем объявляете её непостижимой, непостижимой? Вы и есть вещь в себе! Вы — Бог, ступица вселенной, центр солнца, ядро материи, субстанция!» Пол Мендес-Флор продемонстрировал, что это было, по сути, дионисийско-гераклитовское мировоззрение, почерпнутое у Ницше. Через понятие вечного становления Харт, подобно Ницше, стремился преодолеть изнуряющую двойственность мира, сплавляя единство и множественность. В признании бесконечной текучести самого мира, как и в видении вечного возвращения, единство и множественность становились единым целым. В представлении Харта это никоим образом не подразумевало пассивную позицию:

Вы должны знать, что вы не сотворённые духи, а скорее вы — творящие духи... Мы всегда являемся природой, и в том, что мы творим, мы открываем и раскрываем сущность материи — и вино субстанции вливается в кубки творческих форм (Gestalten). ... В том, что мы [творим], нам не нужно искать истину, ибо мы и есть истина.

Взгляды Харта отражали идеи «Нового сообщества», интеллектуального кружка, который он основал вместе со своим братом Генрихом. Это была группа ищущих, радикально настроенных буржуазных интеллектуалов, проникнутых желанием воссоздать значимую общность вне традиционных либеральных, марксистских или социал-демократических путей. Они сочетали свои смутные стремления к общности с восприимчивостью к Ницше и антипозитивистским, неоромантическим течениям того времени. Многие из участников группы (включая анархиста Эриха Мюзама и сиониста Мартина Бубера) обладали неясными левыми инстинктами, которые сочетались с гуманистическим фёлькише-национализмом. Что объединяло их и придавало их деятельности отчетливо ницшеанский оттенок — который они облекали в подчеркнуто освободительные термины, — так это их упор на динамический процесс и центральную роль самоопределения каждого индивида как творца.

Одним из членов этого кружка был социалист, фёлькише-анархист Густав Ландауэр. Его анархистский коммунитаризм включал элементы левого, гуманистического, ницшеанского религиозного видения. Мы уже обсуждали контуры ницшеанства Ландауэра. Здесь мы должны лишь подчеркнуть центральное место религии и воли в его видении. Бог, писал Ландауэр, — это не внешнее, трансцендентное существо, а цели, которые люди ставят перед собой. Бог, в которого мы верим, — это «Бог, которым мы хотим стать и станем». Это было не что иное, как ясное присвоение миссии ницшеанского сверхчеловека в сочетании с концепцией религии как активного, преобразующего процесса постоянного становления.

Ландауэра также привлекал ницшеанский призыв к мифу как к активизирующему фактору культуры и истории. Таким образом, его социалистический анархизм вобрал в себя элементы скептической эпистемологии Ницше, перспективности, которая исключала объективную истину. Новые и самосозданные иллюзии, писал Ландауэр, были предпосылками для постоянного оживления человеческой деятельности. В то время как марксистская традиция делала упор на демистификацию, философия жизни Ландауэра левого толка постулировала иллюзию как омолаживающий принцип общественной жизни. Словами, перекликающимися с провозглашением Ницше в «Рождении трагедии» о обновляющей способности мифа, Ландауэр писал: «Иллюзия — идея, в которую мы верим, святая цель — до сих пор создавала чары всех народов, всей культуры».

В то время как Ландауэр использовал ницшеанский религиозный импульс для формулирования явно немарксистского социализма, Эрнст Блох использовал его как один из необходимых потоков для спасения марксистской традиции. Блох настаивал на том, что мифические, мистические и религиозные измерения имеют законное место в этой традиции. Этот марксистский метафизик с его мессианством «надежды на будущее» и видениями «странно вибрирующей и взрывной вечности» был явно привлечен к Ницше, по крайней мере, частью своей апокалиптической мечты. В рамках его системы Ницше, Дионис и христианская ересь объединились, чтобы сформировать мощное послание о потенциальном искуплении человечества:

Истинный «Антихрист» в дионисийском смысле, в смысле Eritis sicut Deus [«Вы станете как Бог», Быт. 3:5], — это Иисус. Это «Дионис, распятый», именно на этом настаивает единственное осознание, из глубин христианской ереси, и, по сути, самой древней, «офитской», змеиной, которая воздает должное «воскресению и жизни». Этот Христос — проповедник неведомой человеческой славы. ... Он — завоевание человеческой славы даже за самым маленьким и неожиданным окном, и именно там, именно в парадоксе совершенно неожиданного, а не в довольной мере уже явившегося, правящего и пресыщенного, в которое Церковь его фальсифицировала и обезвредила. Иисус еретиков ... в этом образе Иисуса есть также жизнь Диониса или глоток царства, которое не от мира сего (ставшего) и не от того (далекого от человека, рокового). Такие аллюзии и «офитские» воспоминания, враждебные святому Павлу, подавленные в истории «победоносного» христианства, были выше всего в последних видениях Ницше, в «Дионисе, распятом».

Но идиосинкразические видения таких интеллектуалов, как Блох и Ландауэр, вряд ли могли оказать существенное влияние на организации. Однако существовали и другие кружки, которые активно стремились внедрить ницшеанскую религию в социалистическое движение. Этот инновационный порыв не ограничивался Германией.

На самом деле, в России в период между 1903 и 1913 годами наиболее сложная форма ницшеанской социалистической религии возникла в левом крыле большевистской фракции Российской социал-демократической рабочей партии. Эта контрвера, сформулированная Максимом Горьким (1868—1936) и Анатолием Васильевичем Луначарским (1875—1933), носила безошибочно ницшеанское название — богостроительство.

Горький и Луначарский утверждали, что социализм должен использовать позитивные и созидательные аспекты исторической религии, отбрасывая при этом то, что социалисты считали идеологически ложным. В социалистической религии не было бы места традиционному сверхъестественному, но последователи сохранили бы чувство общности с миром и включили бы в нее стремление к самопреодолению.

Здесь присутствовал явный фейербахианский элемент, но коллективизированное ницшеанское измерение было как очевидным, так и основополагающим. Бог должен был быть заменен самосознающим и творческим человечеством, индивидуальный сверхчеловек — трансформирован в марксистское сверхчеловечество. Истинным творцом Бога был пролетариат, а революция рассматривалась как фундаментальный эмансипаторный акт богостроительства. Луначарский предложил акт веры в самосоздаваемое коллективное будущее, в котором рабочий класс становился «соучастником жизни человечества, звеном в цепи, которая тянется к сверхчеловеку, к прекрасному существу, к совершенному организму».

Ленин, разумеется, отвергал эти подходы: «Католический поп, растлевающий малолетних, гораздо менее опасен, чем поп без рясы... демократический поп, проповедующий строительство и создание Бога». Его централизм и жесткий акцент на социальном инжиниринге не терпели никакой подобной неоромантической фантазии. Поэтому после 1917 года в новом большевистском порядке осталось мало следов ницшеанского богостроительства.

Очевидно, что все социалистические ницшеанские религии были также выражением инакомыслия. В Германии наиболее близкий эквивалент полностью развитой ницшеанской социалистической религиозной альтернативы исходил от Макса Мауренбрехера, который создал нечто, равносильное социалистической ревизионистской ницшеанской религии, и который, как мы видели, стремился распространить это учение среди рабочих, вольнодумных общин.

Его наиболее систематическая формулировка этой теологии появилась в работе «Страдание» (1912). Подобно другим сторонникам нетрансцендентной ницшеанской религиозности, Мауренбрехер выступал как за переопределение, так и за сохранение творческой сущности религии. Для Мауренбрехера религия была по сути трагически-дионисийской, неразрывно связанной с человеческим состоянием боли и страдания. Жизнь, во всей ее суровости, утверждал он в явно ницшеанских терминах, должна быть прожита и любима. Проверкой подлинной религии была ее способность творчески преобразовывать страдание в активную радость, в утверждение жизни во всей ее полноте. Мауренбрехер прямо противопоставлял легковесный просветительский оптимизм своей религии, выраженной в трагически-утверждающей философии жизни.

С этой точки зрения церковная религия утратила свою способность к подлинности. Теперь вопрос заключался в том, какая религия наиболее подходит для того, чтобы удовлетворительно заменить ее. Мера подлинности также была задумана в квазиницшеанских терминах. Эпоха аксиоматически принятой традиции, заявлял Мауренбрехер, с ее объективным, историческим и общинным характером, растворилась. Теперь самосознающие индивиды должны были присвоить убеждения, которые соответствовали бы очевидно ницшеанским стандартам: «Каждый миф, каждая этика, каждый культ имеют для нас значение лишь постольку, поскольку они ведут нас к формированию и энергии нашей воли к жизни». Только миф или религия, свободно выбранные и лично прожитые, могли быть значимыми в двадцатом веке. Мауренбрехер заявлял, что основой такого выбора является новая, светская традиция: мысли таких людей, как Гёте, Спиноза, Маркс и Ницше. Они пришли к великому прозрению, что борющиеся люди сами по себе являются целью жизни.

Ницше занимал особую роль в этой религии отчасти из-за своего героического преодоления шопенгауэровского пессимизма. Социалистическое измерение такого утверждения было связано с тем, что пессимизм никогда не может быть полностью преодолен, если рассматривать его чисто как частное, индивидуальное дело, но только «когда мы рассматриваем социальный процесс как реальное содержание и сущность всего происходящего». Технология, наука и организация обеспечили основу для надежды на лучшее будущее, ради которого теперь можно было работать. Существование теперь обрело волю.

При всем при этом Мауренбрехер предупреждал, что страдание и трагедия неизбежны, они являются неотъемлемой частью самого развития. Можно было бы избежать страдания, отрицая волю и становление, но, как ницшеанский волюнтарист, Мауренбрехер отвергал такую альтернативу. Вместо этого он утверждал, что утверждение страдания, позволяющее жизни развиваться, составляет истинное преодоление пессимизма. В отличие от первого поколения социалистов, провозглашал Мауренбрехер, новое поколение понимало, что их надежды на мгновенную утопию придется отложить, что процесс социальной трансформации продлится долго.

Эта социалистическая религия, подчеркивал Мауренбрехер, не требовала никаких таинств, церквей, священников или святых мест. Ей скорее требовался ницшеанский героический модус и ежедневное упражнение воли. Новая порода социалистов, будучи далекой от переживания конца страданий, «не захочет испытывать его ни для себя, ни для какого-либо мыслимого будущего человечества, потому что для него страдание есть не что иное, как предпосылка творческой силы и растущей воли».

Мы уже отмечали политическую и религиозную подвижность Мауренбрехера и его использование Ницше в качестве вдохновляющего ориентира во всех этих обличьях. Его Ницше, однако, последовательно подчеркивал страдание и жесткие ценности, что явно способствовало переходу Мауренбрехера слева направо. До Первой мировой войны, безусловно, его постхристианские ницшеанские религиозные размышления были заметно свободны от фёлькише-содержания (за что его критиковали собратья-ницшеанцы, неоязычники). Тем не менее все его остальные пристрастия указывали на мужественного, жесткого Ницше. Его социалистический акцент на необходимости воспитания сверхчеловека мог быть одинаково примирен как с радикально-правыми, так и с социалистическими представлениями. Тот же самый мужественный, антилиберальный пострационалистический Ницше сопровождал Мауренбрехера, когда тот вернулся в протестантскую церковь. Его проповеди перед дрезденской паствой — возможно, слегка извиняющиеся после лет безбожия — вновь излагали эти темы, но теперь уже в духе националистического протестантского ницшеанства, с которого он начинал.

Ницшеанская религия Мауренбрехера либо связывала социализм с радикальным антихристианством, либо проповедовала фёлькише-национализм в сочетании с возрожденным протестантским благочестием. Он никогда не формулировал религию, которая была бы одновременно националистической, антихристианской и открыто языческой. Этот националистический языческий поворот был значимым, и некоторые его вариации позже стали ассоциироваться с фашистским и национал-социалистическим мировоззрением.

До Первой мировой войны именно вокруг Die Tat (журнал) (основанного в 1909 году), этого источника неоромантической мысли, данная националистическая языческая тенденция развивалась наиболее систематически. Круги Die Tat (журнал) были связаны с дуайеном и издателем неоромантического возрождения fin de siècle (конец века), Ойгеном Дидериксом. Будучи писателем и активистом, Дидерикс продвигал идеи различных групп, заинтересованных в национальном возрождении, особенно в его религиозных и духовных формах. Действительно, он опубликовал работы многих обсуждаемых здесь ницшеанцев: Кальтхофа, Бонуса, Мауренбрехера, Джоэла, Юлиуса Харта и других. Дидерикс не сомневался, что Ницше представляет собой вдохновляющее, пророческое присутствие для этих духовных целей. Проникнутые мистическим и мифическим миром, а также самой силой и ролью «иррационального», идеи Дидерикса объединяли фёлькише-темы с почти ослепительным разнообразием «созидательных» культурных и религиозных проектов возрождения. Его собственные нехристианские метафизические идеи были подхвачены восторженной молодежью, которая сформировала кружок «Сера» в Йене и которая под руководством издателя участвовала в языческих ритуалах, праздновала смену солнца, предавалась веселью в псевдоклассических декорациях и предавалась диким дионисийским танцам.

Однако именно братья Август и Эрнст Хорнефферы — ярые ницшеанцы и редакторы в Архиве Ницше — стали главными поборниками неоязыческого германского ницшеанства. В их руках Ницше из Die Tat (журнал) стал решительно героическим, одновременно язвительным критиком раздробленной и декадентской буржуазной культуры и пророком, обещавшим ее преодоление на основе новой и более высокой целостности. Утраченное классическое единство формы и содержания должно было быть обретено вновь.

Не случайно в первом выпуске журнала «Die Tat», вышедшем под заголовком «Пути к свободному человечеству», на фронтисписе был помещен героический бюст Ницше работы Макса Клингера (илл. 13). Ницшеанский порыв был очевиден, но столь же очевидным было и стремление вписать его в социальные и национальные рамки. Как утверждал Эрнст Хорнеффер (1871—1945), Ницше должен был стать краеугольным камнем религиозного и культурного обновления, однако его односторонний индивидуализм требовал преодоления. Реализация подлинно ницшеанских ценностей требовала коллективной структуры: «Обособленный индивид, чьи ценности и стремления не находят отклика в большем целом, — писал он, — это не сильный, а слабый индивид». Этот новый, «сильный» индивид должен был стать самоопределяющимся и обрести личную религию, но внутри более крупного, значимого целого.

В своем «Языческом жизненном пути» Август Хорнеффер сделал националистическую, маскулинную природу новой религии еще более явной. Государство, доказывал он, является надлежащей основой для предлагаемого неоязычества, поскольку оно верит не в Бога, а в само себя, и, в отличие от организованной христианской религии, его деятельность приземлена. Ницшеанский призыв оставаться верными земле был возможен только при опоре на жизнь общины. Община, которую представлял себе Хорнеффер, имела ницшеанские очертания. Это была бы община не «"сострадания" к бедным и больным... не община христианской любви к ближнему, а скорее община созидания, братства по оружию, взаимного возвышения и оплодотворения». Таким образом, ницшеанское видение могло быть реализовано только внутри особой общины. Редко когда социализация Ницше в традиции немецкого мужского союза, этой склонности к мужской дружбе и объединению, была выражена более четко.

В своей работе «Религия будущего» Эрнст Хорнеффер обнажил основы своего мировоззрения. Европа, провозгласил он, была отчуждена христианством. Вторя уничтожающему презрению Ницше, Хорнеффер заявил, что христианство, вместо того чтобы формировать европейский дух, представляет собой его прямое попрание. Лишь недавно, благодаря светской философии, Европа начала открывать себя после долгого процесса самоотчуждения.

Для Эрнста Хорнеффера, вновь вторящего Ницше, подлинный европейский дух обитал в греках. Их акцент на движении, переменах и свободе находился в резком противоречии с восточной, а значит, и христианской неподвижностью, застоем, фатализмом и фанатизмом. Лишь медленно европейцы пробуждались к своей собственной внутренней истине. Лютер освободил мирянина от ига священников и внешнего принуждения Церкви, сохранив при этом идею божественного откровения. Кант значительно продвинул этот процесс, освободив моральный закон от религиозной веры и утверждая, что вера, напротив, зависит от категорического императива. Но Кант все еще придерживался мнения, что мораль остается самодостаточным законом разума с установленным содержанием.

С приходом Ницше, писал Эрнст Хорнеффер, европейская революция этики была завершена, а борьба за теоретическую и практическую свободу реализована. В этом заключался исторический подвиг Ницше: он создал условия, при которых люди могли выковывать свои собственные идеалы в соответствии со своей собственной природой. Люди теперь могли формировать и следовать своей собственной морали, определяя содержание закона по своей свободной воле. Ницше был последним и самым радикальным немецким «освободителем совести» (Gewissenbefreier).

Ницшеанец Эрнст Хорнеффер — самоопределяющийся творец раскованной натуралистической морали — таким образом, казалось, радикально высвобождал динамику, четко ставя ее под национальный контроль. Поворот от организованной религии, утверждал он, не оставляет человека в пустоте, ибо при построении альтернативы материалы следует искать в «великих творениях нашего народного духа... героических актах, многообразных битвах, в которых народ подвергался испытанию». Такая религия рассматривала жизнь как ставку в игре. По сути языческая и ницшеанская, она была создана для героев и сильных, а не для трусов, слабых и сломленных, которые правили слишком долго. Такое неоязычество, настаивал Хорнеффер, состояло в фундаментальной вере в способность к самоискуплению, далекой от традиционных представлений о религии.

Хотя волевое самоискупление основывалось на греческом примере, Эрнст Хорнеффер подчинил ницшеанскую волю к власти тому, что он называл «волей к форме». Ницшеанская воля, утверждал Хорнеффер, не могла по-настоящему радостно утверждать себя, когда ее сущностью были вечная борьба, непрерывное движение и даже взаимное порабощение. Такая воля желала лишь собственного развития, а потому была лишена ясности и порядка. Требовалась форма, которая обеспечила бы воле устойчивую структуру. У воли все же была цель: формирование самой себя. Она стремилась привнести единство, последовательность и результат в хаос.

Это не обязательно означало, что ницшеанская динамика должна быть укрощена или «эстетизирована», скорее, она должна быть направлена в национальное русло и политически структурирована. Как выразился Хорнеффер: «Только через концентрацию, упорядочивание и организацию воля может прийти к своему полнейшему выражению, может полностью исчерпать себя».

Довоенное ницшеанское неоязычество Хорнефферов с его радикальным антихристианством, освобождением морали от традиционных ограничений и героическим национальным модусом, интегрируя при этом старые, конвенциональные представления о Volk, также включало модернистскую тематику, схожую с футуризмом. Новый человек становился частью нации в той мере, в какой он достигал «личностной самореализации» и «самоопределяющейся» свободы. Этот национализм якобы был нацелен на предоставление пространства для индивидуальности и личности — ницшеанских приоритетов. Эрнст Хорнеффер и его преемники, однако, позаботились о том, чтобы эти требования оставались в рамках духа германизма. Действительно, когда национал-социалисты пришли к власти, Хорнеффер приветствовал это как воплощение своего видения, провозгласив Ницше центральным пророком движения.

Бренд германской религии Хорнефферов, однако, так и не стал самостоятельным движением. С приходом к власти Третьего рейха они сняли свое неоязычество в пользу самого нацизма. Этого не произошло с движением «Немецкая вера» (Deutsche Glaubensbewegung). По крайней мере, в первые годы существования Рейха это движение стремилось поддерживать и выражать антихристианский, ницшеанский, немецкий религиозный импульс. Действительно, это было движение, которое претендовало на то, чтобы представлять подлинное духовное крыло нацистской революции.

Под руководством еще одного теолога с протестантским образованием, Якоба Вильгельма Хауэра (1881–1962), это движение состояло из широкого круга различных групп и объединений. К ним относились крайне националистическое Германское вероисповедание (Germanische Glaubenschaft) и Община немецкой веры (Deutschgläubige Gemeinschaft), а также свободомыслящий Союз свободно-религиозных общин (Bund frei-religiöser Gemeinde) — крупная антиклерикальная организация, в ряды которой входили марксисты, присоединившиеся к движению отчасти ради убежища (от нацистов). В 1934 году в Шарцфельде они объединились.

В первые годы Рейха численность движения веры (Glaubensbewegung) впечатляюще росла; своего пика она достигла в 1935 году. Собрания проводились по всей Германии, кульминацией которых стал массовый митинг в Берлинском дворце спорта в апреле. Больше оно никогда не достигало такой известности. Переменчивая судьба движения была лишь отчасти обусловлена его неоднородностью. Его участь в конечном итоге зависела от отношения к нему нацистской партии. Оно процветало только тогда, когда партия хотела противостоять влиянию Церкви. Гитлер был готов использовать организацию в политических целях, но она не могла выдержать его хорошо известной антипатии к сектантским кликам. О движении веры (Glaubensbewegung) он, как сообщается, сказал: «Эти профессора и мистики, которые хотят основать нордические религии, просто мешают мне. Почему я терплю их? Потому что они помогают дезинтеграции, а это все, что мы можем сделать в данный момент». Более фундаментально, национал-социализм сам по себе был тотальной политической верой и не был готов терпеть независимый конфессиональный аналог, даже тот, который считал себя религиозным крылом нацизма. Таким образом, движение веры (Glaubensbewegung) постепенно было поставлено под контроль национал-социалистов, фактически утратив свою отдельную идентичность.

Несмотря на нацистские опровержения, существовало множество идеологических сходств, особенно в отношении абсурдности попыток германизировать христианство. Какими бы ни были сходства и различия, движение веры (Glaubensbewegung) считало себя духовным выражением, наиболее близким к новой реальности национал-социализма. Движение, писал Хауэр, было «извержением из биологических и духовных глубин нации». Оно было вызвано теми «первобытными силами, природа которых символизируется словами Кровь, почва, империя. Таким образом, немецкая революция для нас — это событие, рожденное первобытной волей нации, событие, в котором вечные силы открывают себя через свершение новых и великих дел».

Идеологи Glaubensbewegung (включая Эрнста Бергмана и Ганса Гюнтера) создали германскую религию, которая перенесла ницшеанство на расово-национальную почву. Ницшеанские качества были просто спроецированы на идеализированные изображения нордической расы. Индогерманская религия была антитезой иудеохристианству и являлась сугубо мирским делом. Её этика, лишенная страха и тревоги, порождала людей, которые воплощали ницшеанское видение великого здоровья и утверждали жизнь во всей её трагической реальности.

Ницше пронизывал каждый аспект контррелигии Glaubensbewegung. Он был центральным авторитетом, стоявшим за её нападками на просвещенческий разум, либерализм и социализм. Но он также был главной силой, стоявшей за её позитивным видением будущего. Для Хауэра (который открыл для себя Ницше в приемной зубного врача!) он был просто решающей судьбой, образцом для внутреннего прорыва, который должен был совершить каждый немец. Эта германская расовая религия просто национализировала привычную ницшеанскую контрверу имманентности, героизма и витализма. Ницшеанская мораль была перенесена в германскую религиозную мораль. Добро и зло по-прежнему измерялись их жизнеутверждающими способностями, но их хранителем стал не индивид, а народ. Добром, настаивал Хауэр, является то, что соответствует высшим чаяниям народа, а то, что идет против его воли, — зло. Такая германская мораль неизбежно противопоставлялась её христианскому эквиваленту. В качестве одного из примеров различий между ними Хауэр привел вопрос стерилизации. В то время как христиане рассматривали её как нарушение божественного закона, немецкая вера смотрела на неё положительно: «Может ли быть более высокая ценность, чем здоровье народа, которое безоговорочно требует искоренения дурных инстинктов и преступных влечений?» Народ, провозглашал Хауэр, «согласно своей глубочайшей воле хочет быть чистым, сильным и добрым».

Национализированный витализм Glaubensbewegung естественным образом сочетался с формой динамической ницшеанской этики. Добро и зло были гибкими инструментами, служащими жизни, а потому нуждающимися в постоянном обновлении. В этом, проповедовал Хауэр, заключался смысл ницшеанского сокрушения старых скрижалей. Его динамическая концепция тем самым способствовала освобождению германского гения от оков. Сам Ницше никогда не смог бы основать новый Декалог, ибо это шло вразрез с самой сутью немецкого бытия. Но он создал условия для того, чтобы немцы заново осознали свой собственный путь: только на основе этого особого расового состава могла развиваться немецкая мораль.

Такая открытость была очевидна в том, как Хауэр выстраивал свою новую немецкую литургию. В своей формулировке способов поклонения германской религии он действительно взывал к немецкому прошлому и древним германским мифам, но придавал большее значение динамике, посредством которой германское бытие и кровь постоянно обновляли себя. Германская религия основывалась на языческом наследии, вращающемся вокруг праздников солнца и природы, но она все больше переходила от низших форм к высшим, в которых героические и творческие дионисийские элементы становились все более центральными.

С распадом движения Хауэра использование Ницше в специфически религиозных целях исчерпало себя. Ницше, как мы вскоре увидим, влиял на национал-социализм и пронизывал его множеством важных и сложных способов, но его аннексия должна была быть прямой и отрезанной от любого независимого религиозного импульса. Это было ясно выражено нацистским идеологом Гансом Шрёдером в его критике Glaubensbewegung. Если бы Ницше был жив, писал Шрёдер, он бы насмехался над культами хауэровского толка, подобно тому как в 1873 году он насмехался над «Новой верой» Давида Фридриха Штрауса в своих «Несвоевременных размышлениях». Хауэр лишь ратовал за изменения в вере и догматах. Но национал-социализм не ограничивался конфессиональными вопросами; он совершал тотальную революцию. Одной из его великих задач было преодоление декаданса и христианства, противостоящих здоровому, фёлькише жизненному принципу. Хауэр рассматривал христианство просто как расово чуждое (rassenfremd). Но это означало неверное понимание христианства; христианство было не выражением иного расового принципа, а скорее антитезой самого этого принципа. Христианство, утверждал Шрёдер в синтезе расового и ницшеанского мировоззрений, угрожало самой ткани расового принципа, поскольку оно олицетворяло Unrassigkeit — расовое смешение и последующий упадок и декаданс. Только использование ницшеанской героической, маскулинной, биоцентрической культуры, проникнутой немецкой расовой миссией, могло преодолеть его.

Мало кто из создателей различных ницшеанских религий всерьез воспринял элитарное предостережение Рудольфа Панвица о том, что Ницше был «не пророком для народа, а скорее пророком для пророков». Все они стремились направить эти новые конфигурации веры в более широкие общественные и идеологические рамки и объединить религиозную и политическую сферы. Если сочинения Ницше были по своей сути элитарными, то его последователи этого не заметили. Осознавая великий кризис религии, они стремились обуздать, социализировать и институционализировать ницшеанство. Ницшеанская религия, по определению, была культурно и политически опосредованным делом, ибо только так можно было достичь ее сторонников.

Примечательно, что попытка создать «чистую» ницшеанскую религию, не запятнанную идеологией и устойчивую к любым аннексиям, была предпринята не в Германии, а во Франции, Жоржем Батаем (1897—1962), где она приобрела политически деконструктивный, дезинтеграционный характер. Религиозное видение Батая, которое, как и остальная часть его ницшеанства, инстинктивно искало крайнюю грань, преследовало безусловную и ничем не обусловленную динамику ради нее самой. Для Батая насилие, смерть, сексуальность и зло стали центральными компонентами имманентного поиска человечеством «суверенитета» и «тотальности» как полностью независимой сферы. В этом обличье Ницше был не философом воли к власти, а «философом зла», задуманного как освобождающий агент, как «конкретная свобода, тревожный разрыв с табу». Ницшеанская религия Батая была явно задумана не как религия самореализации, а скорее как «сигнальное растворение в тотальности... "человек, чья жизнь — это немотивированный праздник"; она воспевает во всех смыслах этого слова смех, танец, оргию, которая не знает подчинения, жертву, не заботящуюся о цели, материальном или моральном». В своей концепции того «атеологического бога, который отрицает трансцендентные, логоцентричные формации, представленные западными божествами», ницшеанская религия Батая нашла свое подходящее и наиболее неапроприируемое выражение.

В Германии не было подобных выражений ницшеанского религиозного ничто: там оно неизбежно привязывалось к посредничеству позитивных внешних и политических целей. Тем не менее, было бы ошибкой объяснять ницшеанскую религию в Германии, сводя ее исключительно к политическим функциям. Ее широкий охват (включая проникновение в различные марксистские течения) ставит под сомнение утверждение Дьёрдя Лукача о том, что ницшеанский религиозный атеизм служил сохранению «смутной религиозности, которая имела значение для сохранения капиталистического общества» и как таковой представлял собой «еще одно проявление косвенной апологетики». Это сведение религиозности к императивам капитализма обходило стороной главный исторический импульс ницшеанского религиозного момента: великий кризис протестантизма и поиск альтернатив.

Непропорционально большая часть тех, кто формулировал различные версии ницшеанской религии, были протестантами или бывшими протестантскими пасторами и теологами. Все они серьезно относились к кризису религии и стремились разрешить его в квазиницшеанском искупительном идиоме. Но, конечно, ницшеанские религии также были призваны выйти за рамки протестантизма. Они составляли один из важных инструментов, с помощью которых ницшеанские идеи проникали на политический рынок. Фёлькише, националистические и правые группы использовали их, но прогрессивные, авангардные и левые интеллектуалы также находили их тематику убедительной. Как и многие другие аспекты наследия Ницше, культурное значение ницшеанского религиозного импульса нельзя упрощенно отбросить как выражение «реакционного иррационализма» в противовес «прогрессивному рационализму».

Различные критики выдвигали более глубокий аргумент. Они утверждают, что именно псевдорелигиозный язык антихриста, его натуралистический взгляд на человека и сопутствующий ему десакрализованный аморализм лежали в основе убийственного и геноцидального импульса нашего времени. Атеизм Ницше, настаивал Джордж Лихтхайм, «не имел абсолютно ничего общего с атеизмом домарксистов, таких как Фейербах, для которых гуманизм заменил теизм». Этот аргумент гласит, что, в отличие от марксизма, ницшеанская критика организованной христианской религии была сделана не в знак протеста против ее исторических бесчеловечностей, а скорее потому, что она была недостаточно жестокой.

Каковы бы ни были достоинства этой позиции, в той мере, в какой Ницше способствовал озверению Европы, он делал это в неизбежно опосредованном виде. «Литургический язык религии антихриста» всегда был направлен в русло и выражен в рамках более широких организующих политических структур. Ницшеанство было эффективно как общественная сила только тогда, когда оно было структурировано опосредующими системами и идеологиями. Никакого «голого» или «чистого» ницшеанского ничто не существовало. Все версии, которые мы обсуждали, так или иначе национализировали или социализировали ницшеанскую тематику, ставя её на службу другим целям. Это приводило к укрощению или ограничению её динамики, либо к выборочному контролю и применению. Такие идеологии, отнюдь не отказываясь от трансцендентности, просто переопределяли её и оставались твердо в пределах своих собственных священных границ.

Эти процессы особенно применимы к нацистскому случаю. Поэтому теперь мы должны перейти к прямому рассмотрению многочисленных опосредований и сложных механизмов, посредством которых ницшеанская и нацистская вселенные были приведены к встрече.

8. Ницше в Третьем рейхе

Отныне будут более благоприятные предпосылки для более всеобъемлющих форм господства, подобных которым еще никогда не существовало. И даже это не самое важное; создана возможность для создания международных расовых союзов, задачей которых будет воспитание господствующей расы, будущих «хозяев земли». Приближается время, когда политика будет иметь иное значение.
Ницше, «Воля к власти»

«Ничто не истинно, всё дозволено»: так говорил я сам себе. В холоднейшие воды погружался я с головой и сердцем... Увы, куда делось всё доброе от меня — и всякий стыд, и всякая вера в добрых?
Ницше, «Так говорил Заратустра»

Поскольку и Ницше, и национал-социализм занимают центральное место в опыте двадцатого века, и поскольку оба сохраняют свою символическую взрывоопасность, спорный характер их взаимоотношений стал определяющей частью культурного и идеологического ландшафта, одним из показателей нашего восприятия современного мира. Противоречивая история их предполагаемой связи возникла задолго до прихода нацистов к власти. С самого начала одни считали эту близость естественной (или, по крайней мере, понятной), в то время как другие были потрясены самим этим предположением. С тех пор и до нашего времени различные расходящиеся прочтения и суждения о Ницше определяли готовность связывать его с нацизмом. И наоборот, особые интерпретации национал-социализма определяли готовность включить его в свои контуры. Этот вопрос, с его идеологически корыстными интересами и пронзительными тонами, породил бесконечные споры.

Что на столь позднем этапе может внести историк в этот сложный вопрос? Наиболее полезным, пожалуй, было бы прояснение: выявление и критический анализ тех уровней, которые наиболее актуальны для утверждений относительно этой связи. В этой главе мы рассматриваем наиболее прямое, но странным образом недостаточно изученное эмпирическое измерение этих отношений: поиск и анализ способов, которыми Ницше был интегрирован в нацистский дискурс или изгнан из него, а также различных функций, которые ницшеанство выполняло в Третьем рейхе.

Тот факт, что Ницше был включен в нацистский пантеон германских гигантов и что он стал неотъемлемой частью национал-социалистического самоопределения, является эмпирическим фактом. Конечно, невозможно точно оценить степень, в которой его интеграция повлияла на повседневные народные настроения. Однако несомненно, что Ницше приобрел значение в официальной культуре Третьего рейха. Нам необходимо изучить связи между этой конструкцией и собственным самовосприятием режима.

Признание и анализ роли Ницше в сфере нацистской культуры, идеологии и, собственно, политики должны проводиться независимо от того, считаем ли мы, что это использование искажает мысль Ницше или верно отражает её. Обычно именно на этом уровне обсуждался данный вопрос. Однако, как мы подчеркивали на протяжении всей этой книги, сама идеологическая апроприация становится главным значимым фактом, а не вопрос об истинности или ложности такой апроприации. То, что это влекло за собой выборочное чтение, казуистическую интерпретацию и даже частое подавление и исключение потенциально неловкого материала, делает понимание этого процесса еще более обязательным. Если нацификация Ницше — и ницшеанизация нацизма — хорошо известны, то внутренние стратегии, вовлеченные в эту трансмутацию, и степень её распространения до сих пор не были систематически проанализированы.

Нацистский Ницше был подготовлен более широкой послевоенной аннексией философа радикальными правыми; «философская» нацификация Ницше произошла задолго до захвата власти. К 1931 году Альфред Боймлер — ставший впоследствии уполномоченным Рейха по изучению Ницше и профессором философии в Берлинском университете — уже сформулировал основные темы ницшеанского нацистского преображения. Боймлер подчеркивал силовые компоненты мысли философа. Его Ницше был по существу политическим мыслителем, человеком, который предвидел постлиберальную, постбуржуазную эпоху Большой политики. Ницше, которого выделял Боймлер, был тем самым, кто в книге «По ту сторону добра и зла» писал:

Приобрести единую волю посредством новой касты, которая правила бы Европой, долгую, страшную собственную волю, которая могла бы ставить свои цели на тысячелетия вперед, — так что затянувшаяся комедия ее мелких государств, а также ее династических и демократических мелких воль подошла бы к концу. Время мелкой политики прошло: самый ближайший век принесет борьбу за господство над землей — принуждение к большой политике.

Боймлер прямо отверг то, что он считал пассивной доктриной вечного возвращения. Он отбросил ее как неудачную и философски нерелевантную причуду. Подлинный Ницше интересовался безграничным потоком становления; понятие вечного возвращения отрицало эту возможность. Ницше был философом воли к власти, динамически гераклитовским, а не дионисийским мыслителем. Он был философом героического реализма, чья политика больше не принимала идею стабильного мира норм и ценностей, а постулировала вместо него вселенную постоянного потока и конфликта. Это влекло за собой поворот от рационалистического сознания, объективистской этики и традиционной трансцендентальной логики, а также отказ от декадентских форм демократии и «теоретического человека». Он продвигал натурализованную «эстетику тела», утверждение воинственных, героических мужских ценностей и общности, а также виталистский этос борьбы.

Боймлер никогда не был одинок в этом начинании. Задолго до 1933 года официальные нацистские органы провозглашали Ницше своим. Ко времени прихода нацистов к власти казалось само собой разумеющимся изображать Ницше центральным предтечей движения. Книга Готлиба Шойффлера 1933 года «Фридрих Ницше в Третьем рейхе» была типичной для этого жанра, изображая великих «естественных аристократов», Муссолини и Гитлера, как духовных потомков Ницше. Конечно, его не считали единственным идеологическим столпом национал-социализма. Поль де Лагард и Хьюстон Стюарт Чемберлен были столь же подходящими кандидатурами на роль непосредственных предшественников.

Эти другие предполагаемые предтечи, однако, не обладали таким статусом, какого достиг Ницше. Особый нацистский акцент на Ницше проистекал из его своеобразной способности легитимизировать их. Конечно, нацисты также неустанно привлекали других культурных гигантов — Гердера, Шиллера, Гёте — для подобных целей. Разница, однако, заключалась в том, что использование Ницше выходило за рамки просто случайного или декоративного. Здесь был немецкий мыслитель с тем, что казалось подлинно тематическими и тональными связями, который был способен обеспечить нацистов высшей философской родословной и обоснованием для центральных догм их мировоззрения. Как отмечал Франц Нойман в 1942 году, Ницше «предоставил национал-социализму интеллектуального отца, обладавшего величием и остроумием, чей стиль был прекрасен, а не отвратителен, и который был способен выразить ресентимент как против монополистического капитализма, так и против растущего пролетариата».

Его протагонисты настаивали на том, что место Ницше в пантеоне выходит далеко за рамки косметической легитимации. Визионеры национал-социализма, как ясно дал понять один комментатор, не могли быть восприняты пассивно и отстраненно. Для «движения», одержимого «идеей», не существовало «предтеч», были лишь творцы, соратники по борьбе и активные участники. В своей работе 1934 года «Ницше как предвестник современности» ветеран-ницшеанец Эрнст Хорнеффер (ныне подобающе облаченный в нацистское одеяние) выразил это в предельно мифотворческой форме: Ницше принадлежит не своему, «а нашему времени. Как будто он все еще живет среди нас». В новой социальной реальности Ницше воскрес, став живым, активным присутствием.

Подобающим образом сформированный Ницше распространялся не только явно, но и подсознательно — а значит, возможно, и более мощно — через интеграцию ницшеанских лозунгов в повседневную нацистскую риторику. Национал-социалистический словарь был пропитан соответствующим образом преображенной ницшеанской фразеологией. Поскольку Ницше часто не упоминался как их автор, лозунги могли приобретать естественный, само собой разумеющийся характер. Этот героический язык воли, несомненно, имел свой (политически активирующий) эффект. То же самое касалось и его противоположной, дегуманизирующей номенклатуры. Генрих Гиммлер, например, регулярно описывал русских и славян как звероподобных недочеловеков, а евреев — как «решительного вождя недочеловеков». Эти понятия, кроме того, получили огромное освещение в публикациях СС, таких как «Недочеловек». Эта брошюра была переведена на пятнадцать языков, и было напечатано четыре миллиона экземпляров (илл. 14). Эти формы подсознательного влияния, несомненно, сыграли свою роль, но поскольку они, как известно, неизмеримы, нам следует вернуться на более твердую почву и рассмотреть более явные способы, которыми ницшеанство опосредовалось в нацистском мире.

Нацисты превратили Ницше в прозорливого пророка — изолированного индивида, который в период безнадежного либерального упадка в одиночку воплощал дух истинной немецкости, так мощно разворачивавшийся в новом Рейхе. Ницше был представлен как гений, который начал мыслить по-новому, всеобъемлюще и который предвидел как грядущий кризис, так и путь выхода из него. Для многих он был главным предвестником национал-социализма, предвидевшим в сфере идей то, что нацизм должен был реализовать на практике. В критических вопросах политики и мироощущения Ницше должен был служить ориентиром и вдохновителем.

В то же время эти национал-социалистические посредники предлагали взаимную социологию знания: если Ницше сформулировал нацистские идеи, то сам он стал понятен лишь благодаря особому развертыванию исторических событий и созданию новой социальной реальности. Потребовались Первая мировая война и приход национал-социализма, чтобы раскрыть его подлинный смысл. Как революционер, борющийся против своего времени, Ницше был обречен на непонимание, провозгласил Альфред Розенберг; только «в наше время» стала возможна истинная оценка. Более того, позитивная приверженность национал-социализму казалась предпосылкой для такого понимания: «Тот, кто стоит вне этой революции, — писал Ханс Керн, — и не знает, чего она хочет и откуда она исходит, никогда не сможет постичь Ницше». «Я убежден, — писал уполномоченный представитель, — что только сознательный национал-социалист может полностью постичь Ницше».

Что влекло за собой это «правильное нацистское понимание» Ницше? Каковы были те важнейшие ницшеанские материалы, которые либо породили национал-социализм, либо из которых, по крайней мере, он мог творчески черпать? Как сам нацизм понимался как ницшеанский проект? Каковы были минимальные, необходимые контуры, согласованное содержание его нацификации?

Почти во всех изложениях он представал как мыслитель, определяющий главные цели национал-социализма, как в его утверждениях, так и в отрицаниях. Прежде всего, философ радикально отвергал буржуазное общество, либерализм, социализм, демократию, эгалитаризм и христианский этос. Его антиуниверсалистские темы постоянно насаждались, проникая почти во все уголки нацистского мира. Однако не менее важным был акцент на Ницше как на решающей силе возрождения, играющей центральную роль в построении обещания движения о полностью переоцененном мире. Эти цели, как правило, представлялись как полная альтернатива миру, который отвергали и Ницше, и национал-социализм. Декадентский и феминизированный девятнадцатый век должен был уступить место новой мужественной эпохе воинов, эпохе, которая рассматривала Ницше как пионера «немецкого переоткрытия тела». Такая эпоха должна была заменить материалистические и механистические концепции органическими и здоровыми. Они открыто надеялись вытеснить либертарианскую ницшеанскую концепцию тела как центра социальной и эротической эмансипации концепцией физического возрождения, направленного в дисциплинированные рамки фёлькише и солдатского строя. Инстинктивная, ренатурализованная, виталистическая и трагическая культура должна была заменить «трансцендентное» (и, следовательно, угрожающее жизни) рационалистическое мировоззрение. Старый буржуазный этос безопасности должен был стать анахронизмом с появлением твердых личностей, движимых радостью опасной жизни. Здесь индивидуальный и коллективизированный сверхчеловек выступал как антиобраз (Gegenbild) поверхностного постпросвещенческого человечества.

Само собой разумеется, что Ницше был запряжен в борьбу против марксизма и большевизма, которые, как выразился Рихард Элер, Ницше считал своим величайшим будущим противником, самим воплощением нигилизма. Решение Ницше этого нигилизма — создание высших людей будущего, движимых волей к власти, — уже стало реальностью при национал-социализме. Нацизм был великой защитной стеной против нигилизма, предложенным ницшеанским противовесом. «Ницше, как и Гитлер, видит единственную возможность противостоять воле к разрушению нигилизма в обновлении, интенсификации и создании здорового из источника великих, естественно порожденных ценностей».

В массе публикаций нацизм по-разному изображался как реализация ницшеанского видения, как вдохновленный им или тематически параллельный. Разве мастер не призывал к созданию биологизированного, иерархического общества философии жизни; к выведению высшего, солдатского Нового Человека, не скованного цепями рессентимента традиционной морали и антижизненного рационалистического интеллекта? Не была ли нынешняя реальность воплощением виталистического видения Ницше? Нацизм был, в конце концов, регенерационистским, постдемократическим, постхристианским общественным порядком, где слабые, дряхлые и бесполезные должны были быть законодательно устранены из бытия.

Брак между Ницше и национал-социализмом был санкционирован и заключен на самом высоком уровне, сопровождаясь фанфарами и публичностью. Наряду с «Майн кампф» Гитлера и «Мифом XX века» Розенберга, «Заратустра» был помещен в склеп Танненбергского мемориала (увековечивающего победу Германии над Россией в Великой войне). К восторгу своих приспешников, этот союз был публично освящен в официальном доме культа — Архиве Ницше. «Мы пьяны от энтузиазма, — писала Фёрстер-Ницше в мае 1933 года, — потому что во главе нашего правительства стоит такая замечательная, поистине феноменальная личность, как наш великолепный канцлер Адольф Гитлер». Уже к 1932 году те, кому было доверено наследие Ницше в Архиве — от руководителя до привратника, — по словам графа Кесслера, были в подавляющем большинстве восторженными нацистами. Фёрстер-Ницше, конечно, всегда выступала за правого, патриотического Ницше и яростно противостояла Республике. Когда в 1923 году она услышала о зарождающемся национальном возрождении под руководством Людендорфа и Гитлера, она заявила, что, будь она моложе, она присоединилась бы к ним в их марше на Берлин. Правда, непосредственно перед захватом власти нацистами она считала себя скорее националисткой, чем нацисткой. Поначалу она восхищалась Гитлером как религиозным, а не политическим лидером, хотя вскоре это изменилось. Правые наклонности Элизабет в любом случае никогда не были особенно тонкими. Она открыто солидаризировалась с Муссолини и его фашистским режимом. (Муссолини ответил более ощутимо в 1931 году своим даром в двадцать тысяч лир.) Гитлер посетил Архив осенью 1934 года и позировал рядом с бюстом Ницше, от которого, по иронии судьбы, была видна только половина головы (илл. 15). Он согласился выделить деньги на строительство мемориального зала Ницше, который должен был построить Шульце-Наумбург. Альберт Шпеер, сопровождавший Гитлера в этой поездке, сообщил, что «химия» между Гитлером и Фёрстер-Ницше была весьма неудовлетворительной: «Эта одинокая, эксцентричная женщина явно не могла найти общий язык с Гитлером; последовал странно поверхностный разговор, в котором они говорили о разном» (илл. 16).

Неудовлетворительная частная встреча значила гораздо меньше, чем публичное признание. Похороны Фёрстер-Ницше в ноябре 1935 года прошли с большой помпой и при стечении местных и государственных сановников, включая Гитлера, и она была восторженно восхвалена в официальных нацистских источниках. Подобное санкционированное участие продолжалось. Столетие Ницше в 1944 году, например, проходило под патронажем Розенберга, выступавшего в качестве официального представителя Гитлера.

Ницшеанство в Третьем рейхе вышло далеко за рамки этих ритуалов высокого уровня. Было бы ошибкой просто сосредоточиться на них и на усилиях его более известных сторонников, таких как Боймлер и Розенберг, и упустить из виду плотную и широкую диффузию, благодаря которой должным образом адаптированные ницшеанские идеи стали дифференцированной и неотъемлемой частью нацистского самоопределения. Для своих сторонников нацистско-ницшеанское видение означало не что иное, как переустройство порядка вещей. Внушительные чертежи для его детального осуществления можно было найти на бесчисленных уровнях социальной организации.

В первую очередь Ницше стал неотъемлемой частью нацистского идеологического воспитания, превратившись в главного легитимирующего поборника нового образования. Ницшеанский антилиберализм, антигуманизм и политизированная философия жизни были поставлены в центр новой образовательной философии. Бесчисленные и порой критические дискуссии, применяющие ницшеанские принципы обновления, были разбросаны по всем педагогическим журналам. Критика философом традиционного образования, академического антикваризма и разрушающего жизнь рационализма; его предполагаемая связь греческого принципа пайдейи с принципом политического воспитания; а также его акцент на жизни и культурной целостности стали столпами предлагаемой педагогической революции.

Эти представления применялись также к пересмотренным концепциям науки и знания в целом. В своей ректорской речи в Кёнигсберге в октябре 1933 года философ Ганс Хейзе провозгласил, что «мы стоим на судьбоносном поворотном этапе эпох», который требует ницшеанской переоценки всех ценностей и который преодолеет современную концепцию науки, «этого выражения сломленного существования, которое, как неистинное существование, по необходимости ведет к катастрофе». Ницше, писал другой комментатор в журнале «Народ в становлении», продемонстрировал тиранию объективности и «болезненный суверенитет» самодовольной, самоуверенной науки. Он показал, что не существует абсолютной истины, есть лишь потребность создавать свою собственную культуру.

Если мы принимаем Ницше как интеллектуального «фюрера» новой культуры, мы должны, да, мы обязаны сказать: немецкая культура должна быть единым целым: то есть все её составляющие должны быть немецкими. И это также включает в себя «науку». Первые шаги к новой культуре — это воспитание борьбы и воспитание единства через кровь и деяние.

Не был ли политический солдат в университете первым шагом к героической концепции знания, о которой говорил Ницше?

Возвышение Ницше до статуса реформатора юриспруденции, законодателя и пророка нового правового порядка уходило корнями еще во времена Второго рейха. Хотя работа Фридриха Месса 1930 года «Ницше: Законодатель» не была расистской в национал-социалистическом смысле, более поздние нацистские комментарии прямо признавали её основополагающей. Подобно Мессу, они утверждали, что будущие европейские социальные структуры должны быть построены на ницшеанских основаниях. Кто лучше обрисовал контуры желаемого постхристианского, постпросвещенческого, антикантианского общества? Ницше должен считаться законодателем будущего, писал Г. Шпехт в журнале Общества криминальной биологии 1939 года. В отличие от больного христианско-еврейского уклада, его система не была замкнутой. Ницшеанский правовой уклад был призван вернуть человека к жизни, основываясь на нехристианском допущении невинности становления (Unschuld des Daseins) и на фундаментально переоцененных понятиях добра и зла. Ницше стремился не к отмене наказания, а к его деморализации и освобождению из тисков жреческого права. Наказание существовало лишь для того, чтобы служить жизнеутверждающему, иерархическому порядку, основанному, как предполагалось, на воле к власти и стремлении к созданию более высокого, более сильного существа. Философ предвидел социальную систему, основанную на отношениях между лидерами и ведомыми, с аристократией крови и заслуг. Обладая «верным историко-политическим инстинктом», добавлял Шпехт, Ницше «знал будущее и сознательно готовил к нему путь». Место расы, народа и государства в системе Ницше было неясным, признавал Шпехт, но было очевидно, что он выступал против разрушения этих ценностей.

В работе Курта Касслера «Ницше и право» даже эти неопределенности были устранены. Ницше, писал он, признавал «сильную, неразрывную связь права с властно-политической необходимостью каждого народа». Право для Ницше не было абстрактной кодификацией неизменного разума. Оно было динамическим инструментом в жизни народа и неотъемлемой частью его биологического и антропологического развития, которое служило его политическим нуждам и его воле к власти (Machtwillens). Истинное право проистекало из здоровой, фёлькише жизни: «универсальное» человеческое право было одновременно «чуждым жизни и антиисторической, утопической концепцией». Отказ Ницше от равных прав — разве не писал он: «Мы чувствуем все права как завоевания»? — был тесно связан с его иерархической альтернативой.

Борьба за самоутверждение и повышение власти была источником изменчивого права. Не существовало никакого разума права или естественного права. Ницшеанское право следовало за жизнью, а не наоборот; оно было не трансцендентным, а имманентным, динамическим, антропологическим и биологическим.

Ницше, продолжал Касслер, был первым мыслителем, который осознал центральную роль расы и расовой гигиены и сознательно применил их императивы к социальной жизни. Разве он не был решительно против деторождения недостойных? Провозглашение национал-социалистических законов, касающихся расовой гигиены и защитных мер против наследственных предрасположенностей и болезней («zur Verhuetung erbkranken Nachwuchs und zum Schutze der Erbgesundheit des deutschen Volkes»), по сути, представляло собой реализацию видения Ницше.

Касслер отнюдь не был одинок в использовании Ницше в качестве явного оправдания нацистских мер, направленных против неизлечимо больных и сексуальных преступников. И не было недостатка в соответствующих ницшеанских рекомендациях, пропагандирующих то, что он называл «святой жестокостью»:

Библейский запрет «не убий» — это наивность по сравнению с серьезностью запрета жизни для декадентов: «не плодись!» — Сама жизнь не признает никакой солидарности, никаких «равных прав» между здоровыми и вырожденческими частями организма: последние нужно вырезать — иначе погибнет целое. — Сочувствие к декадентам, равные права для неполноценных — это была бы глубочайшая безнравственность, это была бы сама антиприрода как мораль!

Мы уже видели, как Ницше влиял на сторонников эвтаназии и был интегрирован в более раннюю евгеническую мысль. В новом правовом порядке Третьего рейха практикующие врачи, занимавшиеся детской эвтаназией — такие как доктор Вернер Катель, — опирались на Ницше как на оправдание своей деятельности. Сила этого влияния не уменьшается от ироничного факта, что, как отмечал Эрнст Клее, безумие Ницше сделало бы его в высшей степени подходящей жертвой.

Предполагаемый ницшеанский общественный порядок также подразумевал позитивную евгеническую программу по созданию подходящего типа господина. Разведение и селекция на службе высшего развития, напоминал Касслер своим читателям, пронизывали все труды Ницше и были связаны с его глубокой озабоченностью декадансом, дегенерацией и упадком. Конечно, Ницше ошибался, полагая, что не существует изначальных чистых рас — только расы, которые стали чистыми. И все же он возглавил борьбу против ухудшения европейской крови.

Касслер не отрицал трудностей, но утверждал, что Ницше тем не менее полезен для формулирования основ расового общества. Для тех, кто интересовался слиянием Ницше и правой политики расовой гигиены, различия перекрывались общностью взглядов. Если у Ницше и не было законченной расовой системы в нынешнем понимании, писал другой нацистский комментатор, он все равно был могущественным пионером расовой культуры. Именно он заново открыл биологию для философии. Биологическая точка зрения не обязательно имела расовую отправную точку, но она распахнула «ряд могучих дверей, ведущих к расовому взгляду на жизнь».

Его пропагандисты подчеркивали утверждение Ницше об инстинкте, его открытие тела и, прежде всего, его натуралистическую переоценку, в которой биологическая этика заменила моральную. Комментарии Ницше о евреях были особенно актуальны. Философа превозносили за оказание услуги мировой истории его прозрением в историю Израиля как «денатурализацию естественных ценностей» (der Entnaturlichung der Naturiverte). Нацизм был явно контрдвижением, ведущим к ренатурализации.

Ницше, подчеркивали такие комментаторы, отверг «расовый обман», потому что дистанцировался от тех, кто тогда представлял расовую теорию. Но по-своему он «был самым острым антисемитом из всех, что когда-либо были: он был самым радикальным первооткрывателем нечестивой роли, которую иудаизм сыграл в духовной истории Европы». Его доказательство того, что христианство было окончательным еврейским следствием и что оно породило распространение еврейского отравления крови, сделало евреев самым роковым народом мировой истории. Через этот путь Ницше был приведен к расовой проблеме, открыв дверь к расовой гигиене в попытке сломить дегенерацию тысячелетней давности.

Нацифицированное ницшеанство выполняло многочисленные функции и распространялось по широкому спектру нацистского общества. После соответствующего редактирования труды философа публиковались и распространялись с головокружительной скоростью. Они были интегрированы в общую школьную систему и служили конкретным нуждам различных специальных организаций.

Ницшеанские темы пронизывали повседневную жизнь. Они формировали определяющие идеологические контуры элитных журналов СС, таких как Das Schwarze Korps: «Солдат фронта, — гласила одна из таких статей, — был единством Ницше, рабочего, крестьянина и той буржуазной молодежи, которую раса подтолкнула к новой конфигурации». Они составляли предмет узкоспециализированных университетских семинаров; транслировались в эфире в популярных радиолекциях, пропагандирующих, например, ницшеанские концепции роли труда в новом общественном порядке; и представлялись в восхваляющих речах перед организациями шахтеров и рабочих.

Вдохновение Ницше призывалось не только как основа солдатского мировоззрения национал-социализма и его предписания «живите опасно», но и как личный мобилизующий миф в ведении самого боя. Если в Первую мировую войну Ницше занимал центральное место как источник вдохновения, то ко Второй мировой войне он был официально закреплен в идеологии прославления войны, принятой государством. При национал-социализме немецкая молодежь, как выразился один автор, претворяла в жизнь ницшеанскую концепцию войны как здорового освободителя. И мысли, и деяния Ницше имели живое мифическое значение для судьбы немецкого настоящего: «Рука об руку он марширует с каждой жертвой».

По мере того как ход событий оборачивался против Германии (особенно на Восточном фронте), к Ницше все чаще обращались в апокалиптической борьбе против пагубных сил большевизма и мирового еврейства. С приближением поражения его призыв «Amor fati (возлюби свою судьбу)» — быть готовым к самопожертвованию — стал лейтмотивом. «Ницше — глашатай принципа "или-или". Он ненавидит компромиссы и утверждает неизбежное подлинное решение. Он призван придать нам сил в этой тотальной войне». Официальные торжества по случаю столетия Ницше в октябре 1944 года были заметно менее радостными и дионисийскими, чем архивные фестивали прошлого, и были сосредоточены вокруг судьбы, одиночества и изречения Ницше о том, что то, что нас не убивает, делает нас сильнее. Панегирик Альфреда Розенберга в адрес Ницше по этому случаю был явно продиктован отчаянным положением немецкой военной машины. Национал-социализм, провозгласил Розенберг, противостоит остальному миру точно так же, как Ницше противостоял силам своего времени. Что отличало Ницше от других мыслителей, так это его способность мыслить радикальными крайностями, философствовать в воинственных и солдатских терминах и задумывать предельные сценарии, подобные нынешней войне. Два принципа — разрушительный большевистско-еврейский и созидательный национал-социалистический европеец — сошлись в смертельной схватке, на кону которой стоял масштабный эксперимент над природой и жизнью.

Ницше выполнял и другие важные функции. Его высокий статус и его культурные труды позволили некоторым представителям немецкой интеллигенции совершить поворот к нацизму и использовать его в качестве вдохновения и оправдания. Для самого известного из них, Готфрида Бенна, Ницше всегда был центральной опорой, к которой он естественным образом обращался в своей полемике против немецких интеллектуалов-эмигрантов. В ответ на проклятия Клауса Манна в адрес нацистского «варварства», например, Бенн ловко сослался на Ницше, который поставил вопрос: «Где варвары двадцатого века?» — и предварял его изречением: «Господствующая раса может вырасти только из ужасных и насильственных начал». После Ницше существовал только один критерий исторической подлинности: «появление... нового типа, и он, надо сказать, здесь... Налицо подлинное, новое, историческое движение... типологически ни доброе, ни злое, оно сейчас начинает свое бытие... История движется не демократически, а стихийно, и ее поворотные моменты становятся все более стихийными».

Ницшеанский фактор был, вероятно, еще более заметен в самосознании многих интеллектуальных иностранных коллаборационистов, а также тех французских и бельгийских добровольцев, которые вступили в бригаду «Шарлемань» и Ваффен-СС. Их нацизм был рационализирован с точки зрения видения эстетического нового европейского порядка, возглавляемого изящной элитой подлинных и жестких новых людей, сверхлюдей, способных на самые радикальные действия. Кристиан де Ла Мазьер описывает свое вступление в Ваффен-СС, например, в карикатурных ницшеанских терминах: «...эти люди очаровали меня, и я хотел стать частью их. Я воспринимал их как сильных, великодушных и беспощадных: существ без слабостей, которые никогда не сгниют». Как пропагандист в СС, Марк Ожье размышлял:

Эти люди переосмыслили мир. Возникало чувство, будто достиг самой дальней периферии ницшеанского мира мысли и его созидательной страсти. ... Победа СС (которая не обязательно означала победу для Германии) породила бы мир, который, хотя и был бы, безусловно, весьма шокирующим, оказался бы совершенно новым и, вероятно, по-настоящему великим. ... В этом Хильдесхаймском монастыре ... готовилась ницшеанская переоценка всех ценностей. Это единственный в истории пример философа, у которого была такая свита из армий, бронетехники, самолетов, врачей, рыцарей, бюрократов и палачей. СС навлекла на себя ненависть всего мира, поскольку представляла реальную угрозу существующему порядку.

Эта тема постоянно возникает в концепциях негерманских сторонников. Как выразился Марсель Деа: «Ницшеанская идея отбора "хороших европейцев" сейчас реализуется на поле боя силами LFV и Ваффен-СС. Война создает аристократию, рыцарство, которое станет твердым, чистым ядром Европы будущего».

Нацисты смогли извлечь выгоду из европейского измерения Ницше как части собственной концепции континентального порядка. Европейское мышление Ницше — на первый взгляд недостаток для националистического движения — стало явным преимуществом: действительно, не было другого авторитета, у которого нацисты могли бы черпать подпитку для своего имперского видения. Даже когда различия между ницшеанской и нацистской идеями объединенной Европы тщательно разъяснялись — например, Куртом Хильдебрандтом, — тематическое сходство сохранялось: германское лидерство в возрожденной европейской культуре и политике, а также выведение аристократической касты, организованной на основе виталистических антидемократических и антимарксистских принципов.

Ницше обратился от Германии к Европе, писал позже Хильдебрандт, потому что знал: только немцы обладают величием, необходимым для осуществления ее возрождения. После «Рождения трагедии» Ницше стал гораздо более реалистичным и политизированным. Его цель становилась все более ясной — не пацифизм и мировое гражданство, а «большая война» и, прежде всего, война за лидерство в Европе и вызов немецкому народу создать ее заново. Поэтому для Ницше современный национализм был слишком провинциальным. Его видение «большой политики» было гораздо масштабнее. Сегодняшние «хорошие европейцы», провозгласил Розенберг, — это немцы, потому что они воплощают в жизнь ницшеанское видение континентального, революционного возрождения.

Те, кто был наиболее тесно связан с нацификацией Ницше, полностью осознавали казуистическую необходимость избирательно направлять его в русло своих коллективных и германских императивов, чтобы одновременно высвободить ницшеанскую динамику и держать ее под контролем. Для националистического, антисемитского и расистского движения это упражнение было неизбежным. Необходимость в своего рода интерпретации открыто признавалась, поскольку «настоящее» ницшеанское послание либо было ранее неверно истолковано, либо намеренно искажено более ранними, литературными и нигилистическими — как правило, еврейскими — последователями Ницше.

Коллективизация Ницше шла полным ходом. Эрнст Хорнеффер настаивал на том, что Ницше, отнюдь не проповедуя индивидуализм, был заинтересован в создании нового общества, основанного на новых связях и новых коллективных ценностях. Сверхчеловек был «не единичным понятием, а понятием вида и рода [Art- und Gattungsbegriff] ... плодом огромного, непрерывного проекта по селекции человека». Тот факт, писал Хильдебрандт, что Ницше нападал на гегелевское обожествление государства, не делал его антинационалистическим индивидуалистом. «Он хотел противопоставить холодному инструментальному государству и бездушной организации не разобщенного индивида, а подлинное народное сообщество [Volksgemeinschaft]».

Переход от индивидуального к коллективному Ницше, утверждал Боймлер, был трудным, но необходимым. Движущей силой «большой политики», заявлял он, было чувство власти, «которое из непобедимых источников время от времени вырывалось наружу не только в душе индивида, но и в низших слоях [niederen Schichten] народа». В конце концов, Ницше писал в «Воле к власти»: «Мы — больше, чем индивиды: мы — вся цепь целиком, с задачами всех будущих времен этой цепи». Тот, кто, подобно Ницше, брал тело за ориентир, провозглашал Боймлер, не мог быть индивидуалистом; как и никто из тех, кто мыслил исторически. Достаточно было заглянуть в «К генеалогии морали», чтобы увидеть, что Ницше говорил в исторических категориях, таких как виды, расы, нации и классы. Коллектив, из которого возник индивид и из которого он черпал свою силу, был не обобщенным человечеством, а всегда конкретной сущностью: расой, народом, классом.

В бесчисленных дискуссиях второстепенные и главные посредники Ницше проясняли «истинную» природу его отношений с Германией и немцами. Разве Ницше не настаивал на коренном различии между тем, что было немецким (то есть римским и христианским влиянием на Германию), и тем, что было германским (то есть его свободолюбивой, воинственной природой)? Разве Заратустра не был германской фигурой, взявшей на себя германскую миссию по защите прав народа? Разве радикальная критика и язвительные комментарии Ницше не были показателем его боли, приверженности и надежд на этот народ, который находится в процессе становления? Эти комментаторы любили цитировать слова Ницше 1885 года: «Пока что немцы — ничто, но они станут чем-то... Мы, немцы, желаем от самих себя того, чего от нас еще не желали — мы желаем чего-то большего!» Только теперь приходило осознание того, что Ницше и подлинная немецкая судьба неразрывно связаны. «Фридрих Ницше как немецкий пророк» и «Ницше и немецкая судьба» были типичными представителями этого жанра. Тема приобрела заклинательный характер. К 1942 году немногих удивляло известие о том, что миссия Ницше была по сути фёлькише и расовой: Заратустра был мистическим инструментом, призванным создать новый миф для немецко-германского человечества.

Проеврейские комментарии Ницше и его язвительное презрение к антисемитизму явно нуждались в особом объяснении. Любой, кто знаком с Ницше, писал Боймлер, знает, насколько сильно он на самом деле был настроен против евреев. Его филосемитские высказывания были приемом для привлечения внимания — стравливание евреев с немцами было частью его стратегии, чтобы заставить немцев слушать его! Что еще важнее, как подчеркивали многочисленные комментаторы, Ницше выступал против форм конвенционального и христианского антисемитизма XIX века лишь потому, что отстаивал более новую и гораздо более радикальную форму. Ницше отвергал только тот антисемитизм, который ограничивался конфессиональной, экономической и социальной сферами, упуская из виду биологическое измерение. Он действительно считал евреев не чем иным, как «паразитическим человеческим родом» (parasitäre Menschengattung), ставящим под угрозу само выживание нордической расы. И, конечно, Ницше стал важнейшим источником для того радикального движения, которое Уриэль Таль обозначил как «антихристианский антисемитизм».

Сократизм функционировал подобно христианству. Как показал Ницше в «К генеалогии морали», христианство было еврейским изобретением, дьявольски хитрым способом заразить сердца других народов духом иудаизма, угрожающим миру. Сократизм был лишь префигурацией христианства. Моральный фанатизм Платона, в конце концов, уничтожил язычество. Чем было христианство, если не «платонизмом для народа»? Для Ницше существовала общая фёлькише-сущность как греческого, так и немецкого опыта: трагическая культура. Предпосылка для ее воссоздания заключалась, как бескомпромиссно разъяснил Ницше, в преодолении христианства. Христианство представляло собой победу антифёлькиш-принципа над нациями. Иудаизированное христианство было расовым упадком и декадансом: «антирасовый принцип, примененный против расового».

Возрождение трагической культуры и оборонного сообщества (Wehrgemeinschaft) зависело, таким образом, от одновременного преодоления иудейского христианства и других форм теоретического человека. Эти и другие фёлькише-схемы Ницше — постулирующие, например, радикальные различия между греко-еврейскими логоцентрическими и греко-германскими биоцентрическими принципами — изобиловали в Третьем рейхе. Смысл таких натурализирующих схем заключался в создании альтернатив гуманизму и трансцендентности — принципам, которые подрывали жизнь. Иррационалистическая, трагически-дионисийская культура Ницше противодействовала традиционным концепциям западной морали, а также рационалистическим представлениям Просвещения и марксистским идеям прогресса.

Очевидная плотность и повсеместность присутствия Ницше не должны ослеплять нас в отношении сложности образа Ницше и его функций в нацистском дискурсе. Помимо неразбавленного почитания, бездумного смешения и идеологического сватовства, были и те, кто поддерживал различия, высказывал оговорки и воздерживался от утверждения о полном тождестве.

Безусловно, так обстояло дело с официальной работой Генриха Хертле «Ницше и национал-социализм» (опубликованной центральным нацистским издательством). В этом часто цитируемом труде были четко определены и разграничены «границы, взаимосвязи и контрасты между политической мыслью Ницше и национал-социализмом». Учитывая многозначность Ницше, утверждал Хертле, национал-социалисты должны были сознательно отсеивать «плодотворные» ницшеанские идеи от менее приемлемых. Хертле перечислил проблемы — пропаганду расового смешения, критику государства и индивидуализм, — но тем не менее пришел к выводу, что идеи Ницше являются строительными блоками будущей национал-социалистической философии.

Все те, о ком шла речь до сих пор, провозглашали незыблемость ницшеанско-нацистской связи. Однако существовало множество критиков, которые выражали упорное сопротивление его аннексии и на протяжении всего времени придерживались антиницшеанской позиции. Не впечатленные казуистикой и идеологической подгонкой, они продолжали доказывать то, о чем многие из неубежденных правых говорили еще с 1880-х годов. Подобно либеральным защитникам Ницше, они настаивали на том, что совершается ужасная ошибка. Как язвительно заметил Эрнст Крик, профессор педагогики Гейдельбергского университета и видный нацистский идеолог: если не считать того, что Ницше не был социалистом, не был националистом и выступал против расового мышления, он мог бы стать ведущим национал-социалистическим мыслителем! Ницше никак нельзя было считать национал-социалистом; Ницше, воскликнул один нацистский комментатор, был не решением, а проявлением упадка Европы.

Дитрих Эккарт, доморощенный философ-фёлькише из Швабинга, оказавший определяющее влияние на Гитлера, еще в начале пути отмахнулся от Ницше как от простого случая наследственного психического заболевания. Элементы движения фёлькише оставались непреклонны в своем неприятии. Они утверждали, что верх абсурда — представлять ненависть Ницше к немцам как форму «гневной любви»; он был явным антинационалистом и великим клеветником на Германский рейх и на сам германизм. Что общего могло быть у этого сторонника эгоистического индивидуализма с нацистским коммунитаризмом или целью создания фёлькише органической расовой тотальности? Ницше недвусмысленно осуждал то, что он называл «расовым обманом», питал лишь презрение к антисемитизму и, по сути, был своего рода юдофилом.

Ницше можно было критиковать и ругать, потому что он был не живым функционером Рейха, а мертвым философом. Таким образом, христианские круги и церкви, реагируя на нападки Альфреда Розенберга и связанных с ним неоязыческих группировок, могли свободно полемизировать с Ницше как со средством противодействия нацистской религиозной политике в целом и идеям Розенберга в частности. Националистический и расистский дух времени был глубоко запечатлен в этих полемиках — особенно протестантских. Как метко отметил один неоязыческий комментатор, эти протесты осуждали Ницше не за его антихристианские идеи, а за отсутствие националистического рвения и богохульство по отношению к немецкому народу! По иронии судьбы, выступая за христианскую Германию, эти христианские полемисты обрушивались на антинационалистические, антирасистские и проеврейские позиции Ницше как на неподобающие для нового общества, в котором церкви также стремились играть свою роль. Подобная религиозная полемика не стеснялась прибегать к расистским аргументам в своей оппозиции Ницше. Один католический оппонент гремел, что польское происхождение Ницше делает его не нордическим, а монгольским!

Некоторые светские критики рассуждали схожим образом. Например, в эссе Альфреда фон Мартина 1941 года о Ницше и Буркхардте — работе, которая явно отдавала предпочтение консервативному гуманизму последнего перед революционной политикой первого, — филосемитизм Ницше определялся как форма антигерманизма.

Все это не исчерпывало функций подобного дискурса. Искушенные мыслители часто использовали Ницше в качестве фона для того, что Джерри Мюллер назвал эзоповской критикой. К 1937 году, например, разочаровавшийся Ханс Фрейер заново открыл акцент Ницше на пренебрегаемой роли культуры и духа, а также на необходимости критических и несовременных размышлений в Третьем рейхе. Мартин Хайдеггер аналогичным образом утверждал (в 1966 году), что его масштабный цикл лекций о Ницше, прочитанный между 1936 и 1940 годами, составлял неотъемлемую часть его дискуссии (Auseinandersetzung) с национал-социализмом.

Но все эти научные презентации, прямая критика, оппозиционная полемика, эзоповские приемы, более того, само использование Ницше в качестве фона для осмысления национал-социализма демонстрируют нормативную природу и центральное положение этого мыслителя как определяющего для нацистского порядка. Это было столь же верно для более критических и тонких подходов, как и для грубо подобострастных. Многие осознавали, что нынешнюю революционную эпоху необходимо было определить, осмыслить и даже противопоставить ей нечто через подобную дискуссию с Ницше.

Философские обзоры того времени регулярно описывали Ницше как «принадлежащего современности». Ницше явно превратился в пробный камень для критической референции. Лучше всего это иллюстрируется тем, что один современный исследователь назвал «метадискурсом» немецкой философии при национал-социализме — способами, которыми различные школы соперничали в интерпретации и оправдании нацизма и политического момента в терминах своих собственных философских программ. Все выжившие философские течения предавались этому упражнению. Неокантианцы, например — группа, которая чрезвычайно успешно просуществовала во время Третьего рейха, — утверждали, что великая идеалистическая традиция и «теория объективных ценностей» являются подходящей философией немецкой революции.

Как бы ни была поразительна концепция кантовского нацизма, те, кто отстаивал такую позицию, были вынуждены делать это ввиду восприятия Ницше как преобладающего стандарта отсчета. Ведущий неокантианец Бруно Баух должен был доказывать, что ценности по своей природе не ницшеанские, а объективные, «то, что придает нашей субъективной жизни содержание и определенность». Существовала разница между ценностями и целями. Цели существовали лишь постольку, поскольку мы их постулировали; не обладая фиксированным бытием, они были становлением, которое «вписывалось в целостность сферы ценностей». Это, как утверждал Баух, и было истинным смыслом переоценки всех ценностей Ницше. Он проповедовал не релятивизм, а то, что всякое стремление к ценностям есть процесс приближения к объективной сфере. Николай Гартман использовал похожую тактику: он критиковал Ницше, но стремился интегрировать его в объективистское видение, сплавить его с Кантом. Ницше хвалили за демонстрацию полноты ценностей и за доказательство того, что мораль и христианство не тождественны. Материальная этика того времени требовала «синтеза кантовской априорности и вневременности моральных требований с признанием Ницше многообразия ценностей».

Неокантианцы утверждали, что только на основе более стабильной и объективной системы ценностей национал-социализм может быть прочно обоснован. Тем не менее они, как и многие другие, полностью осознавали осевую роль Ницше в политической и философской реальности Третьего рейха. Дискуссия должна была вестись на его условиях.

Поэтому было едва ли случайным, что великие умы того времени — особенно Ясперс, Юнг и Хайдеггер — все выбрали Ницше для глубокого анализа. Если их цели, подходы и выводы мало что объединяло, то использование ими Ницше в качестве значимого фильтра и их интенсивное взаимодействие с ним само по себе было показательным. Все это были сложные работы, неизбежно отмеченные новым опытом нацизма и раскрывающие отношение к нему.

Это, безусловно, относится к явно не нацистскому «Ницше» Карла Ясперса 1936 года с его страстным призывом к неидеологическому Ницше, который разрушил все конечные позиции. Значимость этого Ницше 257 заключалась не в позитивном содержании его философии, а в мужественном способе его философствования. Для Ясперса величие Ницше состояло в упорядоченном вихре его мышления, операции, которая включала противоречие таким образом, что замешательство уступало место форме мысли, делающей сами противоречия осмысленными.

Современные пронацистские критики внутри Германии, такие как Курт Хильдебрандт, изгнанные оппоненты за её пределами и более поздние комментаторы, такие как Уолтер Кауфман, критиковали Ясперса за его чисто гносеологического Ницше, лишенного какого-либо позитивного видения или системы. Хильдебрандт упрекал Ясперса за его дистанцированность от режима, в то время как Кауфман порицал его за акцент на двусмысленности, который препятствовал тому, чтобы такая интерпретация стала точкой сплочения какой-либо оппозиции.

В своей обширной критике 1936 года Хильдебрандт стремился сохранить актуальную и позитивную роль Ницше. Экзистенциалист Ясперс, писал он, нарисовал самую неэкзистенциалистскую картину Ницше из возможных. В то время как Ницше противостоял трансцендентности, Ясперс хотел вернуться к её смягченной версии. Ясперс упустил связь между жизнью, творчеством, страстями и ценностями Ницше. Более того, он пренебрег такими основополагающими текстами, как «Заратустра» и «К генеалогии морали»: «Ницше вдохновлен страстью к познанию, но выше этого познания стоит творчество, новая оценка, новое законодательство». Ницше предоставил философию, в которой смысл проистекает из постоянной, творческой борьбы как «нормы и силы зарождающейся мировой эпохи». Для Хильдебрандта это не было «свободно парящим», как утверждал Ясперс. Скорее, это был динамизм, который разрешался в нормативную систему и позитивное сообщество.

Даже если Ницше Ясперса не нес в себе никакого позитивного идеологического контрсодержания, в контексте Третьего рейха акцент на свободе мысли, «систематически осознанном господстве над собственным мышлением», был одновременно мужественным и непосредственно значимым. Как он позже утверждал, можно было правдоподобно обосновать нацистскую позицию «вплоть до каждой детали, опираясь на Ницше; точно так же, как можно увидеть прямо противоположную позицию, представленную Ницше с равной яростью». Что было наиболее важно в то время, так это «демонстрация фактического движения мышления Ницше как освобождающего, просвещающего, диалектически смелого, никогда не фиксирующегося вида мышления».

Тот же формирующий контекст, нависший фон нацизма, помогает объяснить марафонский Цюрихский семинар 1934–1939 годов, который Юнг проводил по «Заратустре». Замечательный и последовательный рефлексивный проект Юнга — с его восхитительно детальным анализом внутренних механизмов и психологической структуры заратустровского символического мира — обнажил «Заратустру» как пример творческих и демонических вихрей коллективного бессознательного. Более того, он использовал Ницше и «Заратустру» в качестве иллюстраций и подтверждений собственной психологической системы и стремился раскрыть некоторые из более глубоких, скрытых связей между Ницше и национал-социализмом. После первоначальных колебаний он сказал своим студентам: «Я сам согласился рискнуть проанализировать "Заратустру", главным образом потому, что это очень современное произведение, которое имеет много общего с тем, что происходит в наше время; я подумал, что было бы очень интересно заглянуть в реальную работу бессознательного разума, который предвосхитил все великие политические и исторические события наших дней».

Ближе к концу семинара Юнг сформулировал его обоснование еще более прямолинейно:

Современные люди следуют за Заратустрой. Но он не видел, что на самом деле предвосхищает всё будущее развитие, что настанет время, когда то, что он здесь говорит, сбудется. Как будто весь мир слышал о Ницше или читал его книги и сознательно воплотил это в жизнь. Конечно, они этого не делали. Он просто прислушивался к этому подпольному процессу коллективного бессознательного и смог осознать его — он говорил об этом, но никто другой этого не заметил. Тем не менее, они все развивались в этом направлении, и они развивались бы в этом направлении, даже если бы не было никакого Ницше. Ибо они никогда этого не понимали. Возможно, я единственный, кто берет на себя труд так глубоко вникать в детали «Заратустры» — слишком глубоко, как могут подумать некоторые. Поэтому никто на самом деле не осознает, до какой степени он был связан с бессознательным, а следовательно, и с судьбой Европы в целом, ибо это одна и та же беда во всем мире.

За свою сравнительно недолгую историю ницшеанский комментарий породил несколько классических трудов. Как правило, эти творческие работы говорят нам об авторе столько же, сколько и об их предмете. Ницше как человек и его многогранные труды блестяще подходят для того, чтобы пролить свет на собственное видение Юнга, являясь плотным проективным подтверждением его собственной психологической системы. «Заратустра», — провозгласил Юнг на открытии семинара, — обладал великим откровением. Он изливался из Ницше как почти автономное произведение, выражение не личного, а коллективного бессознательного, «состояние одержимости, при котором он сам практически больше не существовал». Чтобы понять это, требовалось тонкое психологическое чутье. Но, подчеркивал Юнг, потребовался «опыт войны и послевоенных социальных и политических явлений, чтобы проникнуть в смысл „Заратустры“». Ницше был, если не сказать больше, доказательством существования (и жизненной силы) юнгианского коллективного бессознательного. Он «задел нечто в бессознательном; ибо он пытался сформулировать то, что на самом деле происходит в коллективном бессознательном современного человека, дать слова этому беспокойству».

Семинар Юнга по «Заратустре» представлял собой обширное психологическое исследование практически каждого аспекта этого произведения; скрытые связи с национал-социализмом выходили на первый план лишь эпизодически. Тем не менее, будучи выраженными явно, они проливали свет как на прочтение Юнгом Ницше, так и на то, что он считал онтологией нацизма. Его двойственное отношение к нацизму можно проследить из следующего:

Что ж, мы не судьи, мы просто констатируем факты. Вы знаете, что нет ничего настолько злого, чтобы из этого не могло выйти что-то хорошее... Нельзя не признать, что фашизм сделал много хорошего для Италии; это другая страна. И поэтому есть много людей, иностранцев (сами немцы склонны к предвзятости), которые видели и хвалили то, что произошло в Германии, и даже в России, как некую высшую тенденцию. Так что судить чрезвычайно трудно. С одной стороны, вещи позитивны, а с другой — вполне негативны.

Со временем он изменил свой взгляд; тем не менее, в определенном — и меняющемся — смысле Юнг последовательно рассматривал нацизм как своего рода ницшеанский проект. Разве школы СС в орденсбургах (и коммунистическая партия в России) не были проектами по формированию нового дворянства Ницше? Ницше предвидел именно это, хотя, как поспешил заметить Юнг, он имел в виду «настоящее дворянство — не то, которое создается, а то, которое создает само себя».

Концепцию Ницше о жизни как amor fati (любви к судьбе), самопожертвовании, утверждал Юнг, — это отношение, которое сейчас преобладает в Германии, это внутренний смысл национал-социализма. Они живут, чтобы продолжать жить — или умереть. Когда слышишь, как говорят по-настоящему серьезные люди, понимаешь, что Ницше просто предвосхитил этот стиль. Они восхваляют готовность, и, естественно, любой рационалист спрашивает: к чему? В этом-то и дело — никто не знает к чему. Поэтому у них нет программы; у них нет намеченного плана, который должен быть выполнен. Они живут моментом. Они не знают, куда идут. Очень влиятельные и компетентные люди этой партии признают, что не знают, но одно можно сказать наверняка: они идут, возврата нет, они должны рискнуть. Тогда рационалист спрашивает: рискнуть чем? Ответ: рискнуть этим... Это, конечно, чистое безумие с рационалистической точки зрения, и именно это имеет в виду Ницше. Можно сказать, что все это патология, или что это божественное или демоническое безумие, но именно это безумие и имеет в виду Ницше. Так что Ницше в некотором роде великий пророк того, что на самом деле происходит в Германии.

Для Юнга эта предполагаемая психологическая близость между Ницше и немецким народом служила также примером и подтверждением его собственной теории. Ницше, заявил он, благодаря своей чувствительности предвосхитил значительную часть последующего психического развития; он был настолько охвачен коллективным бессознательным, что совершенно непроизвольно осознал коллективное бессознательное, характерное для его времени и последующего времени. Поэтому его называют пророком, и в некотором смысле он пророк... Его жизнь и судьба, можно сказать, были коллективной программой; его жизнь была прогнозом определенной судьбы для его собственной страны.

В системе Юнга традиционное понятие предтечи претерпело метаморфозу, будучи замененным теорией непроизвольной, антиципаторной интуиции:

Вы видите, насколько Ницше является предтечей. Но немцы его поколения, следующего поколения и всех последующих поколений не настолько одарены, чтобы учиться этому у Ницше; это просто случается с ними. И Ницше мог предсказать это, потому что это случилось с ним; в некотором смысле он предвосхитил в своей собственной жизни и своем собственном теле то, каким будет будущее его народа.

Но Юнг не просто сводил Ницше к префигурации нацизма как выражению немецкого коллективного бессознательного. Были времена, когда Юнг открыто критиковал нацизм, изображая его как неверное применение ницшеанского мира, для надлежащего понимания которого требовалась специальная подготовка. Стоит процитировать это подробно:

Сам Ницше был бы крайне удивлен, услышав такие новости. Ему, конечно, и во сне не могло присниться, что его назовут отцом всего этого современного политического зла. Это действительно происходит из-за недопонимания, которому подвергается Ницше. Ибо он совершил одну значительную ошибку, которую, конечно, не стали бы считать ошибкой в общем смысле. Но я называю ошибкой то, что он вообще опубликовал «Заратустру». Это книга, которую не следовало публиковать; она должна быть предназначена для людей, прошедших очень тщательную подготовку в психологии бессознательного. Только тогда, доказав, что их не сокрушает то, что иногда говорит бессознательное, люди должны получить доступ к этой книге. ... Если человек читает «Заратустру» неподготовленным, со всеми наивными предпосылками нашей нынешней цивилизации, он неизбежно должен сделать неверные выводы о значении «сверхчеловека», «белокурой бестии», «бледного преступника» и так далее.

Юнг прекрасно понимал, что то, что Ницше сказал в главе «Новый идол», может «быть использовано в пользу фашистского, национал-социалистического или коммунистического государства, а также может быть использовано как лучший аргумент против всех этих творений».

Для Юнга, по сути, и нацизм, и Ницше были выражениями важных, глубоких уровней коллективного бессознательного. Однако по мере развития семинара он указывал, что считает нацистское присвоение менее благотворным, чем ницшеанское. Он проиллюстрировал это в своем обсуждении отрывка, где Ницше предсказывает: «О вы, одинокие сегодняшнего дня, вы, отделившиеся, вы должны однажды стать народом: из вас, кто избрал самих себя, должен возникнуть избранный народ: а из него — сверхчеловек». Юнг интерпретировал психогерменевтическую динамику этого отрывка так:

Видите ли, сверхчеловек — это действительно «народ», а не один человек; это можно понимать очень буквально. Ибо если эти одинокие или отделившиеся интегрируют свое бессознательное, они, конечно, отличаются от других людей постольку, поскольку их сознание более расширено, и тогда это выглядит так, будто они объединяют статистику целого народа в одной психологии. ... Если человек расширяет свое сознание так, что видит, что он — это нечто большее, чем его эго, он приближается к определенному осознанию своего «я». Но это верно и в другом смысле: а именно, если попытка расширения сознания появляется где-то и не реализуется, то она вызывает своего рода психическую инфекцию ... или она вызывает психическую эпидемию, подобную той, что мы видим в действительности в Германии. Это сверхчеловек на уровне нереализованности; весь народ подобен одному человеку, и один человек показан как эмблема или символ всей нации. Это замена интеграции сознания одного индивида. Видите ли, Германия должна быть одним индивидом, но с интегрированным сознанием; вместо этого просто нет интеграции бессознательного, но весь народ интегрирован в одну священную фигуру — в которую никто до конца не верит, что она может быть священной. Вот в чем несчастье.

Как ни читай, юнговский «Заратустра» 1930-х годов не оставлял сомнений в связи между этим документом и апокалиптической политикой его собственного времени, а также о сложных отношениях, существующих между Ницше и национал-социализмом. Мартин Хайдеггер был аналогичным образом обеспокоен этим взаимным соучастием. Мы не будем вдаваться в текущие дебаты о Хайдеггере и национал-социализме, а также о предполагаемых связях между его политикой и его философией, но ограничимся здесь отношениями Хайдеггера и Ницше.

Ницше и ницшеанские темы, особенно критика ценностей и разума, а также сопутствующий акцент на преодолевающей героической мифологии, были среди главных забот Хайдеггера с 1930-х годов. Его «Ницше» — содержащийся в лекциях (1936—1940) и примыкающих к ним трактатах (1940—1946) — отражал его меняющееся понимание, ожидания и оценки как Ницше, так и национал-социализма. Не менее важно и то, что «сокрушительное» столкновение с Ницше породило то, что Хайдеггер считал решающим сдвигом в своем собственном мышлении, который обеспечил, как он выразился, ключ к ментальному пути, который он прошел с 1930 года до своего «Письма о гуманизме» 1947 года.

В самоописании Хайдеггера Ницше отводилась центральная роль в этих философских и политических метаморфозах. В открытом письме своему другу и коллеге, радикально-правому ницшеанцу Эрнсту Юнгеру, написанном спустя много лет после войны, он утверждал, что именно Ницше — «в свете и тени которого все мы сегодня, с нашим "про-Ницше" или "контра-Ницше", мыслим и пишем». Действительно, (по крайней мере, в его собственной интерпретации), хайдеггеровское утверждение, а затем и отрицание национал-социализма были причинно связаны с его первоначальным принятием и последующим отвержением Ницше.

Ницше занимает относительно незначительное место в работе «Бытие и время» (1926), хотя книга и затрагивает ницшеанскую проблему, поскольку она вращается вокруг тревоги, сопутствующей осознанию нигилизма и ощущению того, что не может быть никакого «объективного» обоснования для этики. Как бы то ни было, явный поворот Хайдеггера к Ницше совпал с его увлечением антидемократической, радикально-правой мыслью Веймарской республики в 1929 году. Осознание современного кризиса все больше приближало Хайдеггера к Ницше, и именно тогда, если верить некоторым крупным исследователям Хайдеггера, эти виды политических и идеологических мотивов «проникли в самое сердце философии Хайдеггера».

Причины перехода к Ницше, однако, менее важны, чем тот факт, что на протяжении 1930-х и 1940-х годов категории и тематика Хайдеггера, его постановка вопроса и метадискурс зависели от ницшеанских рамок. Хайдеггер унаследовал убеждение Ницше в том, что история философии подошла к концу и что зарождается новая эра. Формулировка Ницше о нигилистическом затруднении оставалась ключевым вопросом с 1930-х годов. Более того, первоначальное решение Хайдеггера по преодолению нигилизма — через героическую, экзистенциальную, самоутверждающуюся волю — было исключительно ницшеанским. Если позже он решил растворить самоутверждение и метафизику в полном подчинении Голосу бытия, его проблематика тем не менее оставалась в рамках радикальной ницшеанской критики разума и конца западной философии.

Затруднительное положение европейского нигилизма и предложенное его решение были явной основой хайдеггеровских размышлений о «внутренней истине и величии национал-социализма». Хайдеггеровский экзистенциализм вытекал из особого радикального анализа этой исторической ситуации и опыта нигилизма. Как уже отмечал Карл Лёвит в 1939 году, восприятие упадка и надвигающейся европейской катастрофы с сопутствующей ей «волей к разрыву, революции и пробуждению» не было идиосинкразическим капризом Хайдеггера, а являлось неотъемлемой частью радикально-правого багажа после 1914 года, составной частью менталитета консервативных революционеров. Лёвит рассматривал Хайдеггера как еще более радикального идеолога немецкой революции, чем ее официальные представители (такие как Эрнст Крик и Альфред Розенберг). Безусловно, метадискурс национал-социализма у Хайдеггера сильно отличался от его кантовских или гегелевских версий. Существенным было не объективное обоснование, национальное, социальное или расовое содержание движения, а динамика решимости как таковой — «существование, сведенное к самому себе и покоящееся только на себе перед лицом ничто». Здесь имела значение только радикальная воля к сущности бытия. Именно это, утверждал Лёвит, привлекло Хайдеггера к Ницше, который «предпочитает желать ничто, чем не желать ничего вовсе».

На этом этапе Хайдеггер еще мог одобрить ницшеанскую концепцию воли как «в самой себе одновременно созидательной и разрушительной». Его Ницше постулировал нигилизм не просто как феномен распада, но как внутренний закон западной истории. Он содержал новый безусловный принцип переоценки, который больше не основывался бы на безжизненном, сверхчувственном мире. Нигилизм здесь мыслился как неотъемлемая часть ницшеанского идеала избыточной жизни.

Эти ницшеанские заботы, как ясно дал понять Хайдеггер, имели прямое отношение к происходящей немецкой революции. В его знаменитой ректорской речи 1933 года «Самоутверждение немецкого университета» великое преобразование немецкого бытия (Dasein) было связано с творческими возможностями нигилистического момента — «если верно то, что сказал страстный искатель Бога и последний немецкий философ Фридрих Ницше: "Бог умер"».

Помимо определяющего затруднения, лингвистические тональности Хайдеггера и предложенное им решение перекликались с (должным образом национализированным) Ницше. Немецкая наука и судьба народа были утверждены как единство в их единой сущностной воле к власти (Wesenswillen zur Macht). Немецкие студенты и преподаватели должны были создать боевое содружество (Kampfgemeinschaft), чья воинствующая воля к служению в знании привела бы их на передовую самой крайней опасности человеческого существования. Перед лицом европейского распада было необходимо не что иное, как самая радикальная, самоутверждающаяся воля:

Никто не спросит нас, волим ли мы или не волим, когда духовная сила Запада иссякнет и суставы мира больше не будут держаться, когда это умирающее подобие культуры рухнет и увлечет все, что остается сильным, в замешательство и позволит ему задохнуться в безумии.

Произойдет ли это или нет, зависит только от того, волим ли мы еще и вновь самих себя как духовно-исторический народ. Каждый индивид участвует в этом решении, даже он, и, более того, особенно он, кто уклоняется от него.

Но мы волим, чтобы наш народ выполнил свою историческую миссию.

Мы волим самих себя. Ибо молодая и самая юная сила народа, которая уже простирается за пределы нас, уже решила этот вопрос.

Даже если его активистское решение было позже заменено, Хайдеггер принял искупительные возможности, присущие нигилистическому затруднению. «Мы переживаем именно самый крайний нигилизм не как полный крах, а как переход к новым условиям человеческого существования», — писал он в 1940 году. Первоначально Хайдеггер открыто рассматривал как фашизм, так и нацизм как потенциально позитивные переходы к таким новым условиям. Они были по сути ницшеанскими проектами — самыми радикальными на сегодняшний день попытками преодолеть западный нигилизм: «Два человека, — провозгласил Хайдеггер в своих лекциях о Шеллинге 1936 года, — которые каждый по-своему ввели контрдвижение против нигилизма — Муссолини и Гитлер — учились у Ницше, каждый по-своему, существенно различно. Но даже при этом подлинная метафизическая область Ницше еще не обрела себя».

Хайдеггер, безусловно, открыто противопоставлял свою концепцию «подлинной области» Ницше концепции Боймлера, который, как он провозгласил, «не постигает метафизически, а интерпретирует политически». Именно упрощенный и политизированный нацистский Ницше, как утверждал один сочувствующий комментатор, предоставил «контекст, в котором Хайдеггер должен был обращаться к студентам, посещавшим его лекции. То, что они услышали от Хайдеггера, было чем-то иным — на самом деле это было полностью вырвано из контекста».

«Ни один нацистский головорез, насколько мне известно, — справедливо замечает Джордж Стайнер о «Бытии и времени», — никогда не читал его и не был бы способен его прочесть». Точно так же «Ницше» Хаййдеггера, несомненно, был написан на более высоком уровне, чем мог бы осилить любой нацистский интерпретатор. Безусловно, многие его идеи в рамках критики разума были долговечными. Но эти лекции должны были в равной степени впечатлить и озадачить его сбитых с толку студентов. Ницше часто становился неузнаваемым, когда его поглощала хаййдеггеровская система мысли и втискивала в рамки своего головокружительного словаря. Сверхчеловек, говорил Хаййдеггер своим студентам, «живет, потому что новое человечество желает бытия сущего как воли к власти. Оно желает такого бытия, потому что само оно желаемо этим бытием — бытием, которое абсолютно предоставлено самому себе как человечество».

Эти лекции были предполагаемым горнилом для перемены Хаййдеггера. Он, как нам говорят, начал сомневаться в сопоставимых искупительных силах Ницше или национал-социализма. Этот растущий скептицизм обычно представляется как главный «контекст» и значимость данных лекций. Но в контурах Третьего рейха и санкционированной роли Ницше само использование ницшеанских категорий и терминологии стало частью уже заряженного политического контекста, формирующего восприимчивость и предрасположенность аудитории. Студентам, как и другим немцам, в конце концов, постоянно твердили, что это время Ницше. Неясно, как они понимали послания Хаййдеггера. Хотя он явно дистанцировался от интерпретаций в духе Боймлера, от упрощенных уравниваний нигилизма с большевизмом и от биологизма, это были, тем не менее, опасно коннотированные политические категории, которые требовали более глубокого критического анализа. Помимо этого, радикальный тон языка Хаййдеггера и его выбор цитат временами, казалось, представляли нацистскую реальность как нечто смягченное в свете ницшеанского видения, которое Хаййдеггер, по-видимому, рекомендовал своей аудитории:

Человек есть зверь и зверь-инородец: высший человек есть не-человек и Сверхчеловек: они принадлежат друг другу. С каждым ростом человека в величии и высоте происходит также рост в глубине и ужасе: не следует желать одного без другого — или, скорее: чем радикальнее мы желаем одного, тем радикальнее мы достигаем именно другого.

Независимо от того, было ли намерение критическим, многие пассажи могли быть восприняты как подтверждение самосознания и целей режима. Анализ Хаййдеггером Сверхчеловека как нового воплощения воли к власти, выраженной в «господстве над землей», был, в конце концов, изложен в рамках метадискурса, приспособленного к преобладающей политической реальности. Сверхчеловек, подчеркивал Хаййдеггер, принадлежал к «великому стилю» человеческого разведения и социальной организации, в котором «единственный смысл того, кто как законодатель первым устанавливает условия господства над землей, состоит именно в том, чтобы не быть определенным такими условиями». Сформулированное в реалиях Третьего рейха в 1939–1940 годах, острое описание ницшеанского проекта Хаййдеггером должно было иметь непосредственный резонанс, который, учитывая его предполагаемое критическое намерение, безусловно, требовал дальнейшего критического анализа.

Он сохранял свой двусмысленный язык на протяжении всего времени: отделение критических элементов от функционально необходимых элементов современного Сверхчеловека и его господства над землей стало поистине деликатным упражнением:

Мы сегодня являемся свидетелями таинственного закона истории, который гласит, что однажды народ перестает соответствовать метафизике, возникшей из его собственной истории; этот день наступает, когда такая метафизика превращается в абсолют. То, что Ницше уже знал метафизически, теперь становится ясным: что в своей абсолютной форме современная «машинная экономика» ... требует нового типа человека, который превосходит человека, каким он был до сих пор... [Т]олько Сверхчеловек соответствует абсолютной «машинной экономике»: он нуждается в ней для абсолютного господства над землей.

Мы должны, однако, вернуться к барометрической роли, которую Ницше играл в самосознании того периода. Самоописанная Хайдеггером переоценка как национал-социализма, так и его собственной мысли была тесно связана с его длительным столкновением с Ницше. Хайдеггер поначалу приветствовал ницшеанскую переоценку всех ценностей как надлежащий философский ответ на нигилистическую дилемму, а активистскую волю к власти нацистской революции — как подобающее политическое контрдвижение нигилизму, надлежащее (фёлькише) человеческое средство заставить Бытие раскрыть свою тайну. Его отказ от ключевых элементов национал-социализма, его работа и работа Ницше, а также его отказ от воли и самоутверждения перед лицом Бытия были осознаны им через опустошительное, сокрушительное понимание того, что философия воли к власти Ницше была лишь нигилистической кульминацией чего-то, присущего самой природе метафизической традиции Запада, какой она развивалась начиная с Платона. Осознание того, что в его собственной философии, сознательно стремящейся «преодолеть» метафизику, эта воля, эта нигилистическая язва, все еще оставалась мощной движущей силой, стоящей между ним и Бытием — целью всего его поиска, — по-видимому, привело к краху этой воли и полному подчинению «Голосу бытия».

С тех пор Ницше, несмотря на свою глубокую критику философского гуманизма, стал олицетворять не ниспровержение, а последнее воплощение западной традиции метафизики. Воля к власти Ницше основывалась на возвеличивании, а не на отречении от воли. Отныне Ницше был не только не в состоянии предложить противоядие от нигилизма, он даже стал его выражением:

Ницше понимает свою собственную философию как контрдвижение метафизике, а это означает для него движение в оппозиции к платонизму. Тем не менее, как простое контрдвижение, оно неизбежно остается, как и все «анти», прочно удерживаемым в сущности того, против чего оно движется. Контрдвижение Ницше против метафизики является, как простое переворачивание метафизики, неразрывной запутанностью в метафизике, причем таким образом, что метафизика оказывается отрезанной от своей сущности и, как метафизика, никогда не способна помыслить свою собственную сущность.

Хайдеггер заменил свою первоначальную позитивную оценку воли к власти как рычага для раскрытия Бытия на ту, которая приравнивала ее к простому господству и триумфу субъект-центрированной технологии, более того, к ошибочному самоутверждающемуся культурному проекту самой современности. Поначалу ницшеанская система отсчета подтверждала нацистское предприятие — позже отказ от ницшеанского мировоззрения лег в основу критики нацизма. Как лаконично выразился Ричард Волин:

Национал-социализм, который изначально представлял себя (в глазах Хайдеггера) как контрдвижение нигилизму западной «воли к технике» и, таким образом, как всемирно-историческую альтернативу «нигилизму», столь поносимому Ницше, в конечном итоге оказался лишь иным историческим проявлением того же самого нигилизма, точно так же, как и сама резкая критика метафизики Ницше в конечном счете покоилась на метафизических основаниях. Уравнение, согласно которому действует Хайдеггер, следовательно, таково: национал-социализм = ницшеанство = метафизика.

В конечном счете, как провозглашенное Хайдеггером принятие, так и его отказ от национал-социализма основывались на ницшеанской системе отсчета. В меморандуме, составленном во время его процесса денацификации, его дистанцирование было сформулировано полностью в рамках этой, сформулированной позже, критики всеобщего господства воли к власти в истории, которая теперь понимается как охватывающая всю планету. Сегодня все пребывает в этой исторической реальности, независимо от того, называется ли это коммунизмом, фашизмом или мировой демократией. Эта реальность воли к власти может быть выражена вместе с Ницше в утверждении: «Бог умер». ... Если бы все было иначе, была бы возможна Первая мировая война? И более того, если бы все было иначе, была бы возможна Вторая мировая война?

Для Хайдеггера изначальное ницшеанское понятие воли к власти стало синонимом ориентированной на субъект, доминирующей глобальной технологии и использовалось как средство для того, чтобы затушевать конкретную историческую реальность нацизма и свести её к недифференцированному обвинению модерна. Его многоцелевая, монолитная воля к власти охватывала всё и уравнивала моторизованное сельское хозяйство с газовыми камерами, истребление шести миллионов евреев с обращением союзников с восточными немцами. Действительно, как предположил Джордж Стайнер, отказ Хайдеггера примириться с Холокостом проистекал из его отказа выводить этические принципы из «мышления Бытия». Хайдеггеровская мысль во всём своём расточительном богатстве и разнообразии «не содержит и не подразумевает никакой этики». Это тоже, возможно, следует рассматривать как часть радикализации Хайдеггером ницшеанского предприятия — проекта, чья заявленная задача, в конце концов, состояла в том, чтобы мыслить в категориях по ту сторону добра и зла.

Таким образом, во времена Третьего рейха Ницше и ницшеанские категории были фундаментальными осями, вокруг которых вращались осмысление, определение и критика эпохи. Даже когда отношения были враждебными, ощущалась необходимость противостоять его притязаниям, вести споры в его терминах. Господствовало широко распространенное чувство, что глубоким, пусть и неясным образом, «подлинная метафизическая область» Ницше была каким-то образом связана с сущностью нацистского проекта. Эти герменевтические вопросы и природа отношений Ницше и нацизма были предметом жарких и неразрешенных споров и размышлений с 1930-х годов вплоть до нашего времени. Они служат зеркалом для продолжающейся роли Ницше как исключительно чувствительного символа и сейсмометра наших собственных важнейших экзистенциальных и культурных проблем.

9. Национал-социализм и спор о Ницше: критика культуры, идеология и история

Гитлер... : [то есть] толпа, которая читала Ницше.
Альфред Керр, Die Diktatur des Hansknechts

За чаем говорили... об упадке Европы, о феномене обесценивания некогда подлинных духовных и исторических явлений, как это проиллюстрировано отношением Шпенглера к Ницше и Шопенгауэру или национал-социализма к Реформации. Казалось бы, у нас больше нет настоящей истории, а есть только ложные подобия и выродившиеся эпилоги, фальшивая история.
Томас Манн, Дневники, 1918-1939

Какой философ был провозглашен Гитлером и Муссолини пророком авторитаризма?
Фридрих Ницше.
Trivial Pursuit — американская салонная игра.

Один комментатор в Швейцарии писал в 1935 году:

Фридрих Ницше считается пионером, идеологическим основателем Третьего рейха. Ни с одним другим мыслителем национал-социалистическая идеология не чувствует себя столь тесно связанной, столь внутренне сопряженной, как с Ницше. Ведущие умы Третьего рейха постоянно взывают к нему. Поразителен и наиболее странен, однако, тот факт, что самый суровый противник национал-социализма также не опирается ни на одного другого мыслителя с такой пристрастностью, как на Фридриха Ницше. Как это возможно и кто прав? Возможно, оба лагеря правы, или ни один из них?

Диаметрально противоположные ответы давались уже в тот самый момент, когда и итальянские фашисты, и нацисты присваивали себе Ницше. Объемная дискуссия продолжается с тех пор. Это спор, который не поддается разрешению, представляя собой, как отметил Жан Старобинский, «лабиринт непроверяемых гипотез». С нашей точки зрения, эта обширная герменевтическая подлитература должна быть интегрирована в контуры и функции меняющегося дискурса о Ницше, связана с более широкими политическими и идеологическими вопросами и рассматриваться как часть более масштабной критики культуры, в которой Ницше стал призмой, через которую можно было обратиться к великим проблемам, окружающим секулярность, модерн и даже природу человечества. Подразумевалось во всем этом чувство, что Ницше и ницшеанство были связаны с новыми освободительными и катастрофическими потенциалами, ассоциирующимися с двадцатым веком. Хотя спор о том, что Крейн Бринтон в 1941 году назвал «мягким» против «жесткого» Ницше, восходил, как мы видели, к самому началу восприятия Ницше, нацистский опыт придал вопросу еще большую остроту.

Что подумал бы мыслитель, что он мог бы сделать, если бы был еще жив? Согласился бы он с теми, кто считал, что он на их стороне? Если да, то он был бы виновен в том, что снабдил их оружием. Но нет способа узнать, сделал бы он это. С другой стороны, если он не был их предшественником, по крайней мере частично, то как они могли присвоить его в такой степени? Спор продолжается до бесконечности.

(«Руссо в революции», New York Review of Books [12 апреля 1990], 47) ции. Его огрубевший шовинизм, расизм и антисемитизм были бы непонятны мыслителю, чьим любимым автором был Генрих Гейне! Другие представители левых сил, такие как Людвиг Маркузе, писавший в Das Tagebuch, подчеркивали, что проблема заключалась не в Ницше, а в тех правых, кто систематически фальсифицировал его идеи. Презрительная атака Вальтера Беньямина 1932 года на Фёрстер-Ницше и Архивы содержала схожий посыл.

Тем не менее, по мере приближения прихода нацистов к власти, для многих наиболее недоктринерских левых мыслителей Ницше стал проблемой. Так, в 1929 году Курт Тухольский, независимый политический сатирик из радикального Weltbühne, еще мог небрежно приписать Ницше заслугу в том, что тот «снова дал немцам прозу». В 1932 году он все еще настаивал на четком разграничении работ философа и искажающих махинаций Архивов. Он также осознавал, с какой легкостью Ницше можно приспособить практически для любого дела:

Некоторые неграмотные нацисты, которые хотят считаться частью гитлеровской интеллигенции, потому что однажды разбили голову политическому оппоненту телефонным справочником, присваивают Ницше себе. Кто только не присваивает его себе? Скажите мне, что вам нужно, и я предоставлю вам цитату из Ницше... за Германию и против Германии; за мир и против мира; за литературу и против литературы — что угодно.

Тем не менее, язвительно замечал Тухольский, чем больше читаешь Ницше, тем сильнее чувствуешь, что что-то здесь не так. Единственное, чего у него не находишь, — это того, ради чего его бесконечно цитируют: силы (Kraft). «Что у меня есть в высокой степени, — писал Тухольский, — так это недоверие к ложным героям, и я считаю Ницше тайным слабаком. Он героизирует, как мастурбируют».

Тухольский выражал свои подозрения сатирически. Он, безусловно, никогда бы не сформулировал систематическую теорию, обвиняющую Ницше как наиболее важный, формирующий идеологический фактор в генезисе и характере национал-социализма. Эту работу после прихода нацистов к власти проделали Ганс Гюнтер и, гораздо более обстоятельно, Дьёрдь Лукач. Оба активно участвовали в официальных кругах Коммунистической партии в конце 1920-х и начале 1930-х годов, оба писали для Linkskurve, и оба эмигрировали в Советский Союз в 1932 году, где были опубликованы их размышления о связи Ницше и нацистов. Они были вдохновлены официальной теорией о том, что фашизм является проявлением монополистического капитализма, находящегося под давлением, а также директивами по антифашистской борьбе, установленными Седьмым всемирным конгрессом Коммунистического интернационала. Работая в рамках этой авторизованной структуры, они укрепили ницшеанско-марксистскую ортодоксию, которая поддерживалась в Советском Союзе до самого его распада.

В отличие от Лукача, Гюнтер лишь начинает выходить из тени. Его важная работа «Дело Ницше» была опубликована в 1935 году. Гюнтер настаивал на том, что только историко-материалистический метод позволит успешно разгадать тайну Ницше и расшифровать развитие его мысли. Это заключалось, по сути, в разоблачении ее идеологических и классовых функций. Ницше, утверждал Гюнтер, был не просто идеологом правящих классов, а конкретно «философом правящего класса Германии». Гюнтер, подобно Лукачу, принял теорию «особого пути» немецкой истории. Немецкий правящий класс был по сути отсталым: мысль Ницше была идейным выражением этого состояния. Брутальная мысль Ницше отражала экономическую и политическую отсталость Германии.

Критика Ницше декаданса, нигилизма и кайзеровской современности, утверждал Гюнтер, предлагала лишь симптоматический анализ капитализма, так и не проникая в его социальные и экономические основы. Это был романтический антикапитализм, который, притворяясь революционным, нейтрализовал реальную революционную деятельность и поддерживал статус-кво. Амбивалентные стремления Ницше — устремленные назад в прошлое и вперед в будущее — поощряли подмену философии и социологии психологией и мифом.

По мнению Гюнтера, однако, неизменным в одновременном утверждении и критике капитализма у Ницше оставалось его требование репрессивного классового общества. Здесь Гюнтер установил нацистскую связь. Панацеи Ницше в виде войны и жестокости, опора на примитивный инстинкт и идеал сверхчеловека — все это было близко духу национал-социализма и служило пищей для его пропагандистской машины. Нацисты, надо признать, интерпретировали своего идеологического праотца слишком узко — Ницше стоял высоко над этими жалкими нацистскими демагогами, — но его философия парадоксов послужила идеальной моделью для нацистской идеологии. Ницшеанский и национал-социалистический дух были едины в убеждении, что власть является основополагающим принципом всей социальной и исторической жизни. Оба, более того, маскировали «самую жестокую реакцию под самую радикальную революцию».

Дьёрдь Лукач, однако, наиболее систематически выковал марксистскую связь Ницше с нацизмом в эссе, написанных в 1930-х и 1940-х годах, кульминацией которых стала его знаменитая, спорная послевоенная работа «Разрушение разума». Лукач стремился проанализировать формы реакционного буржуазного иррационализма и задокументировать «путь Германии к Гитлеру в сфере философии... как этот конкретный путь отражается в философии и как философские формулировки, будучи интеллектуальным зеркалом конкретного развития Германии к Гитлеру, помогли ускорить этот процесс». Такой процесс, настаивал Лукач, происходил независимо от того, осознавали ли отдельные мыслители свои социально-исторические функции. Идеи имели свое «исторически необходимое влияние. В этом смысле каждый мыслитель несет ответственность перед историей за объективное содержание своего философствования».

Лукач не сомневался в объективной и в конечном счете прогрессивной природе исторического процесса. Большая часть его яростной оппозиции Ницше была реакцией на отрицание философом прогрессивного исторического развития. Лукач придерживался марксистской телеологии, которая сводила ницшеанский (да и вообще модернистский) эпистемологический кризис истины и разума к его симптоматическим, самоподдерживающимся реакционным буржуазным классовым функциям. Уход Ницше в сферу мифа, подмена им знания интерпретацией и отрицание существования объективного внешнего мира, знание о котором могло бы указать путь к человеческому искуплению, были лишь отражениями классовой ситуации, а не внутренне достойными философскими истинами.

Лукач попытался поместить это в историческую перспективу. В лучшем своем проявлении, писал он, буржуазная мысль обладала универсальным и прогрессивным гегельянским импульсом, отраженным в ее систематическом стремлении постичь целостность мира. Это наблюдалось, когда восходящая буржуазия противостояла реакционной аристократии. После 1848 года, и особенно после 1871 года, буржуазная мысль все больше теряла эти положительные характеристики. Перед лицом растущей пролетарской угрозы и сопутствующей ей прогрессивной марксистской философии она постепенно перешла к еще более радикальному, консервирующему, антиобъективистскому, мифологизирующему иррационализму. Современный иррационализм был, по сути, основной возникающей контрреволюционной идеологией, поддерживающей монополистический капитализм, империализм и, в конечном итоге, сам фашизм. Как альтернатива зарождающемуся социалистическому, пролетарскому мировоззрению диалектического и исторического материализма, его отрицание объективности и рациональности напрямую переводилось в оппозицию социальному прогрессу.

Лукач настаивал, что вопрос — систематически размываемый Ницше — должен быть понят в рамках предельно простой структуры: «встать на сторону разума или против разума — это одновременно решает характер философии и ее роль в социальных процессах». Это, конечно, не означало, что иррационализм не имел связной структуры или отклоняющих социальных функций. Его идеи сводились к четко выраженной реакционной политической программе, состоящей из «пренебрежения к пониманию и разуму, некритического прославления интуиции, аристократической эпистемологии, неприятия социально-исторического прогресса, создания мифов».

Антисоциалистический иррационализм для Лукача был международным феноменом империалистического периода. Учитывая запоздалое развитие немецкого капитализма, он был наиболее развит именно там и олицетворялся «Ницше, который стал парадигмой по содержанию и методологии иррационалистической философской реакции от США до царской России и чье влияние не могло и не может быть превзойдено ни одним другим реакционным идеологом».

«Самое фундаментальное интеллектуальное достижение» Ницше — мифологизация истории в природе и обществе — способствовало самоаннулированию эволюции и отвлекало внимание от объективной реальности и социалистической веры в прогресс за пределами капиталистического общества. Это напоминало более позднюю иррационалистическую подрывную деятельность Эрнста Маха в отношении научного мышления. Посредством грубо противоречащего самому себе учения о вечном возвращении Ницше низвел все становление и исторические события к проявлениям вечных принципов. Это было «философским выражением того факта, что после того, как субъективный идеализм и иррационализм восторжествовали над Гегелем, буржуазная философия стала неспособной к какой-либо диалектической связи становления и бытия, свободы и необходимости; она могла выразить их взаимную связь лишь как неразрешимый антагонизм или эклектическую амальгаму».

Благодаря огрубляющей популяризации, отмечал Лукач, ницшеанские идеи просочились к тысячам тех, кто никогда не слышал о Ницше и совершенно не подозревал о «непосредственном источнике разложения». Несмотря на огрубление, для Лукача преемственность была достаточно ясной: «Все, что было сказано об иррациональном пессимизме от Ницше и [Вильгельма] Дильтея до Хайдеггера и Ясперса на лекционных трибунах, обладало значительными философскими дарованиями: например, высокой способностью к абстракции, причем не в формалистическом смысле, а даром концептуализации живых явлений, наведения ментального моста между непосредственной жизнью и самой абстрактной идеей и восприятия с философской серьезностью явлений Бытия, которые существовали лишь в зародыше» (там же, 197).

Тем не менее эти дарования волей-неволей были посвящены делу «будущей всесокрушающей силы», буржуазной реакции, для чьего пришествия, роста и решающих симптомов он «обладал решительным чутьем, способностью к интеллектуальному ясновидению и антиципаторной абстракции», а в интеллектуальных салонах и кафе Гитлер и Розенберг перенесли на улицы.

Чтобы сделать Ницше конститутивным элементом этой новой, яростно антисоциалистической, протонацистской идеологии, Лукачу пришлось прибегнуть к особым объяснениям. Таким образом, он утверждал, что, хотя Ницше никогда не читал ни строчки Маркса или Энгельса, он тем не менее «инстинктивно» знал, что должен защищать «и где притаился враг!» Его «делом всей жизни была непрерывная полемика против марксизма и социализма... по той причине, что содержание и метод каждой философии определяются классовой борьбой ее эпохи». Тот факт, что он перестал писать до начала империалистической эпохи, отнюдь не был помехой, а предоставлял благоприятную возможность для догадок и решения в мифической форме — на условиях реакционной буржуазии — главных проблем последующего периода. Эта мифическая форма способствовала его влиянию не только потому, что она должна была стать все более доминирующим модусом философского выражения в империалистическую эпоху. Она также позволила ему поставить культурные, этические и другие проблемы империализма настолько общим образом, что он всегда мог оставаться ведущим философом реакционной буржуазии, каковы бы ни были изменения в ситуации и реакционная тактика, принятая для соответствия им.

Более того, поскольку он был лишен всякого понимания капиталистической экономики, мифологизация Ницше всегда оставалась на уровне «симптомов надстройки». Его необычайным даром была способность проецировать на пороге империалистического периода контрмиф, который мог оказывать такое влияние десятилетиями. В этом свете его афористический модус выражения представляется формой, адекватной социально-исторической ситуации. Внутренняя гнилость, пустота и лживость всей системы обернулись в это пестрое и формально несвязное лоскутное одеяло идей.

Более того, ему удалось сохранить революционный тон и заменить чисто внешнюю социальную революцию космическими и биологическими понятиями, которые исключали необходимость какого-либо реального разрыва.

Лукач рассматривал нацизм как практически неотличимый от его ницшеанского философского отражения и выражения. Призыв Ницше к переоценке всех ценностей, его крик о высвобождении инстинктов, его вера в варварство как спасителя — все это были примеры. Ницше «теоретически предвосхитил истинный ход событий. Большинство его высказываний об этике стали ужасной реальностью при гитлеровском режиме, и они также сохраняют силу как описание этики в нынешнюю "американскую эпоху"».

«Разрушение разума» также прослеживало другие проявления постницшеанского немецкого иррационализма. И все же Ницше остается его самой парадигмальной фигурой:

Гитлер, воплощая иррационализм на практике, был исполнителем духовного завещания Ницше и философского развития, последовавшего за Ницше и исходящего от него... Неизбежно было то, что иррационализм у Ницше должен был обратиться против социализма... При всей разнице в уровне между Ницше-философом и Гитлером-демагогом в интеллектуальном и культурном плане — и, как мы подчеркивали, это также выражает неизбежность исторического развития — существовала ничтожно малая разница в их знании и понимании противника именно в кардинальном вопросе. Можно с уверенностью сказать, что ее практически не существовало. И в политике Гитлера мы можем видеть воплощение иррационалистической философии на практике.

Если работа Лукача надолго определила правоверного марксистского Ницше как философа фашизма, многие немарксистские круги и критики того времени соглашались со связкой Ницше — нацизм, хотя они исходили из разных методологических предпосылок и приходили к диаметрально противоположным политическим выводам. Пожалуй, самым ярким примером был Томас Манн, который в 1943 году описал фашизм как своего рода ницшеанское бегство от «всего буржуазного, умеренного, классического, [аполлонического]». Заметки Манна того периода описывают фашизм в непосредственно ницшеанских категориях:

Интеллектуально-духовный фашизм, отбрасывание гуманного принципа, прибегание к насилию, жажда крови, иррационализм, жестокость, дионисийское отрицание истины и справедливости, самоотдача инстинктам и необузданной «Жизни», которая на самом деле есть смерть... Фашизм как ниспосланный дьяволом отход от буржуазного общества, который ведет через приключения пьяно-интенсивного субъективного чувства и сверхвеличия к ментальному краху и духовной смерти, а вскоре и к физической смерти.

Как в Америке, так и в Западной Европе подобные настроения высказывались журналистами, полемистами, политиками, религиозными критиками, философами и историками в 1930-х и 1940-х годах. Популярная пресса предлагала эти связи в сенсационных заголовках. «Воинственный порыв Гитлера приписали безумному философу: Ницше — любимый автор нацистского вождя, сообщили католическим женщинам», — провозглашала бостонская газета. Ранее помощник редактора в «Ливерпуль ивнинг экспресс» заявил: «Ницше — это человек догитлеровской эпохи».

Подобные взгляды высказывались и в более почтенных собраниях. В 1935 году сэр Герберт Сэмюэл заявил в Палате общин, что «среди вещей, ответственных за трудности в Европе, находятся Германия и ницшеанская философия». Находясь в изгнании, консервативный бывший мэр Данцига и экс-нацист Герман Раушнинг написал весьма влиятельные работы, представляющие национал-социализм и самого Гитлера в терминах, непостижимых вне колоссального присутствия Ницше. Само название его знаменитой «Революции нигилизма» было безошибочно ницшеанским. В описании Раушнинга мировоззрение Гитлера было немыслимо без Ницше. Раушнинг также был источником часто цитируемого неоницшеанского провозглашения Гитлера о том, что «совесть — это еврейское изобретение».

Историки и критики, стремящиеся постичь глубины этого нового немецкого феномена, также отводили Ницше центральное место. Французский историк Эдмон Вермей, например, постулировал, что, хотя и на более высоком уровне, Ницше — элитист, «истинный расист» и сторонник планирования, которое превратило бы европейский труд в гигантскую автоматизацию, — был «точной префигурацией Германии Третьего рейха». Аналогичным образом, проницательное исследование антисемитизма 1940 года, проведенное Морисом Сэмюэлом, — «ядро и центр нацизма-фашизма как революционного идеала» — определило антихристианскую природу революционного нацистского антисемитизма и настояло на центральной формирующей роли Ницше. Не подкрепляя это источниками, Сэмюэл обвинил Ницше в гораздо более огрубленной версии его идей, которую грубые антисемиты, включая Гитлера, проповедовали годами:

Школа Ницше утверждает, что сами евреи никогда не придерживались философии ненасилия, но изобрели ее для погибели остального мира, в то время как сами они твердо придерживались веры в свою судьбу как безжалостного господствующего народа. Ячейки, которые они проецировали в Римскую империю, были группами агентов пятой колонны, которым было поручено парализовать силу воли врагов еврейского народа путем проповеди христианского учения, которое сами евреи презирали.

Анализы Ницше часто составляли неотъемлемую часть более широкой истории немецких идей, «особого пути» (Sonderweg), который указывал на телеологически неизбежную нацистскую кульминацию. Эти исследования, как правило, конструировали гипостазированный немецкий дух. В 1930-х и 1940-х годах появились работы с такими названиями, как «От Лютера до Гитлера» и «Германия — агрессор на протяжении веков». В разной степени интенсивности и изощренности они изображали Ницше как некоего архетипического и в то же время маниакального человека, чьи «ядовитые заблуждения» скармливались немецкому народу, «чья крайняя доверчивость, умственная податливость и моральная раболепность сделали их жертвами бесчисленных лжепророков, среди которых в последнее время выделяются Ницше, Трейчке, Бернгарди, Хьюстон Стюарт Чемберлен, Эвальд Банзе и Адольф Гитлер».

Эти диагнозы постулировали непрерывную немецкую преемственность и не слишком заботились об историческом контексте. Эти работы подчеркивали типичность Ницше, а не его оригинальность, рассматривая его скорее как отражение, нежели как причину, как выражение и симптом более широкой немецкой культуры, которая его породила. Внутренние напряжения и противоречия Ницше были точным воспроизведением немецкой ментальной структуры.

Работа Роэна Батлера «Корни национал-социализма, 1783–1933» (1941) иллюстрировала этот подход:

Ибо когда теория национал-социализма рассматривается в связи с немецкой политической мыслью последнего полутора столетия, она предстает как нечто заезженное, несвежее и фальсифицированное... Возвеличивание героического вождя восходит через Мёллера ван ден Брука, Шпенглера, Лампрехта, Чемберлена, Ницше, Лассаля, Родбертуса и Гегеля, назад к фихтеанскому «принудителю к немецкости» (Zwingherr zur Deutschheit)... Нацисты говорят, что сила есть право; Шпенглер говорил это; Бернгарди говорил это; Ницше говорил это; Трейчке говорил то же самое; как и Галлер до него; как и Новалис.

Тем не менее, даже здесь Ницше часто отводилось особое место. Как заключил Батлер, «истинный замысел» нацистов «был не чем иным, как ницшеанской переоценкой всех ценностей, воспитанием немцев в духе германства, нигилистической революцией, которая не остановилась бы на сокрушении стран, но разрушила бы сами сердца людей и полностью уничтожила бы западную цивилизацию».

Восприятие связи Ницше и нацизма, конечно, выходило далеко за рамки якобы беспристрастной исторической диагностики. Консервативные и религиозные критики, такие как католический персоналист Николай Бердяев и Вальтер Шубарт, интегрировали эту связь в свои соответствующие формы моралистической христианской критики культуры (Kulturkritik). В их размышлениях о светских пороках современной эпохи, например, Маркс и Ницше были общими источниками проблем, присущих современности, которая вела либо к большевизму, либо к фашизму. Подобно Марксу, Ницше был обвинен как современный безбожный мыслитель, чье влияние активно способствовало озверению культуры и общества. Движение, писал Бердяев, «к сверхчеловечности и сверхчеловеку, к сверхчеловеческим силам, слишком часто означает не что иное, как озверение человека. Современный антигуманизм принимает форму озверения. Он использует трагического и несчастного Ницше как своего рода высшее оправдание для дегуманизации и озверения». Мир был свидетелем формы озверения, далекой «от старого, естественного, здорового варварства»; теперь оно было «сознательным, преднамеренным, продуктом рефлексии и цивилизации, самооправданным». В таких работах решение проблемы современного озверения связывалось с обновлением одухотворенного и гуманизирующего христианского благочестия.

Существовало множество представлений, которые рисовали обратную картину и отрицали какую-либо связь вообще. Исследование Питера Вирека 1941 года «Метаполитика: корни нацистского сознания», например, представляло нацизм как вагнерианское дело. Ницше был радикальной антитезой как Вагнеру, так и нацизму. «Душа», — писал Вирек, — «которую большинство величайших немцев в конечном итоге выбирали, от Гёте через Ницше до Манна, — это не та, которую, как утверждает Гитлер, он воплощает».

Существовала также не поддающаяся классификации ницшеана, эзотерическая литература, созданная изгнанниками. Пожалуй, лучше всего это иллюстрирует гамбургский юрист Альфред Розенталь, давний ницшеанец. Его брошюра «Ницше и Европа» и его книга «Ницше: „Европейская расовая проблема“: („Борьба за мировое господство“)», написанные в Голландии в 1930-х годах, представляли шпенглеровское ницшеанство, отстаивающее Массы должны получить впечатление, что присутствует могучая, поистине непобедимая сила воли; по крайней мере, она должна казаться присутствующей. Все восхищаются силой воли, потому что ни у кого ее нет, и каждый говорит себе, что если бы она у него была, то он и его эгоизм больше не знали бы никаких ограничений... [Ч]еловек великий обладает всеми качествами масс: поэтому они тем менее стесняются в его присутствии, поэтому он тем более популярен. Он насильственен, завистлив, эксплуататорски настроен, интригует, льстит, пресмыкается, высокомерен — все в зависимости от обстоятельств. («Человеческое, слишком человеческое», 168)

Несмотря на упрощенные трактовки Ницше, значительная часть литературы мейнстрима, написанной во время войны, рисовала относительно сложные портреты философа, будь то негативные или позитивные. Исследование Крейна Бринтона 1940 года, чуткое к динамике идей, опосредованных политической культурой, было не единственным, осознававшим эту сложность. Как он выразился: «Ницше написал многое, что нацисты находят восхитительным; он также написал многое, что они не могут вынести, и, конечно, не могут вынести, чтобы это повторяли». Генрих Манн, чье страстное отношение к Ницше постоянно менялось, осознавал сложную противоречивость Ницше, жестокие опасности, а также непреходящую ценность в зрелой переоценке, которую он написал для «Мера и ценность». А в 1941 году Карл Лёвит тонко сформулировал мучительные сложности вопроса о Ницше как о предтече:

Чтобы увидеть бездну, отделяющую Ницше от его пророков поздних времен, достаточно прочитать его сочинения против Вагнера и его замечания о еврействе. Я не утверждал тогда и не утверждаю сейчас, что Ницше был «протонацистом», что он нес прямую ответственность за нацистскую «идеологию», и уж тем более, что он помог нацистам прийти к власти. Как бы он возненавидел всю эту компанию. Но то, как нацисты использовали многое из того, что написал Ницше, — это интересный и, хочется надеяться, поучительный пример того, что может произойти со словами тонкого интеллектуала, когда они становятся общим достоянием. В своем последнем безумии Ницше написал в «Ecce Homo»: «Я не человек: я динамит». Но динамит взрывается довольно неизбирательно. (стр. vii)

Бринтон добавил: «Я нахожу Ницше как человека неприятным, а его влияние в целом прискорбным» (стр. ix).

Большинство буржуазных трактовок 1930-х и 1940-х годов, даже если они были нюансированными, тем не менее представляли собой статические, бухгалтерские анализы. В разной степени Ницше либо обвинялся в соучастии нацизму, либо оправдывался от него. Эти исследования, как правило, были статичными, поскольку им не хватало какой-либо явной теоретической и критической политической базы, в рамках которой можно было бы провести как творческий анализ фашизма и нацизма, так и сложную переоценку ницшеанского импульса внутри этих созвездий.

Наиболее новаторские усилия предпринимались не буржуазными критиками и не ортодоксальными марксистами, а диссидентами из обоих миров: западными марксистами. В 1939 году Эрнст Блох сетовал, что антифашисты могут говорить о Ницше и Вагнере только в контексте нацистских связей. Однако сам Блох олицетворял творческие всплески, безгранично возобновляемые формы, которые мог принимать дискурс о Ницше даже в этих — возможно, именно благодаря им — обстоятельствах. Этот процесс радикального и неортодоксального переосмысления, как напомнил нам Юрген Хабермас, был явно продуктом своего времени:

Победа фашистского движения в Италии и захват власти национал-социалистами в Германской империи были — задолго до Освенцима — явлениями, породившими волны не только раздражения, но и очарованного возбуждения. Не было теории современности, не затронутой до глубины души проникающей силой фашизма.

Мало какие из подобных радикальных теорий могли быть предприняты без отсылки к нацизму и к Ницше. Внутри этого процесса переосмысления часто проявлялась позитивная сторона Ницше, из которой можно было почерпнуть избранные материалы для антифашистской позиции.

Если Ницше сыграл решающую роль в определении эпохи для правых, то он выполнил схожую функцию и для неомарксистов, таких как Блох, Адорно, Хоркхаймер и, наиболее своеобразно, Жорж Батай. Эти мыслители применили подход, который радикально отличался от подхода Лукача. «Разрушение разума» Лукача, заявлял Адорно, яснее всего выявило разрушение разума самого Лукача. Крайне недиалектичным образом официально признанный диалектик сваливает все эти иррационалистические течения современной философии в лагерь реакции и фашизма. Он беззаботно игнорирует тот факт, что, в отличие от академического идеализма, эти школы боролись против того самого овеществления как в мышлении, так и в жизни, против которого был настроен и сам Лукач. Ницше и Фрейд просто навешиваются ярлыки фашистов, и он даже позволяет себе отозваться о Ницше в снисходительном тоне вильгельмовского школьного инспектора как о человеке «вышесредних способностей». Под мантией якобы радикальной критики общества он исподтишка вновь вводит самые избитые клише того самого конформизма, который эта социальная критика когда-то атаковала.

Эти мыслители, безусловно, осознавали, что любое упрощенное представление об иррационализме упускает из виду рациональность, часто присутствующую в иррациональном протесте, и что иррационализм часто можно обнаружить внутри самого разума. Все они критически относились к самому разуму или, по крайней мере, к тому, что они называли «инструментальным разумом». Кроме того, они с опаской относились к упрощенной прогрессивной телеологии, предполагавшей беспроблемное конечное единство субъекта и объекта. Они также признавали потенциально созидательную роль иррационального. Подобные предрасположенности содержали установку, благоприятную для Ницше; это была вода на ницшеанскую мельницу. Эти размышления как о национал-социализме, так и о Ницше составляли широкую культуркритику, которая вращалась вокруг более общих проблем капитализма, секулярности и модерна. Действительно, они часто приравнивали специфический исторический опыт нацизма к этим явлениям.

Если для Лукача иррационализм, и в особенности ницшеанский иррационализм, был просто идейным эквивалентом фашизма, то независимый Эрнст Блох придерживался гораздо более сложных взглядов на эти вопросы. Его иррационализм обладал как негативными и позитивными, так и реакционными и прогрессивными компонентами, которые необходимо было тщательно просеять, выявив его творческие возможности и искупительные импульсы, ориентированные на будущее. «Необходимо, — писал он, — повсюду занимать мечтательные области воображения, вместо того чтобы полностью пренебрегать ими и тем самым отдавать их тем, кто стремится к обману и разрушению разума». Действительно, он провозгласил: «В этой Германии не будет ни приглушенной, ни даже настоящей революции, которая не была бы помазана каплей масла иррационализма».

Философское противостояние Блоха нацизму и фашизму, «Наследие этого времени» (Erbschaft dieser Zeit), было опубликовано в его цюрихском изгнании в 1935 году. В нем постулировалось центральное понятие неодновременности (Ungleichzeitigkeit): настоящее содержит социальные и культурные структуры прошлого наряду с теми, что «беременны будущим». Работа, составленная в форме соответствующего экспрессионистского монтажа, стремилась спасти из противоречивого наследия прошлого пригодное культурное достояние для капиталистического и фашистского настоящего. Он критиковал марксистов за неприятие иррационализма, что позволяло нацистам монополизировать его. Это дало нацистам возможность аннексировать позитивные, подлинные элементы неодновременности, а также более разрушительные из них. Задача состояла в том, чтобы использовать такие силы для прогрессивных, а не реакционных целей.

В этом контексте Блох пересмотрел все еще неиспользованный позитивный потенциал Ницше. Если Ницше и высказывал реакционные темы — что Блох признавал, — он тем не менее также выступал за динамичное движение вперед, за утопию. Хотя такие понятия, как сверхчеловек, имели дегуманизирующие, ожесточающие последствия, Ницше подразумевал нечто иное. Он нарисовал портрет будущего, безусловного человека, видение освобождающего дионисийского потенциала неодновременности:

В нулевой точке механического существования существуют не только различные übermenschlichen звери, но и воспоминание о Дионисе. Хищник в тропических, а не в холодных терминах, фракийский лес против холодного овеществленного буржуазного гражданина. Дионис как символ абстрактно-фантастического бегства в анархию; только здесь мы постигаем серьезное влияние Ницше на эпоху. Только здесь Ницше выразил свою эпоху в лозунгах, в лозунгах неясного контрдвижения «субъекта». ... Дионис неистовствовал против всех «одомашниваний», как бы далеки они ни были... Таким образом, Дионис — это также не просто необузданный рефлекс капитала, который заставляет дисциплину, умеренность, справедливость и буржуазную добродетель своевременно демонтироваться, но это формальное рассеивание в неопределенное бытие вне себя, бытие-вне-времени как таковое.

Этот Дионис был человеком, который еще не стал самим собой; тем, кто сокрушал ложные формы, не в какой-то замкнутой точке развитого капитализма, а всегда внутри неожиданных извержений, поворотных моментов истории. Блох «марксизировал» Ницше, проецируя на него визионерский язык, более блохианский, чем ницшеанский. Его Ницше искал мирскость, выкованную в утопическом огне, и проповедовал конец статического, замкнутого мировоззрения, далекого от вечного возвращения. Дионис Блоха был, по сути, мифологическим именем Ницше для исторически подавленного Субъекта, который еще не осознал свою историческую роль. Эту неопределенную дионисийскую сторону Ницше, как утверждал Блох, фашистские интерпретаторы, такие как Боймлер, хотели заменить акцентом на роли силы (herrschender Gewalt). Ибо искупительные следы ницшеанского видения были заметны даже в руинах настоящего. Дионис был не той ночью, в которую бежала реакция, а скорее огненным змеем, помещенным на знамена революции, утопической вспышкой молнии.

Классическая работа Адорно и Хоркхаймера 1944 года «Диалектика Просвещения» была в равной степени конфронтацией с национал-социализмом и фашизмом, а также с корнями современного варварства, которые отказывались быть заключенными в эти самоопределяющиеся исторические границы. Как марксисты, они также обвиняли буржуазию, но совершенно не по-марксистски отождествляли Просвещение со всем имперским проектом западной мысли. Рассматриваемый таким образом как проект тотализирующего «инструментального разума», нацеленного на то, чтобы сделать «человека господином», — Просвещение можно проследить вплоть до Книги Бытия. В другом месте Хоркхаймер даже сделал соучастником самого Маркса с его сведением человека к animal laborans (человеку трудящемуся) и его овеществлением природы как поля для человеческой эксплуатации. С этой точки зрения Адорно и Хоркхаймер могли рассматривать нацизм не как бунт против Просвещения, а как неотъемлемую часть его собственной нетерпимой, тотализирующей диалектики.

Это влекло за собой не только анализ фашизма, но и то, что Юрген Хабермас описал как желание «радикальным образом просветить Просвещение о нем самом». В этом контексте Ницше предстал как «великий образец для тотализирующего самопреодоления критики идеологии». По всей вероятности, ницшеанское направление также предрасположило их к тому, чтобы отбросить рациональное содержание современности и настаивать на всепроникающих связях между разумом и господством, властью и значимостью.

Адорно и Хоркхаймер обратились к «черным» писателям буржуазии, маркизу де Саду и Ницше, чтобы «концептуализировать процесс саморазрушения Просвещения». Они подчеркивали, что Ницше был практически одинок в свое время в постижении диалектики Просвещения: как демистифицирующего выражения антипатии к господству, так и как инструмента для такого господства. В то же время они выявили иронические протофашистские последствия этой критики в руках реакционных последователей Ницше:

Ницше был одним из немногих после Гегеля, кто распознал диалектику Просвещения. И именно Ницше выразил ее антипатию к господству: «Просвещение» должно быть «внесено в народ, чтобы все священники стали священниками с нечистой совестью — и то же самое должно быть сделано в отношении государства. Такова задача Просвещения: дать принцам и государственным деятелям недвусмысленно понять, что все, что они делают, — это чистая ложь...» С другой стороны, Просвещение всегда было инструментом для «великих манипуляторов правительства (Конфуций в Китае, Imperium Romanum, Наполеон, папство, когда оно обратилось к власти, а не только к миру)... То, как массы одурачивают в этом отношении, например, во всех демократиях, очень полезно: сокращение и податливость людей выдаются за «прогресс»!

Раскрытие этих двух аспектов Просвещения как исторического принципа позволило проследить понятие просвещения как прогрессивной мысли вплоть до начала традиционной истории. Тем не менее отношение Ницше к Просвещению, а следовательно, и к Гомеру, оставалось диссонирующим. Хотя он различал как универсальное движение суверенного Духа (исполнителем которого он себя чувствовал), так и «нигилистическую» антижизненную силу в Просвещении, его предфашистские последователи сохранили только второй аспект и извратили его в идеологию. Эта идеология становится слепым восхвалением слепой жизни, подчиненной той же связи действий, посредством которой подавляется все живое.

Для Адорно и Хоркхаймера ницшеанская критика Просвещения была не просто творческим озарением. Если она и содержала в себе семена собственного искажения, то она также — и это напоминало Блоха — была местом потенциального освобождения в самые темные времена:

Не затушевать и не подавить, а провозгласить на весь мир невозможность выведения из разума какого-либо фундаментального аргумента против убийства — вот что разожгло ненависть, которую прогрессисты (и именно они) до сих пор питают к де Саду и Ницше. Они существенно отличались от логических позитивистов тем, что принимали науку на веру. Тот факт, что де Сад и Ницше настаивают на рацио даже более решительно, чем логический позитивизм, неявно освобождает из тайника утопию, содержащуюся в кантовском понятии разума, как и во всякой великой философии: утопию человечества, которое, само более не искаженное, не нуждается в дальнейшем искажении. Поскольку беспощадные доктрины провозглашают тождество господства и разума, они милосерднее, чем доктрины морализирующих лакеев буржуазии. «В чем заключаются ваши величайшие опасности?» — вопрос, который Ницше однажды задал себе, и ответил так: «В сострадании». Своим отрицанием он искупил непоколебимую веру в человека, которую постоянно предает любая форма уверенности, стремящаяся лишь утешить.

Хоркхаймер и Адорно все же добавили некоторые критические оговорки. Если Ницше и постиг диалектику Просвещения, те же подводные камни были заметны и в его собственной работе. В то же самое время, когда Ницше формулировал свою острую критику Просвещения — подобно де Саду и даже Канту до него, — он способствовал развитию его расчетливой, инструментальной логики, той формальной рациональности, которая привела к ужасам варварства двадцатого века. Воля к власти Ницше, подобно категорическому императиву Канта, стремилась к независимости от ограничений внешних сил и в своем желании контролировать природу и сделать человека мерой всех вещей была неотъемлемой частью катастрофы. Немецкий Ницше, писали они, делает красоту зависимой от масштаба; несмотря на все «Сумерки идолов», он не может отказаться от идеалистической условности, которая приняла бы повешение мелкого вора и возвела бы империалистические набеги в ранг всемирно-исторических миссий. Возведя культ силы в всемирно-историческую доктрину, немецкий фашизм также довел его до абсурдного предела. Как протест против цивилизации, мораль господ, напротив, представляет угнетенных. Ненависть к атрофированным инстинктам фактически разоблачает истинную природу надсмотрщиков — что проявляется только в их жертвах. Но как великая держава или государственная религия, мораль господ полностью подписывается под существующими цивилизаторскими силами, компактным большинством, ресентиментом и всем тем, чему она ранее противостояла. Реализация утверждений Ницше одновременно опровергает их и в то же время раскрывает их истину, которая — несмотря на все его утверждение жизни — была враждебна духу реальности.

Парадоксально, но эта тема человеческого высокомерия и отказ критической теории от акцента на полной автономии человека напоминали религиозно-консервативную критику Ницше, с которой мы сталкивались на протяжении всей этой работы. В конце концов, и то, и другое было формой критики культуры и на самом деле не касалось дифференцированного исторического анализа национал-социализма и фашизма. Критическая теория в конечном итоге поглотила или интегрировала нацизм в свои более широкие текущие интересы: общую западную тенденцию к господству и инструментальной рациональности, а также капитализм, который ведет к тотальному управлению вещами.

В конечном счете, «Диалектика Просвещения» так и не разрешила свою общую амбивалентность по отношению к Ницше, который сочетал в себе роли виновника, симптома, критического диагноста и освобождающего провидца. Однако во все времена его значимость и символическая центральность были совершенно неоспоримы.

Критическая теория, при всей своей настойчивости на наличии стандарта, по которому можно измерить иррациональность мира, в глубине души не была радикальным гуманизмом. Интерес Хоркхаймера к религии, проявившийся в более поздние годы, таким образом, не был столь фундаментальным отходом от предпосылок его ранних работ, как могло показаться на первый взгляд. («Диалектическое воображение», 266)

После того как он стал тем самым невозможным человеком, очарованным всем, что он мог обнаружить в том, что было действительно неприемлемо... он расширил поле своего зрения... и, осознавая, что человек является человеком лишь тогда, когда в этом состоянии бытия без меры или стандарта он ищет свой собственный стандарт, он превратил себя в человека невозможного, желающего достичь той точки, где верх и низ размываются в дионисийском головокружении и где расстояние между тотальностью и ничто устраняется.

Батай, если воспользоваться формулировкой Юргена Хабермаса, «пытался принять на себя невозможное наследие Ницше как критика идеологии». Он воображал себе множество ницшеанских форм (в постоянно меняющихся мелких политических группировках), которые по определению должны были разрывать, а не стабилизировать организованные структуры. Здесь было коммунистическое устремление не к созданию, а к разрушению границ, одержимое ницшеанским бунтом против самой системы и стремящееся к тому, что он называл царством гетерогенности: ко всем тем элементам, которые сопротивлялись ассимиляции в повседневную буржуазную жизнь и ускользали от науки, но обнаруживались в моменты очарованного потрясения, разрушая уверенные представления субъекта и его мира.

Склонность Батая к радикальной критике, его желание потрясать и нарушать приличный буржуазный мир отличали его не так уж сильно от гетерогенного фашизма, который он анализировал и якобы стремился критиковать. В 1930-е годы, например, политическую группу интеллектуалов Батая Contre-Attaque называли «sur-fasciste», а сам Батай позднее признал, что он и его друзья разделяли некую «парадоксальную фашистскую склонность».

При всём этом ницшеанский образ Батая предстаёт как воплощённый противовес фашизму и национал-социализму. Батая отличало от буржуазных комментаторов, которые столь же отвергали тождество Ницше и нациста, то, что он делал это на решительно радикальной и иррационалистской ницшеанской основе. Ведь для Батая фашизм и нацизм в конечном счёте были формами укрощивающего контроля, сужавшего человеческую возможность. Ницше же был «ярчайшим из растворителей», единственным апостолом самой радикальной, даже насильственной воли к автономии и провидцем прежде немыслимой безграничности. «Это полное освобождение, как он его определял, — человеческой возможности, всякой возможности, — несомненно единственное, которое ещё не было предпринято», — писал Батай позднее. (Батай в скобках уточнил это, добавив: «За исключением меня самого»!)

Патосная природа опыта Ницше и его лабиринтная мысль — «без всякой надежды на апелляцию» — не могли быть интегрированы ни в одну политическую систему и поэтому должны были подавляться ею. Делать Ницше «соучастником дел, обесценённых его мыслью», настаивал Батай, — «значит попирать её, доказывать своё невежество, притворяясь при этом, что заботишься об этой мысли».

Фашизм и ницшеанство взаимоисключают друг друга — и даже насильственно взаимоисключают, — как только каждый из них рассматривается во всей полноте: с одной стороны жизнь привязана и стабилизирована в бесконечном рабстве, с другой — есть не только циркуляция свободного воздуха, но и ветер бури; с одной стороны очарование человеческой культуры разрушается, чтобы освободить место для вульгарной силы, с другой сила и насилие трагически посвящены этому очарованию... Есть разъедающее насмешливое презрение в мысли о возможном согласии между ницшеанскими требованиями и политической организацией, которая обедняет существование на его вершине, которая заточает, изгоняет или убивает всё, что могло бы составить аристократию «свободных духов».

Антифашистский Ницше Батая не был стерилизован и не наделялся либеральной респектабельностью: его центральными категориями были насилие, сексуальность и зло. И, подобно фашистской политике, которую он атаковал, бунт против господства рациональности оставался конститутивным. Чтобы ускользнуть от этого господства, самость должна была «полностью раствориться в имманентности, чтобы утвердить целого человека как царство, полностью лишённое подчинения».

Ницше Батая был, стало быть, не философом воли к власти, а «философом зла», задуманного как «конкретная свобода, тревожный разрыв с табу». Это была крайняя грань ницшеанства, намеренно отсечённая от всяких ограниченных рамок, преследовавшая безусловную и ничем не обусловленную ницшеанскую динамику ради неё самой. Это очевидно противоречило прирученному ницшеанскому восприятию внутри германской политической культуры. Это был свободно парящий радикализм, который позднее характеризовал мощное послевоенное французское присвоение Ницше во всех его радикальных, хотя и политически неопределённых, постструктуралистских вариациях. Ницше Батая деинструментализирован и деидеологизирован. Вместо того чтобы стремиться к конструктивному политическому устройству, это было видение, жаждавшее «знакового растворения в тотальности». В то же время Батай пытался набросать контуры своего по сути ницшеанского антифашистского сообщества: «Единственное общество, полное жизни и силы, единственное свободное общество — это би- или полицефалическое общество, которое даёт фундаментальным антагонизмам жизни постоянный взрывной выход, но ограниченный самыми богатыми формами». Батай утверждал, что сама суть того, чего он желал, — всеобщего сообщества, — заключалась в его безграничной и динамичной ницшеанской природе: лишь страх перед этими характеристиками до сих пор препятствовал его осуществлению. Нехватка мужества породила более знакомые, партиикуляристские. Сама возможность (правильно задуманного) всеобщего сообщества исходила из ницшеанского положения и была бы исходом подлинно ницшеанского обязательства:

Поиск Бога, отсутствие движения, покой — это страх, который сорвал все попытки создания всеобщей общности... Ибо всеобщее существование безгранично, а значит, беспокойно: оно не замыкает жизнь на самой себе, но вместо этого открывает её и отбрасывает назад, в тревогу бесконечного. Всеобщее существование, вечно незавершённое и ацефальное, мир, подобный кровоточащей ране, бесконечно создающий и разрушающий отдельные конечные существа: именно в этом смысле истинная всеобщность есть смерть Бога.

Не только радикальный характер этого видения сделал его политически непереводимым. Здесь также присутствовала внутренняя ирония. Всеобщая общность Батая — Ницше была гетерогенной. Однако, как отметил Аллен Вайс, гетерогенность по своей природе не поддаётся передаче. Таким образом, подлинная ницшеанская общность Батая в конечном счёте обречена на противоречивое молчание или предательство. По крайней мере, в политическом плане не могло существовать ничего подобного «чистому» ницшеанству.

Поэтому мы должны вернуться от этих диссидентствующих интеллектуалов к мейнстриму, а от Франции — к Германии. По окончании войны роль Ницше в политике и культуре Германии подверглась коренному пересмотру. Если при национал-социализме он представлял собой нормативное ядро, то те, кто теперь занимал определяющие позиции, считали его фигурой совершенно подозрительной. Больше не являясь пророком и воплощением национальной судьбы, он, как правило, превращался в антитезу того, что требовалось для реконструкции «демократической», антифашистской немецкой идентичности.

Этот новый Ницше отражал более масштабные трансформации политической, культурной и интеллектуальной жизни, произошедшие в условиях оккупации между 1945 и 1949 годами. Учёные по-разному описывали этот процесс, призванный создать более «рациональную» политическую культуру, называя его «деидеологизацией» и «дерадикализацией». Наследие Ницше было чрезвычайно адаптивным, но оно вряд ли могло процветать в культуре, где дерадикализация была в цене.

Как и в прошлом, ницшеанские темы сохраняли свою центральную роль, по-прежнему находясь в рамках более широких вопросов национальной истории, идентичности и коллективной моральной цели. Но теперь, как и у его ранних критиков, философ и его мир были включены в состав по существу негативного, опасного элемента немецкого наследия. В непосредственном послевоенном климате Ницше не мог вновь взять на себя роль вдохновляющего национального авторитета.

Философ появлялся повсюду в потоке рефлексивных сочинений о вопросе о вине — обсуждая национальную вину — и выполнял множество функций. В тени недавнего прошлого его по преимуществу изображали как в некотором роде соучастника и «ответственного», причину или, по крайней мере, главного виновника катастрофы. Было просто сделать его частью общего немецкого самообвинения или экстернализировать и переложить на него национальную вину. Если ницшеанство породило катастрофу, то решение следовало искать в подчёркивании противоположных ценностей. Таким образом, многие из предложенных средств для решения немецкого вопроса были сформулированы в явно антиницшеанских рамках; противоядия были найдены в темах Просвещения, рационализма, либерализма и христианства, подавлявшихся в нацистский период.

Переоценка началась быстро. Уже в 1945 году в публичных лекциях Отто Флаке, известный критик и политический обозреватель, подвёл итоги, проанализировав взаимосвязь между немецкой историей, нацизмом и Ницше. Противостояние вине, утверждал Флаке, делает необходимым противостояние Ницше. Если бы он был жив, провозгласил Флаке, он, по-видимому, оказался бы в списке военных преступников, направляющихся в Нюрнберг. Ницше, без сомнения, был феноменом высочайшего ранга, мастером немецкого языка. Его мягкая натура не сочеталась с духом Третьего рейха. Парадоксально, однако, что нацизм основывался на его беспощадных учениях о человеческом поведении. Ницше вызвал к жизни всю идеальность воли, чтобы высвободить демона действия.

По мнению Флаке, Ницше не был случайным метеором; он был самым крайним выражением присущей немецкой постреформационной тенденции, последним следствием «раскрытого душевного состояния» Лютера (eröffnete Seelenlage). Оба разделяли одну и ту же безграничность, отказ от связей, гордыню самосозидания и недооценку разума.

Эти дискуссии неизбежно затрагивали сложный вопрос о медиации и характере ответственности писателя за свои идеи. Все мыслители, писал Флейк, начинали с того, что было дано, а не выбрано. Тем не менее на практике приходилось принимать понятие ответственности, чтобы «иметь норму, меру суждения». Следовательно, Ницше должен был нести ответственность за свой выбор идей, самой опасной из которых была власть. Пережив войны, которые, как полагал Ницше, были столь целительными, теперь стало ясно, к чему привел его отказ от умеренности и этики: «Зверство, озверение, осквернение человека — вот конечный результат учения о прекрасном хищном звере».

Безусловно, признавал Флейк, между письменным столом и реальным миром зияла пропасть. Праксис неизбежно требовал перевода на язык масс, в сфере которых даже самые возвышенные понятия должны были действовать в рамках организационных структур. Праксис превращал всё в вопрос порядка, контроля и послушания. Любой, кто предлагал учение для человечества, должен был учитывать это. Ответственность была поистине тяжкой, ибо в таких контекстах идеи становились самым опасным, взрывоопасным динамитом из всех существующих. Ницше как раз не хватало этого осознания ответственности — факт, который отличал его от тех интеллектуалов, которые были способны держать свои идеи под контролем. Флейка не убедили размышления Ницше на эту тему: «Меня пугает мысль, что многие люди, не имеющие на то права и заблуждающиеся, будут ссылаться на меня как на авторитет для своих действий».

Флейк иронично утверждал, что недостаточно просто классифицировать Ницше как непостижимо многозначного (unfassbar vieldeutig). Предрасположенность Ницше к двусмысленности лишь подкрепляла роковую немецкую склонность к неточности и нерешительности. Эта идеологическая тенденция была составной частью немецкой проблемы. На протяжении четырех столетий всей нации всё больше не хватало конкретного мышления — и Ницше стал кульминацией этого процесса.

Флейк, как и большинство авторов, писавших о вопросе о вине, не обладал сложной диалектикой Просвещения. Он предлагал для новой Германии возрождение простого, дееспособного разума, «стойкого, объективного, способного кристаллизовать ценности, служащие широким слоям населения». В этой послевоенной немецкой системе координат Ницше был воплощением огрубевшего радикального контрпросвещения и врагом либеральных, гуманных ценностей, необходимых для воссоздания цивилизованного общества.

Работы, подобные книге Альфреда фон Мартина «Интеллектуальные предтечи немецкого краха», типичны для этой литературы с её поиском виновных, идеалистическими предположениями о роли идей в историческом процессе и рецептами преодоления этих недостатков. Ницше был главным обвиняемым. Даже если он задумывал всё «эстетически» и лишь предоставлял своим читателям картины и образы, писал фон Мартин, они имели ужасающий и опасный эффект. Радикализированная доктрина Ницше о воле к власти и его атеизм уничтожили не только Бога, но и саму идею человечности. В то время как другие радикальные критики религии, такие как Фейербах и Давид Фридрих Штраус, оставляли альтруизм нетронутым, для сверхчеловека Ницше не было ничего запретного.

Фон Мартин был одним из первых, кто осознал последствия применения философии жизни к политике. Эта политика «героического реализма», ассоциирующаяся с Ницше, Сорелем и Юнгером, утверждал он, была связана с крахом старого порядка и являлась ключевым ингредиентом в возникновении представлений, при которых «все четкие политические контуры: "правые" и "левые" неразличимо сливаются в переливчатый... иконоборческий эффект. С ним политическая мысль приобрела двусмысленный и обоюдоострый характер».

Ницше, заключал фон Мартин, верил, что нигилизм можно преодолеть и что реварваризация является целительной. Однако то, что начиналось как великое «Да», как мечта о возвышенной жизни, закончилось полным демонизмом. Обзор Фридриха Майнеке 1946 года «Немецкая катастрофа» был аналогичным образом пронизан концепцией демонического в его анализе Ницше и его образа нацизма:

В мире идей Ницше, который теперь начал оказывать мощное влияние на все жаждущие и беспокойные души, собрались почти все благородные и низменные желания и стремления, наполнявшие этот период, — демонический феномен в разрушительности своего характера и влияния. Сверхчеловек Ницше, разрушающий старые скрижали морали, словно таинственно манящий маяк, вел за собой немалую часть немецкой молодежи, вел её вперед, в совершенно темное будущее, которое должно быть преодолено.

Самым известным и творческим примером, изображающим как нацизм, так и Ницше в дьявольских тонах, является эпос Томаса Манна 1947 года «Доктор Фаустус». В этой монументальной попытке охватить национал-социализм и немецкую катастрофу Ницше вездесущ. Жизнь центрального персонажа, Адриана Леверкюна, выстроена по образцу жизни Ницше, и мотив Ницше, как отмечал Т. Дж. Рид, прорабатывает параллель между патологическим и политическим крахом, что является подразумеваемым суждением о немецкой политике. Это также связывает дьявола с политикой иным образом: не только Германия «продала душу дьяволу», но и сам индивид Фауст (Адриан) «является» мыслителем, чьи идеи запустили роковое движение.

Критики в Германской Демократической Республике позже поспешили указать на проблематичность демонической категории, заклеймив ее как буржуазную мистификацию. Несмотря на то что такие аналитики, как фон Мартин, считали Ницше пагубным, восточногерманские марксисты критиковали фон Мартина за обращение к этой сверхисторической категории, которая отрывала идеи Ницше от их конкретного социального контекста. Как выразился один комментатор, фон Мартин превратил философию Ницше в простую точку соприкосновения с демонической сферой, которая всегда была частью вечного немецкого национального характера, оторванного от всех конкретных экономических и исторических корней.

Каковы бы ни были достоинства и недостатки этого анализа, большинство этих буржуазных писателей полагали, что противоядие от такого демонизма очевидно: обновленные и здоровые социальные связи могут быть установлены только на основе возвращения к всемирной истории и некоторого сочетания наследия буржуазного Просвещения и христианской традиции.

Организованные христианские религии и христианские критики внесли значительный вклад в посленацистский натиск на Ницше. «После немецкой катастрофы, в которой он был так замешан, тщательный пересмотр взглядов на Ницше — это требование, с которым мы не можем спорить, иначе мы будем соучастниками той путаницы, которую всегда порождает неисследованный Ницше». Ницше и его бесконтрольные последователи были соучастниками как антихристианства, свирепствовавшего в годы правления Гитлера, так и сопутствующего упадка немецкого духа. Вновь всплыло повторяющееся представление об особой магической силе Ницше. В его темной аптечке, продолжал тот же автор, были рецепты, которые неизбежно вели к самым чудовищным преступлениям против человечности. Национал-социализм применил эти учения и в конечном итоге довел до озверения почти каждую сферу жизни. Антиницшеанские (и про-киркегоровские) уроки должны были преподаваться дезориентированной молодежи, лишенной понятий о добре и зле и, перед лицом идеологической конкуренции четырехзонной системы оккупации, лишенной духовных ориентиров.

Название и содержание книги Эрнста Бартеля «Ницше как соблазнитель» типизировали эти настроения. Влияние Ницше, писал Бартель, было огромным. Было ли его неправильно поняли — не имело значения; «он был буквально гамельнским крысоловом, который соблазнил нас в глубочайшую катастрофу Европы около 1940 года». Решением Бартеля для такого колдовства было традиционное слияние человечества с учением Христа. Но он нетрадиционно наделил ницшеанское колдовство божественной функцией. Ницше как Антихрист был «послан в мир, чтобы последовавший безжалостный эксперимент подготовил плодородную почву для христианского учения в будущем».

Для многих христианских писателей, таких как Вальтер Кюннет, Гитлер был просто назван «исполнителем мира идей Ницше», что стало возможным благодаря ницшеанскому радикализму субъективной разобщенности. Такие критики, естественно, выступали против обвинения Отто Флейка в адрес протестантизма. Ницше был не последним следствием протестантской Реформации, а именно отходом от нее, падением с ее Евангелия, «игрушкой антибожественного сатанинского духа, [который] стал воплощением чисто демонического человека». В этом видении Ницше и Гитлер больше не просто связаны, а слиты в нерасторжимое целое: «Демонический человеческий тип Ницше — Гитлер — напротив них стоит евангелический, реформационный человек с его знанием о заброшенности нашего существования».

Не все христианские анализы были полностью отрицательными. Конрад Альгермиссен в своей работе «Ницше и Третий рейх» подчеркивал силу и непрерывность христианской тематики в творчестве Ницше и размышлял о том, к чему пришел бы протестантский элемент в его мышлении, если бы он не сошел с ума. Некоторые, как Теодор Штайнбюхель в своем «христианском размышлении» о Ницше, пошли еще дальше и приблизились к тем углубленным ницшеанским формам христианства, которые обсуждаются в 7-й главе. Ницше осознал великий кризис безбожия и имманентности, с которым столкнулся девятнадцатый век. Он дошел до корня: вопроса о придании смысла человеческому существованию в мире. Он понял, что люди сами несут ответственность за свое состояние. Кажущаяся утрата трансцендентности наделила их собственным богоподобным и демоническим потенциалом. Критика христианства у Ницше была гораздо глубже, чем плоская материалистическая критика восемнадцатого века. Проблема заключалась в том, что он неверно понял, что «истинное христианство не лишено демонического, которое Ницше так решительно подчеркивал; оно также не было лишено дьявола».

Но такие размышления были скорее исключением, чем правилом. Под бдительным оком союзников ницшеанские опасности подчеркивались при обучении учителей, которые должны были направлять только что реконструированную либеральную демократию. Ницше не принадлежал к тем, кто мог помочь в «духовной реконструкции нашего народа, ибо он сражался по другую сторону баррикад». Хотя он был великим поэтом и проницательным психологом, лучше иметь небольшой талант, служащий благому делу, чем великий талант, запряженный в злое. Многие из этих трудов все же намекали на то, что не все нацисты были ницшеанцами и что в корпусе текстов Ницше было много такого, что несовместимо с национал-социализмом. Тем не менее, они подчеркивали сходства и уже в 1946 году со страхом ожидали ницшеанского возрождения, которое воспротивится его обвинению как нациста и предложит его в качестве основы для культурной реконструкции Германии.

Многочисленные голоса выступали против такого отторжения Ницше; их происхождение и авторитетность значительно варьировались. В 1947 году бывший глава Архива Ницше К. А. Эмге — который был назначен на эту должность, потому что был «нацистским профессором философии права в Йене и будущим нацистским министром в правительстве Тюрингии» — смог представить все антиницшеанское настроение как поиск козла отпущения. Ницше, провозгласил Эмге, был удобным мальчиком для битья того времени. Ни Гитлер, ни Муссолини, ни Розенберг не имели права ссылаться на Ницше. Действительно, за время его пребывания в должности никто из этих людей никогда не обращался с вопросами в Архив! Эмге стремился не только оправдать Ницше от связи с нацистами, но и извлечь послание, которое значительно отличалось от других современных переоценок. После Ницше больше не должно быть никакого «легкомысленного рационализма» (leichtsinnigen Rationalismus).

Для старых членов веймарских радикальных правых — таких как Хайдеггер и братья Юнгеры — ницшеанское затруднительное положение нигилизма и воля к власти снова были задействованы, но настолько туманными способами, что они служили для того, чтобы отклонить любую конкретную конфронтацию с немецким вопросом о вине. Они прямо извлекли эти категории из немецкого и нацистского контекста и универсализировали их, изображая их как часть все еще нерешенного состояния современности. В 1949 году Фридрих Георг Юнгер — первый из этого круга, написавший полноценное послевоенное исследование о Ницше — дал ясно понять, что поражение национал-социализма на самом деле не решило ни одного из основных вопросов, порожденных недифференцированной волей к власти: «Эра мировых войн, борьба за господство над землей (Erdherrschaft) началась — мы все еще находимся в ее середине». Проявления были легко идентифицируемы:

Западный нигилизм в целом не является признаком усталости (Ermüdungserscheinung), но — как демонстрируют совершенно нигилистические последствия его науки и техники — самой активной и энергичной формой воли к власти, самой разрушительной из всех, что до сих пор действовали, ибо мы не оставили нигилизм позади, мы все еще находимся в его середине. Но мы в то же время работаем над тем, чтобы преодолеть его. Мы находим средства против него. Мы исцеляем себя посреди разрушения. И мы все еще будем катапультироваться вперед через катастрофы.

Хаййдеггеровский круг был очевиден. Подобно Хайдеггеру, Юнгер не делал попыток разобраться в специфике нацистских злодеяний или геноцида. Вместо этого всё зло сводилось к понятию разрушительной воли к власти, приравниваемой к западной технологии. Более того, те самые круги, которые делали всё возможное, чтобы использовать Ницше в новой и радикально националистической форме, теперь представляли его заново как «оплот независимого духа», не связанный с какими-либо государственными или партийными рамками.

Однако были и другие ранние защитники Ницше, не связанные с радикальными правыми. Размышляя о перспективах денацификации Ницше, исследователь творчества Ницше Карл Шлехта поспешил предложить обновленную роль для философа. Вероятно, было правдой то, что Ницше был самым опасным из всех философов, которых обвиняли в создании тотального государства. Но, как ни парадоксально, именно это качество делало его незаменимым для послевоенного времени. Ибо, настаивал Шлехта, проблема нигилизма, которую Ницше одновременно диагностировал и с которой столкнулся, всё ещё не была преодолена. Шлехта предложил новое объяснение распространенного страха перед Ницше, удобно обходя его недавнюю, очевидную причину: «Мы боимся Ницше именно из-за его честности, а правда в том, что мы всё ещё боимся правды и предпочитаем авторитет любой ценой». Не было никакой разницы между опьянением национал-социалистического вчера и послевоенным похмельем (Katzenjammer). Обе атмосферы были бесконечно далеки от чистого воздуха интеллектуальной честности Ницше. Придет время, когда дискуссия о настоящем Ницше начнется снова.

В Федеративной Республике Германия не существовало институциональных рамок для запрета Ницше; возможность более сочувственных интерпретаций существовала всегда. Несмотря на нынешний негативный климат, Шлехта мог питать надежду на возможное возрождение в будущем. Того же нельзя было сказать о Германской Демократической Республике. В соответствии с давней марксистской ортодоксией в отношении философа, Ницше был официально запрещен в Восточной Германии и предан табу как главный философ озверевшего германского фашизма. Архив уже был взят под замок советскими властями в их оккупационной зоне. Они были вновь открыты для публики только в 1991 году в объединенной Германии.

Тем не менее, уже в Восточной Германии 1986 года — задолго до того, как рухнула Берлинская стена, и когда объединение рассматривалось не более чем как утопическая фантазия, — началось далеко идущее и сочувственное переосмысление Ницше. Эта готовность открыть дискуссию и взглянуть на Ницше в более сложном и позитивном ключе, возможно, сигнализировала о быстро меняющемся политическом и интеллектуальном климате. И всё же эту восприимчивость не следует преувеличивать. Были попытки опубликовать тщательно отобранные работы — Несвоевременные размышления и Веселую науку — для восточных немцев, но потенциальные издатели и комментаторы, Фридрих Томберг и Рената Решке, обнаружили, что оппозиция, возглавляемая Вольфгангом Харихом и Манфредом Буром, была достаточно сильна, чтобы предотвратить их публикацию вплоть до непредвиденного конца Германской Демократической Республики. Неудивительно, что сторонники Ницше склонны были рассматривать послевоенного Ницше не столько как предтечу, сколько как жертву национал-социализма.

Несмотря на все перемены, доминирующее восприятие Ницше в немецкой массовой культуре по сей день тесно и тягостно связано с национал-социалистическим опытом (илл. 17). Большинство крупных интеллектуалов, как правило, умеряют свое восхищение исторически обусловленной и ориентированной на Просвещение настороженностью. Очевидно, что для возрождения Ницше в качестве европейской модной фигуры потребовалась его эмиграция. Франция и зарождающаяся, политически неоднозначная постструктуралистская революция 1970-х годов подошли ему идеально. Там Ницше приобрел практически канонический статус, но не случайно, что самым яростным и искушенным критиком этих многообразных французских ницшеанств является немец Юрген Хабермас.

Если прогрессивные круги продолжают относиться к философу с опаской, то материалы и потенциал для реактивации радикально-правого немецкого Ницше, возможно, еще не полностью исчерпаны. Существуют современные немецкие интеллектуальные новые правые, которые включают своего Ницше в такие малоизвестные журналы, как Wir selbst, Aufbruch, Criticon и Mut: их идеи пропагандируют такие люди, как Армин Молер (бывший секретарь Эрнста Юнгера), Каспар фон Шренк-Нотцинг и Хеннинг Айхберг, а поддерживают их состоятельные фонды.

Эти новые правые включили самих Юнгера и Хайдеггера в пророческий пантеон и стремятся интегрировать старые ницшеанские темы в изменившиеся исторические и интеллектуальные обстоятельства того, что они считают безнадежно вестернизированной постнацистской Германией. Пожалуй, самым красноречивым представителем этого романтического антикапиталистического течения, которое характерным образом объединяет многие темы крайне левых и крайне правых, является Герд Бергфлет, чьи труды пронизаны ядовитой ненавистью к «пустопорожнему» и «циничному» Просвещению. Бергфлет движим кипящим негодованием по отношению к американизации, либерализму, марксизму и демократии, принесенным в Германию после Второй мировой войны. Эти ценности, утверждает он, были реимпортированы вернувшимися еврейскими беженцами, такими как Теодор Адорно и Эрнст Блох, представителями просвещенного космополитического иудаизма, у которых не было чувства «немецкой уникальности, или романтической тоски, связи с природой или все еще не угасшей памяти о языческо-германском прошлом». Поскольку нацистский опыт сделал подобные фёлькише идеалы табуированными, эта лишенная корней «еврейская левая интеллигенция» смогла «переделать Германию в соответствии со своими собственными космополитическими стандартами. В этом они преуспели настолько, что на протяжении двух десятилетий не существовало никакого независимого немецкого духа».

В эклектичном видении Бергфлета Ницше предстает центральной фигурой, лежащей в основе его трагического дионисийского программного пророчества о неизбежном разрушении и закате, за которыми следует пострационалистическое обновление, ставшее возможным благодаря безумию, эросу и, особенно, Смерти. Бергфлет различает две разные половины Ницше. Есть сомнительный, нигилистический, великий прародитель «левой иронии», из которого истощенные после Второй мировой войны левые черпали свое смиренное и самообманчивое вдохновение. Но есть также Ницше-трагик, философ, который в конечном счете стоит выше нигилизма. Здесь он фигурирует как часть возрожденного Бергфлетом неоромантического шпенглеровского толкования «Заката» западного мира и его изначальных возможностей посттехнологического обновления, характеризующегося последним возможным заратустровским признанием подлинности: «О Заратустра, все во мне — ложь; но то, что я ломаюсь — это мое ломание — подлинно».

Новые интеллектуальные правые остаются маргинальным явлением, которое, как проницательно отмечает Петер Глотц, бывший генеральный секретарь СДПГ, к счастью, до сих пор не объединилось со своими более популистскими праворадикальными коллегами. Тем не менее, учитывая многочисленные ревизионистские тенденции, действующие в современной Германии, было бы столь же серьезной ошибкой полностью игнорировать это явление, сколь и преувеличивать его значимость. История наследия Ницше еще не исчерпала себя.

10. Ницшеанство, Германия и за ее пределами

Я — двойник, у меня есть «второе» лицо в дополнение к первому. А возможно, и третье.
Ницше, «Ecce Homo»

Это исследование было призвано определить природу, масштаб и динамику влияния Фридриха Ницше на немецкую политику и культуру. Это влияние всегда было исторически обусловлено. История наследия Ницше, как мы утверждали, должна рассматриваться как открытая, динамичная история его многообразных присвоений, продукт непрерывного диалога между ницшеанским творчеством и его различными заинтересованными посредниками, действующими в рамках разнообразных институциональных структур и меняющихся культурных и политических контекстов. Ницшеанство в Германии выступало как сила, воздействующая на заряженные обстоятельства, из которых складывалась бурная история этой страны с 1890-х годов, и в то же время само воссоздавалось ими.

Мы стремились оценить след, оставленный философом в некоторых драматических вехах немецкой истории конца XIX и XX веков, и проанализировать взаимные способы, которыми сами эти события помогали формировать его меняющийся образ и функции. Наряду с этим хронологическим измерением мы также исследовали роль, которую ницшеанские импульсы играли во все более расколотых, охваченных кризисом мирах немецкой религии и социализма, а также их многофункциональное проникновение во множество течений, как маргинальных, так и центральных. К ним относились художественный авангард, кружок Стефана Георге, вегетарианцы, сторонники сексуального освобождения, молодежные движения, феминизм, сионизм, экспрессионизм, фёлькише группы, консервативные революционеры и, конечно, национал-социализм.

Большинство предыдущих исследований пытались втиснуть эту богатую сложность в узкие эссенциалистские рамки, классифицируя различные способы использования как отклонения от «настоящего» Ницше или как его верное отражение. Независимо от того, объясняет ли такой единый, грандиозный метанарратив философию Ницше наилучшим образом или нет — методологическая проблема, которую саму по себе следует считать частью продолжающегося наследия Ницше! — это не способствует качественной истории культуры. Ни одна предшествующая, единственная (и, во всяком случае, спорная) мастер-интерпретация не смогла воздать должное поразительному размаху этого влияния и его всепроникающему проникновению в противоречивые сферы политической и культурной жизни. Одобряет ли кто-то этот факт или нет, но множество движений и идеологий действительно аннексировали (или активно сопротивлялись) Ницше. Целью этой работы было проанализировать и понять, а не судить и оценивать историю этих опосредованных утверждений и отрицаний, их казуистических стратегий и трансмутационных применений. Она стремилась обогатить наше понимание многообразных способов, которыми комплекс идей, лозунгов и образов — независимо от их обоснованности — пронизывал культурную и политическую чувствительность немецкого общества.

Проявления разнообразных про- и антиницшеанских импульсов в Германии были особенно плотными, заметными и судьбоносными. Что именно сделало эту встречу столь судьбоносной в этой стране? Что объясняет многообразие форм ницшеанства и их особый резонанс там?

Ответ на одном уровне достаточно очевиден. Независимо от того, насколько страстно его принимали в других местах, Германия была домом философа. Плотность откликов, глубина почтения и антагонизма, которые он вызывал, и тот факт, что встреча с ним стала почти обязательной, были связаны с этим элементарным биографическим обстоятельством. Ницше родился и умер в Германии и сформулировал специфически немецкое затруднительное положение. Во всяком случае, именно так многие его соотечественники все чаще смотрели на этот вопрос. Несмотря на его бесчисленные антигерманские высказывания, по-разному интерпретируемая концепция его «немецкости» сама по себе стала способствующим фактором присвоения. Таким образом, дойчтум был интегрирован в разнообразные трактовки мысли Ницше, способствуя его включению в любое количество немецких движений, идеологий и институтов.

Тем не менее, до 1890-х годов ницшеанский взрыв в немецкой политической и культурной жизни был чем угодно, только не самоочевидным. Еще в 1888 году Ницше отмечал, что его открыли везде — кроме Германии. Почему же тогда ницшеанство процветало в последнее десятилетие XIX века и после него?

Ницше и ницшеанцы, как мы утверждали, были одновременно творцами и бенефициарами общеевропейского антипозитивистского и модернистского сдвига в мировосприятии, который проявился в том десятилетии. Но помимо этого, в связи с идеологиями предполагаемой «немецкости» Ницше, возникло особенно благоприятное сочетание между иконоборческим корпусом текстов Ницше и ключевыми событиями и процессами на историческом ландшафте Германии. Ницшеанские импульсы были особенно хорошо приспособлены и достаточно гибки, чтобы влиять на некоторые «чрезвычайные» настроения и события, характеризующие историю Германии после 1890 года, и придавать им смысл: критическое недовольство и пророческие предчувствия, пронизывавшие вильгельмовское общество на рубеже веков; способы, которыми предвещалась и воспринималась Первая мировая война; поляризованный, все более ожесточавшийся уклад Веймарской республики; самопрезентация и политика национал-социализма; и, наконец, потребность в негативном фоне для «нормализованной» и «респектабельной» национальной идентичности в эпоху после Второй мировой войны.

Любое обобщение относительно ницшеанства в Германии должно оставаться предварительным. Можно сказать, однако, что оно действительно имело тенденцию процветать в экстремальных обстоятельствах и в ситуациях, характеризующихся острым осознанием политического, личного и институционального кризиса. Безусловно, существовали ницшеанцы самого разного толка. Но почти всех их объединяло общее желание бросить вызов принятым допущениям и условностям и выйти за их пределы. Так, если взять один примечательный пример, подсознательное, а также явное присутствие Ницше пронизывало разнообразные, глубокие «шедевры» Веймарской республики, начиная от «Духа утопии» Эрнста Блоха и заканчивая «Бытием и временем» Мартина Хайдеггера, «Звездой избавления» Франца Розенцвейга и «Закатом Европы» Освальда Шпенглера. Несмотря на их очевидные различия, все они характеризовались острым чувством разрыва и нигилистического краха; все они исследовали новые и радикальные способы концептуализации беспрецедентного политического, морального, религиозного и культурного затруднительного положения и реагирования на него. Независимо от институтов, к которым они принадлежали, и конкретных идеологий, которые они исповедовали, ницшеанцы, как правило, отстаивали постортодоксальные подходы и решения.

Честность ученого в наши дни, и тем более философа в наши дни, можно судить по тому, как он определяет свое отношение к Ницше и Марксу. Тот, кто отрицает, что он был бы не в состоянии достичь работы обоих из них, обманывает себя точно так же, как и другие. Мир, в котором мы живем как интеллектуальные существа, в значительной степени несет на себе отпечаток Маркса и Ницше. (Эдуард Баумгартен, «Макс Вебер: работа и личность» [Тюбинген, 1964], 544 сл., прим. 1).

См. новаторскую работу Вольфганга Моммзена «Макс Вебер и немецкая политика, 1890–1920» (Тюбинген: И. К. П. Мор, 1959), пер. Майкла С. Стейнберга, «Макс Вебер и немецкая политика, 1890–1920» (Чикаго и Лондон: Издательство Чикагского университета, 1984). См. также Роберт Иден, «Вебер и Ницше: постановка вопроса об освобождении социальных наук от историзма», в сб. Моммзена и Остерхаммеля, ред., «Макс Вебер и его современники», 405–421; Юджин Флейшманн, «От Вебера к Ницше», «Европейский социологический архив 5» (1964), 190 сл.; Лоуренс А. Скафф, «Бегство из железной клетки: культура, политика и современность в мысли Макса Вебера» (Беркли и Лос-Анджелес: Издательство Калифорнийского университета, 1989).

Таким образом, в своих различных проявлениях ницшеанство имело тенденцию подталкивать политическую и культурную жизнь в более радикальные или, по крайней мере, нонконформистские направления. Находясь в подвижном тандеме с установками мастера, оно одновременно подрывало и вытесняло ортодоксальные лево-правые, прогрессивно-реакционные и рационально-иррациональные категории и различия. Оно могло осуществлять это прежде всего потому, что было опосредованным феноменом. Оно действовало скорее как инфильтрирующая чувствительность, чем как конституирующее присутствие. В этом смысле никогда не существовало чистого ницшеанства. Если оно и стремилось радикализовать институты, то само также было ими обуздано. Институционализация неизбежно влекла за собой структурирование — процесс, в ходе которого предполагаемая ницшеанская динамика претерпевала ту или иную форму одомашнивания. Многие подобные аннексии действительно укрощали, тривиализировали или отклоняли эту динамику, но не всегда. В случае с нацистами ее смертоносный потенциал был высвобожден и избирательно использован для убийственных целей.

После 1914 года, отражая более масштабные события и тенденции внутри Германии, наследие Ницше все больше отождествлялось с его националистическими, радикально-правыми и нацистскими версиями. Но это всегда было крайне спорным — и для многих весьма скандальным — попечительством. Всегда находились ницшеанцы со всего политического спектра, которые продолжали выстраивать конкурирующие интерпретации наследия, которое, как известно, не поддавалось монополизации и гомогенизации.

Хотя бы в силу своей опосредованной природы ницшеанство не обладало врожденной политической личностью. Оно функционировало как исторически динамичный феномен, одновременно влияя на изменчивые политические и культурные обстоятельства, частью которых оно являлось, отражая их и преобразуясь под их воздействием. Так обстоит дело и по сей день, и будет интересно понаблюдать за тем, как объединение Германии повлияет на характер и тон репрезентаций Ницше.

Какими бы они ни оказались, современные отголоски Ницше выходят далеко за пределы Германии. Хотя влияние Ницше в Германии было несомненно глубоким, оно никогда не ограничивалось этой страной. Исторически опосредованные интерпретации его идей, а также богатые символические значения и выразительные способы использования его наследия всегда выходили за рамки национальных границ.

Что позволило несовременному Ницше оставаться вечно современным? Чем объясняется это настойчивое международное увлечение им? В конечном счете, ответ следует искать в его почти сверхъестественной способности определять — и воплощать — самые дальние пределы общего постпросвещенческого затруднения; заключать в себе многие из его непреходящих духовных и интеллектуальных напряжений, противоречий, надежд и возможностей. Если в истории восприятия Ницше и есть одна константа, то это постоянно переосмысливаемое представление о том, что Ницше был парадигмальным. С 1890-х годов и по сей день его жизнь и мысль служат остроактуальной призмой, через которую выражаются и осмысливаются меняющиеся значения и проблемы обобщенного и предельного модерна, наиболее радикально понимаемого, по словам Лешека Колаковского, как вера «в безграничную возможность самосозидания человечества». Именно потому, что это обещание, как и связанный с ним разрушительный потенциал, находится в центре наших текущих забот, Ницше не был исчерпан ни одной конкретной политической системой или культурными рамками.

Хотя его парадигмальный статус не менялся, представления о природе и содержании этой парадигмы менялись в ответ на сдвиги в интеллектуальных, политических и поколенческих обстоятельствах. Сегодня, например, его считают квинтэссенцией пророка модного постмодерна. Пресловуто расплывчатые и изменчивые значения таких терминов, как «модерн», «модернизм» и «постмодерн», не должны здесь нас задерживать. Для наших целей эти обозначения сами по себе могут рассматриваться как вехи меняющихся способов исторического самопонимания, а Ницше — человек с множеством лиц — неизменно считался самим воплощением этих меняющихся условий и саморепрезентаций.

Ницше, пожалуй, является наиболее важной формирующей силой для ведущих постструктуралистских и деконструктивистских течений современности. Он стоит в центре вдохновленной Францией концепции культуры, характеризующейся радикально скептическим перспективизмом, чувством гетерогенности и игривости, а также акцентом на различии. Как чистый метафилософ, пророк фрагментации и прерывности, дискурса власти и иллюзорной, метафорической природы самой истины, он оказал глубокое влияние и был реконструирован, чтобы соответствовать тому, что его нынешние сторонники считают нашей собственной эпохой радикальной идеологической и гносеологической неопределенности. Следы более позитивного, содержательного и программного Ницше, некогда столь важные для истории его восприятия, на данный момент практически стерты.

Какими бы спорными политическими функциями ни служил этот ироничный Ницше, его постмодернистская личина может оказаться не последним словом. Ее также следует рассматривать как часть продолжающейся истории ангажированных и избирательных парадигмальных репрезентаций. Хотя мы не можем предсказать его будущие контуры, наследие Ницше, по всей вероятности, будет жить как динамическая сила и принимать новые формы, отвечая на дилеммы и потребности меняющихся времен и интегрируясь в наши собственные предварительные самоопределения и культурные репрезентации. Поскольку Ницше остается самым мощным символом многообразного, постоянно экспериментального постпросвещенческого проекта, его наследие и его кажущаяся безграничной способность к обновлению сохранятся (как и противодействие им). Наши отношения с ним, несомненно, будут и дальше подтверждать изречение Эрнста Бертрама о том, что «великие люди неизбежно являются нашим творением, точно так же, как мы — их».

Послесловие: Ницше и нацизм: некоторые методологические и исторические размышления

К сожалению, человек недостаточно зол. Противники Руссо, которые говорят: «человек — это зверь», к сожалению, неправы. Не испорченность человека, а степень, в которой он стал морализированным, является его проклятием.
Ницше, Воля к власти

Больные — величайшая опасность для человека; не злые, не «хищные звери».
Ницше, К генеалогии морали

Герменевтический вопрос о «настоящем Ницше» после 1945 года неразрывно связан с его отношением к нацизму. Эта проблема актуальна и по сей день. Доминирующие послевоенные образы — воплощенные в противоположных представлениях Дьёрдя Лукача и Вальтера Кауфмана — либо осуждали Ницше как соучастника нацистского зла, либо превозносили его как незапятнанного мыслителя, противостоящего всем намерениям и действиям нацизма. Оба этих подхода были в меньшей степени заинтересованы в прослеживании реальных исторических путей, нежели в продвижении собственных интерпретаций, нагруженных ценностными суждениями. Возможно, это и было хорошей философией, но это определенно не способствовало развитию качественной истории культуры. По сути, игнорируя сложное опосредование идей, они создавали портреты, написанные либо в обличительном, либо в апологетическом ключе. Мы уже рассматривали позицию Лукача по этому вопросу. На другом конце спектра влиятельная работа Вальтера Кауфмана «Ницше» (1950) изображала нацифицированного Ницше как чистое искажение, радикальную инверсию всего того, что на самом деле отстаивал пророк творчества, культурный и критический индивидуалист и хороший европеец. «Мягкое», стерилизованное описание Кауфмана настолько игнорировало или искажало силово-политические измерения Ницше, как предположил Вальтер Сокель, что читатели, должно быть, были озадачены тем, что кто-то вообще мог попытаться провести связь Ницше и нацизма.

Выбор одной из этих интерпретаций был бы далек от исторической сути. Для историка, интересующегося ролью, динамикой и эффектами идей внутри политической культуры, вопрос о верной или неверной интерпретации и применении должен быть отброшен. Аргументация в пользу центральной роли заинтересованных, опосредованных апроприаций, конечно, не делает роль ницшеанского текста в этом процессе нерелевантной. Даже если мы на мгновение сохраним язык «искажения» или «неверного толкования», такие подходы, как у Кауфмана, оставляют нас в неведении относительно возможности того, что, как выразился Мартин Джей, потенциал для конкретных искажений, которые действительно происходят, может быть понят как скрытый в оригинальном тексте. Таким образом, хотя может быть сомнительным возлагать на Маркса ответственность за Архипелаг ГУЛАГ или винить Ницше за Освенцим, тем не менее верно, что их труды могли быть неверно истолкованы как оправдание этих ужасов таким образом, каким, скажем, труды Джона Стюарта Милля или Алексиса де Токвиля не могли быть истолкованы.

Жак Деррида аналогичным образом заострил вопрос применительно к ницшеанской политике, особенно к ее национал-социалистическому варианту: «Можно задаться вопросом, как и почему стало возможным то, что так наивно называют фальсификацией (нельзя же фальсифицировать что угодно)».

Настаивание Деррида на определенной степени соучастия проистекает из ощущения сложной, а не простой природы текста и вытекает из анализа, который подчеркивает, а не размывает различия между учителем и его национал-социалистическими апроприаторами:

Высказывания Ницше — это не то же самое, что высказывания нацистских идеологов, и не только потому, что последние грубо карикатурят первые до степени обезьянничанья. Если сделать нечто большее, чем просто извлечь определенные короткие последовательности, если реконструировать весь синтаксис системы с тонким изяществом ее артикуляций и парадоксальных разворотов и так далее, то станет ясно, что то, что в другом месте выдается за «то же самое» высказывание, говорит прямо противоположное и соответствует скорее инверсии, реактивной инверсии того самого, что оно имитирует. Тем не менее, все еще необходимо объяснить возможность этой миметической инверсии и извращения. Если отказаться от различения бессознательных и преднамеренных программ как абсолютного критерия, если при чтении текста учитывать не только намерение — сознательное или нет, — то закон, делающий возможным извращающее упрощение, должен лежать в структуре «остающегося» текста (под чем мы больше не будем понимать сохраняющуюся субстанцию книг, как в выражении scripta manent). Даже если намерение одного из подписантов или акционеров огромной «ницшеанской корпорации» не имело к этому никакого отношения, не может быть совершенно случайным, что дискурс, носящий его имя в обществе, в соответствии с гражданскими законами и редакционными нормами, послужил легитимирующей отсылкой для идеологов. Нет ничего абсолютно случайного в том, что единственным политическим режимом, который эффективно размахивал его именем как главным и официальным знаменем, был нацистский.

Я говорю это не для того, чтобы предположить, будто такая «ницшеанская» политика — единственно мыслимая на все времена, или что она соответствует наилучшему прочтению этого наследия, или даже что те, кто не подхватил эту отсылку, предложили его лучшее прочтение. Нет. Будущее текста Ницше не закрыто. Но если в рамках всё ещё открытых контуров эпохи единственной политикой, называющей — провозглашающей — себя ницшеанской, оказалась нацистская, то это неизбежно значимо и должно быть подвергнуто сомнению во всех своих последствиях.

Я также не предлагаю перечитывать «Ницше» и его большую политику на основе того, что мы знаем или думаем, что знаем о нацизме. Я не верю, что мы до сих пор знаем, как мыслить то, чем является нацизм. Эта задача всё ещё стоит перед нами, и политическое прочтение ницшеанского тела или корпуса текстов является её частью.

Следовательно, импликации текста Ницше гораздо сложнее, чем своего рода однонаправленный первородный грех, который приписывал ему Лукач, и более запутанны, чем допускал Кауфман. Взрывной и экспериментальный корпус текстов Ницше содержал мириады возможностей, которые глубоко повлияли почти на каждую жизненно важную область постлиберального сознания и политической культуры двадцатого века, включая, совершенно очевидно, нацизм.

Методологические и содержательные трудности этого вопроса бесчисленны; свидетельством тому служат разнообразные и крайне противоречивые способы, которыми историки, философы и критики пытались осмыслить эту связь. Это может быть связано с утверждением Деррида о том, что мы «до сих пор не знаем, как мыслить то, чем является нацизм». Более того, готовность признать наличие связи в первую очередь часто является функцией особого априорного отношения к Ницше или особого методологического подхода к нацизму. Те, кто склоняется к структуралистской и социальной истории, например, с подозрением относятся к любому идеационному или идеологическому объяснению (не говоря уже о конкретном ницшеанском направлении) и крайне не склонны рассматривать нацизм как «особый склад ума». Даже для тех, кто симпатизирует такому анализу, проблема оценки роли и влияния, «причинной» силы идей в истории остается крайне спорной. Здесь не может быть и речи о попытке разрешить этот вопрос. Но было бы полезно рассмотреть некоторые из основных способов, которыми историки и критики впоследствии классифицировали отношения Ницше и нацистов, демонстрировали или отрицали приводные ремни влияния, постулировали их причинно-следственные связи и оценивали их общую историческую значимость.

Проблема допущения этой связи давно признана. Ещё в 1939 году Эрнст Блох утверждал, что связь Ницше (и Вагнера) с нацизмом была построена на методе пустой аналогии, вырванной из надлежащего исторического и идеологического контекста. Совсем недавно Томас Ниппердей указал на аисторический характер анализов, которые обвиняют Лютера, Фридриха Великого, Бисмарка, Ницше и Гитлера в одной прямой линии. «Это довольно мелкое начинание — растягивать Вагнера, Ницше или Макса Вебера на прокрустовом ложе нашего понятия демократии и проверять их на наличие „префашистских“ тенденций или результатов. Это тирания подозрения».

Противодействие тому, что было описано как телеологическая «нацистская охота за родословными в сфере идей» стало, если не сказать больше, более распространенным, подкрепляемым такими настойчивыми примерами. Книга Э. Сандвосса 1969 года «Гитлер и Ницше» постулировала эти отношения как сравнительный параллелизм, который стирал все различия между симметрией и причинным влиянием и оставлял неисследованными эмпирические приводные ремни, через которые он должен был действовать.

В своей мучительной переоценке Ницше 1947 года Томас Манн даже умудрился обратить вспять обычное направление этой причинно-следственной связи! Он с прискорбием описал Ницше как «задающего темп, соучаствующего творца и суфлера идей для европейского — для мирового фашизма». В выражениях, удивительно напоминающих материалистическую теорию префигуративной рефлексии Лукача, Манн добавил:

Я склонен здесь поменять местами причину и следствие и не верить в то, что Ницше создал фашизм, а скорее в то, что фашизм создал его — иными словами: будучи в основе своей далеким от политики и невинно-духовным, он функционировал как бесконечно чувствительный инструмент выражения и регистрации, своей философемой власти он предвосхитил зарождающийся империализм и, подобно дрожащему поплавку, указал на фашистскую эру Запада.

Критика связи Ницше и нацизма отнюдь не исходила только от ученых, опасающихся интеллектуальных объяснений. Недавно, например, Берел Ланг, настаивая на важности идей в понимании нацизма, особенно его геноцидной стороны, утверждал, что Ницше специально освобожден от подобных обвинений в принадлежности. Для Ланга следует обращать внимание не на Ницше, а на нетерпимые универсализирующие аспекты Просвещения. На его взгляд, связи между Ницше и нацизмом основаны на чистом «неправомерном присвоении»:

Безусловно, неправомерное присвоение имеет причинные последствия не менее определенно, чем принадлежность, и опять же нет четкой границы между ними. Но для исторического наследия Ницше речь идет о случае неправомерного присвоения, а не дедукции и даже не... принадлежности. Выводы, к которым пришли, далеко не вытекают из предпосылок, лежащих в основе позиции Ницше, они несовместимы с ними. Реконструировать в воображении события, приведшие к нацистскому геноциду против евреев без имени или присутствия Ницше, — значит быть вынужденным почти ничего не менять в этой схеме. Это резко контрастирует с результатами того же эксперимента, если бы он был применен к ряду других идей и мыслителей, отсутствие которых повлекло бы за собой значительные пересмотры в процессе принадлежности к Просвещению — возможно, даже в его конечном результате.

Для многих, кто все еще находится в озадачивающем процессе осмысления того, что такое нацизм, позиция Ланга совершенно неубедительна. Исключительно широкий круг современных критиков, философов и историков продолжает ощущать глубокую близость, постулируя различными способами и на разных уровнях сложности соучастие ницшеанских импульсов в нацизме. Продолжая до настоящего времени, ни одна другая философская фигура не вызывалась так часто в исторических объяснениях, ни одна не служила более плодотворным трамплином для спекулятивных метаисторических представлений о нацизме и его центральных убийственных влечениях. Более того, эти упражнения по крайней мере пытаются противостоять тому, чего пыталась избежать большая часть недавней историографии: мучительному вопросу о нацистской мотивации и намерениях. Этот взгляд подразумевает, что в некотором значимом смысле нацизм был, по крайней мере частично, состоянием ума и что идеи (в их самом общем смысле) были центральными как для его предрасположенности в качестве исторического проекта, так и для его последующего понимания.

Какие конкретные ницшеанские источники и причины были задействованы в этом общем созвездии? Достаточно будет нескольких примеров. Во-первых, существует продолжающийся анализ, который аргументирует с позиции исторической и идейной принадлежности (осознанной или иной). Хотя принадлежность не является синонимом ни идентичности, ни причинности, она подразумевает определенную общую чувствительность. «Гитлер» Дж. П. Стерна — один из примеров. Стерн тщательно разъясняет различия и оговорки, однако в конечном итоге его Гитлер лучше всего понимается как человек, движимый концентрированной и политизированной идеологией воли, производной от Ницше и находящейся с ним в (пародийной) симметрии. Взгляд Карла Дитриха Брахера на нацизм как на революционный и извращенный разворот обычных моральных ценностей, призванный служить идеологической системе террора и истребления, задуман в схожих терминах принадлежности к Ницше: «Сам Гитлер, с его идеологической фиксацией и чувством миссии как спасителя мира, обреченного на расистский упадок, был прототипом такой переоценки, воспринимая буквально видение Ницше об Umwertung aller Werte и превосходя буржуазную мораль».

Неудивительно, что многие метаисторические размышления о нацизме сосредоточены на ницшеанском элементе. Как и в прошлом, многие из них транслируют свои собственные идеологические и религиозные послания. Совсем недавно, например, консервативный христианский критик Роджер Скратон утверждал, что фундаментальная предпосылка для лагерей смерти двадцатого века содержалась в безбожном натурализирующем языке и допущениях таких мыслителей, как Ницше и Маркс:

Те самые философии, которые предписывают нам возвести человека на трон, с которого был снят для погребения Бог, оказались наиболее влиятельными в создании нового образа человека как случайности природы, которому ничто не запрещено и не дозволено никакой силой, кроме него самого. Бог — это иллюзия; таковой является и божественная искра в человеке... машина, созданная для эффективного производства утопии, имеет полную лицензию на убийство. Ничто не священно... Таков литургический язык религии Антихриста.

Опасность таких светских философий, как утверждал выдающийся философ Лешек Колаковский, заключается в их прометеевских надеждах, которые подорвали христианские предположения «о нашей слабости и ничтожности»:

Две великие идеи девятнадцатого века, которые, несмотря на все, что их разделяет, идеально воплощали это прометеевское ожидание — идеи Маркса и Ницше — были антихристианскими в своих корнях, а не в результате случайных исторических обстоятельств... Ницше знал, что христианство — это осознание нашей слабости, и он был прав. Маркс тоже знал это, и от младогегельянцев он перенял и трансформировал философию (более фихтеанскую, чем гегелевскую) самосозидания и футуристической ориентации...

Жизнеспособность христианской идеи, безусловно, ослабла пропорционально универсализации прометеевской надежды и пропорционально росту веры людей в то, что их способность совершенствовать себя и общество не знает границ... Мы стали свидетелями постепенного роста этой надежды, и две упомянутые её версии — Ницше и Маркса — создали идеологическое прикрытие, которое послужило оправданием для двух самых злокачественных тираний, которые видел наш век.

Ницше здесь служит своего рода жизненно важной долгосрочной предпосылкой нацизма. Это связано с аргументом, который утверждает — не всегда удовлетворительно устанавливая эмпирические связи, — что именно радикально экспериментальный, разрушающий традиции ницшеанский модус сделал нацизм мыслимым. (Такой анализ, конечно, подразумевает определенный взгляд на сам нацизм.) Сторонникам такого прочтения нетрудно найти подтверждающие отрывки у мастера. Из-за вновь обретенной смелости к экспериментированию, отмечал Ницше в «Утренней заре»: «Индивиды и поколения могут теперь устремить взоры на задачи такой обширности, которые прежним векам показались бы безумием и легкомысленным отношением к Небу и Аду. Мы можем экспериментировать с самими собой! Да, человечество теперь имеет право делать это». В черновиках к продолжению «Заратустры» и на основе своего определения кредо нового Просвещения, что «ничто не истинно, все дозволено», Ницше пошел еще дальше: «Последствия вашего учения должны посеять страшную разруху: но бесчисленны те, кому суждено погибнуть от них. Мы подвергаем истину эксперименту! Может быть, человечество погибнет в процессе! Да будет так!» Рассматриваемый таким образом нацизм с его радикализмом и огромным трансформационным масштабом становится сознательно применяемым ницшеанским проектом. Ницше «подготовил сознание, которое не исключало ничего, что кто-либо мог подумать, почувствовать или сделать, включая невообразимые зверства, совершенные в гигантском масштабе».

Прежде всего, именно через этот акцент на безграничной новизне сохраняется ощущение связи Ницше с самыми революционными и разрушительными сторонами нацизма. Разные историки и критики идентифицировали различные аспекты этого импульса как соучастные в геноциде и злодеяниях. Хотя все они исходят из центральной роли Ницше, объяснения его присутствия решительно различаются.

Для ортодоксальных марксистов слияние Ницше и нацизма отражает кризис капиталистической экономики. Это было идеологическое выражение агрессивной империалистической буржуазии и её варваризирующих тенденций, а также логический результат классово-поддерживающего иррационализма, направленного на разгром своих социалистических и других врагов.

Однако для немарксиста Эрнста Нольте в его работе 1963 года «Фашизм в свою эпоху» (Der Faschismus in seiner Epoche) нацизм представлял собой окончательный бунт против буржуазии и того, что он называл её проектом трансцендентности. На том этапе своей карьеры Нольте настаивал на радикальной уникальности нацистского антисемитизма и его практик истребления, а также утверждал, что существует сущностное единство между буржуазным и марксистским проектами трансцендентности. В интерпретации Нольте Ницше изображается как самая важная фигура этого непрерывного импульса против буржуазной и марксистской реализации. Он прежде всего воплощает в себе стремление к чувственной ренатурализации мира и указывает на создание нового, полностью не декадентского человека. Таким образом, ницшеанский и нацистский проекты становятся практически идентичными. Гитлер, писал Нольте, «был одержим "чем-то", что не было тривиальным». Как «завершение эпохи» он был самым радикальным проявлением импульса, лучше всего сформулированного Ницше. С этой точки зрения понятие разрушения или истребления — Vernichtungsgedanke, как выражается Нольте, — должно было стать центральным для поздней философии Ницше. Стоит процитировать его подробно:

Настоящий враг Ницше — это, очевидно, концепция реализации; именно на неё он направляет такие термины, как рессентимент, декаданс и «тотальное вырождение». С философской точки зрения существует только один неопровержимый контрконцепт: концепт полностью не декадентского человека, «хищного зверя, великолепной, рыщущей белокурой бестии, жаждущей добычи и победы», великолепной анимальности «стаи белокурых хищных зверей»...

Нельзя сомневаться в том, что вся мысль Ницше представляет собой более радикальное... более настойчивое контрдвижение по отношению к марксистской концепции и что идея истребления (Vernichtungsgedanke) представляет собой негативный аспект её сокровенного ядра. Ибо если история не является покушением (Attentat), длящимся тысячи лет, то только истребление виновника этого преступления может вернуть вещи в их истинное равновесие. Ницше не является в банальном смысле духовным отцом фашизма; но он был первым, кто дал голос той духовной фокусной точке, к которой должен тяготеть весь фашизм: нападению на практическую и теоретическую трансцендентность ради «более красивой» формы «жизни».

Не имея непосредственного отношения к политическим событиям дня, ницшеанская доктрина, которая одна позволяла уравнять социализм, либерализм и традиционный консерватизм, была принята и развита кругом фашизоидных авторов: доктрина бунта рабов и обеднения жизни через иудео-христианский ресентимент, (стр. 22)

Таким образом, нацистские истребления лучше всего было понимать как самый отчаянный (и по сути ницшеанский) «нападок, когда-либо совершенный на человеческое существо и трансцендентность внутри него». Хотя сам Нольте не продемонстрировал эти связи, мы уже видели, что это очень напоминало то, как различные ницшеанские нацистские источники определяли свой собственный проект как создание имманентного, ренатурализованного и антитрансцендентального общества.

В гораздо более поздней работе Нольте разъяснил специфически еврейский поворот, который нацизм придал этой ницшеанской структуре. То, что Гитлер имел в виду под словом еврей, писал Нольте в своей противоречивой книге «Европейская гражданская война, 1917—1945», было тем комплексом явлений, связанных с прогрессом, индустриализацией и контролем над природой — и отчуждением от неё, эмансипацией и индивидуализмом, которые сначала Ницше, а затем другие философы жизни, такие как Людвиг Клагес и Теодор Лессинг, объявили угрозой жизни. Поэтому Гитлер имел в виду тот же всемирно-исторический процесс, который для Маркса был одновременно прогрессом и упадком, что можно назвать интеллектуализацией мира. Но... Маркс, а также Ницше, Лессинг и Клагес были всегда далеки от утверждения, что этот процесс был вызван конкретной человеческой причиной. Гитлер затем сделал шаг, который был радикальным опрокидыванием всех предыдущих идеологий... посредством чего он приписал человеческой группе силу вызвать трансцендентальный процесс.

В новой книге Нольте «Ницше и ницшеанство» (1990) Ницше остается вдохновляющим центром нацистского истребительного драйва. Нольте фокусируется на природе истребительного мышления и языка в корпусе текстов Ницше. В очередной раз позитивное стремление Ницше к жизнеутверждению связывается с его призывом к жестокому уничтожению тех жизнеотрицающих, эмансипаторных форм, которые ответственны за царящие декаданс и упадок витальности. Нольте выделяет (несколько обойденный вниманием) отрывок из «Ecce Homo» как яркий пример подобных намерений:

Давайте заглянем на столетие вперед и предположим, что моя попытка совершить покушение на два тысячелетия антиприродности и человеческого искажения увенчалась успехом. Та новая партия жизни, которая взяла бы в свои руки величайшую из всех задач — высшее разведение (Hoherzuchtung) человечества, включая беспощадное уничтожение (schonungslose Vernichtung) всего вырождающегося и паразитического, — сделала бы вновь возможным тот избыток жизни на земле, из которого вновь вырастет дионисийское состояние.

Список противников Ницше, выступающих против жизни — христианские священники, вульгарные просветители, демократы, социалисты, выродившиеся массы, — настолько велик, утверждает теперь Нольте, что он затмевает нацистское «осуществление». «Если "истребление" [Ницше] понимать буквально, результатом должно стать массовое убийство, по сравнению с которым более позднее реальное "окончательное решение" национал-социалистов приобретает почти микроскопические пропорции. "Чистота" концепции была гораздо грандиознее, чем "нечистое" (Unreine) реальности».

Как тон, так и грамматика этого отрывка указывают на то, что ницшеанство Нольте стало аккуратно встроенным в его идеологическую рамку после «спора историков». Философ предстает центральным протагонистом и пророком всеобъемлющего видения Нольте мировой гражданской войны (Bürgerkrieg) двадцатого века, войны между диалектически связанными силами большевизма и национал-социализма. Ницше Нольте функционирует как «предсказание (Vorhersage) великой гражданской войны и концепции неизбежного истребления». Он вплетает эту концепцию уничтожения в свою содержательную хронологию взаимоотношений между этими двумя историческими силами и их разрушительными драйвами. Культурный Ницше, почти вопреки самому себе, вынужден «предвидеть великую мировую гражданскую войну и создать концепцию уничтожения (Vernichtungskonzept), которая была контрконцепцией другой и более оригинальной (ursprünglicheren) истребительной концепции». Таким образом, Ницше оказывается вписан в сомнительную редукцию Нольте нацизма и его злодеяний до реакции на более раннюю марксистскую версию того же мышления, в которой Холокост является упреждающим актом немецкой самообороны против восприятия еврейских намерений геноцида.

В Великобритании и Соединенных Штатах восприятие Ницше как главной силы, стоящей за созданием радикализованной, новой и уникально убийственной формы антисемитизма, должно было соперничать с интерпретативной гегемонией Уолтера Кауфмана и поэтому лишь недавно нашло своих историков. Мы уже упоминали о новаторской попытке Уриэля Таля выделить «антихристианский, антисемитский» пласт из других форм. Но именно Джордж Лихтхайм и Конор Круз О’Брайен связали философа напрямую со злодеяниями нацизма и его конечным конкретным выражением: Освенцимом. Модное представление о том, что Ницше был не антиеврейским, а антихристианским, утверждают они, игнорирует тот факт, что в христианстве Ницше больше всего ненавидел его еврейские истоки. Как писал Ницше в «Антихристе», евреи, с их желанием выжить любой ценой, были «самым катастрофическим народом мировой истории». Они радикально фальсифицировали всю природу, всю естественность, всю реальность, как всего внутреннего мира, так и внешнего... из самих себя они создали контрконцепцию естественным условиям: они превратили религию, культ, мораль, историю, психологию, одну за другой, в неизлечимое противоречие их естественным ценностям... своим последствием они сделали человечество настолько основательно фальшивым, что даже сегодня христианин может чувствовать себя антиеврейски, не осознавая, что он сам является конечным еврейским следствием.

Эти авторы подчеркивают, что Ницше является решающей силой в роковом переходе от «ограниченного» христианского антисемитизма к безграничному, светскому антихристианскому типу, который конкретно проложил путь к нацизму и Холокосту. Гитлер, пишет О’Брайен, усвоил от Ницше, «что традиционное христианское ограничение антисемитизма само по себе было частью еврейской уловки. Когда ценности, которые евреи перевернули, будут восстановлены, не будет никаких ограничений и никаких евреев».

Джордж Лихтхайм рассуждал в аналогичном ключе. Медленное проникновение ницшеанских идей, антитетичных иудео-христианскому наследию и его гуманистическим ответвлениям, было, как он утверждает, абсолютно необходимым для генезиса и становления нацизма. Только когда подобные представления успешно овладели определенными немецкими умами, Освенцим стал возможен. Ницше в представлении Лихтхайма — это протофашист, который еще в 1884 году писал:

Необходимо учение, достаточно мощное, чтобы действовать как селекционный агент: укрепляющее сильных, парализующее и разрушительное для утомленных миром. Уничтожение разлагающихся рас. Разложение Европы... Господство над землей как средство производства высшего типа. — Уничтожение тартюфства, называемого «моралью»... Уничтожение всеобщего избирательного права.

Этот Ницше, утверждал Лихтхайм, обеспечил часть интеллектуальной элиты необходимым мировоззрением, включая его самую радикальную форму антихристианского антисемитизма, кульминацией которого стал Холокост. Для Лихтхайма радикальный атеизм Ницше не имел ничего общего с фейербахианской традицией, которая стремилась заменить теизм гуманизмом. Этот антигуманистический атеизм, более того, «покончил со старым наивным и противоречивым христианским антисемитизмом, обвинив евреев коллективно в том, что они были первоначальными вдохновителями той ядовитой инфекции, известной как вера во Христа». Все это было полностью согласовано с долгосрочными целями Гитлера: «Не будет преувеличением сказать, — утверждал Лихтхайм, — что если бы не Ницше, СС — ударные отряды Гитлера и ядро всего движения — не хватило бы того вдохновения, которое позволило им осуществить свою программу массовых убийств в Восточной Европе».

Подобного рода объяснения, несомненно, также имеют свои недостатки. Недавние функционалистские исследования, например, предоставили структурно-бюрократическое описание массовых убийств, в котором весь вопрос психологической мотивации и идеологического вдохновения практически обходится стороной. Очевидно, что для событий столь сложных и насыщенных, как эти, не может быть и речи о теоретической или методологической монополии. Тем не менее объяснения, которые полностью отбрасывают образ мыслей нацизма и низводят идейные мотивации до простого фона, оставляют важный аспект нераскрытым. В этом отношении более традиционные способы исторического анализа вскоре достигают своих пределов и оставляют чувство разочаровывающей неполноты. Поскольку такие функционалистские подходы упускают важное ядро, культурные и интеллектуальные объяснения будут предприниматься и впредь, несмотря на все трудности. Ницше сохранит центральное место в таких отчетах. Для этого есть много причин, но прежде всего он останется актуальным как ключ к объяснению тяги национал-социализма к самым крайним пределам, его прихода к гротескной новизне человеческого опыта. Назойливо, тематические сходства заявляют о себе.

Нацизм был, несомненно, многогранным историческим явлением. Его революционный порыв соседствовал с мелкобуржуазными и провинциальными интересами. Тем не менее сохраняется восприятие, что его историческая значимость заключалась в беспрецедентных переоценках и нарушающих границы крайностях, а также в акцентах на разрушении и насильственной регенерации, здоровье и болезни. Нацизм в этом смысле продолжает рассматриваться многими как политика — какой бы деградировавшей и избирательно опосредованной она ни была, — созданная в «великом» ницшеанском духе.

Нацисты нашли в Ницше ту традицию, которую они интерпретировали как призыв к войне в качестве терапии против слабости и культивированию «той глубокой безличной ненависти, того хладнокровного убийства в сочетании с чистой совестью, того общинного, организующего рвения в уничтожении врага» как пути к коллективному здоровью. Прежде всего, видение Ницше было видением всепоглощающей болезни и исцеления. Состояние, заявлял он, было «не... болезнью, а болезненностью», под которой он подразумевал постоянную слабость и озабоченность моралью. Ницше продолжал утверждать, что «человек здоров, когда... он чувствует, что "укус" совести подобен собаке, кусающей камень, — когда он стыдится своего раскаяния», и можно приписать «больше здоровья души» преступнику, который «не клевещет на свой поступок после того, как он совершен», чем грешнику, который «унижается перед крестом» (Лифтон, «Нацистские врачи», 486).

Соответствующие (и всегда избирательные) цитаты приведены в «Человеческом, слишком человеческом», 176, и «Воле к власти», 29–30, 134–135.

Документирование влияния Ницше началось рано. См. Женевьева Бьянки, «Ницше во Франции» (Париж: Ф. Алькан, 1929); Ги де Пурталес, «Ницше в Италии» (Париж: Грассе, 1929).Вальтер Кауфман, «Ницше: философ, психолог, антихрист», 4-е изд. (Принстон, Нью-Джерси: Издательство Принстонского университета, [1950] 1974), 9. Влияние Ницше на современную мысль и его роль в различных академических дисциплинах будут обсуждаться лишь постольку, поскольку они затрагивали его более широкое воздействие на немецкую политику, культуру и идентичность.О заявлении касательно общей природы процессов рецепции см. Ханс Роберт Яусс, «К эстетике рецепции», пер. Тимоти Бати, введ. Пол де Ман (Миннеаполис: Издательство Миннесотского университета, 1986).О динамической природе рецепции Ницше см. комментарии в Массимо Феррари Зумбини, «Закаты и рассветы: о Шпенглере и Ницше», Nietzsche-Studien 5 (1976), 219. Комментаторы давно осознали, что репрезентация философии Ницше была тесно связана с развивающейся историей самой ницшеанской интерпретации.Многочисленные встречи, упомянутые в этой книге — Томас Манн и Ницше, Освальд Шпенглер и Ницше, Готфрид Бенн и Ницше, Карл Юнг и Ницше и т. д. — получили подробный анализ в других работах. Здесь нам пришлось утешиться предостережениями Ницше относительно ограниченности подобных печально известных исследований в духе «и».О масштабах и охвате восприятия Ницше в Германии только до 1918 года см. незаменимый библиографический справочник Рихарда Франка Круммеля, «Ницше и немецкий дух», 2 тома (Берлин, Нью-Йорк: Вальтер де Грюйтер, 1974/1983). О многоязычном, но гораздо менее полном списке, выходящем за рамки 1918 года, см. компиляцию Герберта У. Райхерта и Карла Шлехты, «Международная библиография Ницше» (Чапел-Хилл: Издательство Университета Северной Каролины, 1960).«Эффекты или структура текста не сводимы к его „истине“, к предполагаемому смыслу его автора или даже к его якобы уникальному и идентифицируемому подписанту» (Жак Деррида, «Отобиографии: Учение Ницше и политика собственного имени», в книге «Ухо другого: Отобиография, перенос, перевод», под ред. Кристи В. Макдональд, пер. Пегги Камуф и Авитал Ронелл [Нью-Йорк: Шокен Букс, 1985]), 29.Безусловно, историк должен быть внимателен к явным выдумкам, купюрам, выборочному редактированию и прямой фальсификации текстов Ницше; печально известные манипуляции Элизабет Фёрстер-Ницше хорошо известны.См. Кауфман, «Ницше», 4. Глава 10 иллюстрирует его подход к нацистскому вопросу.Георг Лукач, «Разрушение разума», пер. Питер Палмер (Атлантик-Хайлендс, Нью-Джерси: Хьюманитис Пресс, 1981).Арно Дж. Майер, «Сохранение старого порядка: Европа до Великой войны» (Нью-Йорк: Pantheon, 1981), 290; см. также 275-329. Майер не предоставляет примечаний или документальных свидетельств в поддержку подобных утверждений. Более подробное обсуждение взаимосвязи между ницшеанством и правящими элитами см. в главе 4.Фридрих Ницше, «Почему я пишу такие хорошие книги», в книге «К генеалогии морали и Ecce Homo», пер. и ред. Уолтера Кауфмана (Нью-Йорк: Vintage, 1969), 262.Р. Хинтон Томас, «Ницше в немецкой политике и обществе 1890—1918» (Манчестер: Manchester University Press, 1983).Г. Л. Менкен, «Введение», в книге Фридриха Ницше «Антихрист» (Нью-Йорк, 1923). Цитируется по: Бриджуотер, «Ницше в англосаксонском мире», 145-146.О другой точке зрения на размывание этих различий см.: Zeev Sternhell, Neither Right nor Left (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1986).«Максимы и стрелы», в кн.: «Сумерки идолов», 25.Ницше, «Почему я пишу такие хорошие книги», в кн.: «Ecce Homo», 265.Kaufmann, Nietzsche, 414; см. также с. 250.См. комментарии Курта Рудольфа Фишера в дискуссии по докладу Роберта Э. Макгинна «Превращения сверхчеловека Ницше в литературе Средиземноморья: д’Аннунцио, Маринетти и Казандзакис», Nietzsche-Studien 10/11 (1981-1982), 611.Именно этот дух прослеживается у Мартина Бубера, «Слово о Ницше и словах жизни», Die Kunst im Leben (декабрь 1900), 13.Ницше, «О старых и новых скрижалях», в кн.: «Portable Nietzsche», 308.Генрих Берль, «Ницше и иудаизм», Menorah 10 (1932), 59—69.К. Г. Юнг, «Ницшеанский Заратустра: заметки семинара 1934—1939 гг.», 2 тома, под ред. Джеймса Л. Джаретта (Принстон, Нью-Джерси: Издательство Принстонского университета, 1988).Томас Манн, «Размышления аполитичного», пер. Уолтера Д. Морриса (Нью-Йорк: Фредерик Унгар, 1983), 13.Герхард Гильберт, «Современные цели воли» (Лейпциг: А. Дайхерт, 1911), 19. Это была очень распространенная тема, адаптированная к склонностям конкретного комментатора.Альберт Кальтофф, «Проповеди Заратустры: речи о нравственном понимании жизни Фридриха Ницше» (Лейпциг: Ойген Дидерихс, 1904), 4.Жорж Батай, «Ницше и фашисты» (1937), в сб. «Видения избытка: избранные сочинения», под ред. Аллана Стокла, пер. Аллана Стокла и др. (Манчестер: Издательство Манчестерского университета, 1985), 185, 187.Ницше, «Почему я — рок» в «Ecce Homo», 326.Ницше, «О дарящей добродетели» в «Portable Nietzsche», 190.Томас Ниппердай, «Было ли вильгельмовское общество обществом подданных?» в «Размышления о немецкой истории» (Мюнхен: C. H. Beck, 1986), 178-179.Это название главы в превосходном анализе этого изменения, сделанном Джорджем Моссе в его книге «Культура Западной Европы: девятнадцатый и двадцатый века», 3-е изд. (Боулдер и Лондон: Westview Press, 1988).Среди многих исследований, посвященных этим тенденциям, см. Г. Стюарт Хьюз, «Сознание и общество: переориентация европейской социальной мысли 1890-1930» (Нью-Йорк: Random House, 1958).Ницше, «Взрывные натуры», в «Веселой науке», 106.Зеев Штернхель, «Фашистская идеология» в Уолтер Лакер, «Фашизм: путеводитель читателя» (Хармондсворт: Penguin, 1976), 333—334.«Рождение трагедии», пер. Уолтера Кауфмана (Нью-Йорк: Vintage, 1967), 135.Георг Зиммель был самым известным представителем этого направления. См. главу 4 в книге Лукача «Разрушение разума» для получения особого, критического взгляда как на «философию жизни», так и на Зиммеля.Шорске, «Венский fin de siècle», xix.Готфрид Бенн, «Ответ литературным эмигрантам», в сб. «Первозданное видение», под ред. Э. Б. Эштона (Нью-Йорк: New Directions, 1971), 48.Уильям Дж. Макграт, «Дионисийское искусство и популистская политика в Австрии» (Нью-Хейвен, Коннектикут, и Лондон: Yale University Press, 1974).Работа Брандеса «Аристократический радикализм: Трактат о Фридрихе Ницше» впервые появилась в Германии в 1890 году в журнале Deutsche Rundschau 63, № 7 (апрель 1900), 52–89.Ницше, «Почему я пишу такие хорошие книги», в кн. «Ecce Homo», 262.Среди его членов были люди, которые впоследствии участвовали в различных течениях ницшеанской истории, включая Бруно Вилле и Арно Хольца. Хольц написал сатирическую комедию «Социал-аристократы», пародирующую индивидуалистический, элитарный ницшеанство Вилле.Фридрих Ницше — И. Ф. Овербеку, 24 марта 1887 г., цитируется по: Карл Лёвит, «От Гегеля к Ницше: Революция в мысли девятнадцатого века» (Нью-Йорк: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1965), 423, прим. 59.В работе Крюммеля «Ницше и немецкий дух» записи за двадцать два года до 1889 года занимают всего 79 страниц. Записи 1890-х годов занимают 192 страницы!Курт Эйснер, Psychopathia Spiritualis: Friedrich Nietzsche und die Apostel der Zukunft (Лейпциг: Вильгельм Фридрих, 1892), 9.Хуберт А. Канчик, «Der Nietzsche-Kult in Weimar (II)» («Культ Ницше в Веймаре (II)»), в Die Religion von Oberschichten: Religion, Profession, Intellektualismus (Религия высших слоев: религия, профессия, интеллектуализм), под ред. Петера Антеса и Донате Панке (Марбург: Диагональ, 1989), 89, 110-111. Благодарю Ги Струмсу за эту ссылку.Адольф Левенштейн, Friedrich Nietzsche im Urteil der Arbeiterklasse (Фридрих Ницше в суждении рабочего класса) (Лейпциг: Ф. Майнер, 1914).Теодор Фрич, «Nietzsche und die Jugend» («Ницше и молодежь»), Hammer: Blätter für deutschen Sinn 10, № 29 (март 1911), 115. О продолжающемся в веймарский период акценте на польском происхождении Ницше см. Карл Кинаст, «Der Fall Nietzsche im Lichte rassenkundlicher Betrachtung» («Дело Ницше в свете расоведческого рассмотрения»), Die Sonne 2 (1925), 533—540, 722—728.Генрих Риккерт, Die Philosophie des Lebens (Философия жизни). Цитируется по: Крюммель, Nietzsche, том 1, 414.Освальд Шпенглер, «Nietzsche and His Century» («Ницше и его век»), в Selected Essays (Избранные эссе), пер. Дональда О. Уайта (Чикаго: Гейтвей, 1967), 196-197.В качестве одного из примеров такой аннексии см. Franz Haiser, Die Judenfrage vom Standpunkt der herrenmoral: Rechtsvölkische und linksvölkische Weltanschauung (Лейпциг: T. Weicher, 1926). Он утверждает, что, хотя только немцы были способны постичь Ницше в полной мере, им сначала нужно было преодолеть филистерство в самих себе (92).Культурный ницшеанец граф Гарри Кесслер, например, был потрясен рассуждениями Шпенглера в той лекции: «В течение часа толстый человек с мясистым подбородком и жестоким ртом... извергал самую банальную и тривиальную чушь. Любой молодой рабочий из Ассоциации рабочего образования, который попытался бы просветить своих товарищей о философии Ницше, справился бы лучше. Ни одной оригинальной идеи. Даже фальшивого блеска нет. Все одинаково поверхностно, скучно, безвкусно и утомительно» (The Diaries of a Cosmopolitan: Count Harry Kessler 1918–1937, пер. и ред. Charles Kessler [Лондон: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1971], 333–334).Rudolf Pannwitz, Einführung in Nietzsche (Мюнхен-Фельдафинг: Hans Carl, 1920), 1.Mann, Reflections, 104.Karl Lowith, Mein Leben in Deutschland vor und nach 1933: Ein Bericht (Штутгарт: J. B. Metzlersche, 1986), 6.Jung, Nietzsche’s Zarathustra, том 2, 909-910. Влияние Ницше на Юнга было ранним и глубоким: «Видите ли, я был мальчиком, когда он был профессором в университете. Я никогда не видел его, но я очень часто видел его друга Якоба Буркхардта, а также Бахофена, так что нас не разделяли космические расстояния. Ум Ницше был одним из первых духовных влияний, которые я испытал».Там же, 920 сл.Курт Хильдебрандт, «Ницше как судья: Его судьба» в сб. «Ницше как судья нашего времени», Э. Гундольф и К. Хильдебрандт, 65—104. (Бреслау: Фердинанд Хирт, 1923), 97.Эссе в «Несвоевременных размышлениях» (опубликованные лишь в 1893 году) все появились задолго до этого: «Давид Штраус, исповедник и писатель» и «О пользе и вреде истории для жизни» в 1873 году, «Шопенгауэр как воспитатель» в 1874 году и «Рихард Вагнер в Байройте» в 1876 году (Фридрих Ницше, «Несвоевременные размышления», пер. Р. Дж. Холлингдейла, введ. Дж. П. Стерна (Кембридж: Издательство Кембриджского университета, 1983)).Гарри граф Кесслер, «Лица и времена: Воспоминания» (Берлин: С. Фишер, 1962), 229, 243.Георг Зиммель, «Фридрих Ницше: Морально-философский силуэт», Журнал философии и философской критики 2 (1896), 202-215.Курт Брейзиг, «Памятная речь у гроба Фридриха Ницше», Die Zukunft 32 (8 сентября 1900), 413-414. Позже мы увидим, в какой степени позитивный миф о Ницше поддерживался его смертью.Фридрих Ницше, «Воля к власти», пер. Уолтера Кауфмана и Р. Дж. Холлингдейла, ред. Уолтер Кауфман (Нью-Йорк: Vintage, 1968), 3.См. Р. А. Николлс, «Начало ницшеанской моды в Германии», Modern Philology 56 (1958), 25, 37, где содержатся схожие мысли. Я не принимаю концепцию о том, что культ Ницше делится на два периода и что до 1900 года акцент делался на критических работах, а после — на пророческих.Некоторые размышления о Ницше и современной политической и общественной жизни см. Артур Руппин, «Современное мировоззрение и философия Ницше», Die Gegenwart 10 (1903), 147 сл.Карл Йоэль, «Ницше и романтизм» (Йена и Лейпциг: Ойген Дидерихс, 1905), 68.Хильберт, «Современные цели воли», 19. Стоит отметить, что эти комментарии исходили от человека, который во многом был весьма критичен по отношению к Ницше.То, что это было как постоянной предрасположенностью, так и иногда буквально подразумеваемым намерением, можно увидеть в исследовании американского психолога Сэмюэля Дж. Уорнера, в котором Ницше и сатанизм сливаются в идентичные воплощения стремления к личному и массовому разрушению («Стремление к массовому разрушению» [Нью-Йорк и Лондон: Grune and Stratton, 1957]).Сандер Гилман, «Дело об убийстве Ницше; или что делает опасные философии опасными» в книге «Различие и патология: стереотипы сексуальности, расы и безумия» (Итака, штат Нью-Йорк: Издательство Корнеллского университета, 1985), 59.Вильгельм фон Поленц, «Разрыхлитель корней» (Берлин: Ф. Фонтане, 1902), 7 и сл. См. Крюммель, «Ницше», том 2, 63—65.Фрич, «Ницше и молодежь», 113.Некоторые примеры см. в книге: Вильгельм Карл Беккер, «Культ Ницше: глава из истории заблуждений человеческого духа» (Лейпциг: Рихард Липински, 1908), 35 и сл.Гилман, «Различие и патология», 73. Гилман приводит примеры немецких судебных дел и самоубийств. Даже в 1980-х годах в Израиле средства массовой информации старались подчеркнуть, что Мордехай Вануну, осужденный за разглашение фотографий израильского атомного реактора в Димоне, читал Ницше и находился под его влиянием (Нахум Барнеа, «Взгляд в дневник» (на иврите), «Котерет Рашит» (19 ноября 1986), 11-15).Айснер, «Духовная психопатия». (Работа была первоначально опубликована в журнале «Die Gesellschaft» в 1891 году.) Ее название было игрой слов с «Половой психопатией» барона Рихарда фон Крафт-Эбинга.Герман Тюрк, «Фридрих Ницше и его философские заблуждения» (Дрезден: Глёсс, 1891), 7.Пауль Юлиус Мёбиус, «О патологическом у Ницше» (Висбаден: Й. Ф. Бергманн, 1902). Работа завершается предостережением: «Будьте недоверчивы, ибо у этого человека расстройство мозга». Работа Мёбиуса получила высокую оценку в авторитетных стандартных психиатрических справочниках, таких как «Психиатрия» Эмиля Крепелина, как в издании 1903, так и 1909 года. См. Крюммель, «Ницше», том 2, 77—78, прим. 63.Джоэл, «Ницше и романтизм», 327.Об этом чрезвычайно влиятельном тексте см. Ницше, «Веселая наука», 181—182.Цит. по: Колин Уилсон, «Рудольф Штайнер, человек и его видение: введение в жизнь и идеи основателя антропософии» (Веллингборо, Англия: Аквариан Пресс, 1985), 87—88.Виланд Херцфельде, «Этика душевнобольных», «Ди Акцион» 4 (1914). См. также Августинус П. Дирик, «Немецкая экспрессионистская проза: теория и практика» (Торонто: Издательство Университета Торонто, 1987), 206—207.Август Хорнеффер, «День смерти Ницше», «Ди Тат» 2 (1910—1911), 356—360.Айседора Дункан, «Айседора говорит», под ред. Франклина Роземонта (Сан-Франциско: Сити Лайт Букс, 1983), 121.Жорж Батай, «Безумие Ницше», 3 января 1939 г. в «Октобер 36» (весна 1986 г.), 44. См. также в том же источнике «О Ницше: воля к случаю», 55.Полезную историю книги см. во введении Джорджа Моссе в книге Макса Нордау «Дегенерация» (Нью-Йорк: Говард Фертиг, 1968). См. также П. М. Болдуин, «Либерализм, национализм и дегенерация: случай Макса Нордау», «Центральноевропейская история» 13, № 2 (июнь 1980).Нордау, «Дегенерация», 5.Дж. Эдвард Чемберлин и Сандер Л. Гилман, ред., «Дегенерация: темная сторона прогресса» (Нью-Йорк: Издательство Колумбийского университета, 1985).Нордау, «Дегенерация», 15-33.Там же, 416, 451.Ницше, «Так говорил Заратустра», 187.Нордау, «Дегенерация», 551. См. также формулировки на стр. 556.Существовали пьесы всех видов — критические, сатирические и трагические. См. Дж. В. Видман, «По ту сторону добра и зла: пьеса в трех актах» (Штутгарт: Дж. Г. Котта, 1893). К 1886 году Видман назвал работы Ницше опасными. Он был не консерватором, а прогрессистом, обеспокоенным антидемократическими, элитарными и антифеминистскими взглядами Ницше (Дж. В. Видман, «Опасная книга Ницше», «Der Bund» 37, № 326 [1886]). Существовала также сатирическая пьеса Арно Хольца «Социальные аристократы». Комедия была написана в 1896 году и поставлена в Берлине в июне 1897 года. Более поздний пример, поставленный Вагнеровским обществом в Берлине в 1912 году, — «Третий рейх: трагедия индивидуализма» Пауля Фридриха (Лейпциг: Ксениен, 1910). Здесь история жизни Ницше была пересказана как «трагедия, в которой косвенно виноваты мы все».Описание бума журналов, газет и прессы в Германии, а также распространения идей Ницше см. в работе Жоэль Филлипи, «Образ Ницше в немецкой журнальной прессе на рубеже веков» (докторская диссертация, Саарский университет, Саарбрюккен, 1970).Харден был влиятельным посредником агрессивной, позитивной ницшеаны. Его важный журнал Die Zukunft не только предоставлял площадку для многих статей Элизабет Фёрстер-Ницше, но и поощрял ницшеанство в целом.Emil Ludwig, Geschenke des Lebens: Ein Rückblick (Berlin: E. Rowohlt, 1931), 159ff.Emil Ludwig, Richard Dehmel (Berlin: S. Fischer, 1913), 118ff.Paul Venable Turner, The Education of Le Corbusier (New York, 1978), 56ff.Одним из показателей этого является многократное включение связанных с Ницше понятий, содержащихся в Otto Ladendorf, Historisches Schlagwörterbuch: Ein Versuch (Stuttgart and Berlin: Teubner, 1906). См. Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 223.M. G. Conrad, Der Übermensch in der Politik: Betrachtungen Uber die Reichzustande am Ende des Jahrhunderts (Stuttgart: Robert Lutz, 1895). Хотя эта книга была беспощадно критической, также верно и то, что Конрад, будучи редактором Die Gesellschaft, был неутомимым пропагандистом Ницше и «новой» литературы.Raoul Richter, “Friedrich Nietzsche und die Kultur unserer Zeit,” rep. in Essays, ed. Lina Richter (Leipzig: F. Meiner, 1913), 112.Ницше обычно описывали как мыслителя с по существу музыкальной (следовательно, немецкой) чувствительностью (Bernard Scharlitt, “Das Musikalische Element in Friedrich Nietzsche,” Die Musik 4 [1904], 108-112). К 1901 году роль Ницше в немецкой современной музыке была уже вполне очевидна.Сознательные музыкальные модернисты, такие как Альбан Берг, были восторженными ницшеанцами (Briefe an seine Frau [Munich and Vienna: Längen-Müller, 1965], 16, 31, 88, 123ff).См. Krummel, Nietzsche, vol. 2, 167 and n. 186.Jürgen Krause, “Märtyrer” und “Prophet”: Studien zum Nietzsche-Kult in der bildenden Kunst der Jahrhundertwende (Berlin and New York: Walter de Gruyter, 1984). Поскольку Краузе уже полностью осветил эту тему, я лишь концентрируюсь на некоторых основных моментах, относящихся к настоящей работе. См. также Dietrich Schubart, “Nietzsche konkretionsformen in der bildenden Kunst 1890-1933,” Nietzsche-Studien 10/11 (1981/1982).“Der Riese: Friedrich Nietzsche,” Pan 1, no. 2 (1895), opposite 94. Самый первый выпуск открывался фрагментом Ницше “Zarathustra vor dem Konige” (стр. 1) и “Das Königslied”, стихотворением Пауля Шеербарта, стр. 2-3. Также был воспроизведен знаменитый бюст Макса Клингера “Der Philosoph”.Краузе, «Мученик» и «Пророк», содержит обширный перечень этих попыток и некоторые соображения, стоящие за ними.Краузе, «Мученик» и «Пророк», 131, 119—120.Бернхард Целлер, Герман Гессе в свидетельствах современников и фотодокументах (Гамбург: Райнбек, 1963), 32 и сл.См. Краузе, «Мученик» и «Пророк», илл. 10. Цитата довольно сомнительна. См. также гл. 4, прим. 110.Эта история рассказана в книге Эдварда Тиммса, Карл Краус, апокалиптический сатирик: Культура и катастрофа в габсбургской Вене (Нью-Хейвен и Лондон: Издательство Йельского университета, 1986), 309.Тильман Буддензиг, «Жилой дом как культовое сооружение: К дармштадтскому дому Беренса», в книге Петер Беренс и Нюрнберг (Мюнхен: Престель, 1980). Благодарю Кристиану Шютц за то, что она обратила мое внимание на ницшеанские связи Беренса.Там же, 44; см. также Алан Виндзор, Петер Беренс: Архитектор и дизайнер (Лондон: Архитектурное издательство, 1981).См. восторженное описание кайзера Вильгельма как воплощения ницшеанской воли к власти в книге Георга Фукса «Кайзер и будущее немецкого народа» (Мюнхен и Лейпциг: Мюллер, 1906), 72 и сл.; цитируется по: Крюммель, Ницше, том 2, 155.Манфредо Тафури, Франческо Даль Ко, Современная архитектура, пер. Роберта Эриха Вольфа (Нью-Йорк: Гарри Н. Абрамс, 1979), 96.Там же, 96-97.Ницше, «Так говорил Заратустра», 213. От начала до конца «Заратустра» пронизан образами и метафорами высот и гор. Еще один пример см.: Заратустра, «Странник», третья часть, 264—266.Вольфганг Пент, Экспрессионистская архитектура (Нью-Йорк и Вашингтон, округ Колумбия: Прегер, 1973), гл. 5. Об альпийской архитектуре см. с. 82—83, о влиянии Ницше в целом — с. 41—43. Несмотря на весь акцент Таута на величественном одиночестве, он также предусматривал массовые экскурсии для просвещения рабочих, которые наблюдали бы за его творениями с воздуха (с. 208).Там же, 208.Вальтер Хаммер, «Ницше в высокогорье», Davoser Blätter 37, № 34 (19 сентября 1908). См. также Эрнст Бертрам, «Ницше и горы», Deutsche Alpenzeitung 11 (1911—1912), 279—282.«Джованни Сегантини», Pan 1, № 3 (1895), 193—195.Краузе, «Мученик» и «Пророк», 77, особенно прим. 344.Фридрих, Третий рейх.Пример этого жанра см.: Беккер, Культ Ницше. Христианскую критику см.: д-р Адельберт Дюрингер, «Культ Ницше», Доказательство веры в духовной жизни современности 5 (1908), 238—242.Нордау, Вырождение, 442, 454—457.Тюрк, «Фридрих Ницше», цитируется по: Краммель, «Ницше», том 1, 98.Вальтер Экштейн, «Фридрих Ницше в суждении потомков», «Журнал истории идей» 6 (1945).Хуберт Трайбер, «"Монастырь для свободных умов" Ницше: Ницше и Вебер как воспитатели», в сб. «Религия высших слоев общества», под ред. Петера Антеса и Донате Панке (Марбург: Диагональ-Верлаг, 1989).Джордж Лихтхайм, «Европа в двадцатом веке», 185.Юрген Краузе, «Мученик» и «пророк»: Исследования культа Ницше в изобразительном искусстве на рубеже веков (Берлин и Нью-Йорк: Вальтер де Грюйтер, 1984). Поскольку Краузе уже полностью осветил эту тему, я лишь концентрируюсь на некоторых основных моментах, относящихся к данной работе. См. также Дитрих Шубарт, «Формы конкретизации Ницше в изобразительном искусстве 1890–1933», «Ницше-Штудиен» 10/11 (1981/1982).Фридрих Паульсен, «Отцы и дети: Социально-педагогическое исследование современной Германии», «Дойче Рундшау» (май 1907), 229–230.«Современная софистика: Слово о культе Ницше», «Альгемайне Евангелиш-Лютерише Кирхенцайтунг» 30 (1897). Цитируется по: Краммель, «Ницше», том 1, 183.А. Баумайстер, «Фридрих Ницше, опасный искуситель подрастающей молодежи», Lehrproben und Lehrgänge 1 (1902), 2. Баумайстер сравнивал эту гнусную социал-демократию со спасительными достоинствами «гуманитарного национал-социализма» Фридриха Наумана. См. также сравнительную работу в поддержку Наумана: Георг Бидекапп, «Фридрих Ницше и Фридрих Науман как политики» (Гёттинген: Фриц Вундер, 1901)Людвиг Штайн, «Мировоззрение Фридриха Ницше и его опасности», Deutsche Rundschau № 6, 8 (март, май 1893), особенно № 6, стр. 376, 380. Помещая его в рамки давней традиции цинизма, Штайн пытался притупить остроту оригинальности Ницше.Фридрих Ницше, «По ту сторону добра и зла: Прелюдия к философии будущего», пер. Уолтера Кауфмана (Нью-Йорк: Vintage, 1966), 38.Ницше, «О пользе и вреде истории для жизни», в «Несвоевременных размышлениях», 61.О версии этой темы конца двадцатого века см. Петер Слотердайк, «Критика цинического разума», пер. Майкла Элдреда (Миннеаполис: University of Minnesota Press, 1987). Ницше занимает центральное место в этой работе и обсуждается с точки зрения его собственной «решительной самохарактеристики» как «циника» (Cyniker)...Штайн, «Мировоззрение Ницше», 383.Георг Танчер, «Фридрих Ницше и неоромантизм: исследование эпохи» (Юрьев [Дерпт]: И. Г. Крюгер, 1900), 5.Эйснер имел в виду таких литературных ницшеанцев, как Ула Ханссон, Герман Конради и О. Ю. Бирбаум; философские изыскания Альберта Книпфа; а также политический трактат в духе фёлькише Юлиуса Лангбена «Рембрандт как воспитатель» — название, созданное по образцу работы Ницше «Шопенгауэр как воспитатель».Превосходный портрет Тённиса, а также описание его интеллектуального и политического развития см. в книге: Артур Мицман, «Социология и отчуждение: три социолога имперской Германии» (Нью-Йорк: Кнопф, 1973).Фердинанд Тённис, «Культ Ницше: критика» (Лейпциг: О. Р. Райсланд, 1897), 10.Там же, 109–110.Фердинанд Тённис, «Этическая культура и ее сопровождение»: [в журналах «Будущее» и «Современность»], том 1, «Ницшеанские болваны», том 2, «Волки в овечьей шкуре» (Берлин: Ф. Дюммлер, 1893).См. Эрих Шлайкьер, «Культ Ницше» и «К психологии культа Ницше» в журнале Die Hilfe 5, № 10, 13 (5 марта, 26 марта 1899).Беккер, «Культ Ницше», 99.Там же, 6–7, 97.О влиянии антинаучной направленности Ницше на особый характер немецкой социологии см. Вольф Лепенис, «Между литературой и наукой: возникновение социологии» (Кембридж: Издательство Кембриджского университета, 1988). Благодарю Джерри Мюллера за последнюю ссылку.См. Юрген Зандер, «Фердинанд Тённис и Фридрих Ницше», в сб. «Прибытие к Тённису: социологические статьи к 125-летию со дня рождения Фердинанда Тённиса», под ред. Ларса Клаузена и Франца Урбана Паппи (Киль: В. Мюлау, 1981), 185—227.Либерсон, «Судьба и утопия», 23—24.Тённис, «Этическая культура», 13-24. Цит. по: Либерсон, «Судьба и утопия», 37-38.Это было очевидно уже в работе Зиммеля «О социальной дифференциации» (Амстердам: Liberae, [1890] 1966). См. также К. Петер Эцкорн, ред., «Георг Зиммель: конфликт в современной культуре и другие эссе» (Нью-Йорк: Издательство Педагогического колледжа, 1968).Георг Зиммель, «Шопенгауэр и Ницше: цикл лекций» (Лейпциг: Дункер и Хумблот, 1907). Зиммель сказал Эрнсту Трёльчу, что считает эту книгу своей самой важной работой (Трёльч, «Собрание сочинений», том 3 [Тюбинген: И. К. Б. Мор, 1922]), 121. Цит. по: Круммель, «Ницше», том 2, 273, прим. 234. О Зиммеле в целом см. Либерсон, «Судьба и утопия», гл. 5, и Курт Х.Зиммель, «Шопенгауэр и Ницше», 170-192; см. также статью Зиммеля «К пониманию Ницше», «Das freie Wort» 2 (1902-1903), 9 сл.Любое возвышение типа «человек» до сих пор было делом аристократического общества — и так будет всегда — общества, которое верит в длинную лестницу рангов и различий в ценности между человеком и человеком и которое нуждается в рабстве в том или ином смысле.Клаус Лихтблау, «Пафос дистанции: прелиминарии к рецепции Ницше у Георга Зиммеля», в сб. «Георг Зиммель и современность», под ред. Хайнца-Юргена Даме и Оттхайна Раммштедта (Франкфурт-на-Майне: Зуркамп, 1984), 231-281.Георг Зиммель, «Культ Ницше», «Deutsche Literaturzeitung» 42 (23 октября 1897), 1645-1651.Либерсон, «Судьба и утопия», 142.Пауль Эрнст, «Фридрих Ницше: его историческое положение, его философия», Freie Bühne 1, № 18, 19 (4 июня, 11 июня 1890), 489 сл., 516-520. С изменением политических взглядов пришло и изменение оценки Ницше самим Эрнстом.Франц Меринг, рецензия на «Psychopathia Spiritualis» Курта Эйснера, Die Neue Zeit 10 (1892), 668.Юрген Хабермас, «К теории познания Ницше», в сб. Фридрих Ницше, «Эпистемологические сочинения» (Франкфурт, 1968). Перепеч. в сб. «Культура и критика: разрозненные эссе», Юрген Хабермас (Франкфурт, 1973), 239-263. См. также «Консервативная политика, труд, социализм и утопия сегодня», в сб. «Автономия и солидарность: интервью с Юргеном Хабермасом», под ред. Питера Дьюса, 131—147 (Лондон: Verso, 1986)Ф. Герман, «Мировоззрения и Ницше», Der Türmer 13, № 2 (ноябрь 1910), 228.Рихард Элер, «Действительно ли Ницше мертв?» Der Türmer 13, № 4 (январь 1911).Франц Сервас, «Критика и искусство», Neue deutsche Rundschau (1895), 165: Ницше — это самая алая кровь нашего времени, и она была дымящейся пролита на алтарь идолов времени. И после этого Ницше должен быть мертв, даже если бы он умер тысячу раз? О, нам всем еще придется испить из его крови! Никого из нас это не минует.Макс Цербст, Нет и Да! Ответ на брошюру д-ра Германа Тюрка «Фридрих Ницше и его философские заблуждения» (Лейпциг: К. Г. Науман, 1892). См. также: Крюммель, «Ницше», том 1, 110.Сюда входили некоторые из тех, кто также работал в архиве, например, Рудольф Штайнер и братья Хорнеффер.Столь же искажающим было бы полное игнорирование его деятельности, что, тем не менее, удается Р. Хинтону Томасу («Ницше в немецкой политике и обществе»).Рихард Элер, «Будущее ницшеанского движения» (Лейпциг: Арманен, 1938), 12.См., например, разнообразные и зачастую захватывающие материалы в сборнике «В память о Фридрихе Ницше» (Лейпциг: Druck und C. G. Naumann, 1900). См. также речь Шпенглера «Ницше и его век».О праздновании ее шестидесятилетия см. отчет в Berliner Tageblatt (25 июля 1906 г.), процитированный в: Крюммель, «Ницше», том 2, 252; «Сверхженщина» Альфреда Керра (Tag [27 июля 1906 г.]) — это поэтическая сатира на эти торжества. См. также материалы в честь Фёрстер-Ницше на ее семидесятипятилетие, «Духам Фридриха Ницше» (Мюнхен: Музарион, 1921).Г. Ф. Питерс, «Сестра Заратустры: дело Элизабет и Фридриха Ницше» (Нью-Йорк: Маркус Винер, 1985). В книге Кауфмана «Ницше» также содержится глубокий анализ её деятельности и пресловутых редакторских методов.Питерс в «Сестре Заратустры» приводит многочисленные примеры конфликтов, судебных дел и скандалов, в которые была вовлечена Фёрстер-Ницше. Сообщения о её неспособности воспринимать любую критику, редакторскую или иную — особенно принимать даже намёк на то, что она занимается мифотворчеством, — а также о её склонности верить, что она является жертвой богохульных заговоров, многочисленны.Полезный обзор роли Фёрстер-Ницше в распространении героического мифа о Ницше см. в работе Филлипи «Образ Ницше», раздел под названием «Ницшеанский миф Элизабет: Ницше как полубог».Полный список см. в работе Крюммеля «Ницше».Краузе, «Мученик» и «Пророк», 155. Книга Людовичи «Ницше и искусство» (Лондон: Констебль, 1911) была уникальной попыткой написать ницшеанскую историю искусства в терминах восходящих аристократических и декадентско-демократических эпох.См. описание в: Krause, “Märtyrer” und “Prophet,” 199ff.См.: Hartmut Pogge von Strandmann, ed., Walther Rathenau: Industrialist, Banker, Intellectual, and Politician: Notes and Diaries 1907-1922, trans. Caroline Pinder-Cracraft et al. (Oxford: Clarendon, 1985), 113, n. 107.Harry Kessler to Hugo von Hoffmansthal, 16 April 1911, in Hugo von Hofmannsthal-Harry Graf Kessler Briefwechsel 1898-1929, ed. Hilde Burger (Frankfurt am Main: Insel, 1968), 323ff.Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil, 191.Harry Kessler, Gesichter and Zeiten: Erinnerungen (Frankfurt am Main: Fischer, [1921] 1988), 210.Фридрих Ницше, «О истине и лжи во вненравственном смысле», в «Портативный Ницше», 46-47; 42-47.Эрнст Белер отмечал, что деконструктивистский Ницше опускает (более сложные) «позитивно-реконструктивные» тенденции его работ. «На самом деле деконструктивистский Ницше — это Ницше без Заратустры» («Ницше по ту сторону деконструкции», в «Ницше и философская традиция», под ред. Йозефа Симона, 88—107 [Вюрцбург: Кёнигсхаузен и Нойман, 1985], 104). Этот тезис, однако, может потребовать уточнения. Современное постмодернистское ницшеведение, как проницательно отмечает Роберт К. Соломон, обратилось к проблематичной четвертой части «Заратустры», которая, в отличие от более ранних частей, не обсуждает условия для создания новых ценностей, а равносильна «взрыву самой этой амбиции» («Ницше, постмодернизм и ресентимент: генеалогическая гипотеза» в «Ницше как постмодернист: эссе за и против», под ред. Клейтона Кёльба, 267-293 [Олбани: Издательство Университета штата Нью-Йорк, 1990], 271; Дэниел У. Конуэй, «Ницше против Ницше: деконструкция Заратустры», в «Ницше как постмодернист»; Кэтлин Хиггинс, «Заратустра Ницше» [Филадельфия: Издательство Темпльского университета, 1987], гл. 7).Ницшеанцы любили подчеркивать освободительные аспекты, содержащиеся в воле к власти, а не гносеологические опасности перспективизма. И то, и другое присутствовало в «Воле к власти»: что ценность мира заключается в нашей интерпретации; ...что прежние интерпретации были перспективными оценками, благодаря которым мы можем выжить в жизни, то есть в воле к власти, ради роста власти; что каждое возвышение человека влечет за собой преодоление более узких интерпретаций; что каждое усиление и приращение власти открывает новые перспективы и означает веру в новые горизонты — эта идея пронизывает мои сочинения. Мир, с которым мы имеем дело, ложен;... он «в потоке», как нечто в состоянии становления, как ложь, которая постоянно меняется, но никогда не приближается к истине: ибо — нет никакой «истины» (стр. 330).Основанный в 1885 году, редактор Die Gesellschaft Михаэль Георг Конрад (1846-1927) был убежденным, хотя и разборчивым ницшеанцем. Его журнал часто был столь же нюансированным. В нем публиковались дискуссии и рецензии на Ницше, а также стихи и песни, посвященные ему, за авторством Лео Берга, Г. Людвигса, А. Зоммерфельда, Йозефа Штайнмайера, Марты Асмус и Роберта Кляйна. В нем также была впервые опубликована работа Айснера «Фридрих Ницше и апостолы будущего: вклад в современную Psychopathia spiritualis» (том 7 [ноябрь, декабрь 1891], 1505—1536, 1600—1664).Эрнст Бласс, «Старое кафе „Вестен“», в «Эпоха немецкого экспрессионизма», под ред. Пауля Раабе, пер. Дж. М. Ричи (Лондон: Calder & Boyars), 29.Эрнест Джонс, «Жизнь и творчество Зигмунда Фрейда», том 2, «Годы зрелости 1901—1919» (Нью-Йорк: Basic, 1955), с. 343 и сл. Подробный анализ отношений Фрейда к Ницше см. в работе Анри Ф. Элленбергера «Открытие бессознательного: история и эволюция динамической психиатрии» (Нью-Йорк: Basic, 1970), с. 271 и сл., а также в превосходной статье Лорин Андерсон «Фрейд, Ницше» в журнале «Salmagundi» 47-48 (зима-весна 1980).К. Г. Юнг, «Ницшеанский "Заратустра"», том 2, 1354, прим. 8. См. также «Контингентность самости», глава 3 в книге Ричарда Рорти «Контингентность, ирония и солидарность» (Кембридж: Издательство Кембриджского университета, 1989).Филип Рифф, «Фрейд: разум моралиста» (Нью-Йорк: Harper & Row, 1961), с. 36.Ницше, однако, временами обвиняли в излишнем «материализме», особенно в его убеждении, что люди изобрели ценности, способные превзойти инстинктивную сферу. В этом смысле и Фрейд, и Ницше считались виновными: это была та старая эвгемеристическая гипотеза о том, что человек изобрел богов. Так [Ницше] последовал идее о том, что человек изобрел мораль. Это был материалистический взгляд его эпохи. И видите ли, это главный предрассудок Фрейда. Он думает, что человек изобрел нечто, что может подавить инстинкт. Конечно, ничто не может подавить инстинкт, кроме другого инстинкта; это конфликт инстинктов. Юнг, «Ницшеанский "Заратустра"», том 1, 649-650.Там же, с. 370-371.Р. Хинтон Томас, «Ницше в немецкой политике и обществе 1890—1918» (Манчестер: Издательство Манчестерского университета, 1983).Эрнст Фрейд, ред., «Письма Зигмунда Фрейда и Арнольда Цвейга» (Нью-Йорк: Harcourt Brace, 1970), 23—24.Об этих кругах рубежа веков встревоженный Манн писал в 1918 году: «Они наивно верили, что он [Ницше] был тем самым „имморалистом“, каким называл себя сам; они не видели, что этот потомок протестантских пасторов был самым чувствительным моралистом из всех когда-либо живших, морально одержимым человеком» (Размышления, 398).«Воля к власти», 223; см. также Фридрих Ницше, «Утренняя заря: Мысли о моральных предрассудках», пер. Р. Дж. Холлингдейла, введ. Майкла Таннера (Кембридж: Издательство Кембриджского университета, 1982), 18, 100-101, 164.Лео Берг, «Сверхчеловек в современной литературе» (Париж, Лейпциг, Мюнхен: Альберт Ланген, 1897), 269 сл. Цитируется по: Трайбер, «„Монастырь“ Ницше», 149, прим. 39.Каталог писателей, внедривших ницшеанские темы в свои работы, велик. Среди наиболее известных были Герман Бар, Рихард Демель, Альберт Книпф и Карл Хенкель.«Триумф смерти» появился в 1899 году (Берлин: С. Фишер). Его «Памяти Фридриха Ницше» также была переведена (Лейпциг: Insel, 1906); в ней Ницше подчеркивался как «сын греков» и «варварский» элемент. См. также Роберт Э. Макгинн, «Превращения сверхчеловека Ницше в литературе Средиземноморья: Д’Аннунцио, Маринетти и Казандзакис», Nietzsche-Studien 10/11 (1981/1982), 599.См. проницательные комментарии Р. А. Николлса, «Начало ницшеанской моды в Германии», Modern Philology 56 (1958).См. также роман Греты Майзель-Хесс 1911 года «Интеллектуалы».Более полное изложение жизни и взглядов Гросса см. в главе 1 увлекательной книги Мартина Грина «Гора истины: Контркультура начинается: Аскона, 1900-1920» (Ганновер и Лондон: Издательство Университета Новой Англии, 1986).О взглядах Бахофена на матриархат см. Уве Везель, «Миф о матриархате» (Франкфурт-на-Майне: Suhrkamp, 1980).Отто Гросс, «К преодолению культурного кризиса», Die Aktion: Wochenschrift für Politik, Literatur und Kunst 3 (6 декабря 1913), 384 сл.Юнг — Фрейду (25 сентября 1907 г.), «Письма Фрейда/Юнга» (Принстон, Нью-Джерси: Издательство Принстонского университета, 1974), 90.Вольфганг Швенткер, «Страсть как образ жизни: Макс Вебер, кружок Отто Гросса и эротизм», в сборнике «Макс Вебер и его современники», под ред. Вольфганга Й. Моммзена и Юргена Остерхаммеля, 483–498 (Лондон: Германский исторический институт, 1989), 484.Отто Гросс, «Воздействие общественности на индивида», в сборнике «От сексуальной нужды к социальной катастрофе», под ред. К. Крилера (Франкфурт, 1980), 17. Цит. по: Швенткер, «Страсть как образ жизни», 485.Эрик Хобсбаум, «Век империи 1875–1914» (Нью-Йорк: Vintage, 1989), стр. 214.Хотя марксистские идеи Гросса были не так заметны, как его анархистские, фрейдистские и ницшеанские импульсы, это не помешало журналу «Sowjet» (май 1920 г.) восхвалять Гросса как духовного пролетария: «Отто Гроссу пришлось голодать в буржуазном мире, потому что логика его жизни, которая диаметрально противостояла логике этого мира, требовала именно этого» (цит. по: Грин, «Гора истины», 47–48)Цит. по: Швенткер, «Страсть как образ жизни», 485.Оккультные круги в целом одобряли Ницше, ссылаясь на его глубоко религиозную натуру. См. гороскоп с подробными иллюстрациями в Фридрих Шваб, «За кулисами: Фридрих Вильгельм Ницше», Zentralblatt für Okkultismus: Monatsschrift zur Erforschung der Gesamten Geheimwissenschaften 1 (1907/1908).Ницше, Так говорил Заратустра, 322.Рудольф Лабан, Жизнь ради танца (Лейпциг, 1935), 172. Цит. по: Грин, Гора истины, 102. Там же, 110-111.Там же, 110-111.Об этих экспериментах один наблюдатель неодобрительно отметил: «барабанный бой и танцы под Ницше. Однако для нас важнее примитивных корчей их прекрасных душ была некая форма динамического действия против скучной повторяемости в искусстве и отвращения к глубоко укоренившейся старческой традиции». Кристиан Шад, «Цюрих/Женева: Дада», в Эпоха немецкого экспрессионизма, 163.Рудольф фон Делиус, Мэри Вигман (Дрезден, 1925), 32. Цит. по: Грин, Гора истины, 193.Карл Федерн, «Введение», в Айседора Дункан, Танец будущего (Лейпциг: Э. Дидерихс, 1903), 7. Неудивительно, что именно Ойген Дидерихс опубликовал эту лекцию. Он был ярым сторонником танцевального движения, которое он рассматривал как часть общего регенеративного порыва прочь от сверхурбанизированных, отчуждающих элементов имперской Германии (Грин, Гора истины, 171—172)Айседора Дункан, Моя жизнь (Нью-Йорк: Ливерайт, 1942), 141.Там же, 341.Ницше, Так говорил Заратустра, 6.Дункан объединяла Ницше с Вагнером и его «музыкой будущего». Цит. по: Грин, Гора истины, 169.Валентина де Сен-Пуан, «Футуристический манифест похоти 1913», в сб. «Футуристические манифесты», под ред. Умбро Аполлонио (Лондон: Темз энд Хадсон, 1973), 70–74.Там же, 71.Этот манифест переиздан в кн. «Футуризм и футуризмы» (Нью-Йорк: Абвиль, 1986), 602–603.Там же, 562.Энциклопедический обзор футуризма и его связей с Ницше см. там же.Джеффри Херф, «Реакционный модернизм: технологии, культура и политика в Веймарской республике и Третьем рейхе» (Кембридж: Издательство Кембриджского университета, 1984).Работа Вальтера Х. Сокеля «Писатель в экстремальных условиях: экспрессионизм в немецкой литературе XX века» (Стэнфорд: Издательство Стэнфордского университета, 1959) остается определяющей.О влиянии этого движения на архитектуру см. Wolfgang Pehnt, Expressionist Architecture, 41-43, 80, 82. Художники-экспрессионисты часто изображали самого Ницше. Эдвард Мунк писал его портрет, а Отто Дикс изваял его скульптуру (Krause, “Märtyrer” und “Prophet,” илл. 23, 31). Обсуждение некоторых ницшеанско-экспрессионистских связей см. в Stephen Eric Bronner and Douglas Kellner, eds., Passion and Rebellion: The Expressionist Heritage (New York: J. F. Bergin, 1983). Ницше упоминается повсюду, но см. особенно гл. 1, 8. Об осмотическом влиянии Ницше см. Wolfgang Paulsen, Georg Kaiser: Die Perspektiven seines Werkes (Tübingen: M. Niemeyer, 1960), 104. Были написаны различные монографии о взаимоотношениях между отдельными экспрессионистами и Ницше (G. C. Tunstall, “The Turning Point in Georg Kaiser’s Attitude toward Friedrich Nietzsche,” Nietzsche-Studien 14 [1985]; H. W. Reichert, “Nietzsche und Carl Sternheim,” Nietzsche-Studien 1 [1972]). Удивительно, но Хинтон Томас практически ничего не включает об экспрессионистах, хотя сам написал книгу на эту тему, в которой Ницше занимал видное место (Ричард Сэмюэл и Р. Хинтон Томас, «Экспрессионизм в немецкой жизни, литературе и театре (1910—1924)» [Кембридж: W. Heffer and Sons, 1939]).Gottfried Benn, “Nietzsche: Nach fünfzig Jahren,” в Gesammelte Werke, т. 1, ред. Dieter Wellershoff (Stuttgart: Klett-Cotta, 1962), 482. Перевод в Roy F. Allen, Literary Life in German Expressionism and the Berlin Circles (Ann Arbor, Mich.: University of Michigan Research Press, 1983), 26.Kurt Pinthus, “Rede für die Zukunft,” Die Erhebung 1 (1919), 410-412. Цит. по: Tibor Kneif, “Ernst Bloch and Musical Expressionism,” в Bronner and Kellner, Passion and Rebellion, 343.“Nietzsche: Nach Fünfzig Jahren,” 488—493.Sokel, Writer in Extremis, 66.Виланд Херцфельде, «Этика душевнобольных», Die Aktion 4 (1914). См. также главу 5 книги Августиниуса П. Дирика «Немецкая экспрессионистская проза: теория и практика» (Торонто: Издательство Торонтского университета, 1987).«О, если бы мне удалось преобразовать свою жизнь, чтобы стать стрелой к сверхчеловеку» (Георг Гейм, «Сочинения и труды», том 3, под ред. К. Л. Шнайдера [Гамбург: Эллерманн, 1960], стр. 44 и сл.). См. Краммель, «Ницше и немецкий дух», том 2, 232.«Сумасшедший», в сборнике «Вор: Книга новелл» (Лейпциг: Э. Ровольт, 1913). См. проницательный анализ в книге Дирика «Немецкая экспрессионистская проза», 204—208.Die Erhebung 1 (1919), 415 и сл. Цит. по: Сэмюэл и Хинтон Томас, «Экспрессионизм», 70.Фридрих Ницше, «О пользе и вреде истории для жизни», в книге «Несвоевременные размышления», пер. Р. Дж. Холлингдейла (Кембридж: Издательство Кембриджского университета, 1983), 121.См. Сокель, «Писатель в экстремальных условиях», 87 и сл.Цит. по: там же, 94.Питер Елавич, «"Пробуждение весны" Ведекинда: путь к экспрессионистской драме», в книге Броннера и Келлнера «Страсть и бунт».Джордж Л. Моссе, «Литература и общество в Германии», в книге «Массы и человек: националистические и фашистские представления о реальности», 21-51 (Нью-Йорк: Говард Фертиг, 1980), 46-47.Ганс Йост осознавал эту тенденцию и пытался нейтрализовать ее в своих работах. Услышав, как герой «Молодого человека» (1916) провозглашает свое кредо, его противник профессор Моральный Чистюля отвечает: «Тебе лучше изучать грамматику, чем декламировать неправильно понятого Ницше!» (в Der junge Mensch: Ein ekstatisches Szenarium, цитируется по: Сокель, «Писатель в экстремальных условиях», 94).Там же, 100.Майкл Гамбургер, «Готфрид Бенн», в книге «Распространение пророков», 206-243 (Манчестер: Карканет, 1983), 207.Джордж Л. Моссе, «Фашизм и интеллектуалы», в книге «Немцы и евреи», 144-170 (Лондон: Орбах и Чемберс, 1971), 154-155.Дирик, «Немецкая экспрессионистская проза», 189.Готфрид Бенн, «Речь в Академии», в «Собрании сочинений», том 1, под ред. Дитера Веллерсхоффа, 431-439 (Штутгарт: Клетт-Котта, 1977), 436.См. речь Готфрида Бенна 1933 года «Новое государство и интеллектуалы», перепеч. в «Собрании сочинений» Бенна, том 1, 440-449. См. также: Моссе, «Фашизм и интеллектуалы», 155.Кете Бродниц, «Футуристическое направление мысли в Германии, 1914», в книге «Экспрессионизм: борьба за литературное движение», под ред. Пауля Раабе (Цюрих: Архе, 1987), 46, 50.Это описание в значительной степени основано на работе Роя Аллена «Новый клуб», гл. 4 в «Литературная жизнь».О всеобщей безмятежности см. Крюммель, «Ницше», том 2, 395.Там же, 82-83. Полный текст выступления Хиллера «Кабаре и мозги» содержится в его книге «Мудрость скуки! Время и памфлет», 2 тома (Лейпциг: К. Вольф, 1913), 236-239.Ницше, «Ecce Homo», 245.Там же, 391.Глубину влияния Ницше на Хиллера можно увидеть в его книге «Жизнь против времени» (Гамбург: Э. Ровольт, 1969). См. Крюммель, «Ницше», том 2, 102.Подробнее об этом аспекте нового пафоса см. замечания Эрвина Лёвенсона, другого члена клуба, в его книге «Георг Гейм, или О духе судьбы» (Гамбург и Мюнхен: Х. Эллерманн, 1962), 61, 57 сл.Сокел, «Писатель в экстремальных условиях», 173.Генрих Манн, «К пониманию Ницше», «Двадцатый век» 6 (1896), 246, 245-251.Генрих Манн, «Дух и действие», в «Власть и человек» (Мюнхен: Курт Вольф, 1919).О раннем позитивном отношении Зорге и разделении его творчества на ницшеанскую и постницшеанскую фазы см. Сэмюэл и Хинтон Томас, «Экспрессионизм», 20, 23. Об «Одиссее» и «Прометее» см. там же, 75.Цит. по: Sokel, Writer in Extremis, 156. Кружок Георге был общиной посвященных, сектой, не имевшей формальных или обязательных уставов, но полностью находившейся под властью своего учителя. Подвижный внутренний круг, эта «тайная Германия», вероятно, никогда не превышал сорока членов.Georg Peter Landmann, ed., Stefan George und sein Kreis: Eine Bibliographie (Hamburg: E. Hauswedell, 1976); Landmann, ed., Der George-Kreis: Eine Auswahl aus seinen Schriften (Stuttgart: Klett-Cotta, 1980).Вальтер Кауфман утверждал, что Георге не хватало «сочувственного понимания того, что было наиболее важно для Ницше» и что «его картина Ницше была глубоко личной и явно определялась его собственными стремлениями» (Nietzsche, 9-11). Опять же, точность восприятия Георге здесь не так важна, как тот факт, что его портрет Ницше многое говорит о нем самом.Nietzsche, Birth of Tragedy, 20.Blätter für die Kunst (май 1901), 5.Karl Wolfskehl, “Die Blätter für die Kunst und die Neue Literatur,” Jahrbuch für die geistige Bewegung 1 (1910), 1.George L. Mosse, “Caesarism, Circuses and Monuments” in Masses and Man, 104-118. См. с. 116 о политике эстетизма Георге.Wolfskehl, “Die Blätter,” 4-5.Лепенис, «Между литературой и наукой», часть 3. Здесь я следую изложению Георге, представленному Лепенисом.Ницше, «Рождение трагедии», 18.Стефан Георге, «Звезда союза» (Der Stern des Bundes), том 2 «Сочинений» (Мюнхен: Deutscher Taschenbuch, 1983), 167.В «Рождении трагедии» Ницше писал: «А сама наука, наша наука — да что же такое, рассматриваемая как симптом жизни, смысл жизни вообще? К чему, хуже того — из какой причины — вся наука?». Перевод в: Лепенис, «Между литературой и наукой», 206.Ницше, «Человеческое, слишком человеческое», пер. Р. Дж. Холлингдейла (Кембридж: Издательство Кембриджского университета, 1986), 235—236.Вольфскель, «Die Blätter», 5.Фридрих Гундольф, «Сущность и отношение» (Wesen und Beziehung), в «Beiträge zur Literatur und Geistesgeschichte» (1911), 173. Цитируется по: Лепенис, «Между литературой и наукой», 264.Перевод в: Кауфман, «Ницше», 10.Хайнц Рашель обвиняет Георге в искажении Ницше и утверждает, что эстетизм Георге сильно отличался от эстетизма позднего Ницше; если что-то и было, так это то, что Ницше иронично интерпретировал поэта в «Заратустре».Хильдебрандт, «Ницше как судья», 100. Его работы включают «Ницшеанское состязание с Сократом и Платоном» (Дрезден: Sybillen, 1922); «Вагнер и Ницше: их борьба против девятнадцатого века» (Бреслау: Фердинанд Хирт, 1924); «Здоровье и болезнь в жизни и творчестве Ницше» (Берлин: Karger, 1926).Георге — Гундольфу, 11 июня 1910 г., в «Переписке Стефана Георге и Фридриха Гундольфа», под ред. Р. Бёрингера и Георга Петера Ландмана (Мюнхен, Дюссельдорф: Küpper,Паннвиц, «Введение в Ницше», 4; Паннвиц, «Чем я обязан Ницше и Георге», Castrum Peregrini 38, № 189/190 (1989).Лепенис, «Между наукой и литературой», 268.Кружок Георге со всей своей антиакадемической предвзятостью, тем не менее, глубоко повлиял на академические тенденции, особенно в области критики и историографии через двух своих самых выдающихся академических членов, Фридриха Гундольфа и Эрнста Канторовича.Фридрих Гундольф, «Поэты и герои» (Гейдельберг: Weisssche Universitätsbuchhandlung, 1921), 49.Эрнст Бертрам, «Ницше: попытка мифологии» (Берлин: Bondi, 1918).Рашель, «Ницше-бильд», 134. Отношения Бертрама и его разочарование в Георге отражены в опубликованной переписке между Бертрамом и Эрнстом Глёкнером.Паннвиц, «Введение в Ницше», 5—8. Паннвиц создал ряд мифов. Пять его пьес, написанных в 1904—1910 годах, были опубликованы в 1913 году под названием «Дионисийские трагедии» и посвящены «Ницше, творцу нашей новой жизни». Как отмечают Сэмюэл и Хинтон Томас, в отличие от Гуго фон Гофмансталя, Паннвиц не придал своим версиям классических тем современный характер. Скорее, это были ницшеанские реконструкции греческих пьес («Экспрессионизм», 63, прим. 3, 73). О его религиозных интерпретациях см. Паннвиц, «Призыв к священной войне живых» (Мюнхен-Фельдафинг: Х. Карл, 1920).Хорошее рассмотрение этого мировоззрения см. в: Дж. Х. У. Ростучер, «Возвращение Диониса: Натурмистический иррационализм в Германии» (Берн: А. Франке, 1947), 223 сл.Джордж Л. Моссе, «Мистические истоки национал-социализма», в сб. «Массы и человек», 197–213.Связь между ними была также исследована в 1929 году ведущим нацистским ницшеанцем Альфредом Боймлером («Бахофен и Ницше», в сб. «Исследования по истории немецкого духа» [Берлин: Юнкер и Дюннхаупт, 1937]).Родерих Хух, Альфред Шулер, Людвиг Клагес, Стефан Георге: Воспоминания о кружках и кризисах рубежа веков в Мюнхен-Швабинге (Амстердам: Каструм Перегрини, 1973). См. также автобиографический роман Франциски графини цу Ревентлов, «Записки господина Дамеса» (Мюнхен: Бидерштайн, 1958).О Шулере см. Моссе, «Кризис немецкой идеологии», 75—77, 211—212; Джеральд Плампе, «Альфред Шулер: Хаос и новое начало, к функции мифа в модерне» (Берлин: Агора, 1978). О влиянии Ницше на Шулера см. Шулер, «Фрагменты и лекции из наследия», введ. Людвиг Клагес (Лейпциг: Я. А. Барт, 1940), 27 сл., 33, 34.Сравнительный текстовый анализ см. в: Плампе, «Альфред Шулер», 126—127. Но Иудея немедленно снова восторжествовала благодаря тому всецело плебейскому (немецкому и английскому) движению рессентимента, называемому Реформацией...Шулер, «Фрагменты», 170, 244, 275.Там же, 60 сл. Юлиус Лангбен был еще одним мыслителем фёлькише, пытавшимся вылечить Ницше. Завоевав доверие матери Ницше и его психиатра Отто Бинсвангера, Лангбен начал брать Ницше на долгие прогулки. Он надеялся получить средства, чтобы устроить Ницше как королевского ребенка в доме, которым управлял бы Лангбен.Хух, «Альфред Шулер», 29–30. О связи этого плана с космологией Шулера см. Плумпе, «Альфред Шулер», гл. 5, особенно с. 124.Как писал Карл Лёвит в 1927 году, в этот период существовал настоящий культ Клагеса, состоявший из мировоззренческих дилетантов, которые считали его человеком непревзойденной метафизической глубины («Ницше в свете философии Людвига Клагеса», «Философский альманах Райхля» 4 [1927], 285).Знание о степени влияния Ницше на Клагеса является общеизвестным, как свидетельствует Лёвит («Ницше в свете...»). Обычно весьма критичный Кауфман уделяет работе Клагеса о Ницше особенно уважительное — если не соглашательское — внимание («Ницше», 187).Людвиг Клагес, «О космогоническом Эросе», 6-е изд. (Бонн: Г. Бувье, 1963), 82, 79. Приведенные выше цитаты также встречаются на с. 55–58. См. также замечания о «Рождении трагедии», 224.Лёвит, «Ницше в свете», 286.Клагес, «Дух как враг души», xxii.Клагес и Юнг обитали в схожей вселенной дискурса. Комментарии Юнга о Клагесе на его семинаре по «Заратустре» поучительны. То, что Клагес понимал под духом, — это идея, развившаяся к концу XIX века; а именно, интеллект в форме книг, науки, философии и так далее. Но никогда прежде дух не означал этого; это было лишь вырождение первоначального значения слова. Для Ницше дух означал нечто изначальное, интенсивность, вулканический взрыв, в то время как для научного или рационалистического духа второй половины XIX века это было ледяное пространство, в котором были вещи, но это уже не была жизнь. Естественно, если вы понимаете дух таким образом, это самый смертельный враг души, которого только можно вообразить. «Заратустра Ницше», 1128.Людвиг Клагес, «Почерк и характер» (Лейпциг: И. А. Барт, 1921). К 1929 году книга выдержала уже тринадцать изданий. См. также сборник под редакцией Клагеса, «Графологическая хрестоматия», 5-е изд. (Мюнхен: И. А. Барт, [1930] 1954); Людвиг Клагес, «Психологические достижения Ницше» (Лейпциг: И. А. Барт, 1926), 9–16, 210. Возможно, ницшеанская психология Клагеса была задумана как арийская, иррационалистическая альтернатива рационалистическому еврейскому фрейдизму.Людвиг Клагес, «Ритмы и руны» (Лейпциг: И. А. Барт, 1944), 332.Цит. по: Р. Хинтон Томас, «Ницше в Веймарской Германии и случай Людвига Клагеса», в сб. «Веймарская дилемма: интеллектуалы в Веймарской республике», под ред. Энтони Фелана, 71–91 (Манчестер: Издательство Манчестерского университета, 1985), 82.Клагес, «Ритмы», 522.Клагес, «Психологические достижения», 179–207.В другом контексте Герд Клаус Кальтенбруннер отметил своеобразное сочетание прогрессивных и регрессивных элементов в подобных радикальных течениях («Между Рильке и Гитлером — Альфред Шулер», «Журнал религии и истории идей» 19, № 4 [1967], 342).Клагес был «первым мыслителем после Ницше, в чьих работах витализм открыто создавал конкретные мифы» (Лукач, «Разрушение разума», 526, 522 сл.). Лукач считал его прямым предшественником национал-социализма, но, учитывая его оговорки, предназначенным скорее для кофеен, чем для улиц.Эрнст Блох, «Романтика потопа», в сб. «Наследие этого времени» (Цюрих: Опрехт и Хельблинг, 1935), 246, 250–251. См. также новую английскую версию, «Наследие нашего времени», перевод Невилла Плейса и Стивена Плейса (Беркли, Лос-Анджелес и Оксфорд: Издательство Калифорнийского университета, 1991), 306, 309–310.Хинтон Томас, «Ницше в Веймарской Германии», 84-87.«Людвиг Клагес может олицетворять для нас тех швабингцев, которые не приехали в Аскону (тех, кто мог бы, кто должен был там быть из-за своих идей)» (Грин, «Гора истины», 162). Связь с Асконой могла быть не только духовной; ходили слухи, что Клагес был любовником весьма влиятельной асконской эротистки-эмансипаторши Ревентлов.Фашизм во многом рассматривал себя как авангардное явление. Безусловно, многие интеллектуалы, привлечённые им, считали так же (Джордж Л. Моссе, «Фашизм и авангард» в сборнике «Массы и человек», 229—245).Ницше, «Ecce Homo», 266.Женская эмансипация — это инстинктивная ненависть неудачливой женщины, неспособной к деторождению, к женщине, которая удалась — борьба против «мужчины» всегда лишь средство, предлог, тактика.Ницше, «Заратустра», 179.Оскар Эвальд, «Ницше и женщины (Плётка Заратустры)», «Wage 6», № 50 (1903), 1324—1328. См. Круммель, «Ницше», том 2, 138.Хедвиг Дом, «Ницше и женщины», Die Zukunft 25 (24 декабря 1898), 534-543.Ева, «Ницше и женщины», Wiener Sonn- und Montags-Zeitung 40, № 37 (15 сентября 1902), 2 сл. Цитируется по: Крюммель, «Ницше», том 2, 90. Ницше действительно представлял себя мыслителем, который понимал женщин, хотя уровень, на котором он отстаивал их самореализацию, был, очевидно, вопросом интерпретации:Хедвиг Дом, «Как становятся женщины — Стань тем, кто ты есть» (Бреслау: Schles, Buch dr., Kunst-v. Verl. Aust., 1894). Цитируется по: Хинтон Томас, «Ницше в немецкой политике и обществе», 89-90. Глава Хинтона Томаса о феминистском движении, пожалуй, лучшая во всей книге.Там же, 89. Хинтон Томас также обсуждает ницшеанский феминизм очень популярной писательницы Габриэле Ройтер (там же, 90—91).Цитируется по: Альфред Г. Мейер, «Феминизм и социализм Лили Браун» (Блумингтон: Издательство Индианского университета, 1985), 31—32; см. также 197, прим. 8, 9.Систематическую историю и очерк немецкой феминистской проблематики см.: Ричард Дж. Эванс, «Феминистское движение в Германии 1894-1933» (Лондон и Беверли-Хиллз: Sage, 1976).Лили Браун, «Мемуары социалистки», том 2, «Годы борьбы» (Мюнхен: Альберт Ланген, 1911), 585; перевод из Мейер, «Лили Браун», 103.Мейер, «Лили Браун», 141 и сл.Хелена Штёкер, «Женские мысли», в ее книге «Любовь и женщины» (Берлин, 1908), 24—29; Штёкер, «Фридрих Ницше и женщины», «Журнал литературы» 67 (1898), 128-132, 153-158.Хелена Штёкер, «Враждебность Ницше к женщинам», «Будущее» 34 (1901), 432.Эванс предположил наличие биографической причины для этого поворота. «Взгляды Штёкер начали меняться из-за несчастного романа с женатым мужчиной» («Феминистское движение», 118). Если раньше она не осуждала брак, то теперь стала рассматривать его как серьезное ограничение, вопрос собственности и даже проституции, а не как любовные отношения, которые отстаивал Ницше.«Защита материнства»: журнал по реформе половой морали. См. глубоко ницшеанское вступительное заявление Штёкер, «К реформе половой морали» 1, № 1 (1905).Штёкер, «Враждебность к женщинам», 432.Ницше снова оказался в центре этого антиаскетического момента (Хелена Штёкер, «О новой этике», «Защита материнства» 2, № 1 [1906], 3—4).Хелена Штёкер, «Враждебность Ницше к женщинам», в книге «Любовь и женщины» (Мюнхен, 1905), 65 и сл., vii; перевод из Швенткер, «Страсть как образ жизни», 495-496, прим. 16.Мейер, «Лили Браун», 118.Более полный список см. в кн.: Evans, Feminist Movement, 121-122Там же, 128.О Ланге и многих других критиках «новой морали» см.: Hinton Thomas, Nietzsche, 80—86.Eva, “Nietzsche und die Frauen,” 2ff.Фридрих Ницше, «Воля к власти», пер. Уолтера Кауфмана и Р. Дж. Холлингдейла, ред. Уолтера Кауфмана (Нью-Йорк: Vintage, 1968), 3.Подробнее об этой фёлькиш-феминистке, стороннице социального дарвинизма, стремившейся к концу «капиталистического господства мужчин» и восстановлению матриархата, см.: Evans, Feminist Movement, 120-122, 159-160.Некоторые размышления о Ницше и современной политической и общественной жизни см.: Arthur Ruppin, “Moderne Weltanschauung und Nietzsche’sche Philosophie,” Die Gegenwart 10 (1903), 147ff.Marie Hecht, “Friedrich Nietzsches Einfluss auf die Frauen,” Die Frau 6, no. 8 (1898/1899), 486-491; перепеч. в сб.: Literarische Manifeste der Jahrhundertwende 18901910, ред. Erich Rupert и Dieter Bänsch, 543-549 (Stuttgart: J. B. Metzlersche, 1970), 549, n. 16; 545.Приверженность таким ницшеанским взглядам не влекла за собой какой-либо определенной политической позиции. Штекер никогда не вступала в Социалистическую партию, хотя оставалась левым интеллектуалом, социальным реформатором и пацифисткой. Браун, как и Штекер, никогда нельзя было назвать ортодоксальной; она сохраняла свой феминизм в рамках все более воинственного, прославляющего войну и националистического строя.Meyer, Lily Braun, 117.Евгенически ориентированная социальная реформа часто была делом рук «просвещенных» людей, включая «Фрэнсиса Гальтона (двоюродного брата Дарвина), Герберта Спенсера, Чезаре Ломброзо, Эрнста Геккеля и Эмму Гольдман» (Аллан Яник, «Гипотеза о еврейской самоненависти», в сб. «Евреи, антисемитизм и культура в Вене», под ред. И. Оксаала и др., 75–88 [Лондон и Нью-Йорк: Routledge and Kegan Paul], 84).Хакетт, «Хелена Штёкер», 115.«Фридрих Ницше и женщины», Bühne und Welt 6, № 20 (1904), 857–860. О Ницше она заключила: «Пожалуй, ни в одной другой области, как в области более высокого и серьезного понимания любви и брака, их значимости для будущего расы, для возвышения типа человека, его влияние не ощущается так верно и благотворно».Хелена Штёкер, «К реформе», 9. См. также Хакетт, «Хелена Штёкер», 119, где подробнее говорится о ницшеанском влиянии на евгеническую мысль Штёкер.Эванс, «Феминистское движение», 158 сл.Зиммель, строго говоря, не был евреем. Его отец-еврей принял католичество, а мать происходила из еврейской семьи, которая крестила ее в лютеранство. Сам Зиммель был крещен и женился на нееврейке. Тем не менее, представление о том, что Зиммель был евреем, сохранялось (Питер Гей, «Встреча с модернизмом», в сб. «Фрейд, евреи и другие немцы» [Нью-Йорк: Oxford University Press, 1978], 98)Австрийский пример см. в «Фридрих Ницше и модернисты», Deutsche Zeitung, № 10294 (28 августа 1900).См., например, Лео Хирш о Зигфриде Липинере, «Почти настоящий?»: Ницше и еврейский Прометей», Central Verein Zeitung 14, № 25 (20 июня 1935).Якоб Голомб, «Ницше и маргинальные евреи» (на иврите), Jerusalem Studies in Jewish Thought 4 (1985), 97–143. Поскольку данная работа исследует огромный диапазон и интенсивность привлекательности Ницше для широкой читающей публики, такие претензии на еврейскую исключительность проблематичны.Три недавние попытки рассмотреть взгляды Ницше на евреев и иудаизм в связи с его философией в целом см.: Арнольд М. Эйзен, «Переосмысление Ницше и евреев», Jewish Social Studies 48, № 1 (зима 1986); Уиллард Миттельман, «Отношение Ницше к евреям», Journal of the History of Ideas 49, № 1.Возможно, предвидя то, что его еврейские комментаторы постоянно называли европейским «еврейским возрождением», этот отрывок написан крайне двусмысленным языком (Ницше, «Утренняя заря», 124—125).Ницше, «К генеалогии морали», 33-34; «Антихрист», в сб. «Ницше», 592. Проеврейские высказывания Ницше многочисленны. Малоизвестная, экстремальная версия этого содержится в отброшенном черновике отрывка из «Ecce Homo»:Ницше, «К генеалогии морали», 144.О таком диагнозе см. Теодор Лессинг, «Германия и ее евреи» (Прага: Нойман, 1933). См. также «Ницше, жертва антисемитизма», «Вестник Союза по борьбе с антисемитизмом», № 15 (1901); «Ницше и антисемитизм», «Вестник Союза по борьбе с антисемитизмом», № 14 (1904).Лео Хирш, «Фридрих Ницше и еврейский дух», «Утро» 10 (1934), 187.Об общей истории и динамике этого вопроса см. Стивен Э. Ашхайм, «Братья и чужаки: восточноевропейский еврей в немецком и немецко-еврейском сознании, 1800—1923» (Мэдисон: Издательство Висконсинского университета, 1982).Статья Огюста Стейнберга «Ницше и иудаизм» (Ost und West 3, № 8 [1903], 547-556) была одним из наиболее известных источников современного еврейского национального самосознания. Пример более малоизвестной работы см. в анонимной статье «Ницше и иудаизм» (Populär-wissenschaflichte Monatsblatter доктора Адольфа Брюлля 21, № 3 [1 марта 1901], 49—52). (Неправильное написание сохранялось на протяжении всего текста.) Фабиус Шах, «Восток и Запад», Ost und West 3, № 8 (1903), 547—555. См. также Герт Маттенклоттт, «Ницшеанство и иудаизм», в «Ежегоднике», том 1, «Проблемы немецко-еврейской идентичности», под ред. Норберта Альтенхофера и Ренаты Хойер, 57-71. (Франкфурт-на-Майне: Archiv Bibliographia Judaica, 1985), 60-61. Благодарю Итту Шидлецки за эту ссылку.Цит. по: Джейкоб Боас, «Противодействие нацистской клевете: немецкие евреи и еврейская традиция, 1933-1938», Ежегодник Института Лео Бека 34 (1989), 219.Фридрих Блах, «Евреи в Германии» (Берлин: К. Куртиус, 1911), 42.Об этой фразе и Зелигмане см. Джордж Л. Моссе, «Секуляризация еврейской теологии», в «Массы и человек», 257—259, и «Немецкие евреи вне иудаизма» (Блумингтон: Издательство Индианского университета, 1985), 74—75.Цезарь Зелигман, «Ницше и иудаизм», в его книге «Иудаизм и современное мировоззрение» (Франкфурт-на-Майне: Дж. Кауфман, 1905), 69-70, 76-79. Он особо подчеркивал любовь Ницше к еврейской Библии и его предпочтение её Новому Завету.Там же, 86-89.Н. А. Нобель, «Отношение Фридриха Ницше к иудаизму», Die Jüdische Presse 31, № 36, 37, 39 (7 сентября, 14 сентября и 28 сентября 1900), 414.Там же, 374.Там же, 413-414.Д. Ноймарк, «Еврейский модернизм», Allgemeine Zeitung des Judentums 64, № 45 (9 ноября 1900), 536.Следует в скобках отметить, что это отождествление Ницше как высшего иудейского пророка сохраняется в самой невероятной инкарнации в современном Израиле. Ребе Арье Вайсфиш, благочестивый хареди из глубоко ортодоксального квартала Меа-Шеарим в Иерусалиме, сделал свою жизнь навязчивой миссией по распространению этого учения. Согласно Вайсфишу, главной любовью Ницше были иудаизм и евреи. Post (26 апреля 1986). В письме к Вайсфишу (10 июля 1980) Уолтер Кауфман заметил, что эта позиция «кажется мне довольно странной». Благодарю раввина Вайсфиша за любезно предоставленную мне копию этого письма.Исаак Хайнеман, «Понятие сверхчеловека в современной философии религии», Der Morgen 1 (1925).Генрих Берль, «Ницше и иудаизм», Menorah (1932), 59-61, 67-68.Недавно Роберт А. Коэн предположил, что, сколь бы высоко Розенцвейг ни превозносил Ницше, он также стремился его похоронить. Хотя он восхищался постгегельянским и личностным подходом Ницше, между ними существовали принципиальные разногласия. Розенцвейг, как утверждает Коэн, считал индивидуализм Ницше уступающим индивидуализму Гёте. Более того, неоязыческие религиозные альтернативы как Гёте, так и Ницше были хуже иудео-христианских вариантов. Постгегельянское понимание субъективности у Розенцвейга заставляло его приравнивать откровение к любви, поскольку и то и другое подразумевало парадоксальную встречу гетерономии и автономии. Радикальная субъективность Ницше упустила этот подлинный смысл субъективности и полностью отделила её от истины. Конечно, неоортодоксия Розенцвейга отвергала ключевые составляющие учения Ницше. Тем не менее комментарии Коэна затушевывают тот факт, что, как настаивал сам Розенцвейг, это влияние было определяющим («Rosenzweig vs. Nietzsche», Nietzsche-Studien 19 (1990), 346-366).Гершом Шолем, «Об издании 1930 года "Звезды избавления" Розенцвейга», в книге «Мессианская идея в иудаизме» (Нью-Йорк: Schocken, 1972), 320. См. также его комментарии о глубоко революционном характере и влиянии «Звезды избавления».Нахум Н. Глатцер, ред., «Франц Розенцвейг: его жизнь и мысль» (Нью-Йорк: Schocken, 1976), 81.Н. Глатцер, предисловие к «Звезде избавления» Франца Розенцвейга, пер. Уильяма У. Халло (Бостон: Beacon, 1971); Глатцер, «Франц Розенцвейг», ix—xxxviiiТам же, 81.Пол Мендес-Флор, «Концепция философской веры Франца Розенцвейга», Ежегодник Института Лео Бека 34 (1989), 368. Мендес-Флор дает поучительный анализ концепции Розенцвейга о взаимосвязи философии и теологии.Розенцвейг, «Звезда избавления», 9.Превосходный анализ этого напряжения см.: Gershom Scholem, “Zionism: Dialectic of Continuity and Rebellion,” в книге Unease in Zion, под ред. Ehud Ben Ezer (Jerusalem: Academic Press, 1974).Leonard Stein, ed., The Letters and Papers of Chaim Weizmann, collab. Gedalia Yogev, vol. 1 (London: Oxford University Press, 1968), 340—341.Ibid., vol. 1, 95. «Когда ты сможешь читать по-немецки», — обещал Вейцман Вере в письме от 28 июля 1902 года, — «я достану для тебя чудесное издание „Заратустры“ Ницше, но по-настоящему чудесное. Так что продолжай, милая, и мы будем читать его регулярно и непременно» (ibid., vol. 1, 326). Очевидно, это был молодой Вейцман; в более поздние годы он почти не упоминал Ницше.Переоценивающая задача была, по общему признанию, огромной и могла быть только постепенной. Как писал Вейцман в своём диагнозе еврейской проблемы: «Зловоние распада ощущается на каждом шагу. И пройдут годы, и многие ещё станут жертвами этих ужасных условий, прежде чем начнётся творческая, созидательная работа. Увидим ли мы всё это? Нет, сомневаюсь».Mattenklott, “Nietzscheanismus und Judentum,” 57.Единственной соответствующей статьёй была непредвзятая работа Ernst Müller “Gedanken über Nietzsche und sein Verhältnis zu den Juden,” Die Welt, № 40 (5 октября 1900).В разговоре с Leo Franckel Герцль объяснил, что он «против демократий»: «„Значит, вы последователь Ницше“, — сказал он [Franckel]. Я: „Вовсе нет. Ницше — сумасшедший. Но управлять можно только аристократически“» (Raphael Patai, ed., The Complete Diaries of Theodor Herzl, trans. Harry Zohn, vol. 1 [London: Herzl Press and Thomas Yoseloff], 191).Об обработке этих поколенческих различий см.: Aschheim, Brothers and Strangers, гл. 4, 5.См. сборник немецких и чешских сионистов Vom Judentum: Ein Sammelbuch (Leipzig: Kurt Nolff, 1913), особенно статьи Moses Calvary и Moritz Goldstein. Даже там, где Ницше не упоминался специально, категории были его, а влияние — ощутимым.Цитируется по: George L. Mosse, «Влияние фёлькиш-идеи на немецкое еврейство», в книге Germans and Jews, 96.Ханс Кон, «Национализм», в сб.: «Еврей: эссе из журнала Мартина Бубера Der Jude, 1916–1928», под ред. Артура А. Коэна, пер. Иоахима Нойгрошеля (Монтгомери: Издательство Алабамского университета, 1980), 28. Эссе первоначально опубликовано в Der Jude 6 (1921–1922), 674–686.Полезный обзор см.: Иегуда Рейнхарц, «Ха-шомер ха-цаир в Германии (I), 1928–1933», Ежегодник Института Лео Бека 31 (1986), 173–174.Историю группы и ее деятельности см.: Муки Цур, ред., «К’хилатейну» (на иврите) (Иерусалим: Яд Бен-Цви, 1988). Вкус их мышления наиболее ярко выражен в статье выдающегося духовного лидера группы Меира Яари «М’тох ха-т’сиса», 266–269. Благодарю Рину Пелед и Давида Биале за эту ссылку.Превосходный расширенный анализ влияния Ницше на Бубера см.: Пол Мендес-Флор, «От мистицизма к диалогу: трансформация немецкой социальной мысли Мартином Бубером» (Детройт, Мичиган: Издательство Университета Уэйна, 1989).Позже Бубер вспоминал, что в семнадцать лет «Заратустра» овладел им «не как дар, а как вторжение, которое лишило меня свободы, и прошло много времени, прежде чем я смог освободиться от него» («Автобиографические фрагменты», в сб.: «Философия Мартина Бубера», под ред. Пола Артура Шилппа и Мориса Фридмана, 3–39 [Ла-Саль, Иллинойс: Open Court, 1967], стр. 12).Мартин Бубер, «Слово о Ницше и словах жизни», Die Kunst im Leben (декабрь 1900), 13.Мартин Бубер, «Еврейское возрождение», в сб.: «Еврейское движение: собрание эссе и выступлений, 1900–1914» (Берлин: Jüdischer Verlag, 1920), 10–11.Там же, 13.Там же, 14 сл.Мартин Бубер, «Творцы, народ и движение», там же, 71 сл.К общим работам Теодора Лессинга относятся «Шопенгауэр — Вагнер — Ницше: Введение в современную философию» (Мюнхен: К. Х. Бек, 1906) и «Ницше» (Берлин: Ульштайн, 1925). Общую критику см. в его работе «История как придание смысла бессмысленному. Или рождение истории из мифа», 4-е изд. (Лейпциг, 1927).Теодор Лессинг, «Еврейская самоненависть» (Берлин: Еврейское издательство, 1930).Теодор Лессинг, «Еврейская судьба», «Еврей» 9 (1928), 17. «Воля к власти» (Machtwille) появляется в его работе «Германия и ее евреи», 14. См. также Голомб, «Ницше и маргинальные евреи», 125-126.Менахем Бринкер, «Влияние Ницше на еврейских писателей Российской империи», в сб. «Ницше в России», под ред. Б. Глатцер-Розенталь (Принстон, Нью-Джерси: Издательство Принстонского университета, в печати). Я признателен профессору Бринкеру за предоставление мне копии этой статьи, из которой я свободно черпаю материал для следующего раздела.Иегуда Рейнхарц, «Отечество или Земля обетованная: дилемма немецкого еврея, 1893–1914» (Анн-Арбор: Издательство Мичиганского университета, 1975); Стивен М. Поппел, «Сионизм в Германии, 1897–1933: формирование еврейской идентичности» (Филадельфия: Еврейское публикационное общество Америки, 1977).О различиях между восточноевропейским и западноевропейским типами сионизма см. введение Артура Херцберга в книге «Сионистская идея» (Нью-Йорк: Atheneum, 1975) и Уолтера Лакера, «История сионизма» (Лондон: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1972).См. Бринкер, «Влияние Ницше», где приведен список таких значимых фигур, как Шауль Черниховский, Давид Фришман и Гиллель Цейтлин. Пожалуй, самым утонченным и критически настроенным был И. Х. Бреннер, который был остро восприимчив к ницшеанским темам перспективизма и фикциональности интерпретаций.Излишне говорить, что другие сионистские писатели выступали против бердичевского варианта ницшеанства. Однако, опровергая его, многие критики сами включали ницшеанские допущения, темы и категории в свои собственные контраргументы. Это определенно справедливо для самого видного критика Бердичевского, Ахад-ха-Ама (Ашера Гинцбурга).К сожалению, они недоступны на английском языке (Миха Йосеф Бердичевский, «Собрание эссе» [на иврите; Тель-Авив: Dvir, 1960]).Бин-Горион был достаточно хорошо известен в Германии. Многие его работы были переведены на немецкий язык.Бринкер («Влияние Ницше») хорошо развивает эту мысль и приводит соответствующие источники.Миха Йосеф Бердичевский, «В двух направлениях», перевод в книге Херцберга «Сионистская идея», 295.Дэвид Биале, «Гершом Шолем: Каббала и контристория» (Кембридж: Издательство Гарвардского университета, 1979), 37—43.Цит. по там же, 40.Миха Йосеф Бердичевский, «Вопрос о нашем прошлом», перевод в книге Герцберга «Сионистская идея», 301.Бринкер, «Влияние Ницше», 23. Тем не менее Бердичевский настаивал, что быть святым народом означает иметь нормальный национальный уклад и структуру («О святости», перевод в книге Герцберга «Сионистская идея», 301-302).Миха Йосеф Бердичевский, «Сказания евреев», опубликованные в 1913 и 1919 годах, вышли на английском языке под названием «Мимекор Исраэль» (Блумингтон: Издательство Индианского университета, 1976).Биале, «Гершом Шолем», 43, 235, прим. 23.Хирш, «Фридрих Ницше и еврейский дух», 189.Хорошее обсуждение этих тенденций см. в книге Роя Паскаля «От натурализма к экспрессионизму: немецкая литература и общество, 1880-1918» (Нью-Йорк: Basic, 1973).Я считаю эту цитату апокрифической, поскольку мне не удалось найти ее источник; сама ее сомнительность лишь увеличивает значение мифотворчества Ницше.Walter Hammer, Friedrich Nietzsche: Der Lebensreformer und seine Zukunftskultur, 2-е изд. (Leipzig: Karl Lentze, [1909] 1910).Walter Hammer, «Nietzsche und sein Wille zur Gesundheit», Gesundes Leben: Medizinpolitische Rundschau (1910), 121—125.Walter Hammer, «Nietzsche und der Vegetarismus», Vegetarische Warte 46, № 7, (1913), 10-19.Общую историю см.: Walter Laqueur, Young Germany: A History of the Youth Movement (New York: Basic Books, 1962); Peter D. Stachura, The German Youth Movement, 1900-1945: An Interpretation and Documentary History (London: Macmillan, 1981).Oscar Schütz, «Friedrich Nietzsche als Prophet der deutschen Jugendbewegung», Neue Jahrbücher für Wissenschaft und Jugendbildung 5 (1929), 64-74. Как и многие его современники, Шютц показывает влияние Ницше, не отделяя компонент Вандерфогеля от компонента свободных немцев.Else Frobenius, Mit uns zieht die neue Zeit: Eine Geschichte der deutschen Jugendbewegung (Berlin: Deutsche Buch Gemeinschaft, 1929), 35ff.Theo Herrle, Die deutsche Jugendbewegung in ihren kulturellen Zusammenhang, 14, цит. по: Michael Jovy, Jugendbewegung und Nationalsozialismus (Münster: Lit-Verlag, 1984), 53.Острый анализ фёлькише-аспекта молодежного движения см.: Mosse, German Ideology, гл. 9.Это основной посыл аргументации Hinton Thomas, Nietzsche in German Politics, гл. 8.Gustav Wyneken, «Der Kampf für die Jugend», Gesammelte Aufsätze (Jena: E. Diederichs, 1920). О Винекене см.: Mosse, German Ideology, 184ff; Hinton Thomas, Nietzsche in German Politics, 105 ff.См., например, стихотворение Отто Брауна, подчеркивающее самосозидающие, героические и волевые силы человечества, «Why Should There Be Gods?», в: Mosse, German Ideology, 186. Впервые опубл. в: Der Anfang 12 (май 1909).Хинтон Томас, «Ницше в немецкой политике», 98-99.Теодор Фрич, «Ницше и молодежь», «Молот: Листки для немецкого духа» 10, № 29 (март 1911), 113 сл.«Фюрер-газета», № 3 (1914), 66. Вскоре после этого «Авангард» совершил резкий и фундаментальный разворот; во время войны он включил Ницше в свой пантеон германских мыслителей.Вальтер Хаммер, «Ницше как воспитатель» (Лейпциг: Хуго Фольрат, 1914). Работа, хотя и полная восхищения, была также критической, особенно в отношении взглядов Ницше на социальные вопросы.Подробности о Гурлитте см. Моссе, «Немецкая идеология», 157 сл.Людвиг Гурлитт, «Фридрих Ницше как воспитатель», «Свободное слово» 14, № 4 (май 1914), 131-132. В этой статье Гурлитт также хвалил работу Хаммера «Ницше как воспитатель». Еще один пример его позитивного отношения см. в его статье «Фридрих Ницше как филолог и учитель», «Помощь», № 22 (1914).Хинтон Томас, «Ницше в немецкой политике», 100.Ойген Дидерихс, «Фазы развития свободной немецкой молодежи», «Дело» 10 (1918-1919), 313-314.Оскар Шютц, «Ницше как пророк», прим. 42, 74—80.Максимилиан Харден, редактор влиятельного журнала Die Zukunft (журнал), например, выступал за политику, основанную на активистской воле к власти, с Ницше в качестве ее теоретика и Бисмарком в качестве ее воплощения. Die Zukunft (журнал) был переполнен ницшеаной. Полный список можно найти в книге Крюммеля «Ницше».Это противоречит Арно Дж. Майеру в пятой главе его книги «Упорство старого режима: Европа до Великой войны» (Нью-Йорк: Pantheon, 1981). Он представляет Ницше как главную опору европейской аристократии в их потребности укрепить шаткий старый порядок перед лицом демократизирующих угроз. На самом деле существует мало документальных свидетельств, подтверждающих утверждение Майера.Кесслер, Дневники, 426.Генрих фон Ведель, «Фридрих Ницше и его идеал человечества», Deutsches Adelsblatt 20 (1902); цитируется по Крюммель, «Ницше», том 2, 93. В период с 1867 по 1918 год в этом журнале было опубликовано всего три статьи о Ницше, все негативные.Георг Биденкапп, «Ницше и Науман», 44-45.Мартин Хавенштейн, «Фридрих Ницше, развратитель молодежи? Апология» (Лейпциг: Й. Цайтлер, 1906), 51. На стр. 57, однако, Хавенштейн предупреждает, что «Заратустра» не предназначался для незрелых детей, как и Ницше не предназначался для широкой публики.Рихерт, «Слово на могиле Ницше», Akademische Blätter: Zeitschrift des Kyffhäuser-Verbandes der vereine deutscher Studenten 15, № 12 (16 сентября 1900); Рейнхард Мумм, «Ницше и национализм в Кифхойзерском союзе», Akademische Blätter 11 (1896/1897), 238 сл., 255 сл. Положительные комментарии появились в рамках более широкого негативного целого.Иоганн Георг Мейер, «Фридрих Ницше как эстет и патриот», Burschenschaftliche Blätter 10, № 9 (1896), 234-240. Цитата приведена на с. 240.А. Ланггут, «Фридрих Ницше как член студенческого братства», Burschenschaftliche Blätter 12, № 1 (1 октября 1897), 5-10. Цит. по: Крюммель, «Ницше и немецкий дух», т. 1, 200.См. еще одну атаку Фрича на филосемитизм Ницше, написанную под псевдонимом Томас Фрей, «Антисемитизм в зеркале "философа будущего"», Antisemitische Correspondenz, № 19 (декабрь 1887).Биографические подробности см.: Моссе, «Немецкая идеология», 80-82, 232, 296; Эрнст Вахлер, «Элизабет Фёрстер-Ницше», Deutsche-Zeitung, № 388 (1918). Цит. по: Крюммель, «Ницше», т. 2, 647.О Шванере см.: Уриэль Тай, «Христиане и евреи в Германии: религия, политика и идеология во Втором рейхе, 1870-1914», пер. Ноа Джонатана Джейкобса (Итака, Нью-Йорк и Лондон: Cornell University Press, 1975), 273, 275, 323, 324.Вильгельм Шванер, «Фридрих Ницше», Der Volkserzieher 4, № 35 (2 сентября 1900), 273.«Библия германцев: Из священных писаний германских народов», под ред. Вильгельма Шванера (Берлин: Volkserzieher Verlag, 1904), 221-227. Подробности об этом и последующих изданиях см.: Крюммель, «Ницше», т. 2, 181—182.Франц Хайзер, «Аристократический императив: Вклад в неогерманские культурные устремления» (Берлин-Зеглиц: Politisch-anthropolog Verlag, 1913).Адольф Бартельс, «Немецкая поэзия современности: Старые и молодые» (Лейпциг: Эдуард Авенариус, 1897); Круммель, «Ницше», том 1, 183-184.Адольф Бартельс, «История немецкой литературы», том 2, «Девятнадцатый век» (Лейпциг: Эдуард Авенариус, 1902), 625-655. См. Круммель, «Ницше», том 2, 79.Адольф Бартельс, «Фридрих Ницше и немецкость», «Немецкий ежемесячник всей современной жизни» 2 (апрель-сентябрь 1902), 81-82.Там же, 86, 94.Там же, 89, 93.Хинтон Томас («Ницше в немецкой политике», гл. 9) проясняет неприятие, упоминает амбивалентность, не исследуя ее полностью, и игнорирует более позитивные заимствования, а также многих из упомянутых выше деятелей фёлькише и антисемитского толка.Хенчель был антисемитским соратником Теодора Фрича, основателя экстремистской Немецко-социальной партии, и автором чрезвычайно популярной расово-антропологической работы 1907 года «Варуна» (Джордж Моссе, «Немецкая идеология», 112-116).Цитируется по: Хинтон Томас, «Ницше в немецкой политике», 122.Виллибальд Хенчель, «Заблудшая спекуляция или истинная культура духа?», «Антисемитская корреспонденция» № 45 (17 февраля 1889), 4 сл.; цитируется по: Круммель, «Ницше», том 1, 75-76.Виллибальд Хенчель, «О восходящей жизни» («Цели расовой гигиены»), 2-е изд. (Лейпциг и Гамбург: б.г.), с. 43; цитируется по: Хинтон Томас, «Ницше в немецкой политике», 112—113.Вильгельм Шалльмайер, «Наследственность и отбор в жизни народов: Государствоведческое исследование на основе новейшей биологии» (Йена: Густав Фишер, 1903); цитируется по: Круммель, «Ницше», том 2, 106-107.Рауль Рихтер, «Позиция Ницше по отношению к теории развития и расовой теории», «Политико-антропологический ежемесячник» (1906), 544-564, перепечатано в его сборнике «Эссе», под ред. Лины Рихтер (Лейпциг: Ф. Майнер, 1913), 137-177; цитируется по: Крюммель, «Ницше», том 2, 254. См. также его работу «Фридрих Ницше, его жизнь и его творчество» (Лейпциг: Дюрр, 1903) и его «Ницшеанские очерки» (Лейпциг: Ф. Майнер, 1917)Рихтер, «Эссе», 173.Александр Тилле, «Ницше и Англия», «Франкфуртер Цайтунг» 39, № 289 (18 октября 1894); «Ницше как этик развития», «Ди Цукунфт» 9 (10 ноября 1894); «Учение Заратустры», «Дас нойе Ярхундерт» 1, № 5 (1898).Биографическую информацию о Тилле можно найти в книге: Альфред Келли, «Наследие Дарвина: популяризация дарвинизма в Германии, 1860–1914» (Чапел-Хилл: Издательство Университета Северной Каролины, 1981), 10 и сл.; Хинтон Томас, «Ницше в немецкой политике», 113–114; Крюммель, «Ницше», том 1, 134, прим. 157.Тилле был для Фердинанда Тённиса главным, хотя и редким воплощением центральной функции ницшеанства: оправдания самых жестоких аспектов капитализма (Тённис, «Культ Ницше», 109–110).Марилуиза Янссен-Юррайт, «Сексуальная реформа и снижение рождаемости: о взаимосвязи демографической политики и женского движения на рубеже веков», в сб. «Женщины в истории», под ред. Аннетт Кун и Герхарда Шнайдера (Дюссельдорф, 1979), 60-61.Александр Тилле, «От Дарвина к Ницше: книга об этике развития» (Лейпциг: К. Г. Науманн, 1895), vii, 10-11.Там же, 122-123, 214, 225.Там же, 239-241.Хинтон Томас, «Ницше в немецкой политике», 114.Р. М. Уэнли, «Ницше: сделки и открытия», Monist 31 (январь 1921), 136. Цит. по: Краммел, «Ницше», том 1, 134-135. Сам Хинтон Томас цитирует этот источник.Артур Мёллер ван ден Брук, «Чандала Ницше» (Берлин и Лейпциг: Шустер и Лёффлер, 1899), 47. Хотя этот анализ подчеркивает его положительные суждения, довеймарский Мёллер ван ден Брук явно все еще имел оговорки.Карл Йоэль, «Ницше и романтизм» (Йена и Лейпциг: Ойген Дидерихс, 1905), 68.Йоэль утверждает, что едкая критика Ницше в адрес немецкости сама по себе была немецкой чертой. Таким образом, Ницше перестал быть антитезой германства, став его воплощением и пророком (там же, 83-84). Отношение Йоэля как к Ницше, так и к романтизму было критическим, но в то же время восхищенным: «Мы хотим преодолеть Ницше, а не перекричать его» (там же, 327).Там же, 87.Там же, 133. Йоэль также подчеркивал общие черты, такие как их вакханально-сатурналийный модус и их фрагментарный, афористичный стиль.Георг Танчер, «Фридрих Ницше и неоромантизм» (Юрьев [Дерпт], 1900).Йоэль, «Ницше и романтизм», 10-12.Там же, 57 и сл.Джеймс Джолл, «Англичане, Фридрих Ницше и Первая мировая война» в сб. «Германия в мировой политике XIX и XX веков», под ред. Имануэля Гайсса и Бернда Юргена Вендта (Дюссельдорф: Bertelsmann Universitätsverlag, 1973), 305. Эта статья содержит полезный обзор английских взглядов того периода. Благодарю профессора Джолла за то, что направил меня к другим библиографическим источникам.См. комментарии Эрика Фёгелина в статье «Ницше, кризис и война», The Journal of Politics 6, № 1 (февраль 1944), 177.Герберт Лесли Стюарт, «Ницше и идеалы современной Германии» (Лондон: Эдвард Арнольд, 1915), 186, 228.Эрик Бентли, «Культ сверхчеловека» (Глостер, Массачусетс: Питер Смит, 1969), 248-250.Джон Каупер Поуис, «Угроза немецкой культуры» (Лондон: Уильям Райдер и сын, 1915); Джолл, «Англичане, Ницше и война», 305; Патрик Бриджуотер, «Ницше в англосаксонском мире: исследование влияния Ницше на английскую и американскую литературу» (Лестер, 1972), стр. 147.«Дейли мейл», 27 сентября 1914 г.; «Манчестер гардиан», 7 октября 1914 г. Цит. по: Бриджуотер, «Ницше в англосаксонском мире», 144.Дж. Х. Мьюрхед, «Немецкая философия в связи с войной» (Лондон: Дж. Мюррей, 1915), 80-81, 78.Ромен Роллан, «Между народами: Заметки и документы 1914–1919 годов», том 1 (Штутгарт: Немецкое издательство, 1954), 145.Кауфман, «Ницше», 8.Эрнест Баркер, «Ницше и Трейчке: культ силы в современной Германии» (Оксфорд: Издательство Оксфордского университета, 1914); каноник Э. Макклюр, «Вдохновители немецкой войны Ницше и Трейчке» (Лондон, 1914).«Тевтонизм», «Атенеум» (10 октября 1914 г.). Цит. по: Джолл, «Англичане, Ницше и война», 302—303.Фридрих фон Бернгарди, «Германия и грядущая война», пер. Аллена Х. Паулса (Нью-Йорк: Лонгман, Грин, 1914). Книга уже выдержала 6-е издание.Многочисленные примеры включают Эрнста Рольфса, «Трейчке, Ницше, Бернгарди», «Христианский мир» 30 (1916), 857-865, 882-888.Г. Л. Менкен, «Введение» в кн.: Фридрих Ницше, «Антихрист» (Нью-Йорк, 1923). Цит. по: Бриджуотер, «Ницше в англосаксонском мире», 145-146.Г. Л. Менкен, «Смарт сет», цит. по: там же, 146.Уильям Арчер, «Борьба с философией» (Оксфорд: Издательство Оксфордского университета, 1914–1915), 5, 3 и сл.Рональд Н. Стромберг, «Искупление войной: интеллектуалы и 1914 год» (Лоренс: Издательство Реджентс штата Канзас, 1982).Ницше, «Веселая наука», 145. Это было развитие фрагмента 53 Гераклита: «Война — отец всего».Ницше, «Так говорил Заратустра», 159.Майкл А. Лидин, «Первый дуче: Д’Аннунцио в Фиуме» (Балтимор: Издательство Университета Джонса Хопкинса, 1977), 5.Габриэле Д’Аннунцио, «Триумф смерти», Проза романов, т. 1 (Милан, 1954), 958. Цитируется по: Эрнст Нольте, «Три лика фашизма» (Нью-Йорк: Ментор, 1969), 198, 606, прим. 7.Воспроизведено в: Умбро Аполлонио, ред., «Манифесты футуризма» (Лондон: Темза и Хадсон, 1973), 21–22.Жорж Сорель, «Размышления о насилии» (Нью-Йорк: Кольер, [1908] 1974).Наиболее полное рассмотрение этого вопроса см.: Эрнст Нольте, «Маркс и Ницше в социализме молодого Муссолини», Исторический журнал 191 (1960), 249–335.Владимир Дедиер, «Дорога в Сараево» (Нью-Йорк: Саймон и Шустер, 1966), 232; Джолл, «1914: Невысказанные предположения», в книге «Истоки Первой мировой войны», под ред. Г. У. Коха (Лондон: Макмиллан, 1972), 324.Дедиер, «Сараево», 238.Бриджуотер, «Ницше в англосаксонском мире», 10.Ледин, «Первый дуче», 10—11.Роберт Соси, «Фашистский интеллектуал: Дриё ла Рошель» (Беркли, Лос-Анджелес и Лондон: Издательство Калифорнийского университета, 1979), 45.Джон Гловер и Джон Силкин, «Книга прозы о Первой мировой войне издательства Penguin» (Лондон: Викинг, 1989). Цитируется по: К. Дж. Фокс, «Крепостные разрушения», «Таймс Литерари Сапплемент» (16—22 февраля 1990).Некоторые академические и националистические деятели оставались неубежденными в желательности этой аннексии и патриотических заслугах Ницше. Ницше, как сказал Эрнст Трёльч Фридриху Майнеке в военном разговоре, был как крысиный яд в кишках (Майнеке, «Пережитое, 1862-1901» [Лейпциг: Кёлер-Амеланг, 1941], 184 сл.).Ректор П. Хохе, «Ницше и немецкая борьба», Газета литературы, искусства и науки 39, № 6 (12 марта 1916 г.); Крюммель, Ницше, том 2, 607.Роберт Г. Л. Уэйт, Психопатический бог: Адольф Гитлер (Нью-Йорк, 1977), 279; Рольфс, «Трейчке, Ницше, Бернхарди», 859. Только в 1917 году было продано 40 000 экземпляров «Заратустры» (Питерс, Сестра Заратустры, 205).Эдельберт Курц, Ницше — немец и мы, христиане (Мюнхен-Гладбах, 1918). См. Крюммель, Ницше, том 2, 645-646.Вальтер Флекс, Странник между двумя мирами: Военный опыт (Мюнхен: К. Х. Бек, 1918), 9. Книга выдержала тридцать девять изданий и была продана тиражом 250 000 экземпляров менее чем за два года.Карл Йоэль, Новая мировая культура (Лейпциг: Карл Вольф, 1915), 88-89.Рихард Гропер, «Ницше и война», Die Tat 8 (1916-1917), 25.Оскар Леви, «Ницше на войне», Die Weissen Blätter (1919), 277 сл.Лакер отмечает, что «экстатические рифмы» Ницше «не очень хорошо выдержали великое испытание. Те, кто прошел через холокост Фландрии, грязь и лед Восточного фронта, знали все, что им нужно было знать о духе трагедии» (Молодая Германия, 9).Рутхардт Шуманн, «Культ Ницше и война», Bühne und Welt 17 (1915), 354.Ханс Лейп, «Отблеск: Ретроспектива, 1893—1943» (Штутгарт: Котта, 1943), 42. После прочтения «Заратустры» в 1915 году он отметил: «При чтении "Заратустры" мы порой вскрикиваем от восторга. Я вознесен и снова повержен, так что душа моя болит» (Кюммель, «Ницше», том 2, 597).Филипп Виткоп, «Письма немецких студентов с войны», пер. А. Ф. Уэдд (Лондон: Метуэн, 1929), 42—43.Франц Марк, «Письма, заметки и афоризмы» (Берлин: Кассирер, 1920), 41.Освободители никогда полностью не отказывались от него. В своем обращении к собравшимся мюнхенским советам рабочих, крестьянских и солдатских депутатов Эрнст Толлер почтил память своего революционного коллеги Курта Эйснера красноречиво ироничной цитатой из «Заратустры»:Арнольд Цвейг, «Творчество и жизнь в документах и образах», ред. Георг Венцель (Берлин и Веймар: Ауфбау Ферлаг, 1978), 61. См. Крюммель, «Ницше», том 2, 358—359.Полезную историю книги см. во введении Джорджа Моссе к работе Макса Нордау «Вырождение» (Нью-Йорк: Говард Фертиг, 1968). См. также П. М. Болдуин, «Либерализм, национализм и вырождение: случай Макса Нордау», «Центральноевропейская история» 13, № 2 (июнь 1980).Нордау, «Вырождение», 5.Там же.Арнольд Цвейг, Bilanz der deutschen Judenheit 1933: Ein Versuch (Амстердам: Querido, 1934), 290—291.Эрвин Пискатор, The Political Theatre: A History, 1914—1929 (Нью-Йорк: Avon, 1978), 11.Вальтер Сокель, The Writer in Extremis, 67.Цит. по там же, 68.Франц Пфемерт, «Die Deutschsprechung Friedrich Nietzsches», Die Aktion: Wochenschrift für Politik, Literatur, Kunst 5, № 26 (1915), 321.Стефан Георге, «Der Stern des Bundes», в кн.: Вальтер Кауфман, Twenty German Poets (Нью-Йорк: Random House, 1962), 167.Патрик Бриджуотер, «Немецкая поэзия и Первая мировая война», European Studies Review 1, № 2 (апрель 1971), 155—156.Хинтон Томас, «Ницше в немецкой политике», 126 и сл.Пфемерт, «Deutschsprechung»; Леви, «Ницше на войне»; Цвейг, «Баланс немецкого еврейства», 290—291, 50—52.Ф. Швангарт описывает немецкую националистическую военную пропаганду вокруг Ницше как «незабываемое злодеяние» («Что для нас Ницше?», Heimstunden: Proletarische Tribune für Kunst, Literatur, Dichtung № 5 [май 1925], 145).См. статью Фрича под псевдонимом Ф. Родерик-Штольтейм, «Философия власти Ницше и ненависть к немцам», Hammer; Blätter für deutschen Sinn 14, № 301 (1 января 1915), 3.Далеко не полный список трудов Фёрстер-Ницше включает: «Ницше и война», Tag 212 (10 сентября 1914); «Ницше на войне 1870 года», Der Neue Merkur 1 (1914); «Ницше и Германия», Berliner Tageblatt 44, № 453 (5 сентября 1915); «Ницше, Франция и Англия», Neue Freie Presse (11 июня 1916). У Круммеля в «Ницше» есть полный список публикаций Фёрстер-Ницше.Элизабет Фёрстер-Ницше, «"Подлинный пруссак" Фридрих Ницше», Berliner Tageblatt (16 сентября 1914). Комментарии Зомбарта появились в той же газете 6 сентября 1914 года.Элизабет Фёрстер-Ницше, «Жизнь Фридриха Ницше», том 2 (Лейпциг: Науманн, 1904). Здесь она утверждает, что Ницше вывел свою концепцию воли к власти из инцидента во время франко-прусской войны.Эрнст Вахлер, «Элизабет Ницше (К основанию Архива Ницше)», Deutsche-Zeitung 388 (1918).Альфред Боймлер, «Ницше — философ и политик» (Лейпциг: Реклам, 1931).Аугуст Мессер, «Ницше и война: К 70-летию философа, 15 октября», Frankfurter Zeitung 286 (15 октября 1914).Кауфман, «Портативный Ницше», 541-542.Курт Зингер, «Завещание Ницше: 15 октября 1844 — 15 октября 1914», Hamburgischer Correspondent 184, № 524 (15 октября 1914).Теодор Каппштейн, «Ницше, философ мировой войны: К его 70-летию 15 октября», Strassburger Post 1028 (1914).О. те Клоот, «Ницше», Иллюстрированная библиотека героев 30 (Берлин: изд-во Розе, 1914).«Фридрих Ницше: О войне», Insel-Almanach (Военный альманах, 1915). [Лейпциг: Insel Verlag].Например, Элизабет Гнаде, «К 70-летию Фридриха Ницше, 15 октября 1914», Tägliche Rundschau 241 (14 октября 1914): «Нам остается лишь время, чтобы быть немецкими, немецкими, как ты сам был — тогда — поспешив с кафедры из безопасной Швейцарии под звуки военных фанфар!»Герман Ичнер, «Слова Ницше: Попутчики в великое время» (Лейпциг: Альфред Крёнер, 1915).О деятельности Дидерихса см. Гэри Д. Старк, «Предприниматели идеологии: Неоконсервативные издатели в Германии, 1890-1933» (Чапел-Хилл: Издательство Университета Северной Каролины, 1981). Полное название Die Tat: «Пути к свободному человечеству» имело очевидный ницшеанский подтекст. В первом выпуске (апрель 1909 г.) на первой странице был изображен героический бюст Ницше.Гропер, «Ницше и война».Пауль Шульце-Бергхоф, «Поэт Заратустры как мистик», Die musische Erziehung 9 (1942).Пауль Шульце-Бергхоф, «Культурный пророк Германской мировой империи», Der Vortrupp 5 (1916); Шульце-Бергхоф, «Заратустра — немцы — мистика — немецкая вера», Der Vortrupp 5 (1916). Шульце-Бергхоф также сформулировал ницшеанскую религию.Макс Бран, «Мнения Фридриха Ницше о государствах и войнах» (Лейпциг: А. Крёнер, 1915).Леноре Рипке-Кюн, «Культурные воззрения Ницше», Der Panther 3 (1915), 420-456; Рипке-Кюн, «Воспитание воли у Ницше», Der Panther 5, № 4 (апрель 1917), 519-535.Йоэль, «Новая мировая культура», 55—56.Грёпер, «Ницше и война», 30.Макс Шелер, «Гений войны и немецкая война» (Лейпциг: Weissen Bücher, 1915); Шелер, «Рессентимент в структуре морали», в сб. Шелер, «Трактаты и эссе» 1, 39-274 (Лейпциг: Weissen Bücher, 1915). Переведено как «Рессентимент», пер. Уильяма У. Холдхайма, введ. Льюиса А. Козера (Нью-Йорк: 1976).Фриц Штерн, «Деньги, мораль и столпы общества», в его книге «Крах нелиберализма: очерки о политической культуре современной Германии» (Чикаго и Лондон: Издательство Чикагского университета, 1971).Вернер Зомбарт, «Торгаши и герои: патриотические размышления» (Мюнхен и Лейпциг: Дункер и Хумблот, 1915).Херф, «Реакционный модернизм», 133-134.Самая известная довоенная работа Зомбарта о евреях — «Евреи и хозяйственная жизнь» (Лейпциг, 1911). После войны он вернулся к теме еврейского духа. Критический анализ см.: Пол Р. Мендес-Флор, «"Евреи и современный капитализм" Вернера Зомбарта: анализ его идеологических предпосылок», Ежегодник Института Лео Бека (1976). См. также Стивен Э.Зомбарт, «Торгаши и герои», 53.Там же, 84-85.Там же, 141.Леноре Рипке-Кюн, «Ницше — вечный немец: к работе Эрнста Бертрама "Ницше, попытка мифологии"», Deutschlands Erneurung 6 (1919), 420, 424.Бран, «Мнения Фридриха Ницше», 29.См. эссе Морица Хаймана 1915 года «Ницше и его народ» в его «Прозаических сочинениях», 3 тома (Берлин: С. Фишер, 1918), том 1, 180-184.Бернхард Бёшенштайн, «Искупление и подтверждение: „Размышления аполитичного“ Томаса Манна и „Ницше: попытка мифологии“ Эрнста Бертрама», MLN 90 (1975).Их отношения описаны в книге «Томас Манн и Эрнст Бертрам: письма 1910—1955 годов», под ред. Инге Йенс (Пфуллинген: Неске, 1960).Запись от 18 сентября. Томас Манн, «Дневники, 1918—1939», избранное Германа Кестена, пер. Ричарда Уинстона и Клары Уинстон (Лондон: Робин Кларк, 1983), 6. См. также записи от 14 и 15 сентября 1918 года.Томас Манн, «Письма, 1889-1936» (Франкфурт: С. Фишер, 1961), 291; Г. Стефан Шульц, «„Размышления аполитичного“ Томаса Манна: некоторые наблюдения», MLN 90 (1975), 431.Бертрам, «Ницше», 6.Даже после прихода нацистов к власти аспекты прежнего Манна сохранялись, высказываясь лишь в частном порядке. Они тоже были связаны с Ницше и его еврейским присвоением. Но при всем этом, не происходит ли в Германии нечто глубоко значительное и революционное? ...Томас Манн, «Размышления аполитичного», пер. Уолтера Д. Морриса (Нью-Йорк: Унгар, 1983), 152. См. также гл. 11.Там же, 57; см. также стр. 18, 58.См. поучительное прочтение Бертрама в работе Джоэла Голба «Целан и Гёльдерлин: эссе о проблеме традиции» (дисс. доктора философии, Принстонский университет, 1985), 119 сл.Бертрам, «Ницше», 108.Манн, «Размышления», 60-61.Там же, 104.См. Голб, «Целан и Гёльдерлин», 118—120, для более детального литературного анализа этой структуры.Манн, «Размышления», 419, 57-58.Анализ роли Бертрама в рамках традиции фёлькише см. в: Моссе, «Германская идеология», 204—209.Бертрам, «Ницше», 250. Его концепция также получила широкое внимание за пределами радикальных и фёлькише кругов. См. Курт Хотцель, «Немецкая задача Ницше», Der Türmer 28, № 10 (июль 1926).Там же, 79.Там же, 6.См. главу Бертрама «Рыцарь, смерть и дьявол» в книге «Ницше», 42–63; Манн, «Размышления», 399.Рипке-Кюн, «Ницше — вечный немец», 420–421.Ради исторической точности следует прояснить, что мы имеем в виду тенденцию, совокупность взглядов, а не железный закон. Существовали очертания праворадикального Ницше еще до 1914 года, точно так же, как внутри радикальных правых всегда существовала некоторая оппозиция после этой аннексии.Армин Молер, «Консервативная революция в Германии, 1918–1932: Справочник» (Дармштадт: Wissenschaftlich Buchgesellschaft, 1972), 29, 87.Фридрих Хильшер, «Рейх» (Берлин: Das Reich, 1931), 200. новые правые от традиционных бисмарковских и вильгельмовских правых: упор на активизм и самодвижущуюся динамику; мужественная, солдатская, националистическая этика, противопоставленная довоенному статичному патриотизму;Хорошее обсуждение тем новых правых см. в книге Карла Прюмма «Литература солдатского национализма 20-х годов (1918–1933)» (Кронберг: Scriptor Verlag, 1974). Работа Ойгена Шмаля «Восхождение национальной идеи» ([Берлин, Лейпциг: Union Deutsche Verlagsgesellschaft, б.г.], 143–144, 103) — это нацистский труд, в котором утверждалось, что Ницше уже предвосхитил все проявления нового национализмаФридрих Месс, «Ницше: Законодатель» (Лейпциг: Феликс Майнер, 1930), vii.Курт Касслер, «Ницше и право» (Мюнхен: Эрнст Рейнхардт, 1941).Герман Гессе, «Возвращение Заратустры: Слово к немецкой молодежи», в сб. Роберта К. Соломона, ред., «Ницше: Сборник критических эссе» (Нью-Йорк: Энкор, 1973). О более ранней работе, которую Гессе написал в этом духе, см. «Фауст и Заратустра» (Бремен: Отто Мельхерс, 1909).Питерс, «Сестра Заратустры», 206—207.Джордж Л. Моссе, «Павшие солдаты: Переосмысление памяти о мировых войнах» (Нью-Йорк: Издательство Оксфордского университета, 1990), гл. 8.Молер, «Консервативная революция», 539—554.Карл Кинаст, «Дело Ницше в свете расоведческого рассмотрения», Die Sonne 2 (1925), 534-535. Те, кто принадлежит к «северной расе», предупреждал Кинаст, должны остерегаться ресентиментных взглядов этого «монгольского метиса».О комментариях фёлькише см. Пауль Шульце Бергхоф, «Историко-мифическая миссия Ницше», Der Volkserzieher 34 (1930); Ганс Керн, «Ницше и романтические теории бессознательного», Zeitschrift für Menschenkunde 3 (1927). Людвиг Клагес («Дух как противник души» [Лейпциг: Барт, 1926]) олицетворяет иррационалистическую позицию.Питерс, «Сестра Заратустры», гл. 22—24.Макс Олер, ред., «Манам Фридриха Ницше» (Мюнхен: Музарион, 1921); Освальд Шпенглер, «Ницше и его век», в его «Избранных эссе».Кесслер, «Дневники», 426.Эрнст фон Саломон, «Отверженные» (Гютерсло: К. Бертельсман, 1930), 83.Эрнст фон Саломон, «Потерянная орава», в сб. «Война и воины», под ред. Эрнста Юнгера, 103—126 (Берлин: Юнкер и Дюннхаупт, 1930), 122-123.Джордж Л. Моссе, «Национализм и сексуальность: респектабельность и ненормальная сексуальность в современной Европе» (Нью-Йорк: Говард Фертиг, 1985), 125.Ницше, «Воля к власти», 546.Вернер Бест, «Война и право», в сб. Юнгера, под ред., «Война и воины».Альфред Боймлер, «Ницше — философ и политик» (Лейпциг: Реклам, 1931).Юрген Хабермас, «Труд и мировоззрение: спор о Хайдеггере с немецкой точки зрения», Critical Inquiry 15, № 2 (зима 1989), 438-440.Освальд Шпенглер, «Закат Европы», 2 тома (Мюнхен: К. Х. Бек, 1918); пер. Чарльза Фрэнсиса Аткинсона, «Закат Европы», 2 тома (Нью-Йорк: Альфред Кнопф, 1926). Начиная с этой работы Шпенглер постепенно развивал и радикализировал эту тему. О «хищном звере» см. его работу «Человек и техника» (Мюнхен: К. Х. Бек, [1931] 1971), 10-17.«В стальных грозах» (Ганновер, 1920) разошлась тиражом более 244 000 экземпляров, выдержала двадцать шесть изданий и была переведена на семь языков.Эрнст Юнгер, «Об опасности», Widerstand 3 (1931).Цит. по: Prümm, Soldatischen Nationalismus, 155. О теме воли см. работу Юнгера «Битва как внутреннее переживание» (Берлин, 1922), 76.Эрнст Юнгер, «Рабочий», в его собрании сочинений, т. 6 (Штутгарт: E. Klett, 1964).Херф, «Реакционный модернизм».Ницше благословлял технологии в той мере, в какой они служили интересам сверхлюдей, и осуждал их, поскольку они продвигали интересы последних людей и их воли к власти, связанных с уравнительным, христианским, демократическим, социалистическим обществом (Райнхарт Маурер, «Ницше и критическая теория», Nietzsche-Studien 10/11 [1981/ 1982], 61).Эрнст Юнгер, «Огонь и кровь» (Берлин, 1929), 82. Цит. по: Клаус Тевелейт, «Мужские фантазии», т. 2, пер. Крис Тернер и др. (Миннеаполис: Polity, 1989), 197—198.Георг Фёрстер, «Воля к власти и мир машин: толкование нашего времени» (Потсдам: Alfred Protte, 1930), 67, 78; см. также с. 12. Связывание Ницше с индустриальным миром должно было быть крайне избирательным упражнением.Юнгер, «Рабочий», 118 сл. и раздел «Замена буржуазного индивида типом рабочего».Рудольф Паульсен, «Дионисийская политика?», Der Türmer 22 (октябрь 1919 — март 1920), 59—60. Пренебрежительные замечания Паульсена, по-видимому, относились к слиянию Шпенглером технологий с апокалипсисом и упадком. Der Türmer всегда проявлял интерес к Ницше; большая часть выпуска за июль 1926 года была заполнена праворадикальной ницшеаной.Эта параноидальная литература также затрагивала тему смерти Ницше. В одной анонимной статье в журнале чудаков были названы тайные силы, пытавшиеся украсть работы Ницше и отравить его («Заратустрин переход: преступление тайной чеки против Ницше?», «Фольксварте» Людендорфа, № 3, вып. 24 (1931)).Обсуждение термина «недочеловек» и его различных применений см.: Алекс Бейн, «Еврейский паразит», Ежегодник Института Лео Бека 10 (1964), 27—28.Эрнст Манн, «Мораль силы» (Веймар: Герхард Хофманн, 1920), 7.Подобные отрывки изобилуют в работах Ницше («Воля к власти», 389, а также 246, 740; «Веселая наука», 73; «О свободной смерти» в «Заратустре», 36; «К генеалогии морали», 120—125).Манн, «Мораль силы», 43 и сл., 41, 47. Манн никогда не упоминает Ницше, но его категории и дух пронизывают работу, что признавали рецензенты. См. комментарии рецензентов, перепечатанные на задней обложке книги.Франц Хайзер, «Еврейский вопрос с точки зрения морали господ: правонародное и левонародное мировоззрение» (Лейпциг: Т. Вайхер, 1926). См. также Ницше, «Антихрист», 592—595.Арно Шикеданц, «Социальный паразитизм в жизни народов» (Лейпциг: Лотус-Верлаг, 1927), 177.См. Артур Принц, «Дискуссия о еврейском вопросе», Jüdische Rundschau (20 апреля 1932).Разъяснение: 12 авторов-политиков о еврейском вопросе (Берлин: Вильгельм Колк, 1932). Отрывки из Ницше озаглавлены «Рим против Иудеи, Иудея против Рима» (стр. 57-65). Анализ значимости Ницше как антисемита см. в работе Эрнста Иоганнсена «Об антисемитизме как свершившемся факте», 15—17.Рудольф Клагес, Письма об этике, цитируется по: Бейн, «Еврейский паразит», 29.Э. Кирхнер, «Учение Ницше в свете расовой гигиены», Archiv für Rassen und Gesellschaftsbiologie (1926), 380. Эта хвалебная статья, тем не менее, не соглашается с акцентом Ницше на воле и создании сверхчеловека и выступает за более строго биологический подход. Этот расистский, евгенический журнал не был антисемитским, хотя, когда нацисты пришли к власти, его редакторы стали восторженными сторонниками.Э. Кирхнер, «Начала расово-гигиенического мышления в "Утопии" Мора и "Городе Солнца" Кампанеллы», Archiv für Rassen und Gesellschaftsbiologie (1927); Роберт Н. Проктор, Расовая гигиена: медицина при нацистах (Кембридж: Издательство Гарвардского университета, 1988), 179.См., например, Маргарете Адам, «Недостойная жизнь и её преодоление у Ницше», Monistische Monatshefte 14 (июнь 1929), 140—145. О практиках см. Эрнст Клее, «Эвтаназия» в нацистском государстве: «Уничтожение жизни, недостойной жизни» (Франкфурт-на-Майне: С. Фишер, 1983), 16 и сл.Существует бесчисленное множество примеров, включая работы Ницше «Человеческое, слишком человеческое», 173 — 174; «По ту сторону добра и зла», 115—118; и «Воля к власти», 77—78, 123—124, 186, 397, 398, 460-463.Дж. М. Кеннеди, «Сущность Ницше» (Лондон: Т. У. Лори, 1909), 79—80. Цит. по: Джолл, «Англичане, Ницше и война», 296.Франц Меринг, «Капитал и пресса: послесловие к делу Линдау» (Берлин: Курт Брахфогель, 1891); «К философии и поэзии капитализма», «Ницше против социализма» и раздел 9 его «Эстетических экскурсов» в томах 9, 11 и 13 его «Собрания сочинений» (Берлин: Диц, 1961).Кесслер, Дневники, 426.Роберт Миш, «Дети: комедия гимназистов» (Берлин: Гармония, 1906), 12. Благодарю Роберта Холлуба за эту ссылку.Дункан, «Айседора говорит», 65-66.Хелена Штёкер, «Фридрих Ницше и женщины», «Журнал литературы» 67 (1898), 156-157; пер. в Хакетт, «Хелена Штёкер», 117.Цит. по: Хакетт, «Хелена Штёкер», 117.Сторонники осознавали расплывчатость и пользовались ею. (Вернер Зомбарт, «Немецкий социализм» [Шарлоттенбург: Бухальц и Вайсванге, 1934], перевод Карла Ф. Гейзера как «Новая социальная философия» [Нью-Йорк: Гринвуд Пресс (1932), 1969], 45-109).Юджин Каменка, «Этическое основание марксизма» (Лондон: Рутледж и Кеган Пол, 1962), 178-179; Джордж Л. Клайн, «„Ницшеанский марксизм“ в России», в сб. «Демифологизация марксизма», том 2, под ред. Фредерика Дж. Адельмана (Честнат-Хилл и Гаага: Бостонский колледж и Мартинус Нийхофф, 1969), 166-183.Дж. Макграт, «Дионисийское искусство», главы 2 и 8.Дж. Л. Талмон, «Миф о нации и видение революции: истоки политической поляризации в двадцатом веке» (Беркли, Лос-Анджелес и Лондон: Издательство Калифорнийского университета, 1981), 468-469. См. также Стернхелл, «Ни правые, ни левые», 56, 87, 89.Нольте, «Маркс и Ницше».Виветта Виварелли, «Образ Ницше в прессе немецкой социал-демократии на рубеже веков», Nietzsche-Studien 13 (1984).И. Кармелюк, «Пролетарская нагорная проповедь: интермеццо из переоценки всех ценностей» (Цюрих, 1904); Виварелли, «Ницше-образ», 564-565.А. Х. Т. Пфанкухе, «Что читает немецкий рабочий» (Тюбинген и Лейпциг, 1900), 23; Виварелли, «Ницше-образ», 521.Левенштейн сообщил, что тридцать семь металлистов, шестнадцать текстильщиков, двое шахтеров и пятьдесят четыре работника других профессий занимались изучением «Заратустры» Ницше («Фридрих Ницше в суждении рабочих классов» [Лейпциг: Ф. Майнер, 1914]).Там же, 2-е изд. 1919, iii.Макс Адлер, «Рабочие письма о Ницше», «Знание и жизнь» 14 (1921), 430-433. обуржуазивание, которое привязывало партию к парламентскому, а не революционному курсу. Партия костенела, ее бюрократические институты все дальше отдалялись от масс. В конечном счете, юнгены сформулировали не что иное, как критику авторитарных опасностей внутри марксизмаЭти полемические работы начались со статьи Бруно Вилле «Человек как член массы», «Свободная сцена» (1890), и завершились его «Философией освобождения через чистое средство: вклад в педагогику человеческого рода» (Берлин: С. Фишер, 1894).Хинтон Томас («Ницше в немецкой политике», 7-16) приводит полезный отчет об этом эпизоде.Юджин Ланн, «Пророк сообщества: романтический социализм Густава Ландауэра» (Беркли, Лос-Анджелес и Лондон: Издательство Калифорнийского университета, 1973).Цит. по: Мартин Бубер, «Ландауэр», «Пути в утопию», пер. Р. Ф. К. Халла (Бостон: Beacon Press, 1958), 47.Акцент Ландауэра на иллюзии был наиболее ясен в его работе «Скепсис и мистика» (Берлин: Э. Флейшель, 1903). См. Ланн, «Пророк сообщества», 160.Франц Меринг, «Современный натурализм», Die Volksbühne 1, № 3 (1892—1893), 9—12. См. рецензию Меринга на Эйснера в «Литературном обозрении», Die neue Zeit 10 (1892), 669; перевод в: Вернон Т. Лидтке, «Натурализм и социализм в Германии», The American Historical Review 79 (1974), 28—29.Эйснер, «Psychopathia Spiritualis», 87.См. рецензию Бернштейна на работу В. Вайганда «Фридрих Ницше» в Die neue Zeit 11, (1892—1893). Цит. по: Виварелли, «Образ Ницше», 530.Роджер Флетчер написал полезную историю этого кружка, подчеркивающую роль Ницше в их политике («Ревизионизм и империя: социалистический империализм в Германии» [Лондон: Джордж Аллен и Анвин, 1984]).Хелльпах писал под псевдонимом Эрнст Гистров («Кое-что о Ницше и нас, социалистах», Sozialistische Monatshefte 4 [1900]).Карл Лойтнер, «Народ господ и народ черни», «Социалистические ежемесячники» 13 (1909). Флетчер («Ревизионизм», 199-200) приводит полный список публикаций Лойтнера в этом журнале.Цит. по: Флетчер, «Ревизионизм», 101, 99.Регина Баркан, «Ницше — империалист», «Социалистические ежемесячники» 30 (1924), 506-507.Альберт Кальтхофф был еще одним протестантским пастором, который также принес эту форму ницшеанской социалистической религии рабочим, но придал ей решительно христианский оттенок.Макс Мауренбрехер, «Страдание: полемика с религией» (Йена, 1912).Об этом протестантском и германизированном Ницше см.: Макс Мауренбрехер, «Через Фридриха Ницше к немецкому Евангелию: богослужения, молитвы и религиозные дискуссии» (Дрезден: Издательство «Вера и германство», 1926). Аргумент Хинтона Томаса о том, что по мере того, как Мауренбрехер все больше склонялся к национализму, он склонен был игнорировать Ницше, неверен.Мейер, «Лили Браун», гл. 7, 8.Лили Браун, «„Бюргерский“ и „пролетарский“ принципы воспитания», Neue Gesellschaft 3, № 8 (1906), 93—94. Цит. по: Мейер, «Лили Браун», 102.Конечной целью любой работы на благо общества, ради освобождения человечества от любой формы интеллектуального и личного рабства, не может быть ничего иного, кроме свободы развития для индивида, права каждого на свою личность.Лили Браун, «Мемуары социалистки», том 2, «Годы борьбы» (Мюнхен: Альберт Ланген, 1911), 653-654.Мейер, «Лили Браун», 182 сл.Об утверждении Браун войны, феминизма и Ницше см. её работу «Женщины и война» (Лейпциг: Хирцель, 1915).Лили Браун — Отто Брауну, 17 января 1916 г., цит. по: Мейер, «Лили Браун», 177-178.Franz Laufkötter, “Die Taktik des Starken und Taktik des Schwachen,” Die Neue Gesellschaft 4 (июль 1906).Dieter Fricke, “Zur Rolle der revisionistischen Zeitschrift Die neue Gesellschaft in der deutschen Arbeiterbewegung, 1905-1907,” в Beiträge zur Geschichte der deutschen Arbeiterbewegung 17 (1975); Hinton Thomas, Nietzsche in German Politics, 35.О новейшем сравнении в свете современности см. Nancy S. Love, Marx, Nietzsche, and Modernity (New York: Columbia University Press, 1986).В серии работ неогегельянец Эмиль Хаммахер стремился создать синтез из главных современных антиномий — труда и капитала, индивида и массового общества — посредством критики Маркса и Ницше, а также переосмысления значений социализма и индивидуализма. См. его “Marx und Nietzsche,” Kölnische Zeitung, no.В период Веймарской республики Хуго Бунд настаивал на деспотических целях обоих (Nietzsche als Prophet des Sozialismus [Breslau: Trewendt and Grenier, 1919]). Фундаментальное классовое деление Ницше на господ и рабов имело тот же нивелирующий эффект, что и социализм, который он так критиковал, ибо оба призывали к обесцениванию личности.Samuel Lublinski, “Nietzsche und der Sozialismus,” Europa: Wochenscrift für Kultur und Politik 1, no. 22 (15 июня 1905), 1085, 1092.Eisner, Psychopathia Spiritualis, 86.О кантианской стороне Эйснера см. George L. Mosse, “Left-Wing Intellectuals in the Weimar Republic,” в Germans and Jews, 179-180.Eisner, Psychopathia Spiritualis, 58, 95—99.Там же, 6, 9, 11, 94. Работа Айснера была отчасти написана как ответ на интерпретацию Ницше Мерингом. Последующая рецензия Меринга на Psychopathia Spiritualis, хотя и восхваляющая окончательный отказ Айснера от Ницше, критикует его за то, что допустима была только точка зрения исторического материализма (Neue Zeit 10, № 2, 668 сл.).Там же, 78-86.Там же, 79.Хаим Вейцман описывает эту атмосферу: В понедельник мадемуазель Аксельрод из Берна читает здесь лекцию о Ницше и социализме. Бедный, бедный Ницше, какие уродливые губы будут произносить его слова, и эти господа социалисты пытаются натянуть свою красную шапочку на голову этого великого гения. Кажется вполне очевидным, что никто не нравился этому братству меньше, чем Ницше. Они могли бы оставить его в покое, они могли бы позволить ему мирно лежать в могиле, вместо того чтобы трепать его имя, и ради чего? Мадемуазель А., по-видимому, докажет, что Ницше ошибался, что если бы он знал ее, он был бы гораздо мудрее. Pack, Pack, Pack! (Papers and Letters, 123)Франц Сервас, «Nietzsche und der Sozialismus: Subjektive Betrachtungen», Freie Bühne 3 (1892), 85-88, 202-211.Цит. по: Рейнхарт Маурер, «Nietzsche und die Kritische Theorie», Nietzsche-Studien 10/11 (1981-1982), 46.Ф. Швангарт, «Что для нас Ницше?», Heimstunden: Пролетарская трибуна для искусства, литературы, поэзии, № 5 (май 1925), 141-148.Стихотворение Ницше «Одиночество» было включено в книгу «Снизу вверх: Книга свободы», под ред. Франца Дидериха, 3-е изд. (Дрезден: Издательство Каден, 1928), 365. См. Холлуб, 1.См. Карл Хенкель, «Немецкие поэты со времен Генриха Гейне» (Берлин: Бард-Марквардт, 1906), 112-120, где обсуждаются поэт и стихотворение. См. также Круммель, «Ницше», том 2, 264.Джордж Л. Моссе, «Литература и общество в Германии», в «Массы и человек», 26.Альфред Клайнберг, «Немецкая поэзия в ее социальных, исторических и духовно-исторических условиях» (Берлин: Й. Г. В. Диц, 1927), 397-398. Цит. по Холлуб, 1.Меринг, «Литературное обозрение», 668—669.Дэвид Батрик и Пол Брейнес, «Маркс и/или Ницше: Заметки о кризисе марксизма», в «Карл Маркс и Фридрих Ницше», под ред. Р. Гримма и Й. Херманда, 119-135 (Кёнигштайн: Издательство Атеней, 1978), 127-129. Эта статья была полезна для обозначения некоторых важных тем для этой главы.Подробный обзор с библиографией см. Хеннинг Оттманн, «Анти-Лукач: Критика критики Ницше Георгом Лукачем», Nietzsche-Studien 13 (1984). Хеннинг выдвигает психологическое предположение, что крайняя яростность критики Ницше у Лукача объяснима как атака на самого себя или на свое юношеское «я» (стр. 571-572).Курт Хиллер, «Логократия», Das Ziel (1920), 220. Цит. по Моссе, «Левые интеллектуалы», 188 сл. Моссе подчеркивает скорее кантовское, чем ницшеанское влияние. «Разум растворяется в человеческой воле, и Курт Хиллер писал, что из рационализма восстает воля, освобожденная от оков, которые наложил на нее интеллектуализм»; цитата отдает как Ницше, так и Кантом.Хиллер, «Жизнь против времени» (Гамбург: Ровольт, 1969), 141; Круммель, «Ницше», том 2, 102, прим. 86.Об этой характерно манновской — и немецкой — проблематике см. эссе Манна 1928 года «Культура и социализм» в его сборнике «Эссе», том 2, «Политика», под ред. Германа Курцке (Франкфурт-на-Майне: Фишер Ташенбух, 1977).Томас Манн, «Философия Ницше в свете современных событий», в сборнике «Речи Томаса Манна», 95—96. Об антагонизме между аморальным эстетизмом и моральным социализмом см. с. 98 и сл.Мартин Джей, «Марксизм и тотальность: приключения концепции от Лукача до Хабермаса» (Беркли, Лос-Анджелес и Лондон: Издательство Калифорнийского университета, 1984), 9-10. Эта прекрасная работа была чрезвычайно полезна для данной темы.Часть этой сложности проявляется в восхищенном обращении Терри Иглтона к Вальтеру Беньямину. Беньяминовские «взгляды на культурную революцию, его антиисторическое настаивание на разрывах, переработках и реинтерпретациях» были глубоко под влиянием Ницше:Бэтрик и Брейнес, «Маркс и/или Ницше», 125 и сл.Блох, «Импульс Ницше», 325.Райнхарт Маурер, «Ницше и критическая теория», 41-42. Это блестящее и провокационное исследование.Джей, «Марксизм и тотальность», 8.Маурер, «Ницше и критическая теория», 35—36, 43-44.Der Spiegel 37 (8 сентября 1969), 164. См. также Петер Пютц, «Ницше в свете критической теории», Nietzsche-Studien 3 (1974).«Эстетика и политика» (Лондон: NLB, 1977), 131.Теодор Адорно, «Шпенглер после заката», в «Призмах» (Кембридж: MIT Press, 1986), 65. Адорно высказал этот тезис в связи со своей негативной оценкой Шпенглера.Теодор Адорно, рецензия на биографию Вагнера Эрнста Ньюмана в Kenyon Review 9 (№ 1, зима 1947), 161; Мартин Джей, «Диалектическое воображение: история Франкфуртской школы и Института социальных исследований, 1923-1950» (Бостон и Торонто: Little, Brown, 1973), 311, прим. 41.Комментарии Хоркхаймера были сделаны в аналогичном ключе в связи с его неприязнью к Шпенглеру (рецензия на «Годы решения» Шпенглера, Zeitschrift für Sozialforschung [1933], 423).Макс Хоркхаймер, «Заметки к “Ницше” Ясперса», Zeitschrift für Sozialforschung (1937), 414.Глава 2 работы Сьюзен Бак-Морсс красноречиво озаглавлена «Маркс без пролетариата: теория как праксис» (Происхождение негативной диалектики: Теодор В. Адорно, Вальтер Беньямин и Франкфуртская школа [Хассокс, Сассекс: Харвестер, 1977]).Герберт Маркузе, Одномерный человек (Бостон: Бикон, 1966), 216.Ницше, К генеалогии морали, 57—62.Джей, «Анамнестическая тотализация: память в мышлении Герберта Маркузе», гл. 7 в Марксизм и тотальность.Герберт Маркузе, Эрос и цивилизация: Философское исследование Фрейда (Бостон: Бикон, 1966), 232.Там же, 121, 122. См. также с. 119—124.Герберт Маркузе, Советский марксизм: Критический анализ (Нью-Йорк: Издательство Колумбийского университета, 1958), 228—229.Хоркхаймер отмечает, что средства Ницше для достижения общества сверхлюдей, особенно его упор на евгенику, были результатом его собственной изоляции («Замечания о Ясперсе», 409). Идеи Ницше о социализме и бесклассовом обществе сформировались под влиянием социал-демократов, а не Маркса. Он, как иронично заметил Хоркхаймер, не так уж сильно ошибся в оценке социал-демократов!Теодор Адорно, Minima Moralia: Размышления из поврежденной жизни, пер. Э. Ф. Джефкотт (Лондон: NLB, 1974), 15.Эта связь была убедительно обоснована Джорджем Фридманом (Джордж Фридман, «Политическая философия Франкфуртской школы» [Итака, штат Нью-Йорк, и Лондон: Издательство Корнеллского университета, 1981], гл. 3). Подобные анализы Франкфуртской школы также в большей степени, чем у Ницше, включали социально-экономические и капиталистические факторы.Герберт Маркузе, «Эстетическое измерение: к критике марксистской эстетики» (Бостон: Beacon, 1978), 31.Макс Хоркхаймер, «Материализм и метафизика», Zeitschrift für Sozialforschung 2, № 1 (1933), 3-4; «К спору о рационализме в современной философии», Zeitschrift für Sozialforschung 3, № 1 (1934), 9.Ницше, «По ту сторону добра и зла», 44; «К генеалогии морали», 3, 24. У Маурера есть обстоятельный анализ этого вопроса («Ницше и критическая теория», 36).Там же.Адорно писал: Среди мотивов культуркритики одним из самых устоявшихся и центральных является мотив лжи: что культура создает иллюзию достойного человека общества, которого не существует; что она скрывает материальные условия, на которых возвышаются все человеческие творения, и что, утешая и убаюкивая, она служит для поддержания пагубной экономической детерминации существования.Перечень этой критики см. у Пютца, «Ницше в свете критической теории», 187 сл.Макс Хоркхаймер, «К проблеме истины», в «Основном сборнике Франкфуртской школы», под ред. Эндрю Арато и Айке Гебхардта, вступление Пола Пиконе, 407-433 (Нью-Йорк: Continuum, 1985), 442.Маурер, «Ницше и критическая теория», 46-49.Фридман, Политическая философия, 300.Зигфрид Кракауэр, История: Последние вещи перед последними (Нью-Йорк: Издательство Оксфордского университета, 1969), 201. Это уже было признано в работе Джиллиан Роуз, Меланхолическая наука: Введение в мысль Т. В. Адорно (Лондон: Макмиллан, 1978), 22, 24. См. язвительную работу Ж. Г. Меркиора Западный марксизм (Лондон: Паладин, 1986), 134.Юрген Хабермас, Автономия и солидарность, под ред. Питера Дьюса (Лондон: Версо, 1986). Критика как Ницше, так и Франкфуртской школы подчёркивается в попытке Хабермаса выйти за их пределы (стр. 49, 103, 133 и гл. 6). Наиболее полно это проанализировано в его работе Философский дискурс модерна, пер. Фредерика Лоуренса (Кембридж: Издательство МТИ, 1987).Юрген Хабермас, «Переплетение мифа и Просвещения», в Философском дискурсе.Юрген Хабермас, Знание и интересы, пер. Джереми Дж. Шапиро (Бостон, 1971), 290.Ницше — это вездесущее преследующее присутствие в ответе Хабермаса на текущую ницшеанскую «иррационалистическую» волну, содержащуюся в Философском дискурсе.Это бремя Джеймса Миллера, «Некоторые следствия мысли Ницше для марксизма», Telos 37 (осень 1978). Существуют, конечно, марксисты, которые убедительно сопротивляются этому синкретизму. Дерзкое «радикальное» обращение к Ницше в конечном итоге приводит к зрелой либерально-демократической позиции, иронично скептической, но добродушно терпимой к радикальным выходкам молодежи... На кону здесь... не что иное, как диалектическая связь теории и практики. Ибо если практика определяется в неоницшеанском стиле как спонтанная ошибка, продуктивная слепота или историческая амнезия, то теория, конечно, не может быть ничем иным, как изнуренным размышлением о своей окончательной невозможности. (Терри Иглтон, «Капитализм, модернизм и постмодернизм», в книге «Против течения: избранные эссе» [Лондон: Verso, 1986], 137).К видным представителям этого направления относятся Жиль Делёз, Деррида, Жан Лиотар и Фуко. Пример ницшеанского компонента в этом мышлении см. в антологии под редакцией Дэвида Б. Эллисона «Новый Ницше: современные стили интерпретации» (Кембридж: MIT Press, 1985).См. мастерский «Эпилог: вызов постструктурализма» Джея в книге «Марксизм и тотальность», 510—537.Фридрих Вурцбах, «Ницше и немецкая судьба» (Берлин и Лейпциг: Deutsches Verlaghaus Bong, 1933), 19—20.Артур Мёллер ван ден Брук, «Ницше и социализм», «Иллюстрированная газета» 152, (1919), 233. Цитата из Ницше взята из «Воли к власти», 399.Артур Мёллер ван ден Брук, «Третий рейх Германии», пер. Э. О. Лоример, (Лондон: Аллен и Анвин, 1934), 151-154. Цитата из Ницше взята из «Воли к власти», 399.Там же, 76, 136, 221.Джерри З. Мюллер, «Другой бог, который потерпел неудачу», 149-150, 288-289.Хуго Фишер, «Ницше-отступник, или Философия упадка» (Эрфурт: Издательство Курта Стенгера, 1931), 11—17.Ницше, «Воля к власти», 399. Как ни странно, немногие ухватились за следующее: Солдаты и лидеры до сих пор имеют гораздо лучшие отношения друг с другом, чем рабочие и работодатели. По крайней мере, до сих пор культура, покоящаяся на военной основе, всё ещё возвышается над всей так называемой индустриальной культурой: последняя в своём нынешнем виде является самой вульгарной формой существования, которая когда-либо существовала.Зомбарт, «Новая социальная философия», 72, 81-82. Его «Немецкий социализм» типизировал тенденции, обобщенные здесь. Контуры этого мышления уже содержались в его военном трактате «Торговцы и герои».Адольф Гитлер, Ring, 30 (1933). Цит. по: Зомбарт, «Новая социальная философия», 49.Фридрих Месс, «Ницше: Законодатель» (Лейпциг: Феликс Майнер, 1930), 216.Манн, «Философия Ницше», 94.Об анализе продолжающихся отношений Шпенглера с Ницше см.: Зумбини, «Закаты и рассветы».Освальд Шпенглер, «Закат Европы», т. 1, «Образ и действительность», 342, 351.Там же, 371, 370-372.Там же, 347.Там же, 361-362.Ницше, Воля к власти, 411.Освальд Шпенглер, Закат Европы, том 2, Перспективы мировой истории, пер. Чарльза Фрэнсиса Аткинсона (Нью-Йорк: Альфред А. Кнопф, 1980), 464.Там же, 506.Освальд Шпенглер, Пруссачество и социализм (Мюнхен: К. Х. Бек, 1925),Подробности о связи с национал-большевизмом см. в: Дж. П. Стерн, Эрнст Юнгер: Писатель нашего времени (Кембридж: Боуз энд Боуз, 1953), 10-13.Эрнст Юнгер, «Рабочий» в Собрании сочинений, том 6, Эссе II (Штутгарт, 1964), 47.Там же, 61, 26 сл., 53 сл.«Лесок 125: Хроника окопных боев», 1318, 3-е изд. (Берлин, 1926), 154. Я хотел бы поблагодарить Милларда Гриффина за эту ссылку.Юнгер, «Рабочий», 154.Там же, 118 и сл.Там же, 164 и сл.Там же, 159.Классическое изложение этого кризиса «буржуазно-христианского мира» содержится в работе Карла Лёвита «От Гегеля к Ницше: революционный разрыв в мышлении девятнадцатого века» (Цюрих: Europa, 1941). Переведено как «От Гегеля к Ницше: революция в мышлении девятнадцатого века», пер. Дэвида Э. Грина (Нью-Йорк: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1964).Обзор этих групп см. в работе Роя Паскаля «Религия и церкви», гл. 7 в его книге «От натурализма к экспрессионизму».Блестящую и проницательную сатиру, изображающую шарлатанский, ницшеанский и демонический характер этих групп, см. в рассказе Томаса Манна 1904 года «У пророка» в его сборнике «Рассказы трех десятилетий», пер. Х. Т. Лоу-Портер (Нью-Йорк: Alfred A. Knopf, 1936). О более позднем периоде см. Ульрих Линзе, «Босоногие пророки: спасители двадцатых годов» (Берлин, 1983).Между 1880 и 1910 годами возникли десятки вольнодумных организаций. В 1909 году они объединились в Веймарский картель, насчитывавший до 60 000 членов. Учитывая их огромные различия, из этой коалиции мало что вышло (Келли, «Спуск Дарвина», 91 и сл.).Ницше, «По ту сторону добра и зла», 66.Обсуждение взглядов Ницше на религию см. в работе: Dieter Henke, Gott und die Grammatik: Nietzsches Kritik der Religion (Pfullingen: Günther Neske, 1981).Религиозность Заратустры также объясняет неофициальную канонизацию этого произведения во время Первой мировой войны в качестве священного национального документа, которая стала официальной в Третьем рейхе, когда книгу поместили в склеп Танненбергского мемориала.Другой обзор восприятия Ницше в теологии см. в работе: Peter Köster, “Nietzsche-Kritik und Nietzsche-Rezeption in der Theologie des 20 Jahrhunderts,” Nietzsche-Studien 10/11 (1981/1982), 615-685; Joelle Phillipi, “Das Nietzsche-Bild,” гл. 9, “Nietzsche als Feind der Religion und der Moral.”Hans Gallwitz, “Friedrich Nietzsche als Erzieher zum Christentum,” Preussische Jahrbücher 83/84 (1896).Там же, 336.Моссе, «Национализм и сексуальность».Г. Групп, «Значение Ницше для нашего времени», Историко-политические листки для католической Германии 122 (1898); Адельберт Дюрингер, «Философия Ницше и современное христианство» (Лейпциг: фон Файт, 1907).Эдуард Гримм, «Как Фридрих Ницше стал врагом христианства и чему мы можем у него научиться?» Протестантские ежемесячники 4, № 7 (1900).Эберхард Арнольд, «Борьба Ницше за Бога», Духовная борьба современности: Ежемесячник христианского образования и мировоззрения 52, № 10 (1916), 380.Фридрих Риттельмейер, «Фридрих Ницше и религия: Четыре лекции» (Ульм: Генрих Керлер, 1904), 88.Теодор Оденвальд, «Фридрих Ницше и современное христианство» (Гиссен: Альфред Тёпельманн, 1926), 17, 23.О карьере Кальтхоффа см. Фридрих Штойдель, «Жизнеописание», в сб.: А. Кальтхофф, «Идеалы будущего» (Йена, 1907).Дюрингер, «Философия Ницше», 150.Альберт Кальтхофф, «Проповеди Заратустры: Речи о нравственном понимании жизни Фридриха Ницше» (Лейпциг: Ойген Дидерихс, 1904).Альберт Кальтхофф, «Возникновение христианства» (Йена, 1904); Джеймс Бентли, «Между Марксом и Христом: Диалог в немецкоязычной Европе» (Лондон: Версо, 1982), 36-41.Кальтхофф, «Проповеди Заратустры», 4.Там же, 9.Альберт Кальтхофф, «Религия современных людей» (Йена и Лейпциг: Ойген Дидерихс, 1905), 88, 310.Kalthoff, Zarathustrapredigten, 19—20.О де Лагарде см. Fritz Stern, “Paul de Lagarde and a Germanic Religion,” часть 1 в The Politics of Cultural Despair: A Study in the Rise of Germanic Ideology (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1961), 3—94.Arthur Bonus, Religion als Wille: Grundlegende zur neuen Frömmigkeit (Jena: Eugen Diederichs, 1915). Эти идеи получили некоторый импульс во время Первой мировой войны, но они развивались некоторое время до этого. См. серию статей Бонуса о германизации христианства в Die christliche Welt: Evangelisches Gemeindeblatt für Gebildete aller Stände 13 (1899).Bonus, Religion als Wille, 106.Arthur Bonus, “Der neue Geist,” Die christliche Welt 13 (1899), 173.Arthur Bonus, Zur Germanisierung des Christentums (Jena: Eugen Diederichs, 1911), стр. 66-67.Bonus, “Der neue Geist,” 173.Karl Joel, Nietzsche und die Romantik (Jena: Eugen Diederichs, 1911), 143.Paul Schulze-Berghof, “Zarathustra—Deutsche Mystik—Deutscher Glaube,” Der Vortrupp 5 (1916).Joseph Bernhart, “Meister Eckhart und Nietzsche,” Blätter für Deutsche Philosophie 3, no. 4 (1930).Bertram, Nietzsche, 8, 53.Ibid., 125-135.Ibid., 280-363.Цит. по: Лёвит, «От Гегеля к Ницше», 327.Хуберт Трайбер, «Ницшеанский “монастырь для более свободных умов”», в сб. «Религия высших слоев общества» под ред. Антеса и Панке, 149–150.Людвиг Дерлет, «Прокламации» (Лейпциг: Инзель, 1904). См. также: Круммель, «Ницше», том 2, 182–183.Ницше, «Воля к власти», 513.Х. Кройцер, «Богема: очерки к ее описанию» (Штутгарт, 1968), 334.Доминик Йост, «Людвиг Дерлет: образ и достижение» (Штутгарт, 1965), цит. по: Круммель, «Ницше», том 2, 183, прим. 156.Питер ван дер Меер де Вальхерен, «Тоска по Богу» (Фрайбург: Гердер, 1937), 52, 58 сл., 93. Цит. по: Круммель, «Ницше», том 2, 183, прим. 156.Ганс фон Либиг, «Религия Ницше», Die Umschau 4, № 42 (13 октября 1900); Г. Дрисманс, «Фридрих Ницше и религия», Ernstes Wollen 6, № 113 (1 августа 1904).Уилсон, «Рудольф Штайнер», 18, 86–90. Описание Штайнера у Уилсона носит сочувственный характер.Сила этого влечения очевидна по огромному количеству опубликованных работ, начиная уже с 1892 года, которые Штайнер посвятил Ницше, включая: «Ницшеанство», Litterarischer Merkur 12, № 14 (2 апреля 1892), 105–108; «Ницше в благочестивом освещении», Das Magazin für Litteratur 67, № 33 (20 августа 1898), 769–772; «Толстой и Ницше», Das Magazin für Litteratur 70, №Восхищение Штайнера длилось недолго. Возможно, из-за своих пророческих амбиций он писал очень критические, психологизирующие статьи о Ницше, утверждая, что Ницше не может быть ведущим духом будущего. Некоторые из этих работ собраны в книге «Фридрих Ницше — борец против своего времени» (Дорнах: Рудольф Штайнер, [1895] 1983).Цит. по: Уилсон, «Рудольф Штайнер», 87–88.Цит. по: Уилсон, «Рудольф Штайнер», 87—88.Лукач, «Разрушение разума», 362; Миллер, «Некоторые следствия мысли Ницше для марксизма», 30; Паннвиц, «Введение в Ницше», 9-13.Юлиус Харт, «Новый Бог: взгляд на грядущее столетие» (Флоренция и Лейпциг: Ойген Дидерикс, 1899).Рихард Мейер, рецензия на книгу Юлиуса Харта «Новый Бог» в «Deutsche Literaturzeitung», № 14 (8 апреля 1899).Харт, «Новый Бог», 92.Харт, «Новый человек», «Das Reich der Erfüllung» 2 (1901), 21. Цит. по: Мендес-Флор, «От мистицизма к диалогу», 56.См. превосходное обсуждение братьев Харт, «Нового сообщества» и Ницше у Мендес-Флора в гл. 3 «Мистицизм переживания Бубера» в книге «От мистицизма к диалогу».Харт, «Новый человек», 27. Цит. по: Мендес-Флор, «От мистицизма к диалогу», 57.Ландауэр считал братьев Харт поверхностными, интересующимися пустыми игрой слов, а их поиск общности — скорее риторическим, нежели подлинным поиском живых альтернатив (Ланн, «Пророк общности», 142-147).Густав Ландауэр, «Религиозное воспитание молодежи», Freie Bühne (11 февраля 1891 г.). Цит. по: Ланн, «Пророк общности», 32.Ландауэр, «Скепсис и мистика». Цит. по: Ланн, «Пророк общности», 160.Цит. по: Джордж Стайнер, «Пребывание в чудесном», Times Literary Supplement (4 октября 1985 г.), 1087.Эрнст Блох, «Импульс Ницше», «Наследие нашего времени», 331.Джордж Л. Клайн, «Богостроители: Горький и Луначарский», гл. 4 в его книге «Религиозная и антирелигиозная мысль в России» (Чикаго и Лондон: Издательство Чикагского университета). Я благодарен профессору Джонатану Френкелю за эту ссылку.См. краткий анализ богостроителей в работе Лешека Колаковского «Главные течения марксизма», т. 2: «Золотой век», пер. П. С. Фалла (Оксфорд и Нью-Йорк: Издательство Оксфордского университета, 1985), 446—447.Клайн, «Религиозная и антирелигиозная мысль», 119.Там же, 124.Макс Мауренбрехер, «Страдание: полемика с религией» (Йена: Ойген Дидерихс, 1912), 5—6.Там же, 9.Там же, 133.Там же, 168.Там же, 182.Эрнст Хорнеффер, «Немцы и религия: дополнение и возражение», Die Tat (журнал) 2, № 7 (1910).Макс Мауренбрехер, «Христианство или монизм» (Аннаберг в Саксонии: Гразерс, 1914), 10.Макс Мауренбрехер, «Откровение: пробная проповедь» (Лангензальца: Вендт и Клаувелл, 1919); Мауренбрехер, «Через Фридриха Ницше к немецкому Евангелию: богослужения, молитвы и религиозные дискуссии» (Дрезден: Издательство «Вера и немецкость», 1926).О Дидериксе см. Старк, «Предприниматели идеологии».Ойген Дидерикс, «Зильс-Мария и Фридрих Ницше», Berliner Tageblatt (8 августа 1906); см. также его автобиографические комментарии в сборнике, посвященном его юбилею: «Ойген Дидерикс: его жизнь и его творчество» (Лейпциг: Ойген Дидерикс, 1927).О фёлькише-позиции и связях Дидерикса см. Моссе, «Кризис немецкой идеологии», гл. 3. О другой, более сочувственной перспективе см. Хинтон Томас, «Ницше в немецкой политике», 116 сл., и Грин, «Гора истины».Моссе, «Кризис немецкой идеологии», 59—60.Об истории отношений Хорнефферов с Архивом см. Питерс, «Сестра Заратустры», 168—169. Их труды о Ницше были многочисленны. Вот небольшой пример: оба брата опубликовали «Классический идеал: речи и эссе» (Лейпциг: Й. Цайтлер, 1906), в котором Ницше занимает видное место; Август Хорнеффер, «Ницше как моралист и писатель» (Йена: Ойген Дидерикс, 1906); Эрнст Хорнеффер, «Учение Ницше о вечном возвращении и его предыдущие публикации» (Лейпциг: К. Г. Науманн, 1900); «Лекции о Ницше: попытка воспроизведения его мыслей» (Гёттинген: Франц Вундер, 1901).Следует отметить, что целостность пронизывала риторику неоромантических правых. Хотя этому понятию не хватало богатых теоретических нюансов, которые оно имело у левых (как показал Мартин Джей в своей работе «Марксизм и целостность»), оно было главной вызывающей ассоциации категорией и для правых. И здесь Ницше был авторитетным формулировщиком этой идеи и противовесом Марксу.Die Tat: Wege zu Freiem Menschentum 1, № 1 (апрель 1909), 2.Ernst Horneffer, “Unsere Ziele,” Die Tat 1, № 1 (апрель 1909), 2.Мартин Грин удачно проводит различие между поддержкой Дидериксом индивидуальности и его противостоянием индивидуализму (Mountain of Truth, 220). Это различие в равной степени применимо к Хорнефферам и другим лицам, которых поддерживал Дидерикс.August Horneffer, “Der heidnische Lebensweg,” Die Tat 3 (1911-1912).Там же, 30.Ernst Horneffer, Der künftige Religion (Leipzig: Werner Klinkhardt, 1909).Там же, 29 сл.Там же, 30.Там же, 70.Там же, 103-105.Там же, 120.Джордж Л. Моссе, «Политическая культура итальянского футуризма: общая перспектива», Журнал современной истории 25, № 2—3 (май—июнь 1990), 256.Эрнст Хорнеффер, Ницше как предвестник современности (Дюссельдорф: А. Багель, 1934).Об истории этого движения см. Ганс Буххайм, Кризис веры в Третьем рейхе: три главы национал-социалистической религиозной политики (Штутгарт: Дойче Ферлаг, 1953); Дж. Конуэй, Нацистское преследование церквей, 1933—1945 (Лондон: Вайденфельд и Николсон, 1968).Герман Раушнинг, Гитлер говорит: серия политических бесед с Адольфом Гитлером (Лондон: Торнтон Баттерворт, 1939), 59. К свидетельству Раушнинга следует относиться со здоровой долей скептицизма.Движение было преобразовано в пропагандистский орган под нацистским надзором через журнал Durchbruch. Даже после того, как Хауэр был лишен реального контроля, он продолжал проповедовать свою религию и был ведущим сторонником ариизации в Тюбингенском университете (Уве Дитрих Адам, Высшая школа и национал-социализм: Тюбингенский университет в Третьем рейхе [Тюбинген: Дж. К. Б. Мор, 1977])Вильгельм Хауэр, «Происхождение движения "Немецкая вера"», в Вильгельм Хауэр, Карл Хайм, Карл Адам, пер. Т. С. К. Скотт-Крейг и Р. Э. Дэвис, Новая религия Германии (Нью-Йорк: Абингдон, 1937), 29, 36.Ernst Bergmann, 25 Theses of the German Religion: A Catechism (London, 1936).Hans Günther, Frömmigkeit nordischer Artung (Jena: Eugen Diederichs, 1937), 24.Почти бесконечные отсылки к Ницше и ницшеанским темам можно найти в многочисленных работах Хауэра и в журнале движения Deutscher Glaube (Hans Kern, “Die Umwertung aller Werte,” Deutscher Glaube 3 [1936]; Hans Endres, “Aussprache: Der Erlösungsgedanke bei Nietzsche,” Deutscher Glaube 5 [1938]).Wilhelm Hauer, “Meine Begegnung mit Nietzsche,” Deutscher Glaube 2, no. 11 (1935), 569.Wilhelm Hauer, Deutsche Gottschau: Grundziige eines Deutschen Glaubens (Stuttgart: Karl Gutbrod, 1935), 110.Ibid.Wilhelm Hauer, Fest und Feier aus deutscher Art (Stuttgart: Karl Gutbrod, 1936). Хауэр писал очень много в этот период. Его работы систематически прослеживали связи между религией и расой (Glaube und Blut: Beitrage zum Problem Religion und Rasse [Karlsruhe and Leipzig: Bolze, 1938]).Hans Eggert Schröder, Nietzsche und das Christentum (Berlin: Widulind, 1937), 50ff, 74ff.Nietzsche, Untimely Meditations.Панвиц, «Введение в Ницше», 4.Отличный обзор см. в работе Аллена С. Вайса «Невозможный суверенитет: между волей к власти и волей к случаю», October 36 (весна 1986).Жорж Батай, «О Ницше: воля к случаю», October 36 (весна 1986), 51, 56.Вайс, «Невозможный суверенитет», 130.Лукач, «Разрушение разума», 359.Эта критика была справедливо направлена в адрес Лукача Джорджем Лихтхаймом: «Нигде Лукач не пытается осмыслить ту мысль, что сокрушительное воздействие Ницше на целое поколение немцев могло быть связано с распадом протестантской веры. Религиозное измерение для него просто не существует» (Лукач [Лондон: Fontana, Collins, 1970], 114).Роджер Скратон, «Философ на Дуврском пляже», Times Literary Supplement (23 мая 1986), 565-566.Джордж Лихтхайм, «Европа в двадцатом веке» (Лондон: Cardinal, 1974), 186.Значительная часть исследований нацизма отрицает тезис о нигилизме. Интересный взгляд Эрнста Нольте на то, что нацизм представлял собой своего рода ницшеанский натуралистический бунт против буржуазной теоретической и практической трансцендентности, имеет под собой веские основания («Три лика фашизма» [Нью-Йорк: Ментор, 1969]).Ницше, «Ecce Homo», 266.Еще в 1942 году, в контексте нацизма, Франц Нойман призвал к изучению «фактического распространения идей Ницше среди различных групп немецкого народа и трансформации его идей в процессе этой популяризации» («Бегемот: Структура и практика национал-социализма» [Нью-Йорк: Издательство Оксфордского университета, 1944], 490, прим. 93).Ницше, «По ту сторону добра и зла», 131; см. также «Ecce Homo», 327: Ибо когда истина вступает в борьбу с ложью тысячелетий, у нас будут землетрясения, судорожное движение гор и долин, о каком до сих пор и не мечталось.Альфред Боймлер, «Ницше — философ и политик» (Лейпциг: Реклам, 1931). Другие важные эссе, написанные до Третьего рейха, см. в переизданиях его работ «Бахофен и Ницше» (1929) и «Ницше» (1930) в его сборнике «Исследования по истории немецкого духа» (Берлин: Юнкер унд Дюннхаупт, 1937).См., например: Й. Гюнтер, «Ницше и национал-социализм», «Национал-социалистические ежемесячники» 2, № 21 (декабрь 1931), 560—563.Готлиб Шойффлер, «Фридрих Ницше в Третьем рейхе: подтверждение и задача» (Эрфурт: Э. Шойффлер, 1933).Д-р Гросс, «Пророки: Фридрих Ницше, Поль де Лагард и Хьюстон Стюарт Чемберлен в их значении для нас», «Национал-социалистические ежемесячники» 1 (1930), 29—33. Списки нацистских предтеч см.: Альфред Розенберг, «Против маскировки», «Фёлькишер беобахтер» (3 декабря 1933); Фриц Пойкерт, «Чемберлен и Ницше», «Национал-социалистические ежемесячники» 5, №.Нойман, «Бегемот», 490, прим. 93. См. также: Рудольф Э. Кюнцли, «Нацистское присвоение Ницше», «Ницше-штудиен» 12 (1983), 429—430.Ханс Херберт Ридер, «Страсть вокруг Рейха: Гёльдерлин, Клейст, Ницше», Die Westmark 4, № 10 (июль 1937), 493.Эрнст Хорнеффер, «Ницше как предвестник современности» (Дюссельдорф: Abagel Aktiengesellschaft, 1934), 12.Существуют бесчисленные примеры. В журнале нацистской молодежи Бальдура фон Шираха «Воля и власть» (Wille und Macht), например, было мало чего явно ницшеанского, да и название не совпадало с «Волей к власти» (Wille zur Macht). Тем не менее использованные тона и категории, даже если они были пародийными, частичными или бессознательными, происходили из ницшеанской сокровищницы.Ницше действительно использовал термин «недочеловек» (в «Веселой науке» и прологе к «Заратустре»), как отмечает Кауфман в своем переводе «Веселой науки» (192, прим. 30). Но это слово не было изобретением Ницше; оно впервые было использовано в конце XVIII века и, кроме того, было для Ницше весьма маргинальным. Нацисты использовали его гораздо чаще после того, как трансформировали его. Тем не менее термин и его применение приобрели особый резонанс в рамках привычной ницшеанской ассоциации — акцент на сверхлюдях неявно вызывал образы недочеловеков (Алекс Бейн, «Еврейский паразит», Ежегодник Института Лео Бека 10 [1964], 27—28).Йозеф Акерманн, «Генрих Гиммлер как идеолог» (Гёттинген: Musterschmidt, 1970), 210-214.Дитрих Бейцке, рецензия на книгу Ханса Эндреса «Раса, брак, разведение и селекция у Ницше и сегодня», Deutscher Glaube 4 (1939), 183.Альфред Розенберг, «Фридрих Ницше» (Мюнхен: Центральное издательство НСДАП, 1944), 3.Ханс Керн, «Ницше и немецкая революция», Rhythmus: Monatschrift für Bewegungslehre 12 (1934), 146.Генрих Хартле, «Ницше и национал-социализм» (Мюнхен: Центральное издательство НСДАП, 1937), 6.К. О. Шмидт, «Люби свою судьбу! Ницше и немецкое обновление: обзор и перспективы» (Пфюллинген: Йоханнес Баум, 1933).Ханс Керн, «Немецкое переоткрытие тела», Rhythmus 12, № 5/6 (май/июнь 1934); Рудольф Лук, «Ницшеанское учение о жизни тела», Rhythmus 14 (1936), 97-105.Проницательное обсуждение политических интерпретаций переоткрытия тела см. в работе Моссе «Национализм и сексуальность», гл. 3, особенно с. 53.Элер, «Ницше и немецкое будущее», 18.Моя картина представляет собой совокупность образов, которые можно найти практически во всех ницшеанских источниках, цитируемых в этой главе. Работа Элера «Ницше и немецкое будущее» содержит почти все эти компоненты.Питерс, «Сестра Заратустры», 221.Элизабет Фёрстер-Ницше — Эрнсту Тилю, 12 мая 1933 г.; цитируется там же, 220.Кесслер, «Дневники», 426.Питерс, «Сестра Заратустры», 211, 212; см. также гл. 23, «Борьба против Веймарской республики».Кесслер, «Дневники», 426.Альберт Шпеер, «Внутри Третьего рейха» (Лондон: Сфир, 1971), 109.Питерс, «Сестра Заратустры», 222, 224.«Фёлькишер беобахтер» (11 ноября 1935 г.).Ганс Донндорф, «Фридрих Ницше и современная немецкая школа», «Немецкий филологический листок» 43 (1935); Генрих Вайншток, «Преодоление "кризиса образования" через Ницше», «Воспитание: ежемесячник о взаимосвязи культуры и воспитания в науке и жизни» 10 (1935), 469-470; Герхард Будде, «Ницше и высшая школа», «Ежемесячник для высших школ» 37 (1938)Ганс Хейзе, «Идея науки и немецкий университет» (Кёнигсберг: Грефе и Унцер, 1935), 3, 9. Цитируется по: Ганс Слуга, «Метадискурс: немецкая философия и национал-социализм», «Социальные исследования» 56, № 4 (зима 1989), 812. Благодарю Менахема Бринкера за эту ссылку.Ханс-Йоахим Фалькенберг, «Ницше и политическая наука», Volk im Werden 2 (1934), 455-460.Альфред Розенталь, «Ницше и реформа уголовного права», Deutsche Juristen Zeitung 11, № 19 (1906), 1069—1072; Йозеф Колер, «Ницше и философия права», Archiv für Rechts und Sozialphilosophie 1, № 3 (1908), 355-360; Дитрих Генрих Керлер, Ницше и идея возмездия: К реформе уголовного права (Ульм: Керлер, 1910).Г. Шпехт, «Антропология Фридриха Ницше и уголовное право», Monatschrift für Kriminalbiologie: Organ der kriminalbiologische Gesellschaft 30, № 8 (1939).Там же, 358.Курт Касслер, Ницше и право (Мюнхен: Эрнст Рейнхардт, 1941), 12-15, 22. Цитата из Ницше взята из «Воли к власти», 74.Касслер, Ницше и право, 31—34.Там же, 50, 66-69.Олер, Ницше и немецкое будущее, 45—46.Ницше, Веселая наука, 129.Ницше, Воля к власти, 389. Это отнюдь не было изолированным настроением в его корпусе текстов. См. также Воля к власти, 141-142, 391-393; Заратустра, 183-186; Сумерки идолов, 536-538; К генеалогии морали, 120-125.Вернер Катель, «Жизнь в противоречии: признания врача» (Нюрнберг: Glock und Lutz, 1974), стр. 179 и сл. Цитируется по: Эрнст Клее, «Эвтаназия» в нацистском государстве: «Уничтожение жизни, недостойной жизни» (Франкфурт-на-Майне: S. Fischer, 1983), стр. 16. О Ницше как потенциальной жертве см. там же, стр. 17.Ницше, «Утренняя заря», 274.Касслер, «Ницше и право», 70-79.Э. Кирхнер, «Учение Ницше в свете расовой гигиены», «Архив расовой и социальной биологии» 17 (1926).Генрих Рёмер, «Ницше и расовая проблема», «Раса: ежемесячник нордической мысли» 7 (1940), 59.Там же, 61.Там же, 63.Лукач, «Разрушение разума», 362; Миллер, «Некоторые следствия мысли Ницше для марксизма», 30; Паннвиц, «Введение в Ницше», 9-13.Вальтер Кауфман напомнил нам, что, хотя было необходимо подвергнуть Ницше цензуре перед интеграцией в школы, то же самое не требовалось для Вагнера («Ницше», 41).Хорошим примером было неоязыческое, антихристианское «Немецкое движение веры» Якоба Хауэра.«Солдат и гражданин», Das Schwarze Korps (4 апреля 1935), 9.Арийский семинар в Тюбингенском университете включал такие лекции, как «Ницше как свидетель арийского мировоззрения». См. резюме лекции Вернера Вирта «Ницше и христианство», Deutscher Glaube 6 (1939).«Против торгашеских душ, как англичане и другие демократы!»: Ницше, философ воинственности», Der deutsche Erzieher № 3 (1940), 68—70.Й. Хауэр, «Опасная жизнь: К Новому 1943 году», Deutscher Glaube 10 (январь 1943).Воинственная сторона Ницше подчеркивалась даже тогда, когда упоминались другие области разногласий (Август Фауст, Философия войны: Серия публикаций по идеологической подготовке НСДАП № 17 [Мюнхен: Центральное издательство НСДАП, 1942], 39—43).Рихард Грёпер, «Отношение Ницше к войне», Nationalsozialistisches Bildungswesen 7, № 4 (апрель 1942), 104. (Грёпер был в авангарде тех, кто привлек Ницше к участию в Первой мировой войне.)Вильгельм Лёбзак, «Ницше и тотальная война», Der Deutsche im Osten 6, № 5 (август 1943), 213.Хуберт А. Канчик, «Культ Ницше в Веймаре (II)», в Die Religion von Oberschichten, 105—106.Розенберг, Ницше, 16, 21-24.Ницше, Воля к власти, 464-465. Бенн цитирует это на стр. 52 в своем «Ответе литературным эмигрантам» 1933 года (Бенн, Первичное видение, под ред. Э. Б. Эштона [Нью-Йорк: New Directions, 1971], 46—53).Впервые представлено как радиолекция, см. его «Новое государство и интеллектуалы», Gesammelte Werke, 433—444.Кристиан де Ла Мазьер, Пленный мечтатель, пер. Фрэнсиса Стюарта (Нью-Йорк: Saturday Review Press / E. P. Dutton, 1974). Цитируется по: Сол Фридлендер, Размышления о нацизме: Эссе о китче и смерти, пер. Томаса Вейра (Нью-Йорк: Avon, 1986), 8.Марк Ожье, «Сумерки богов: поворот и конец великой эпохи» (Буэнос-Айрес: Издательство «Прометей», 1950), 79—80. Благодарю Джорджа Моссе за эту ссылку.Марсель Деа, «Немецкая мысль и французская мысль», 97-98. Цит. по: Зеэв Штернхель, «Фашистская идеология», в сб. «Фашизм: хрестоматия», под ред. Вальтера Лакера (Хармондсворт: Пингвин, 1979), 363.Нюансированную, но утвердительную картину см. в статье Курта Хильдебрандта «"Хороший европеец"», «Немецкий альманах» (1930), 151—165.Курт Хильдебрандт, «Идея войны у Гёте, Гёльдерлина, Ницше», в сб. «Образ войны в немецкой мысли», том 1, под ред. Августа Фауста (Штутгарт и Берлин: В. Кольхаммер, 1941), 406—407.Розенберг, «Ницше», 22.Вайссер, «Воспитатель Ницше», 125.Хорнеффер, «Ницше как предвестник», 18, 12—14, 41.Часть этой сложности прослеживается в восхищенном описании Вальтера Беньямина Терри Иглтоном.Боймлер, «Ницше как философ», 171-172.Ницше, «Воля к власти», 366.Боймлер, «Ницше как философ», 172, 180-181.Ханс Эггерт Шрёдер, «Ницше и германцы», Germanien 9, № 5 (май 1937).Боймлер, «Ницше как философ», 88-100.Ницше, «Воля к власти», 68.Вурцбах, «Ницше и немецкая судьба»; В. Хуле, «Фридрих Ницше как немецкий пророк» (Хемниц: Вернер Бём, 1935).Пауль Шульце-Бергхоф, «Поэт Заратустры как мистик», Die musische Erziehung № 9 (1942), 7-10.Боймлер, «Ницше как философ», 157; Элер, «Ницше и немецкое будущее», 87 сл.Касслер, «Ницше и право», 74 сл.Таль, «Христиане и евреи в Германии», гл. 5.Там же, 75.Вернер Дёбель, «Греко-германское — греко-иудейское: Заметки о происхождении нового образа человека», Völkische Kultur 2 (1934), 440—443. Дёбель изображал логоцентрическое как неизбежно приходящее в упадок. (Его злодеи варьировались от Павла и Платона до Декарта, Канта, Маркса, индустриализма, позитивизма, американизма и большевизма).Гюнтер Августин, рецензия на книгу Ханса Эггерта Шрёдера «Ницше и христианство» в Deutscher Glaube 5 (1938), 212.В эту группу входили Донндорф, Хильдебрандт, Хорнеффер, Касслер и Рёмер. Все они, однако, сколь бы сознательно избирательными ни были, сохраняли весьма позитивную общую позицию.Генрих Хертле, «Ницше и национал-социализм» (Мюнхен: Центральное издательство НСДАП, Франц Эхер Нахф, 1937), 5.Там же, 164.Георг Мюллер, «Ницше и немецкая катастрофа» (Гютерсло: К. Бертельсман, 1946), 15. Об антиницшеанской позиции Крика см. Лангредер, «Дискуссия о Ницше», стр. 105 и сл. Не следует преувеличивать оппозицию Крика. В конце концов, именно в его журнале «Народ в становлении» была опубликована статья Фалькенберга «Ницше и политическая наука».Кристоф Штединг, «Рейх и болезнь европейской культуры» (Гамбург: Ганзейское издательство, 1943).Гёбель, «Ницше сегодня», 72.Типичный пример этой постоянной оппозиции фёлькише Ницше см. Артур Древс, «Ницше как философ национал-социализма?», «Нордические голоса» 4 (1934), 172-179. Фраза «гневная любовь» также принадлежит Древсу, стр. 177.Карл Киндт, «Язычество Ницше: заметки на полях неисчерпаемой темы»; Карл Швейцер, «Ницше и реформаторское послание»; и Тим Кляйн, «Переживания вокруг Ницше» в протестантском журнале «Zeitwende» 12, № 1 (октябрь 1935).Георг Дуве, «Ницше — немецкий мыслитель: ответ профессору Д. Э. Пфеннигсдорфу, Бонн», «Немецкая вера» 4 (1937). Другая сторона иронии заключалась в том, что статья Дуве продемонстрировала глубину германизма Ницше! Ницше был пророком немецких расовых мифов.Это было особенно верно для протестантской полемики. Важный пример см. Гёбель, «Ницше сегодня». См. также Карл Киндт, «Ницше и немцы», «Zeitwende» 12, № 1 (октябрь 1935).Карл Кинаст, «Солнце» (1933), 19.Альфред фон Мартин, «Ницше и Буркхардт» (Мюнхен, 1941), 170. Для Мартина Буркхардт был позитивным фоном для негативного ницшеанского мира, который неявно указывал на национал-социализм. Во времена Третьего рейха эта сравнительная тема пользовалась особой популярностью из-за аллюзий, которые она вызывала.Более ранние работы Фрейера, включая «Антей: обоснование этики сознательной жизни» (Йена: Ойген Дидерихс, 1918) и «Прометей: идеи к философии культуры» (Йена: Ойген Дидерихс, 1923), были встречены как продолжение проекта Ницше. Его самая известная работа — «Революция справа» (Йена: Ойген Дидерихс, 1931).Послесловие в книге Фридриха Ницше «О пользе и вреде истории для жизни» (Лейпциг, 1937), 85—95; Мюллер, «Другой бог», 299—300.См. его интервью в журнале «Der Spiegel», 30, № 23 (1966), 204.Герхард Леман, «Немецкая философия современности», 184.О созвездии немецких философий в этот период см. Слуга, «Метадискурс». Слуга показывает, что, за исключением марксистской и позитивистской философий, основные философские течения не испытывали особых трудностей в приспособлении к режиму.Примеры более известных неокантианцев, которые сотрудничали с режимом, включают Николая Гартмана и Бруно Бауха, основавших Немецкое философское общество, призванное бороться с проникновением чуждых идей в немецкую философию (Слуга, «Метадискурс», 798-799).Там же, 809.См. «Листки немецкой философии» 8 (1934) и превосходное резюме Слуги, «Метадискурс», 808 и сл.Там же, 810.Karl Jaspers, Nietzsche: Einführung in das Verständnis seines Philosophierens (Berlin and Leipzig: De Gruyter, 1936). Переведено как «Ницше: Введение в понимание его философской деятельности» (Nietzsche: An Introduction to the Understanding of His Philosophical Activity) Чарльзом Уоллрэффом и Фредериком Шмитцем (Tuscon: University of Arizona Press, 1980).Kurt Hildebrandt, “Über Deuting und Einordnung von Nietzsche’s ‘System,’” Kant-Studien 41, nos. 3/4 (1936), 221-293. Об оппонентах см. рецензии Карла Лёвита и Макса Хоркхаймера в Zeitschrift für Sozialforschung 6 (1937), 405-414; Кауфман верно определяет и восхваляет явно антинацистскую позицию Ясперса (“Jaspers’s Relation to Nietzsche,” в Schilpp, ed.Hildebrandt, “Über Deutung und Einordnung,” 229-230, 236ff.Jaspers, “Reply to My Critics,” 857—863.Ibid., 860, 859 соответственно.C. J. Jung, Nietzsche’s Zarathustra. Я впервые прочитал эти лекции в их первоначальном, неопубликованном виде и хотел бы поблагодарить Густава Дрейфуса за предоставление доступа к ним, а Берни Стейна — за то, что он сообщил мне об их существовании.Ibid., vol. 2, 893.Ibid., vol. 2, 1518.Там же, т. 1, 11. Юнг утверждал, что Ницше мог брать материал непосредственно из бессознательного, поскольку был полностью оторван от опосредующей средневековой традиции (т. 2, 894). Большая часть анализа включает в себя остроумные интерпретации заратустровских символов. Когда Ницше, например, говорит, что он «покинул озеро своего дома» (т. 1, 14), Юнг воспринимает это как подтверждение перехода к коллективному бессознательному. Озера, утверждает он, ограничены и заключены в твердь земную, которая всегда символизирует сознание, тогда как море, как символ коллективного бессознательного, не имеет реальных границ. Семинарские дискуссии, которые вел Юнг, были удивительно открытыми и восприимчивыми.Там же, т. 1, 104.Там же, т. 1, 377—378.Там же, т. 2, 1523-1524.Там же, т. 1, 87-88.Там же, т. 2, 1300.Там же, т. 1, 495-496.Там же, т. 1, 475-476.Там же, т. 1, 582.Ницше, «Заратустра», 189. Перевод в там же, т. 2, 826.Там же, т. 2, 827.Этот — не такой уж новый — вопрос был возрожден публикацией и переводом книги Виктора Фариаса «Хайдеггер и национал-социализм» (Франкфурт: Фишер, 1989). См. также Юрг Альтвегг, «Хайдеггеровская полемика» (Франкфурт: Атенаум, 1988); Хуго Отт, «Мартин Хайдеггер: На пути к биографии» (Франкфурт: Кампус, 1988).Дэвид Фаррелл Крелль, предисловие к Мартин Хайдеггер, «Ницше: Воля к власти как искусство», т. 1, пер. Дэвида Фаррелла Крелля (Сан-Франциско: Харпер энд Роу, 1979), xvi.Мартин Хайдеггер, «К вопросу о бытии», Путевые вехи (Франкфурт-на-Майне: В. Клостерманн, 1967), 252. Цит. по: Дэвид Фаррелл Крелл, «Анализ», в кн.: Хайдеггер, Ницше, том 4, 293.Личное сообщение, Джерри Мюллер. См. также: Джеральд Айзенберг, Экзистенциалистская критика Фрейда: Кризис автономии (Принстон, Нью-Джерси: Издательство Принстонского университета, 1976), 90 и сл.Юрген Хабермас, «Труд и мировоззрение: Спор о Хайдеггере в немецкой перспективе», Critical Inquiry 15, № 2 (зима 1989), 439, 441.Ясное изложение этого изменения см.: Дж. Л. Мехта, Философия Мартина Хайдеггера (Нью-Йорк: Харпер энд Роу, 1971), 81—122, особенно 112—113; см. также: Юрген Хабермас, «Подрыв западного рационализма через критику метафизики», в кн.: Философский дискурс. Хабермас отмечает, что от Шлегеля до Ницше критика разума требовала новой мифологии. «Но только Хайдеггер испарил эту конкретную потребность, онтологизировав и обосновав ее в Бытии, которое изъято из сущего» (с. 139). См. также: Джордж Лихтхайм, «На краю вулкана: Хайдеггер, Блох, Адорно», Encounter 22, № 4 (апрель 1964).О сложной истории этой фразы см. превосходную статью Томаса Шиэна «Хайдеггер и нацисты», New York Review of Books (16 июня 1988); Мартин Хайдеггер, Введение в метафизику, пер. Ральфа Мангейма (Нью-Хейвен: Издательство Йельского университета, 1959), 199.[Статья появилась в английском переводе Ричарда Волина и Мелиссы Дж. Кокс.] Карл Лёвит, «Политические импликации экзистенциализма Хайдеггера», New German Critique № 45 (осень 1988). Хотя мысль Хайдеггера, очевидно, не должна сводиться к консервативно-революционному модусу межвоенного периода, это действительно формировало часть ее контекста (Джеффри Херф, Реакционный модернизм, гл. 5; Пьер Бурдье, Политическая онтология Мартина Хайдеггера [Париж: Éditions de Minuit, 1988]).Наиболее доступное обсуждение этой ницшеанской темы в связи с нигилизмом у Хайдеггера можно найти в его докладе 1943 года «Слово Ницше: "Бог мертв"» (Хайдеггер, Вопрос о технике и другие эссе, пер. Уильяма Ловитта [Нью-Йорк: Харпер энд Роу, 1977], 79). Отрывок у Ницше содержится в «К генеалогии морали», 97. См. также: Лёвит, «Экзистенциализм Хайдеггера», 133.Хайдеггер, том 1, «Воля к власти как искусство», 63. Эти лекции были прочитаны зимой 1936–1937 годов.Хайдеггер, «Слово Ницше», 67—70.Die Selbstbehauptung der deutschen Universität (Франкфурт: В. Клостерманн, 1983). Переведено как «Самоутверждение немецкого университета» Карстеном Харрисом в Review of Metaphysics 38 (1984/85), 470-480. Этот перевод здесь не был полностью соблюден.«Самоутверждение немецкого университета», 479-480.Мартин Хайдеггер, «Ницше», том 4, «Нигилизм», пер. Фрэнка А. Капуцци (Сан-Франциско: Харпер энд Роу, 1982), 50—51. Хайдеггер цитировал Ницше: Общее понимание. Всякий значительный рост сопровождается на самом деле колоссальным распадом и гибелью: страдания, симптомы упадка принадлежат временам колоссального прогресса; каждое плодотворное и мощное движение человечества одновременно создавало и нигилистическое движение. Это может оказаться признаком решающего и самого существенного роста, перехода к новым условиям существования, что в мир приходит самая крайняя форма пессимизма, собственно нигилизм. Это я понял. См. Ницше, «Воля к власти», 69.Цитируется по: Шиэн, «Хайдеггер и нацисты», 43. В примечании 43 Шиэн отмечает, что эти замечания были опущены в опубликованной версии лекций о Шеллинге, и цитирует их по: Карл Ульмер, Der Spiegel (2 мая 1977), 10.Хайдеггер, «Воля к власти как искусство», 22. Основное разногласие вращалось вокруг решительного отвержения Боймлером доктрины вечного возвращения как прихоти Ницше. Ницше, писал Боймлер, прежде всего интересовался безграничным потоком становления, а вечное возвращение было отрицанием этой доктрины. Для Хайдеггера вечное возвращение было центральным компонентом мысли Ницше. Второй том «Ницше» Хайдеггера озаглавлен «Вечное возвращение того же самого» (Сан-Франциско: Харпер энд Роу, 1984). «"Возвращение" мыслит увековечивание того, что становится, мыслит его до той точки, где становление того, что становится, обеспечено в длительности своего становления» (Хайдеггер, «Ницше», том 3, «Воля к власти как познание», пер. Джоан Стамбо и др. [Сан-Франциско: Харпер энд Роу, 1987], 165).Крелл, «Анализ», в: Хайдеггер, «Ницше», том 4, 272.Джордж Стайнер, «Хаййдеггер снова», Salmagundi, № 82-83 (весна-лето 1989), 45-46.Хаййдеггер, Ницше, т. 3, 227.Там же, 231. «Подобно тому как ницшеанская мысль о воле к власти была скорее онтологической, чем биологической, еще более его расовая мысль была по своему значению скорее метафизической, чем биологической». Тем не менее, это явно оставляло место для «метафизической расовой мысли» — что бы это ни значило.Там же, т. 4, 51.Там же, т. 3, 232-233. См. также показательные комментарии Хаййдеггера о воле к власти, универсальной морали, а также британских и немецких стандартах в т. 4, 144-145.Там же, т. 4, 116-117.Значительная часть современной литературы утверждает, что фундаментальной переоценки национал-социализма никогда не было и что до самого конца Хайдеггер оставался приверженцем исторического потенциала национал-социализма, отделяя его от его обесцененной исторической действительности.Превосходное описание этой двойственной структуры и параллельного процесса изменений см.: Richard Wolin, «The French Heidegger Debate», New German Critique № 45 (осень 1988), 154-156; Mehta, Philosophy of Martin Heidegger, 40.Там же, 112-113.Heidegger, «Word of Nietzsche», 61.Wolin, «French Heidegger Debate», 156—157. Опасность и абсурдность подобного рода анализа в некоторых его современных обличьях заключается в том, что национал-социализм теперь обвиняется в избытке гуманизма!Martin Heidegger, «The Rectorate 1933/34: Facts and Thoughts», Review of Metaphysics 38 (1984/85), 484—485. Его утверждение о том, что уже в 1932 году, под влиянием работ Эрнста Юнгера, он сформулировал концепцию воли к власти, чтобы противостоять ей, как мы показали, лицемерно опускало его более раннее, гораздо более позитивное прочтение ее искупительной роли.Подробности и тонкий анализ этих хайдеггеровских высказываний см. в работе: Sheehan, «Heidegger and the Nazis», 41—42, 45. В этом отношении Хайдеггер значительно опередил своё время, предвосхитив аргументы, которые будут озвучены во время недавнего так называемого «спора историков» — дискуссии среди немецких историков относительно уникальности нацистского Холокоста.Steiner, «Heidegger, Again», 53-54.D. Gawronsky, Friedrich Nietzsche und das Dritte Reich (Bern: Verlag Herbert Lang, 1935), 5.Старобинский спрашивает и о Руссо, и о Ницше:Ницше, Заратустра, 179.Йоханнес Альберт, «Ницше и Гитлер: К идеологии национал-социализма», Sozialistische Bildung: Ежемесячник Имперского комитета по социалистической просветительской работе № 12 (декабрь 1930), 353, 355-357.Людвиг Маркузе, «Сказка о непорочном зачатии», Das Tagebuch 12 (1931), 1331-1335; «Папаши ницшеанцев», Das Tagebuch 13 (1932), т. 1, 401-408.Вальтер Беньямин, «Ницше и архив его сестры» в его Gesammelte Schriften, т. 3, 323—326. под ред. Хеллы Тидеманн-Бартельс (Франкфурт: Suhrkamp, 1972), 323 сл.Курт Тухольский, Gesammelte Werke (Гамбург: Rowohlt, 1960), том 7: 1929 «Черным по белому», стр. 49.Курт Тухольский, «Фройляйн Ницше», Gesammelte Werke, т. 10, 10-11.Там же, 14.Там же, 23, 14, 24.Я обязан этой биографической информацией, а также интерпретационными указаниями к работе Гюнтера неопубликованной статье Роберта Холлуба о левом восприятии Ницше.Бернис Глатцер Розенталь, «Современная советская мысль о Ницше», в Nietzsche heute: Die Rezeption seines Werkes nach 1968, под ред. Зигрид Баушингер и др. (Берн и Штутгарт: Francke, 1988); Эрнст Белер, «Ницше в марксистской критике Восточной Европы», Nietzsche-Studien 10/11 (1981/1982).Работы Гюнтера, первоначально опубликованные в Москве в 1935 году, представлены в его сборнике Der Herren eigner Geist: Ausgewählte Schriften (Берлин и Веймар: Aufbau, 1981).Ганс Гюнтер, «Дело Ницше», Unter dem Banner des Marxismus 11 (1935), 542.Гюнтер, «Собственный дух господ», 152, 264. См. также резюме Денниса М. Свита, «Фридрих Ницше в ГДР: проблематичная рецепция», «Исследования культуры и общества ГДР» 4, 229.Гюнтер, «Дело Ницше», 556.Гюнтер, «Собственный дух господ», 29.См. московские эссе Лукача: «Ницше как предшественник фашистской эстетики», «Интернациональная литература» (1934), перепечатано в его собрании сочинений, том 10, «Проблемы эстетики» (Нойвид и Берлин: Лухтерханд, 1969) и «Немецкий фашизм и Ницше», «Интернациональная литература» 12 (1943).Лукач, «Разрушение разума», 4.Там же, 322, также 87.Там же, 5, 10.Там же, 16-17.Там же, 368 сл., 373–374.Там же, 378–379. Это, как утверждал Лукач, было в основе своей гитлеровской эпистемологией, за исключением того, что вместо вечного возвращения он включил расовую теорию Чемберлена в качестве нового, дополняющего элемента (с. 380). Ницшеанское настаивание на «имманентности» и отказ от «трансцендентности» — а вместе с ним и от основы всей христианской или социалистической морали (с.Для Лукача популяризация действительно означала огрубление. НицшеТам же, с. 84, 85.См. критический анализ Георга Лихтхайма в его работе «Лукач», глава 7. См. также Хеннинг Оттманн, «Анти-Лукач: Критика ницшеанской критики Георга Лукача».Лукач, «Разрушение разума», 313.Там же, 314–315.Там же, 319, 395.Там же, 317.Там же, 341. Лукач осознавал, что у Ницше не было теории арийского превосходства и что его представления о господствующих и подчиненных расах были сформулированы лишь в общих чертах, которые «учитывали только социально-этические соображения. Следовательно, в этом отношении он был прямым предшественником Шпенглера, а не Розенберга». Тем не менее, продолжал Лукач, подчеркивание этого различия — лишь средство «денацификации» Ницше. Поскольку... Ницше сделал те же варварские империалистические выводы из расовой теории, что и Розенберг из теории Чемберлена, разница — если заимствовать фразу Ленина — лишь между желтым дьяволом и синим. (355–356; также 736)Там же, 752-753.Цит. по: Т. Дж. Рид, «Томас Манн», 364—365.Boston Evening Transcript (24 апреля 1940). Цит. по: Рудольф Э. Кюнцли, «Политическое использование и злоупотребление Ницше», Nietzsche-Studien 12 (1983), 429.Конрад Квест в Liverpool Evening Express, 9 декабря 1935. Цит. по: М. П. Николя, «От Ницше до Гитлера» (Лондон: Уильям Ходж, 1938), 5.Там же, 5. Цитата из речи от 20 марта 1935 г.Герман Раушнинг, «Революция нигилизма» (Нью-Йорк: Alliance Book, 1939).Раушнинг, «Гитлер говорит», 220. Эти кажущиеся достоверными работы бывшего приближенного были чрезвычайно влиятельными, хотя их надежность подвергалась серьезным сомнениям.Эдмон Вермей, 1939. «Три рейха Германии», пер. Э. У. Дикеса (Нью-Йорк: Howard Fertig, 1969), 239. См. также стр. 38-39, 232 сл. Более позитивные комментарии см. на стр. 405—407.Морис Сэмюэл, «Великая ненависть» (Нью-Йорк: Альфред А. Кнопф, 1940), 53. В отличие от многих других наблюдателей, Сэмюэл рассматривал истребление евреев как неотъемлемую часть нацистской системы вещей (стр. 137).Там же, 125.Уильям Монтгомери Макговерн, «От Лютера до Гитлера: история фашистско-нацистской политической философии» (Бостон: Houghton Mifflin, 1941), 408—415, 627 сл.Ф. Дж. К. Херншоу, «Германия — агрессор на протяжении веков» (Нью-Йорк: E. P. Dutton, 1941), 235, 272.Гавронски, «Ницше и Третий рейх», 52, 63.Роэн Д. Батлер, «Корни национал-социализма, 1783–1933» (Нью-Йорк: Howard Fertig, 1968), 276–277.Там же, 295, 154–167.Николай Бердяев, «Судьба человека в современном мире», пер. Дональда А. Лоури (Анн-Арбор: University of Michigan Press, 1961); Вальтер Шубарт, «Достоевский и Ницше: символика их жизни» (Люцерн: Vita Nova, 1939). Ницшеанский и достоевский миры часто сравнивались и противопоставлялись, при этом Достоевский выступал в качестве позитивного противовеса религиозной вере, которую Ницше так жестоко сокрушил.Бердяев, «Судьба человека», 31.Там же, 26–27, 28–29.Питер Вирек, «Метаполитика: корни нацистского сознания» (Нью-Йорк: Capricorn Books, [1941] 1965), 187.Альфред Розенталь, «Ницше и реформа уголовного права». одновременно антинационал-социалистическое, но в то же время воинственное и расистское видение ЕвропыД. Ноймарк, «Еврейский модерн», Allgemeine Zeitung des Judentums 64, № 45 (9 ноября 1900), 536.Бринтон, «Ницше», 222. В своем предисловии 1964 года он писал:Генрих Манн, «Ницше», «Мера и ценность» 2 (1930), 277—304. В статье Манна «К пониманию Ницше», Das Zwanzigste Jahnhundert 6 (1896), 247, он отрицал, что Ницше был «философом капитализма», и описывал понятие сверхлюдей как «не что иное, как социальный и расовый символ» (стр. 246—251). Позже он отверг то, что считал антидемократическими аспектами мысли НицшеКарл Лёвит, «От Гегеля к Ницше», 200.Религиозные консервативные критики, которых мы уже упоминали, составляют исключение. Понятия национального характера и немецкого духа, а также психологизация Ницше не складываются в более широкие рамки. Ниже приведены примеры, которые определяют Ницше в утвердительном ключе. Однако это верно и для того, как Лукач отбрасывает Ницше.«Между эротизмом и общей экономикой: Жорж Батай» в книге Юргена Хабермаса «Философский дискурс», 216.Для Блоха, Адорно и Хоркхаймера Ницше, при всей своей значимости, был лишь одним из элементов их переосмыслений. Для Батая же он был абсолютно центральной фигурой.Теодор Адорно, «Примирение под принуждением», в книге «Эстетика и политика» (Лондон: NLB, 1977), 152.Оттманн, «Анти-Лукач», 574.Хотя ницшеанский момент в творчестве Блоха, несомненно, имел место, его не следует преувеличивать (Тони Фелан, «"Золотые двадцатые" Эрнста Блоха: Наследие этого времени и проблема культурной истории», в книге «Культура и общество в Веймарской республике», под ред. Кита Булливанта [Манчестер: Издательство Манчестерского университета, 1977], 113 сл.).Оскар Негт, «Эрнст Блох: немецкий философ Октябрьской революции», New German Critique № 4 (зима 1975), 12, 14.Эрнст Блох, «Наследие этого времени» (Цюрих: Издательство Oprecht and Helbling, 1935).Невилл и Стивен Плейс, введение к книге Блоха «Наследие этого времени», xii—xiii.Там же, 52.Там же, 325-326.Там же, 328, 330, 331.См. превосходное резюме в книге: Jay, Dialectical Imagination, 258-259. О «Диалектике Просвещения» см. Jay, 253—280.Юрген Хабермас, «Переплетение мифа и Просвещения: Макс Хоркхаймер и Теодор Адорно», в Philosophical Discourse, 107, 121.Там же, 106.Theodor Adorno and Max Horkheimer, Dialektik der Aufklärung (Amsterdam: Querido, 1947). Переведено как Dialectic of Enlightenment Джоном Каммингом (New York: Seabury, 1972), 44.Там же, 118-119. Упомянутый отрывок содержится в «Веселой науке», 220.Джей, «Диалектическое воображение», 265.Адорно и Хоркхаймер, «Диалектика Просвещения», 100—101. О дальнейшей критике Ницше и его влиянии на массовую культуру см. стр. 233—234.О раннем позитивном отношении Зорге и разделении его работ на ницшеанскую и постницшеанскую фазы см. Сэмюэл и Хинтон Томас, «Экспрессионизм», 20, 23. Об «Одиссее» и «Прометее» см. там же, 75.Цитируется по: Юрген Хабермас, «Между эротизмом и общей экономикой», 211.Там же, 211.Аллан Стёкль, вступление к: Bataille, Visions of Excess, xviii.См. Georges Bataille, «On Nietzsche: The Will to Chance, Preface» (1949) в специальном выпуске о нём в October 36 (весна 1986), 48.См. эссе Батая 1937 г. «Nietzsche and the Fascists» в Visions of Excess, 187, 191 (курсив его).Bataille, «On Nietzsche», 50.Bataille, «Nietzsche and the Fascists», 185—186.Аллен С. Вайс, «Невозможный суверенитет: между волей к власти и волей к случаю», October 36 (весна 1986), 137.Bataille, «On Nietzsche», 50—51.Bataille, «Propositions», в Visions of Excess, 199.Там же, 201.Вайс, «Невозможный суверенитет», 142.См., например: Карл Дитрих Брахер, «Эпоха идеологий: история политической мысли в двадцатом веке», пер. Эвальда Озерса (Лондон: Вайденфельд, 1984); Джерри З. Мюллер, «Другой бог, который потерпел неудачу», гл. 9, 10.Отто Флаке, «Ницше: взгляд назад на философию» (Баден-Баден, 1946); см. также послесловие ко 2-му изд. книги 1947 года, перепечатанное в сб.: «Немцы: очерки о литературе и современной истории» (Гамбург: Рюттен и Лёнинг, 1963). В работе утверждалось, что Ницше проник в немецкую нацию глубже, чем Гёте, и почти так же глубоко, как Лютер.Отто Флаке, «Фридрих Ницше», в сб.: «Немцы», 56-70, 56.Флаке, «Послесловие», 70-72.См. критическую, но сочувственную работу Альфреда Вебера «Ницше и катастрофа» в его книге «Прощание с прежней историей: преодоление нигилизма» (Гамбург: Клаасен и Гёвертс, 1946).Флейк, «Фридрих Ницше», 57, 69.Цит. по: Питерс, «Сестра Заратустры», viii.Там же, 71-72.Альфред фон Мартин, «Духовные предтечи немецкого краха» (Реклингхаузен: Биттер, 1948), 30.Там же, 25.Там же, 35-45.Фридрих Майнеке, «Немецкая катастрофа: размышления и воспоминания», пер. Сидни Б. Фэя (Бостон: Бикон, 1963), 24. Консервативный историк Герхард Риттер аналогичным образом определял ницшеанскую опасность в её взаимодействии с изъянами немецкого характера.Томас Манн, «Доктор Фаустус» (Стокгольм: Bermann-Fischer, 1947); перевод на английский язык «Доктор Фаустус» Г. Т. Лоу-Портер (Нью-Йорк: Альфред А. Кнопф, 1948). См. Гунилла Бергстен, «„Доктор Фаустус“ Томаса Манна: источники и структура романа», пер. Кришна Уинстон (Чикаго и Лондон: Издательство Чикагского университета, 1969), стр. 57 и сл.Рид, «Томас Манн», 369.Восточногерманский марксистский критик Станислав Лем писал о «Докторе Фаустусе» Манна, что фашизм был безличным механизмом, а не мифическим дьяволом, и его смысл не мог быть раскрыт через отсылку к какому-то традиционному, высшему культурному порядку («Über das Modellieren der Wirklichkeit im Werk vom Thomas Mann», Sinn und Form, цитируется по Риду [«Томас Манн», 393 и сл.]).Бернхард Кауфхольд, «К рецепции Ницше в западногерманской философии послевоенного периода» в сб. «Вклад в критику современной буржуазной философии истории», под ред. Роберта Шульца (Берлин: Deutscher Verlag der Wissenschaften, 1958), 279–409, см. особенно стр. 326; Свит, «Фридрих Ницше в ГДР», 232.Генрих Шольц, «Встреча с Ницше» (Тюбинген: Furche-Verlag, 1948), 36.Там же, 3.Эрнст Бартель, «Ницше как соблазнитель» (Баден-Баден: Hans Bühler Junior, 1947), 7–8, 173.Вальтер Кюннет, «Фридрих Ницше, вестник немецкой катастрофы», Zeitwende 19, № 11 (май 1948), 694.Там же, 705.Konrad Algermissen, Nietzsche und das dritte Reich (Celle: Verlag Joseph Giesel, 1946). Альгермиссен дождался конца Третьего рейха, прежде чем написать свои антинацистские выпады. В годы нацизма он яростно нападал на большевиков (Die Gottlosenbewegung der Gegenwart und Ihre Überwindung [Celle: Verlag Joseph Giesel, 1933]).Theodor Steinbüchel, Friedrich Nietzsche: Eine christliche Besinnung (Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt, 1946), 23.Alfred Meusel, “Zur Charakteristik der soziologischen und politischen an-schauungen Friedrich Nietzsches,” Pädagogik: beiträge zur erziehungswissenschaft 3, no. 2 (1948), 56.Georg Müller, Nietzsche und die deutsche Katastrophe (Gütersloh: C. Bartelsmann, 1946), 17.Kessler, Diaries, 426.C. A. Emge, “Nietzsche als Sundenbock,” Berliner Hefte no. 1 (1947), 47.Friedrich Georg Jünger, Nietzsche (Frankfurt am Main: Vittorio Klostermann, 1949), 47.Ibid., 49.См., например: Friedrich Georg Jünger, Aufmarsch des Nationalismus (Leipzig, 1926), 171.Karl Schlechta, “Entnazifierung Nietzsches? Wandel im Urteil und Wertung,” Göttinger Universitäts Zeitung 2, no. 16 (18 July 1947), 3-4.Sweet, “Friedrich Nietzsche in the GDR.”См.: «Философ, который был «не-персоной» в государстве рабочих и крестьян», The German Tribune, no. 1436 (23 September 1990), 10. Благодарю Джерролда Кесселя за эту ссылку.См.: “Nietzsche in Weimar: Gedenkstaette wiederöffnet,” Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung (21 May 1991). Благодарю Джерролда Кесселя за эту ссылку.Вызов ортодоксальной позиции исходил от Хайнца Пепперле, “Revision des Marxistischen Nietzsche-Bildes,” Sinn und Form 38, no. 5 (1986), а ортодоксальная контратака — от Вольфганга Хариха, “Revision des Marxistischen Nietzsche-Bildes,” Sinn und Form 39, no. 5 (1987). Харих настаивал на том, чтобы его ортодоксия лично поддерживалась Эрихом Хонеккером.См. проницательные комментарии в книге: Charles S. Maier, The Unmasterable Past: History, Holocaust and German National Identity (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1988), 148, 212, n. 60. Также полезны статьи Денниса М. Свита (“Friedrich Nietzsche in the GDR”; “Nietzsche Criticized: The GDR Takes a Second Look,” Studies in GDR Culture and Society 7), особенно комментарии к более ранней попытке Ренаты Решке расширить подход. Благодарю профессора Клауса Бергана за последние ссылки.См. краткое изложение в: “A philosopher who was a non-person,” 10. Единственным прорывом стало факсимильное издание Ecce Homo, опубликованное Маццино Монтинари и Карлом-Хайнцем Ханом, директором Архива Гёте и Шиллера в Веймаре.См. выступление Рихарда Максимилиана Лонсбаха на Westdeutschen Rundfunk “War Nietzsche Ein Wegbereiter des Dritten Reiches?” в его книге Friedrich Nietzsche und die Juden.В Германии болезненное нацистское прошлое наделяет термины, которые в других местах кажутся академическими и абстрактными — эмансипация, разум, просвещение, — непосредственным резонансом и богатыми политическими коннотациями. См. интересные комментарии Иоахима Уэйли, «Просвещение и история в Германии», The Historical Journal 31 (1 марта 1988), 195—199.Возможно, это и есть надлежащий контекст для рассмотрения главной работы Хабермаса «Философский дискурс о модерне».У Герда Бергфлета есть эссе под названием «Циничное Просвещение» в его сборнике, характерно озаглавленном «К критике пустопорожнего Просвещения» (Мюнхен: Matthes and Seitz, 1984). Девиз на задней обложке гласит: «Скорее верблюд пройдет сквозь игольное ушко, чем предчувствие — через просвещенную голову, если пустоты в ней гораздо больше».Бергфлет, «Циничное Просвещение», 181.См. проницательную статью Иэна Бурумы «Нет места лучше, чем родина», New York Review of Books (20 декабря 1990), 34—43.Konkret, 10 октября 1990. Цит. по: Бурума, «Родина», 37. Для Бергфлета нацистский расизм был крайним партикуляристским зеркальным отражением крайнего, опосредованного космополитизма Просвещения. Более того, он предполагает, что сама универсальность Просвещения содержала ловушку для его еврейских сторонников, приведшую к Холокосту: «Все люди станут братьями» подразумевает уничтожение тех, кто не хочет быть братьями. Нельзя исключить вывод, как бы парадоксально это ни звучало: уничтожение европейского еврейства имеет один из своих корней в Просвещении, именно в том «переходе к человечности», на котором зиждился либеральный иудаизм. («Циничное Просвещение», 184).Не случайно в «Критике пустопорожнего Просвещения» Бергфлет включает перевод Батая о безумии Ницше. Подобные лево-правые заимствования очевидны.Бергфлет, «Десять тезисов о критике разума», №№ 6—8 в «Критике пустопорожнего Просвещения», 10—11.Бергфлет, «О левой иронии» в «Критике пустопорожнего Просвещения», 179. См. также цитату из «Заратустры», 369.Петер Глотц, «Новые правые в новом порядке», Liber № 1 (февраль 1990), 20.На протяжении всей этой работы мы рассматривали некоторые текстовые основы для подобных упражнений. Подумайте о спектре интерпретационных и казуистических возможностей, которые следуют за девизом Ницше, процитированным в начале этой главы: «Даже по моему происхождению мне дарован взгляд за пределы всех чисто местных, чисто национально обусловленных перспектив; мне не трудно быть «хорошим европейцем».Здесь может быть поучительно сравнение с Дарвином. Дарвинизм также был важной системой отсчета fin de siècle (конца века), которую использовали в самых разных политических и культурных целях. Но усвояемость Дарвина немецкой культурой, как отмечал Альфред Келли, сдерживалась тем фактом, что он не был немцем и, следовательно, не поддавался попыткам связать его с немецким духом (Келли, «Происхождение Дарвина», 7).Ницше, «Ecce Homo», 262.См. Моммзен, «Макс Вебер и немецкая политика», о связи с Ницше и трудности приписывания Веберу какой-либо точной политической позиции. См. также Моммзен, «Эпоха бюрократии», 96, 105 сл.Колаковский, «О так называемом кризисе христианства» в его книге «Модерн на бесконечном суде», 90-91. См. также его захватывающие размышления о сложности модерна Ницше во вступительном эссе (из которого книга берет свое название), 8—9.См. довольно неоднородный сборник эссе «Ницше как постмодернист».В качестве хорошего примера см. Дэвид Б. Эллисон (ред.), «Новый Ницше: современные стили интерпретации» (Кембридж, Массачусетс: MIT Press, 1985).См. интересные критические комментарии Роберта К. Соломона «Ницше, постмодернизм и ресентимент: генеалогическая гипотеза» в книге «Ницше как постмодернист», 291-293.Эрнст Бертрам, «Ницше», 5.За последние несколько лет интерпретация Ницше Кауфманом все чаще подвергается нападкам. См. комментарии Майкла Тэннера о «пагубности» Кауфмана как комментатора Ницше, его «гегемонии» и его «интеллектуальных последователях» в статье «Организация себя и мира», Times Literary Supplement (16 мая 1986), 519.См. проницательные замечания Вальтера Сокеля в статье «Политическое использование и злоупотребление Ницше в образе Ницше Вальтера Кауфмана», Nietzsche-Studien 12 (1983). Кауфман, пишет Тэннер, «продвигал взгляд на Ницше, который, безусловно, исключал любую возможность того, что кто-либо с либерально-гуманистическими взглядами мог почувствовать себя оскорбленным» («Организация себя», 519).Мартин Джей, «Должна ли интеллектуальная история совершить лингвистический поворот? Размышления о дебатах Хабермаса и Гадамера», в его книге «Социализм конца века» (Нью-Йорк: Routledge, Chapman, and Hall, 1988), 33.Жак Деррида, «Ухо другого», 23—24.Там же, 30-31.Эрик Фёгелин ещё на раннем этапе подчеркивал этот момент: «Однако заслуживает внимания тот факт, что работа Ницше легко поддается таким неверным истолкованиям. Этот факт не следует отрицать. Нет смысла притворяться, что пассажи ужаса, которые с одинаковым восторгом цитируются критиками и национал-социалистическими почитателями, отсутствуют в этой работе».Джефф Или, «Германские правые, 1860–1945: Как они изменились», в его книге «От объединения к нацизму: Переосмысление германского прошлого» (Бостон: Аллен и Анвин, 1986), 234. См. также его замечания об интеллектуальной истории, которая «устанавливает свои связи, вырывая идеи из их разумного контекста» (там же).Блох, «О корнях нацизма», 319—320.Томас Ниппердей, «1933 год и преемственность германской истории» в Г. У. Кох, ред., Аспекты Третьего рейха (Нью-Йорк: Сент-Мартинс, 1985), 493, 504.Дэвид Блэкборн и Джефф Или, «Особенности германской истории: Буржуазное общество и политика в Германии XIX века» (Оксфорд: Издательство Оксфордского университета, 1984), 6. Э. Сандвосс, «Гитлер и Ницше» (Гёттинген: Мустершмидт, 1969). Мы до сих пор недостаточно знаем об этих приводных ремнях. Научный консенсус заключается в том, что Гитлер либо не читал Ницше, либо читал очень мало.Там же, 93—94. Это было совсем не то, что Манн писал в своем дневнике еще в 1936 году: Отвратительная статья из «Берлинер Тагеблатт»... утверждает, что «ницшеанские маны» сегодня вовсе не в изгнании, а остались в Германии. Далее говорится, что между Ницше и национал-социализмом существуют лишь поверхностные различия — последний может по праву претендовать на него. — Это скорее следовало бы сказать о Сореле. Но Ницше, который выступал за величайшую «интеллектуальную прямоту», за дионисийскую волю к познанию, который улыбался Фаусту за то, что тот был «трагедией познания», потому что знал лучше, который был готов вынести любое страдание, причиненное истиной и ради истины, — этого человека они хотят присвоить в связи с мифами действия массового призыва примерно уровня самых дегенеративных популярных грязных песенок. Какая мерзость. — Бергсон, Сорель, Пеги — вот настоящие духовные предтечи фашизма. Именно они исказили социализм в национализм. Что же тогда в этом «немецкого»? (Дневники, 254—255)Берел Ланг, «Акт и идея в нацистском геноциде» (Чикаго и Лондон: Издательство Чикагского университета, 1990), 197—198.Я пытался доказать необходимость более сложной культурной и интеллектуальной истории в статье «Нацизм, нормальность и немецкий особый путь» в журнале «Исследования современной еврейской жизни» 4 (1988). Такая история точно установила бы природу взаимных влияний в их надлежащем контексте путем прослеживания опосредующих связей, их разнообразных эффектов и картирования соответствующих дискурсовСтерн подчеркивает, что Ницше был «самым критичным из современных философов» и что он «не поддавался на свои собственные абстракции» (Гитлер, 72, 74).См. Карл Дитрих Брахер, «Роль Гитлера: перспективы интерпретации» в сб. под ред. Лакера «Фашизм», 208.Роджер Скратон, «Философ на Дуврском пляже», Times Literary Supplement (23 мая 1986). Судьба человека в современном мире Бердяева 1935 года, как мы видели, следовала аналогичной линии, связывая Маркса и Ницше как схожие дегуманизирующие, натурализирующие силы.Лешек Колаковский, «О так называемом кризисе христианства», в его книге Современность на бесконечном суде (Чикаго и Лондон: Издательство Чикагского университета, 1990), 90-91.Ницше, Утренняя заря, 204. См. также 190—191: Заново выстроить законы жизни и действия — для этой задачи наши науки о физиологии, медицине, социологии и одиночестве еще недостаточно уверены в себе: и именно из них должны исходить краеугольные камни новых идеалов (если не сами новые идеалы).Ницше, Собрание сочинений (Лейпциг: Кронер), том 12, 410. Цитируется по Лукачу, Разрушение разума, 346-347. Акцент на радикальной экспериментальности и великом здоровье подробно изложен в книге Человеческое, слишком человеческое, 8.Курт Рудольф Фишер, «Нацизм как ницшеанский эксперимент», Nietzsche-Studien 6 (1977), 121.Эрнст Нольте, «Фашизм в свою эпоху» (Мюнхен: Пайпер, 1963). Пер. Лейлы Венневиц, «Три лика фашизма» (Нью-Йорк: Новая американская библиотека, 1969), 537—567.О центральной роли антисемитизма и уникальности истреблений см. Нольте, «Три лика фашизма», 502. О его аргументе, что антимарксизм Гитлера был функцией его желания уничтожить евреев, а не наоборот, как он утверждал позже, см. стр. 458.Нольте, «Три лика фашизма», 534. Хотя Нольте отметил, что существовало много возражений против Лукача, он согласился с тем, что в конце девятнадцатого века в духовном климате Европы произошли значительные изменения. Роль Ницше была ясна:Эва, «Ницше и женщины», 2 и сл.См. анализ в Хинтон Томас, «Ницше», 88.Нольте, «Три лика фашизма», стр. 534. В своей работе «В замке Синей Бороды: некоторые заметки к переопределению культуры» (Лондон: Фабер энд Фабер, 1971) Джордж Штайнер представляет схожий тезис.Альфред Боймлер, «Ницше — философ», 30; Генрих Рёмер, «Ницше и расовая проблема», «Раса: ежемесячник нордической мысли» 7 (1940), 61; Рихард Олер, «Ницше и будущее Германии».Эрнст Нольте, «Европейская гражданская война, 1917—1945: национал-социализм и большевизм» (Франкфурт и Берлин, 1987), 514—515.Нольте, «Ницше и ницшеанство».Там же, 192-193.Там же, 193—194. Нольте также включил эту цитату в свою книгу «Фашизм», 533. Перевод Кауфмана вновь делает Ницше более благородным и менее биологичным, чем это следует из моего более буквального перевода выше. Например, он переводит schonungslose Vernichtung как «безжалостное разрушение» — гораздо более безличное, почти лишенное агента описание.В малоизвестном отрывке в «Трех лицах фашизма» Нольте уже намекал на эту тему. Позитивный аспект идей Гитлера и Ницше, писал он, «полностью перевешивался конкретным аспектом их негативной воли».Нольте, «Ницше», 195. По мнению Нольте, это было верно как для большевистской, так и для национал-социалистической реализаций.Там же, 88, 192.Там же, 89. Нольте пишет, что, хотя Маркс и Ницше разработали сопоставленные концепции, связанные с условиями того времени, ни один из них не стремился создавать концепции гражданской войны (Bürgerkriegskonzeptionen). Однако как только были предприняты решительные шаги по реализации их видений, конец стал неизбежен (стр. 276).Нольте попадает в ловушку своего рода сомнительной идеологической истории рецепции, обсуждаемой в главе 1. Учитывая его концепцию того, как это должно было происходить, он может лишь выразить удивление, что «концепция "партии жизни" нигде не появляется, а нередкие дискуссии о "Марксе и Ницше" вращаются в основном вокруг противопоставления "коллективистов" и "индивидуалистов"» (там же, 268)Ницше, «Антихрист», 593. Эти цитаты могут быть дополнены из других источников.Конор Круз О’Брайен, «Осада» (Лондон: Вайденфельд и Николсон, 1986), 59, 57–59, 85. О’Брайен ссылается на последние страницы «Застольных бесед» Гитлера в качестве доказательства, не называя конкретный отрывок.Джордж Лихтхайм, «Европа в двадцатом веке», 185.Ницше, «Воля к власти», 458—459. Ницше, «Антихрист», 593. Эти цитаты могут быть дополнены другими источниками. В «К генеалогии морали», парадоксально изобразив Иисуса как реализацию иудаизма, Ницше писал: «Во всяком случае, несомненно, что sub hoc signo Израиль с его мстительностью и переоценкой всех ценностей до сих пор снова и снова торжествовал над всеми другими идеалами, над всеми более благородными идеалами» (стр. 35). Евреи, добавил он, имели всемирно-историческую миссию. С «господами» было покончено; мораль простого человека победила. Можно рассматривать эту победу в то же время как заражение крови (она смешала расы) — я не буду спорить; но это опьянение, несомненно, было успешным. «Искупление» человеческого рода (от «господ», то есть) идет вперед; все становится заметно иудаизированным, христианизированным, очерненным (какое значение имеют слова!) (стр. 36). Внимательные читатели заметят, что Ницше имел в виду в основном жреческий период: «Первоначально, особенно во времена царей, Израиль находился в правильных, то есть естественных отношениях ко всем вещам» («Антихрист», 594, 594—598). Заинтересованные апроприаторы (и более поздние историки) редко утруждали себя подобными оговорками. Перспективу того, как это вписывалось в более широкий поток мысли, см. Стивен Асхайм, «"Еврей внутри": миф об "иудаизации" в Германии».Там же, 186.Это относится как к антибуржуазным, так и к антихристианским трактовкам. Джордж Л. Моссе, например, недавно зашел так далеко, что предположил, будто нацистский проект представлял собой защиту буржуазной морали, а не нападение на нее: в отличие от портрета нацистских нигилистов Раушнинга, нарушающих все границы в своего рода ницшеанском экстазе, согласно Моссе, нацизм на самом деле был попыткой сохранить мир респектабельности среднего класса от всех тех аутсайдеров и девиантных групп, которые ему угрожали. И все же буржуазная мораль, хотя зачастую и нелиберальная, никогда прежде не принимала геноцидальных масштабов, и то, что требует объяснения, — это тот стимулирующий двигатель, который, трансформировавшись в бюрократический, убийственный импульс, позволил нацизму выйти за рамки морали среднего класса, воплощая ее в то же время («Национализм и сексуальность», 133–152). Бернард Вассерштейн утверждал, что понятие христианского предела действительно проблематично, и привел многочисленные примеры христианского насилия над евреями, в ходе которого были убиты десятки тысяч человек. Тем не менее теологическая, историческая и моральная пропасть отделяет эти погромы от бюрократизированного, идеологического и тотального массового убийства в Холокосте («Перемены в Израиле», Times Literary Supplement [10 октября 1986], 1123–1124). Другие утверждали, что для функционеров геноцида теория и идеология практически не играли никакой роли. Однако, будь то причина или рационализация постфактум, некоторое идейное обоснование должно было присутствовать.Книга Роберта Лифтона «Нацистские врачи: медицинские убийства и психология геноцида» (Лондон: Papermac, 1987) представляет собой недавнее выражение этого восприятия. От Ницше нацисты получили понятие «насильственного исцеления» и идею о том, что «мы должны быть разрушителями!» («Воля к власти», 224).