Descartes inaugurates modern thought by approaching all philosophical questions from the perspective of a spectator. Descartes declares “whatever I perceive clearly and distinctly is true.”[1] Whereas most previous thought grounded truth in a transcendental source, typically God, Platonic forms and/or Aristotelian universals, Descartes’ assertion effects a reductio ad hominem by locating the foundation of truth in the cognition of the human mind. Descartes explains the two conditions which assure truth, clarity and distinctness, saying, “I call a perception clear when it is present and accessible to the attentive mind — just as we see something clearly when it is present to the eye’s gaze and stimulates it with a sufficient degree of strength and accessibility. I call a perception ‘distinct’ if, as well as being clear, it is so sharply separated from all other perceptions that it contains within it only what is clear.”[2] Descartes comparison of cognition with the “eye’s gaze,” as well as his frequent invocations of the “mental eye” and the “natural light,” demonstrate that he models philosophical thinking upon a visual paradigm. Furthermore, he figures this cognition as establishing a spectatorial relationship between an observing subject and the objects which it presents to itself for inspection.
By effecting a radical separation between the thinking subject and the contemplated object, Descartes opens up a space for uncertainty. Because the subject, isolated in his mental space, has no natural connection with the objects he sees, he has no assurance that they actually exist. Furthermore, Descartes’ usage of a visual cognitive model exposes his clear and distinct perception to the possibility of profound visual distortion. Descartes confronts the insecurity of his knowledge by treating it as an epistemological problem presented to a philosophical spectator. Descartes asserts, “the conduct of our life depends entirely of our senses, and since sight is the noblest and most comprehensive of the senses, inventions which serve to increase its power are undoubtedly the most useful there can be.”[3] Although Descartes makes this statement in reference to implements such as telescopes, it can also be applied to his entire philosophical project. Throughout his work, Descartes attempts to establish a secure, rational foundation for existence by locating an indubitable power of sight. In order to repress the threats to his clear and distinct perception, Descartes establishes an absolute position from which the philosophical spectator can view the world.
Descartes observes that most of the ideas which he considers to be true have been acquired from or through the senses. In order to secure an absolute foundation for truth, Descartes must probe the reliability of his senses. However, Descartes notes, “from time to time, I have found that the senses deceive, and it is prudent never to trust completely those who have deceived us even once.”[4] Descartes’ initial skepticism arises from an epistemological crisis which occurs once he observes the ambiguity of his senses, especially his visual faculty. He realizes that his reliance upon the clarity of these senses also makes him prey to forces which could deceive him. After considering various factors which could possibly distort his perception, Descartes laments that he may forget about the insecurity of a sensory foundation. Like a prisoner who imagines an illusory freedom, he fears that he might “happily slide back into my old opinions and dread being shaken out of them, for fear that my peaceful sleep may be followed by hard labor when I wake, and that I shall have to toil not in the light, but amid the inextricable darkness of the problems I have now raised.”[5] By comparing his epistemological problems to a prisoner’s imagination of an illusion and by invoking light and darkness, Descartes inscribes the dilemma of all of the senses in a visual framework. Furthermore, in this statement, Descartes condemns his ignorant reliance upon sensual data, yet acknowledges that this complacency arises from the very real dread of darkness, from the insecurity caused by the abyss of uncertainty. A realization of human impotence develops from this insecurity. Descartes explains, “since deception and error seem to be imperfections, the less powerful they make my original cause, the more likely it is that I am so imperfect as to be deceived all the time.”[6] For Descartes, the possibility of illusory sensory knowledge indicates the possible imperfection and weakness of human nature. Similarly, Descartes realizes that the reliability of his senses depends upon whether a “malicious demon of the utmost power”[7] deceives him.
Whereas the machinations of a malicious demon would render Descartes’ sensory perception useless, he realizes that he possesses another power which a demon could not damage. He states “Even if it is not in my power to know any truth, I shall at least do what is in my power, that is, resolutely guard against assenting to any falsehoods.” Therefore, Descartes’ first power is a negative, defensive power: he does not have a power to assert something, but rather a power to withhold judgment, to stand back. Ultimately, Descartes locates an unassailable position of retreat for himself which he can use to view outside ideas and phenomena. Descartes declares that he wants to establish an absolutely certain foundation by locating a firm and immovable Archimedian point of certainty. This metaphor parallels the Albertinian notion of perspective, in which the entirety of the visual world converges on a point within the eye of the spectator. He locates his firm and unshakable point of view in the reflexive self-identity of thought. Although Descartes can always subject the reality external world to doubt, he affirms the absolute reality of his own existence. He explains “He who says, ‘I think, therefore I am or exist,’ does not deduce existence from thought by a syllogism, but by a simple act of mental vision.”[8] By visually observing himself as a thinker and a doubter, Descartes concludes that the “I” which speculates necessarily exists. Descartes thereby creates a detached, internal space from which he can present to himself not only external phenomena, but also his own internal space. Descartes thereby gains mastery over the external world and an internal subjectivity by positing both as objects for the philosophical spectator.
Although Descartes decides upon the indubitability of this internal self-reflexive vision, he must verify whether his sight also correlates with external reality. Just as a demon of the utmost power could utterly distort his vision, only an omnipotent God can lead him to the truth. Descartes deduces the existence of God by concluding that the idea of an infinite God must have been put in his mind by the power of God. Descartes remarks that he would like to pause in order to “gaze with wonder on the beauty of this immense light, as far as the eye of my darkened intellect can bear it.”[9] In this remarkable passage, Descartes concedes that even his supreme power of mental vision can not penetrate the Being of God. However, even though he admits that God exists outside of his human horizons, Descartes can only approach God as an idea, as an object for human contemplation. Descartes effects a reduction ad hominem by referring even the Being of God back to the epistemological problem of human knowledge. Furthermore, even though Descartes insists upon God’s infinite Being and discusses his importance as the guarantor of perception, he conspicuously avoids contemplating God’s omniscience. Although he occasionally mentions God’s knowledge, he never takes it up as a topic which deserves much meditation. Descartes thereby breaks with a long tradition of Christian thought by practically ignoring God’s role as the divine judge of and spectator over his creation. Instead, he refers all phenomena back to the human spectator, presenting the problem of judgment as a problem which the human mind must solve on its own by finding certainty within itself.
Descartes distinguishes between two visual faculties which the mental eye employs: the power of imagination and the power of understanding. Descartes explains this distinction: “When the mind understands, it in some way turns towards itself and inspects one of the ideas which are within it; but when it imagines, it turns towards the body and looks at something in the body which conforms to an idea understood by the mind or perceived by the senses.”[10] Descartes figures both understanding and imagination as establishing a relation between the speculative subject and an inspected object. Descartes privileges understanding because, through it, the mind reflects upon the mind, establishing an immediate relationship between a thought and the object of thought. Conversely, because imagination operates through the medium of the physical body, its vision always lies open to doubt. Descartes denigrates his imagination so much that he declares, “Besides this, I consider that this power of imagining which is in me, differing as it does from the power of understanding, is not a necessary constituent of my own essence, that is, of the essence of my mind. For if I lacked it, I should undoubtedly remain the same individual as I now am; from which it seems to follow that it depends on something distinct from me.”[11] According to this statement, man’s relationship with the external world does not constitute a necessary part of the his identity. Descartes, in his statement “cogito ergo sum, “ grounds man’s existence upon his capacity to cogitate securely. Following this logic, Descartes reasons that, because the imagination opens upon an uncertain visual field, the self does not require it. Not only is imagination unreliable, its vision can corrupt the mind’s sight, rendering it susceptible to extreme deception, “It is not reliable judgment but merely some blind impulse that has made me believe up till now that there exist things distinct from myself which transmit to me ideas or images of themselves through the sense organs or in some other way.”[12] In this statement, Descartes admits that his imagination, the mental faculty which orients itself towards sensory phenomena, might actually blind the higher faculty of understanding. By deriving this blindness from an “impulse,” Descartes seems to draw a correlation between this faulty judgment and man’s incapacity to restrain his will.
Descartes’ insecurity arises not only from the uncertainty of sensory information, but also from the uncontrollable fluctuations of his will. Descartes frequently laments that, although his mind may fix upon a true idea, his impulses may rupture his awareness. For example, after proving the existence of God, Descartes remarks, “All this is quite evident by the natural light, but when I relax my concentration, and my mental vision is blinded by the images perceived by the senses, it is not so easy for me to remember [why God must necessarily exist.]”[13] Descartes’ impulse to attend to sensory impression disrupts his security because it subjects him to the destabilizing force of temporality. He explains that true ideas only provide a foundation for certainty during the time that the thinker contemplates them. Even the bedrock of security, “cogito, ergo sum,” is only necessarily true “whenever it is put forward by me or conceived in my mind.”[14] However, temporality inevitably disrupts the thinker’s attention, subjecting his judgment to the indeterminacy of his will. Descartes explains that the man falls into error because “the scope of the will is wider than that of the intellect.”[15] That is, man makes mistakes because he decides to accept beliefs without having properly considered them. Furthermore, Descartes seems to imply that the will can deceive the intellect because its perspective opens upon a larger visual field, a wider scope. By recommending the use of the intellect, Descartes in effect urges the thinker to narrow his viewpoint. Descartes recommends, “it is clear by the natural light that the intellect should always precede the determination of the will.”[16] Just as Descartes resisted the demon’s deception through the negative power of withholding judgment, he again embraces the importance of maintaining security by standing back and restraining the force of the will.
Throughout his work, Nietzsche opposes the spectatorial paradigm of rationalism which emphasizes clarity and certitude over passion and will. Rather than critiquing the primacy of sight, however, he suggests that men should use a new mode of productive, poetic vision to enrich their lives. He asserts, “both art and life depend wholly on the laws of optics, on perspective, and illusion; both, to be blunt, depend on the necessity of error.”[17] Opposing the rationalist search for certain truth, Nietzsche embraces the power of appearances to create new aesthetic visions for life. In Birth of Tragedy, Nietzsche condemns the spectatorial paradigm through his analysis of Euripides and Socrates, the Alexandrian tragedian and philosopher. Nietzsche describes Euripides going to the theater as a “troubled spectator. In the end he had to admit to himself that he did not understand his great predecessors.”[18] Similarly, Nietzsche describes Socrates looking out at the world: “Wherever his penetrating gaze fell he saw nothing but lack of understanding, fictions rampant. ... Socrates believed it was his mission to correct this situation.”[19] Like Descartes, both Euripides and Socrates station themselves as the analytical judges of what they see. Rather than celebrating the passionate intensity of life, they find themselves estranged from the irrationality of it. To remedy this situation, these two writers establish a vision which eradicates these frightening contingencies. Just as Descartes emphasizes clarity and distinctness as criteria for truth, Socrates and Euripides replace passionate Athenian aesthetics with transparent knowledge and with the doctrine that everything beautiful must be sensible. Nietzsche draws an explicit connection between the Cartesian and the Alexandrian project, saying, “Euripides thought he noticed that during those early scenes the spectators were in a peculiar state of unrest ... Very often it was a god who had to ... remove any possible doubt as to the reality of the myth; exactly as Descartes ... appealed to God’s veracity.”[20] Like Descartes, Euripides, worrying about the visual threat of uncertainty, appeals to divine assurance for a guarantee of the accuracy of perception. Again like Descartes, Euripides resolves his anxiety by imposing his spectatorial position upon aesthetic experience. Nietzsche explains, “Euripides succeeded in transporting the spectator onto the stage ... through him the common man found his way from the auditorium onto the stage. The mirror, which previously had shown only the great and bold features, now took on the kind of accuracy that reflects also the paltry traits of nature.”[21] Whereas the tragic stage once displayed the epic clash of mysterious, primal forces, Euripides changes it to something which appeals to the moral sensibility of the chorus. Euripides converts a dangerous, heroic social space into one which embodies the consciousness of the masses. Therefore, Nietzsche accuses rational spectatorship of using reason to devitalize life of all its irrational passion.
Nietzsche asserts that Socrates with his “great Cyclops eye ... was unable to look with any pleasure into the Dionysian abysses.”[22] This remark critiques the Albertinian notion of an absolute perspective, the perception of the Cartesian cogito, which absorbs the entirety of the world within the single eye of the perceiver. This monocular desire for certain knowledge, however, can not cope with the uncertainty of the Dionysian universe. Nietzsche explains further, saying, “Like the artist, theoretical man takes infinite pleasure in all that exists and is thus saved from the practical ethics of pessimism with its lynx eyes that shine only in the dark. But while the artist, having unveiled the truth garment by garment, remained with his gaze fixed on what is still hidden, theoretical man takes delight in the cast garments and finds his highest satisfaction in the unveiling process itself, which proves to him his own power.”[23] In this rich passage, Nietzsche distinguishes between the artistic and the rational modes of vision. The artist tries to interpret parts of the world, but always remains aware of the nihility underlying it. Conversely, the rationalist, in order to rid himself of his feelings of impotence, takes a perverse pleasure in trying to rationalize everything. Nietzsche explains that “Socratic perception ... moves to encompass the whole world of phenomena in ever widening circles and knows no sharper incentive to life than the desire to complete the conquest, to weave the net absolutely tight”[24] Thus, Nietzsche argues that the desire to control what he fears motivates the rational spectator to secure a certain knowledge. However, the rationalist can never securely understand the world from an absolute perspective. Nietzsche repeatedly observes that the rationalist perspective merely takes over an illusory point of view. Far from providing enlightenment, the rational spectator had to “make a bargain with the power of darkness”[25] to secure his knowledge. The rationalist project “serves only to raise appearance - the realm of Maya (illusion) - to the status of true reality, thereby rendering impossible a genuine understanding of that reality.”[26] By pursuing the rationalist project, a philosopher can never actually understand the nature of the universe; all he does is attach too much significance to illusory phenomena. Instead of trying to comprehend the nihility underlying existence, his single eye narrows the scope of his vision so much that he merely becomes obsessed with insignificant minutiae. Rather than gaining any true insights, the rationalist winds up “blinding himself miserably over dusty books and typographical errors.”[27]
Nietzsche uses the metaphor of the artist influenced by the gods Dionysus and Apollo to oppose the rational Alexandrian tradition. Rather than opposing the primacy of vision, Nietzsche uses these deities to explore new modes of sight. As he remarks, the artistic community which is influenced by both of these gods produces “collective visions and hallucinations.”[28] Nietzsche claims that the Dionysian power, most frequently manifested in music, does not depend on vision. Following Schopenhauer, he asserts that the deeper force of will underlies the phenomenal world. He remarks, “everyday reality, too, is an illusion, hiding another, totally different kind of reality.”[29] Nietzsche argues that music manifests this underlying non-visible force of will. He states, “music ... manifests itself as will ... will is the non-aesthetic element par excellence. Rather, we should say that music appears as will.”[30] According to Nietzsche, the force of will exists before and transcends visible phenomena. Although music originates from the invisible Dionysian will, the musician can represent this will as a concrete phenomenon by calling upon the visual, Apollonian power. He explains that “[Schiller], prior to composing, experienced not a logically connected series of images but rather a musical mood ... This music becomes visible to him again, as in a dream similitude, through [Apollonian forces]”[31] In this passage, Nietzsche describes music as a mood which exists prior to vision yet which inspires visions. By mediating the Dionysian realm, music can “endow images with supreme significance.”[32] Nietzsche explains that pure Dionysiac arts, “insist that we look for this delight not in the phenomenon but behind them. ... It forces us to gaze into the horror of individual existence, yet without being turned to stone by this vision.”[33] Rather than allowing a spectator to maintain a state of rational detachment, Dionysian art forces the participant to confront the horrifying abyss at the ground of existence. By doing so, it transforms the viewer into a heroic Perseus who faces his Medusa, yet survives the encounter. When Dionysian music is combined with Apollonian vision, “music forces us to see more, and more inwardly than usual ... our spiritualized vision beholds the world of the stage at once infinitely expanded and illuminated from within.”[34] Although the primary source of the images is Apollonian, the Dionysian force also has a visual function. Music causes the viewer to see the work against the background of the abyss of nothingness, deepening his vision and illuminating the visible object.
As the dialectical counterpart to Dionysus, Apollo grants the artist the power to create illusions. Apollo opposes Dionysus by restraining men from being absorbed by the nihilistic will underlying reality. Nietzsche asserts, “the Greeks were for a while quite immune from these feverish excesses. ... What kept Greece safe was the proud, imposing image of Apollo, who ... subdued the brutal and grotesque Dionysian forces.”[35] Thus, Apollo, expressed as a visual image, exerts the power which protects men from the horror of the Dionysian abyss. Just as Descartes tried to control the irrationality of the empirical world, Nietzsche argues that empirical existence founds itself upon the effort to repress knowledge of nothingness. However, the Appolonian artist does not retreat from this abyss to a small point of security. Instead, he produces an illusion over the illusory phenomenal world. This poetic intensification of illusion enables men to enjoy life fully. Apollo thereby complements Dionysus: “[Dionysian] music becomes visible to [the artist] again, as in a dream similitude, through the Apollonian dream influence.”[36] Thus, Nietzsche claims the Apollonian power enables the Dionysian will to finally establish itself within a concrete form. According to Nietzsche, “[Apollo], who is etymologically the ‘lucent” one, the god of light, reigns over the fair illusion of our inner world of fantasy.”[37] In Apollo, Nietzsche valorizes a new form of poetic visuality. Unlike the natural light guiding Descartes’ mental vision, this Appolonian light does not cast doubt upon, but rather embraces, empirical appearances.
By synthesizing these Apollonian and Dionysian forces, the artist can produce new modes of vision in the form of theater. In the more Apollonian tragedies of Sophocles, the viewer finds that, “The language of the Sophoclean heroes surprises us by its Apollonian determinacy and lucidity. It seems to us that we can fathom their innermost being, and we are somewhat surprised that we had such short way to go. However, once we ... penetrate into the myth which is projected in these luminous phenomenon, we suddenly come up against a phenomenon which is the exact opposite of a familiar optical one.”[38] At first, the Sophoclean tragedy surprises the viewer with characters who seem transparent. By creating such characters, Sophocles seems to approach the Alexandrian artist in his celebration of mere surface appearances. However, as the viewer looks deeper into the play’s source in myth, he encounters a peculiar phenomenon. Not only is it the opposite of an everyday visual experience, it is also the opposite of a Platonic metaphor. Nietzsche continues, “After an energetic attempt to focus on the sun, we have, by way of remedy alone, dark spots before our eyes when we turn away. Conversely, the luminous images of the Sophoclean heroes — those Apollonian masks — are the necessary productions of a deep look into the horror of nature; luminous spots, as it were, designed to cure an eye hurt by the ghastly night.”[39] In this passage, Nietzsche seems to be critiquing Plato’s allegory of the cave. In this parable, Plato describes prisoners who have been trapped in a cave and who have been forced to watch mere shadows on the wall. They are liberated from their shackles and allowed to look directly at the sun. Although this experience blinds them at first, they eventually grow accustomed to the sovereign light of ideal truth. In his analysis of Sophoclean tragedy, Nietzsche deliberately inverts this classical paradigm of gnosis. The Sophoclean tragedy does not allow the viewer to look upon the light of reason, but rather confronts him with the darkness of nothingness. By creating a tragedy which is luminous, Sophocles cures the viewer of the terror that this abyss causes, yet still makes him remain aware of its underlying presence.
Nietzsche continues his attack against the spectatorial paradigm in his later works.[40] In perhaps the most famous expression of Nietzsche’s perspectivism, he declares, “Henceforth, my dear philosophers, let us be on guard against the dangerous old conceptual fiction that posited a “pure, will-less, painless, timeless knowing subject.”... These always demand that we should think of an eye that is completely unthinkable, an eye turned in no particular direction, in which the active and interpreting forces ... are supposed to be lacking.”[41] Rationalists such as Descartes try to secure an indubitable Archimedian point from which they can freely inspect the world. By constructing this detached spectatorial position, they try to secure an certain knowledge. However, Nietzsche asserts upon the impossibility of establishing a purely objective subjectivity. He argues that certain forces, certain will to powers, already condition the ways in which an observer can regard his data. Therefore, Nietzsche insists that each perspective is necessarily relative because it is contingent upon the viewer’s point of view. “There is only a perspective seeing, only a perspective “knowing.””[42] Rather than trying to secure an absolute perspective through abstract meditation, Nietzsche recommends that philosophers should explore manifold viewpoints. A philosopher should seek knowledge by resolving “to see differently in this way for once, to want to see differently ... so that one knows how to employ a variety of perspectives ... in the service of knowledge. ... The more eyes, different eyes, we can use to observe one thing, the more complete will our “concept” of the thing, our “objectivity” be.”[43] According to Nietzsche, the thinker can create perspectives through a wanting, through an exertion of his own will to power. One can only investigate philosophical problems by understanding the will to power that animates various perspectives. Throughout his later work, Nietzsche investigates ideas by appropriating the viewpoints of others. For example, he states, “if one adopts the only perspective known to the priest, it is not easy to set bounds to one’s admiration of how much he has seen, sought, and found under this perspective.”[44] By willfully assuming the priest’s perspective, Nietzsche can understand the forces which drive his thought, thereby avoiding the judgment of whether these ideas are “right or “wrong.”
Conversely, the spectatorial tradition of rationalism posits the thinker as a judge who masters reality through his disinterested reflections. “Ah, reason, seriousness, mastery over the affects, the whole somber thing called reflection, all the prerogatives of man: how dearly they have been bought.”[45] In his Genealogy of Morals, Nietzsche explains how human self-consciousness developed from a brutal history of torture. Implicating the rational tradition in this history of violence, he asserts that cultural forces viciously repressed men’s barbarous wills in order to invent the power of self-conscious reflection. Nietzsche mocks this notion of detached, self-reflexive thinking using the example of Kant, who “considered art and the beautiful purely from [the point of view] of the spectator. ... If [Kantian aestheticians continue to assert that] one can even view undraped female statues ‘without interest,’ one may laugh a little at their expense.”[46] Claiming that one can not gaze at the world without being influenced one’s instincts and desires, Nietzsche argues against the notion a detached spectator. Ultimately, the claim of pure objectivity merely demonstrates a certain evasiveness. As Nietzsche asserts, “science today is a hiding place for every kind of ... bad conscience — it is the unrest of the lack of ideals.”[47] According to this passage, “objectivity” merely connotes a cowardly retreat from the world. Rather risking himself by asserting a strong will to power, the scientific thinker holes himself up within the security of his internal space. According to Nietzsche, the insincere pretense of objectivity merely masks complacency. By lazily sitting back and pretending to be disinterested, the contemplative spectator only demonstrates how much he fears a true engagement in the world, a powerful assertion of his will to power. Nietzsche expresses his contempt for this disengaged attitude, saying, “such ‘spectators’ dispose me against the ‘spectacle’ more than the spectacle itself...[my foot should be] kicking to pieces these rotten armchairs, its cowardly contemplativeness.”[48]
Nietzsche associates the tradition of rational spectatorship with the man of ressentiment. [49] He remarks, “The inversion of the value positing eye — this need to direct one’s view outward instead of back to oneself — is of the essence of ressentiment: in order to exist, slave morality always first needs a hostile external world. ... It seeks its opposite only so as to affirm itself more gratefully and triumphantly.”[50] Like the man of ressentiment, Descartes begins his philosophical project by visually realizing that a hostile and contingent universe confronts him. He posits an uncertain external world in order to affirm the absolute reality of his own internal viewpoint. Nietzsche further remarks, “This type of man needs to believe in a neutral, independent ‘subject’ ... the sublime self- deception that interprets weakness as freedom.”[51] In this statement, Nietzsche implies that the rationalist proclaims the primacy of internal subjectivity because he fears to engage the external chaos with a powerful will to power. He therefore retreats from this confrontation by separating himself as a spectator. In his description of the man of ressentiment, Nietzsche states that “his soul squints; his spirit loves hiding places, secret paths and back doors, everything covert entices him as his world, his security.”[52] Like the man of ressentiment, the rationalist’s primary goal is to find security in a chaotic world. In order to secure this safety, the philosophical spectator conceals himself in the privacy of his subjectivity, shutting out the contingency of the external world. Furthermore, Nietzsche critiques rational ocularity by saying that the soul of the man of ressentiment “squints.” In his effort to reduce his perspective to a single Archimedian, Albertinian point, the rational spectator must squint; Descartes must narrow his “scope.” Although squinting generally increases the clarity and distinctness of vision, it also reduces the amount of light which the eye can receive. Thus, in his quest for clarity and distinctness, the spectator actually obscures another more profound, perhaps more ominous, light.
Nietzsche suggests that the will to power can establish certain perspectives which can enable men to assert themselves in a more healthy, more honest manner. For example, Nietzsche states, “not that one is the first to see something, but that one sees as new what is old, long familiar, seen and overlooked by everybody, is what distinguishes truly original minds.”[53] A strong, creative viewpoint can refashion the commonplace by willing to see it differently. Not only does the will to power of the perceiver enable him to recreate objects according to his perspective, it also enables him to recreate himself. Nietzsche asserts, “Most people are nothing and are considered nothing until they have dressed themselves up in general convictions and public opinions. ... Of the exceptional person, it must be said: only he that wears it makes the costume.”[54] The powerful man’s perspectives differentiate him from the consciousness of the unthinking masses, enabling him to refashion himself. In Ecce Homo, Nietzsche declares that his own will to power has positioned him in an essential philosophical space. The inquiry into morality depends upon the capacity to explore and invert viewpoints. Nietzsche remarks, “with every increase in vitality my ability to see has also increased again. ... [I thus learned] the psychology of ‘looking around the corner.’...Now I have the power to reverse perspectives: the first reason why a ‘revaluation of values’ is perhaps possible for me alone.”[55] With an increase in his will to power, Nietzsche’s visual power also grew stronger. With his new power, Nietzsche was able to look behind psychological phenomenon to discern human motivations. Interestingly, Nietzsche does not use the common metaphor of seeing in greater depth, but talks about changing perspectival angles. Nietzsche’s will to power does not allow him to perceive a transcendental truth, but rather enables him to shift perspectives freely. Although Nietzsche usually emphasizes visual angle rather than visual depth, he also states that he longs for a powerful man who, with “his penetration into reality, so that, when he one day emerges again into the light, he may bring home the redemption of reality.”[56] This statement seems to evoke the ocular models of The Birth of Tragedy. Like the tragic artist, the powerful man will be able to penetrate beyond phenomena into the nothingness grounding reality, redeeming existence by disclosing this abyss in an Appolonian light.
[1] René Descartes, Selected Philosophical Writings, p. 87. [Translated by John Cottingham, Robert Stoothoff, and Dugald Murdoch. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988.]
[2] Ibid. p. 174-175
[3] Ibid. p. 57.
[4] Ibid. p. 76
[5] Ibid. p. 79
[6] Ibid. p. 78
[7] Ibid. p. 79. My italics.
[8] Quoted in Frederick Copleston, A History of Philosophy. Volume 4, p. 91. New York: Image Books, 1960.
[9] René Descartes, Selected Philosophical Writings, p. 98
[10] Ibid. p. 112-3
[11] Ibid. p. 111
[12] Ibid. p. 90
[13] Ibid. p. 95
[14] Ibid. p. 89
[15] Ibid. p. 102
[16] Ibid. p. 103
[17] Friedrich Nietzsche, The Birth of Tragedy and The Genealogy of Morals, p. 10. [Translated by Francis Golffing. New York: Anchor Books: Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, 1956.]
[18] Ibid. p. 75
[19] Ibid. p. 83-4
[20] Ibid. p. 80
[21] Ibid. p. 70
[22] Ibid. p. 86
[23] Ibid. p. 92
[24] Ibid. p. 95
[25] Ibid. p. 109
[26] Ibid. p. 111
[27] Ibid. p. 112
[28] Ibid. p. 8
[29] Ibid. p. 20
[30] Ibid. p. 45
[31] Ibid. p. 37-8
[32] Ibid. p. 101
[33] Ibid. p. 104
[34] Ibid. p. 97
[35] Ibid. p. 26
[36] Ibid. p.38
[37] Ibid. p. 21
[38] Ibid. p. 59
[39] Ibid. p. 59-60
[40] In his later works, Nietzsche seems determined to avoid using ocular metaphors to explain his philosophy. He resists using even the most seemingly innocuous visual tropes which commonly infect everyday speech. In these later works, Nietzsche seems to prefer using sensory tropes related to eating, repeatedly referring to nausea, rumination, and other digestive phenomena. He seems to distrust vision so much that he states, “whoever can smell not only with his nose but with his eyes and ears [will sense the weakness of European culture].” (On the Genealogy of Morals and Ecce Homo, p. 121. [Translated by Walter Kaufmann and R. J. Hollingdale. New York: Vintage Books, 1968.]) In this statement, Nietzsche attempts to reprioritize the traditional hierarchy of the senses. Rather than describing the eyes as visual organs, Nietzsche reinscribes them as olfactory organs.
[41] On the Genealogy of Morals and Ecce Homo, Ibid. p. 119
[42] Ibid. p. 119
[43] Ibid. p. 119
[44] Ibid. p. 130
[45] Ibid. p. 62
[46] Ibid. p. 103-104. Martin Heidegger criticizes Nietzsche for perpetuating a fundamental misunderstanding of Kantian aesthetics. He argues that, for Kant, “disinterested” does not mean “detached,” but rather describes a state in which the artist lets the being manifest itself in its Being rather than immediately grasping it. See Nietzsche: The Will to Power as Art, p. 107 - 114. [Edited by David Farrell Krell. New York: Harper & Row, 1991.]
[47] Ibid. p. 147
[48] Ibid. p. 158
[49] Walter Kaufmann explains ressentiment as a combination of resentment and envy. See On the Genealogy of Morals and Ecce Homo, p. 5- 10
[50] Ibid. p. 39. In this passage, Nietzsche seems to echo Pascal’s notion that wickedness is a by-product of man’s inability to stay in his own room. He acknowledges his debt to Pascal on p, 179.
[51] Ibid. p. 46
[52] Ibid. p. 38
[53] Ibid. p. 176
[54] Ibid. p. 178
[55] Ibid. p. 223
[56] Ibid. p. 96