If we speak of humanity, it is on the basic assumption that it should be that which separates man from nature and is his mark of distinction. But in reality there is no such separation: ‘natural’ characteristics and those called specifically ‘human’ have grown together inextricably. Man, at the finest height of his powers, is all nature and carries nature's uncanny dual character in himself. His dreadful capabilities and those counting as inhuman are perhaps, indeed, the fertile soil from which alone all humanity, in feelings, deeds and works, can grow forth.

Thus the Greeks, the most humane people of ancient time, have a trait of cruelty, of tiger-like pleasure in destruction, in them: a trait which is even clearly visible in Alexander the Great, that grotesquely enlarged reflection of the Hellene, and which, in their whole history, and also their mythology, must strike fear into us when we approach them with the emasculated concept of modern humanity. When Alexander has the feet pierced of the brave defender of Gaza, Batis, and ties his live body to his chariot in order to drag him around to the scorn of his own soldiers: this is a nauseating caricature of Achilles, who abused the corpse of Hector at night by similarly dragging it around; but for us, even Achilles' action has something offensive and horrific about it. Here we look into the bottomless pit of hatred.

Preface

We moderns have the advantage over the Greeks with two concepts given as consolation, as it were, to a world behaving in a thoroughly slave-like manner while anxiously avoiding the word ‘slave’: we speak of the ‘dignity of man’ and of the ‘dignity of work’. We struggle wretchedly to perpetuate a wretched life; this terrible predicament necessitates exhausting work which man – or, more correctly – human intellect, seduced by the ‘will’, now and again admires as something dignified. But to justify the claim of work to be honoured, existence itself, to which work is simply a painful means, would, above all, have to have somewhat more dignity and value placed on it than appears to have been the case with serious-minded philosophies and religions up till now. What can we find, in the toil and moil of all the millions, other than the drive to exist at any price, the same all-powerful drive which makes stunted plants push their roots into arid rocks!

Only those individuals can emerge from this horrifying struggle for existence who are then immediately preoccupied with the fine illusions of artistic culture, so that they do not arrive at that practical pessimism that nature abhors as truly unnatural.

The following section includes full translation of all the material which Nietzsche either refers to or partly cites from in the Genealogy of Morality.

Human, All Too Human

Volume 1, Section 45

Twofold prehistory of good and evil. – The concept good and evil has a two-fold prehistory: firstly in the soul of the ruling tribes and castes. He who has the power to requite, good with good, evil with evil, and also actually practises requital – is, that is to say, grateful and revengeful – is called good; he who is powerless and cannot requite counts as bad. As a good man one belongs to the ‘good’, a community which has a sense of belonging together because all the individuals in it are combined with one another through the capacity for requital. As a bad man one belongs to the ‘bad’, to a swarm of subject, powerless people who have no sense of belonging together. The good are a caste, the bad a mass like grains of sand. Good and bad is for a long time the same thing as noble and base, master and slave. On the other hand, one does not regard the enemy as evil: he can requite. In Homer the Trojan and the Greek are both good. It is not he who does us harm but he who is contemptible who counts as bad.

Now that we have distinguished in this way between the various modes and significations of the said terms, let us draw certain conclusions: and the first is, that no person can licitly handle any temporal thing or aspect of a thing (e.g. its use or usufruct or similar) – whether it is his own or belonging to another, as his own property or in common – without right, that is, without having in it or in an aspect of it right so-called in the first and second significations of right. For every act which is not commanded or permitted to be done by right, is non-licit, as is plainly apparent to anyone from the definition of the ‘licit’. We need not delay to prove this, as it is almost self-evident to everyone.

2

From what we have said we can secondly infer that a person can handle a thing or an aspect of a thing in a way that is licit in respect of one law, e.g. the divine, and illicit in respect of another, such as the human; and similarly the other way round; and again, he can do the same thing in a way that is licit, or even in a way that is illicit, in respect of both. This is not difficult to see, since the commands, prohibitions and permissions in these laws sometimes diverge and mutually disagree, and sometimes converge. And therefore one who acts according to the command or permission of one, acts in a way that is licit in respect of it; and if this is prohibited by the other law, then he performs the same act in a way that is illicit in respect of that other law; while if such an act is permitted in both laws, then he acts in a way that is licit in respect of both. If, however, it is prohibited by both, then he performs the same act in a way that is illicit in respect of both.

Now since we have said that election is the more perfect and superior way of instituting the principate, we do well to inquire into its efficient cause, sc. that from which, in its full excellence, it must ensue; for the result of this will be that the cause both of elected principate, and similarly of the other parts of the polity, becomes apparent. But because the principate must regulate human civil acts (as we demonstrated in chapter 5 of this discourse), and do this according to a standard that is and should be the form of that which exercises it, it is necessary to inquire into this standard: if there is any such thing, what it is, and what is its purpose. For the efficient cause of the standard may turn out to be the same as that of the prince.

2

We suppose, then – as a thing almost self-evident by induction – that this standard, which is called ‘statute’ or ‘custom’ or by the common term of ‘law’, exists in all perfect communities. Taking this as given, we shall first show what it is. Secondly we shall identify its necessity in terms of its end. Finally we shall determine, through demonstration, by what kind of action, and on the part of what or which agents, it should be instituted. And this will be to inquire into its legislator or active cause; to whom we think that the election of principates also belongs, as we shall show by demonstration in the following chapters. In addition, as a result of these discussions, the matter or subject of the abovementioned standard (which we have called the law) will become apparent. For this is the princely part, to which it belongs to regulate the political or civil acts of men according to law.

3

As we embark on what we have proposed, therefore, it is appropriate to distinguish between the meanings of (or what is signified by) this term ‘law’, so that its multiple senses do not lead to frustration.

Now that we have distinguished the meanings of the terms around which much of our inquiry is centred, we can approach our principal purpose with greater sureness. Let us first, then, bring in the authorities of Holy Scripture which might make someone think that the Roman bishop who is called the pope is the supreme judge (even in the third signification of judge and judgement) over all bishops or priests and other ecclesiastical ministers of the world, and also over all princes, communities, collective bodies and individual persons of this world, whatever their condition.

2

Let us set down as the first of these authorities the passage of Scripture found in Matthew 16, in which Christ, addressing Saint Peter, says: ‘And I will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.’ For it is from this passage that certain Roman bishops have assumed for themselves the authority of supreme jurisdiction just mentioned. For by the keys that Christ granted to Peter, they want it to be understood that plenitude of power over the entire government of humanity was handed to them. Just as Christ had this plenitude over all kings and princes, so he granted it to Saint Peter and his successors in the episcopal see of Rome as the general vicars of Christ in this world.

3

The second passage of Scripture in support of the same point is taken from the words of Christ in Matthew 11, when he said: ‘All things are delivered unto me of my Father;’ and again in Matthew 28 when he said: ‘All power is given unto me in heaven and earth.’ Since, therefore, Saint Peter and his successors in the episcopal see of Rome were and are the vicars of Christ – as these people say – it seems then that all power or plenitude of power has been granted to these same individuals, and in consequence the authority of any jurisdiction whatsoever.

We said earlier that it belongs to the legislator to bring to account or completely to change principates, just as it does to institute them. On this subject someone will quite rightly raise a doubt, viz. as to whether it is expedient for princes to be corrected through a judicial process and coercive power; and if it is, whether this ought to take place for any kind of excess, or only for some of them and not for others. Again, to whom it belongs to pass such judgements upon them and to carry out the execution of these judgements by coercive power: since it was earlier said that it belongs only to princes to pass civil sentences and to constrain those who transgress the law with coercive power.

2

Let us for our part say that the prince, through his action according to the law and through the authority that has been given him, is the standard and the measure of any civil act whatsoever, in the manner of the heart in an animal (as was sufficiently demonstrated in chapter 15 of this discourse). And if the prince took on no other form than the law, his authority, and the desire of acting in accordance with it, he would never commit any undue action or one that was subject to being corrected or measured by anything else. In this way he himself as much as his action would be the measure of every civil act on the part of others, while he himself would never be measured by others: just like a well-formed heart in an animal. For because the heart does not take on any form through which it would be inclined to an action contrary to that which arises from its natural virtue and heat, it always naturally performs its appropriate action and never the contrary. Because of this it regulates and measures, through its influence or action, the other parts of the animal in such a way that it is not itself regulated by them in any way and receives no influence from them either.

We gave some indication earlier, but must now show with greater certitude, that the institution and differentiation of the parts of the city comes about through some motive cause, which we called the legislator; and that this same legislator institutes, differentiates and separates these parts in the manner of nature in an animal: sc. by first forming or establishing a single part in the city – which in chapter 5 of this discourse we called the princely or judicial – and through this the others, as we shall make clearer in chapter 15 of this discourse. It is therefore appropriate for us to say something first concerning the nature of that single part. For since it is the first of all the rest (as will become apparent from what follows), a prior elucidation of its range of efficacy is the appropriate way for us to set about demonstrating the institution and active differentiation of the other parts of the city.

2

Now there are two generic kinds of princely part or principate, the one well-tempered and the other flawed. Together with Aristotle, Politics III, chapter 5, I call that kind ‘well-tempered’ in which what dominates exercises the function of prince for the common advantage in accordance with the will of those subject; ‘flawed’, that in which this is lacking. Each of these generic kinds subdivides into three types: the first (sc. the tempered) into royal monarchy, aristocracy, and polity; the second (sc. the flawed) into the three opposing species of tyrannical monarchy, oligarchy and democracy. And each of these specific types has, again, its own variants; but it is not part of the business in hand to discuss these in any more detail. For Aristotle said enough on the subject of them in books III and IV of his Politics.

3

However, in order to have a fuller notion of the specific types, which is in some sense necessary in order for what follows to be clear, we shall describe each of the said species of principate in accordance with Aristotle's understanding.

At this point, however, we should say something of the unity of that which exercises the function of prince or the principate. Let us make a start on this subject and say that in a single city or a single realm there should be only one single principate; or if there are several, in number or in species – as seems expedient in great cities, and most of all in a realm taken in its first sense – then there should be among them one in number that is supreme over all, to which and through which the rest are reduced and regulated, and any errors that arise in them corrected.

2

Now it is only this principate, sc. the supreme, that I say must necessarily be one in number, and not several, if the realm or city is to be rightly ordered. And I say the same of that which exercises the function of prince: a prince that is one in number, not in respect of human subject but in respect of office. For there is a type of supreme and well-tempered principate that is one in number and where more than one man exercises the function of prince, as in an aristocracy and a polity (of which we spoke in chapter 8 of this discourse). These several individuals do indeed form a principate that is one in number in respect of function, because of the numerical unity of whatever action, judgement or sentence or command issues from them; for no such action can issue from any one of these individuals by himself, but only from their common decree and consent or that of their prevailing part, according to the laws that have been established in these matters. And because of the numerical unity of the action that issues from them in this way, the principate is and is said to be one in number, whether it is ruled by one man or several.

Now all coercive jurisdiction concerns voluntary human acts in respect of some law or custom, either insofar as these acts are capable of being ordained to the end of this world, sc. the sufficiency of worldly life, or to the end of the world to come, which we call eternal life or glory. In order to highlight further the distinction between the judges (or those who ought to judge) of these actions, and in accordance with which laws, by what judgement, and how, let us discuss in some fashion the differences between the acts themselves. For to determine these will be no small help towards the solution of the previous doubts.

2

Let us say, then, that of human actions that proceed from thought and desire, some proceed apart from the empire of the mind, and some as a result of the empire of the human mind. Among the first are the thoughts, desires, delights and pleasures which come from us and in us without an imperative or command on the part of the intellect or the appetite being made with regard to them: such are the thoughts and affections we find ourselveswithwhenwe are woken from sleep, or which have been otherwise produced in us without an imperative of ourmind. But these are followed by certain thoughts, assents and affections towards either continuing the previous acts or questioning and understanding some of them (as in the action which happens through recollection). These are and are called ‘imperatives of the mind’ or ‘commands’, firstly because they happen or are elicited as a result of our empire, and also because certain others, like pursuit or avoidance, are elicited by them.

3

The difference between these ‘commanded’ and ‘non-commanded’ acts stems from what we said before: that we do not have full liberty or empire over non-commanded acts as to whether they happen or not, whereas according to the Christian religion, power over commanded acts lies in us.