What would Nietzsche do?
The Compassionate
My friends, your friend has heard a satirical saying: "Behold Zarathustra! Does he not walk among us as if among animals”? But it is better said in this way: "The enlightened man goes amongst men as among animals”. Man himself is to the enlightened man: the animal with red cheeks. How has that happened to him? Is it not because he has had to be ashamed too often? O my friends! Thus speaks the enlightened man: "shame, shame, shame - that is the history of man"! And on that account does the noble man resolves not to make others ashamed: he resolves to feel shame before all sufferers. Truly, I like them not, the compassionate, whose happiness is in their pity: too lacking are they in shame. If I must be pitiful, I dislike to be called so; and if I be so, it is preferably at a distance. Preferably also do I cover my head, and flee, before being recognised: and thus do I bid you do, my friends! May my destiny ever lead only unaffected men like you across my path, and those with whom I may have hope and meal and honey in common! Truly, I have done this and that for the afflicted: but I always seemed to do better I had learned to enjoy myself better. Since humanity came into being, man has enjoyed himself too little: that alone, my brothers, is our original sin! And when we learn better to enjoy ourselves, then do we unlearn best to give pain to others, and to contrive harm. Therefore do I wash the hand that has helped the sufferer; therefore do I wipe also my soul. For in seeing the sufferer suffering - thereof was I ashamed on account of his shame; and in helping him, sorely did I wound his pride. Great obligations do not make a man grateful, but revengeful; and when a small kindness is not forgotten, it becomes a gnawing worm. "Be reserved in accepting! Honour a man by accepting from him”! - thus do I advise those who have nothing to give. I, however, am a giver: willingly do I give as friend to friends. Strangers, however, and the poor, may pluck for themselves the fruit from my tree: thus does it cause less shame. Beggars, however, one should entirely do away with! Truly, it annoys one to give to them, and it annoys one not to give to them. And likewise sinners and bad consciences! Believe me, my friends: the sting of conscience teaches one to sting. The worst things, however, are the little thoughts. Truly, better to have done evilly than to have thought pettily! To be sure, you say: "The delight in little wickedness spares one many a great evil deed”. But here one should not wish to be spared. Like a boil is the evil deed: it itches and irritates and breaks forth - it speaks honourably. "Behold, I am disease," says the evil deed: that is its honesty. But like infection is the little thought: it creeps and hides, and wants to hide - until the whole body is decayed and withered by the little infection. To him however, who is possessed of a devil, I would whisper this word in his ear: "Better for you to rear up your devil! Even for you there is still a path to greatness”! - Ah, my brothers! One knows a little too much about every one! And many a one has become transparent to us, but is still for a long time invulnerable. It is difficult to live among men because silence is so difficult. And not to him who is offensive to us are we most unfair, but to him who does not concern us at all. If, however, you have a suffering friend, then be a resting place for his suffering; like a hard bed, however, a camp bed: thus will you serve him best. And if a friend does you wrong, then say: "I forgive you what you have done to me; that you have done it to yourself, however - how could I forgive that”! Thus speaks all great love: it overcomes even forgiveness and pity. One should hold fast your heart; for when one lets it go, how quickly does your head run away! Ah, where in the world have there been greater follies than with the compassionate? And what in the world has caused more suffering than the follies of the compassionate? Woe to all lovers who cannot overcome their pity! Thus spoke the devil to me, once on a time: "Even God has his Hell: it is his love for man”. And lately, did I hear him say these words: "God is dead: God has died of his pity for man”. So be warned again pity: from thence there yet comes to men a heavy cloud! Truly, I understand weather signs! But mark too this saying: All great love is above pity: for it wants - to create what is loved! "Myself do I offer to my love, and my neighbour as myself" – that is the language of all creators. All creators, however, are hard. Thus spoke Zarathustra. Patrick suggested some interesting videos:
What would Badiou do?
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