To Hope Again
But my truth is dreadful:
for hitherto the lie has been called truth.
–revaluation of all values;
that is my formula for an act of supreme
coming-to-oneself on the part of mankind
which in me has become flesh and genius.
It is my fate
to have to be the first decent human being,
to know myself in opposition
to the mendaciousness of millennia.
…I was the first to discover the truth,
in that I was the first to sense –
smell – the lie as lie.
My genius is in my nostrils…
I contradict as has never been contradicted
and am nonetheless the opposite
of a negative spirit.
I am a bringer of good tidings
such as there has never been,
I know tasks from such a height
that any conception of them
has hitherto been lacking;
only after me
is it possible to hope again.
Why I Am Destiny by Friedrich Nietzsche trans. by R. J. Hollingdale
This morning I received an invitation. The email announced a discussion topic for Wednesday of this week. The backdrop could be a public school classroom anywhere in the country. The individual posing the matrix of philosophical questions for us is a veteran math teacher. His observation: no matter where you look, exhaustion, depletion of emotional energy, a loss of love-for-learning is apparent with respect to both students and teachers. Education is structured along a survival of the few who are the fittest, a Darwinian model. Every vector of instruction is aimed at preparing students to score as high as possible on standardized tests. Those who score the highest, have a shot at a prestigious school. Do we not understand that a degree from Yale or from Penn State is entree to “the good life?” Everyone reaches for that “gold ring.” And the majority, noncompetitive by reason of social status, lack of financial ability, or genetic endowment – what of them? They trudge on, doing what they can to find their place.
I am eager to be present for this discussion. The outcome is likely to mean something, to have texture. Who philosophizes simply to be entertained?
First it is necessary to face the truth to be able to hope again.
(The quoted passage is taken from Ecce Homo, Nietzsche’s last book, written in the autumn of 1888)
