On the Philosophy of the Superman – Leon Trotsky, 12/22/1900

Recently our newspapers and periodicals have become incredibly respectful “in the presence of death.”
There are literati from whom we demand and expect nothing, for the simple reason that there is nothing
to be gotten from them: they lack even a fig leaf to hide their nudity when it is needed. It is only right that
their praise and criticism leave us indifferent. Corpses themselves, they bury their corpses. It is not a
question here of these men, but of those hommes de lettres from whom we would expect a perfectly
healthy attitude in the face of literary and social phenomena, even if these phenomena are covered
with the conciliating veil of death. Russia recently buried G. A. Djanchiev and V. S. Soloviev, and Europe
W. Liebknecht and F. Nietzsche. To be sure, it would be rude to “trample on a corpse,” to use N. K.
Mikhailovsky’s expression. But perhaps we show more respect for someone who elaborated a system
of thought by placing him in a position appropriate to his literary and social physiognomy, rather than
through immoderate praise emanating from his enemies. It is not very probable that Liebknecht would
have been satisfied with the praise of Moskovskie Vedomosti or Novo Vremia, just as Nietzsche would
not have appreciated that of Vorwärts! or Russkoe Bogatstvo. We should recall that the Scandinavian
Kielland affirms—and we believe him without difficulty—that all the praise of the radical press procured
him less pleasure and moral satisfaction than the venomous insults of reactionary journalists. If we must
“speak well of the dead or say nothing at all,” then in this case it is preferable to observe a respectful
silence rather than obscure the social significance of the deceased by a flood of unctuous praise devoid
of meaning. We can and must maintain an impartial attitude toward our social enemies by according
them the tribute owed to their sincerity and their varied individual virtues. But an enemy, whether sincere
or not, living or dead, remains an enemy—especially an enemy who lives on in his works after his death.

In remaining silent, we commit a social crime. “Not opposing actively,” a famous Russian thinker said,
“means supporting passively.” This should not be forgotten, even in the face of the tragedy of death.
These reflections have led us to dedicate a few words to the philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche, recently
deceased, and in particular to those aspects of his doctrine that concern his views on society: his
sympathies and antipathies, his social criticism, and his social ideal. For many people, Nietzsche’s life
and personality explain his philosophy. He could not passively accept the situation imposed on him by
illness. His forced retirement from public life led him to elaborate a theory that not only allowed him to
live under those conditions, but conferred meaning upon that life. The cult of suffering was a consequence
of his illness. “You want to annihilate suffering as much as possible, and we, it appears, want to increase
it, make it stronger than it was. The cult of suffering, of great suffering—is it possible that this cult has led
men to the highest summits?” “In these words,” says Alois Riehl, “we hear the voice of a sick man who
transformed suffering into a means of educating the will.” But the cult of suffering is only a part—and not
one of the most characteristic parts—of Nietzsche’s philosophical system; a part rashly placed in the
foreground by several of his critics and exegetes. The social axis of his system (if it is permitted to offend
Nietzsche’s writings with a term as vulgar, in his eyes, as that of “system”) is the recognition of the privilege
granted to a few “chosen ones” to freely enjoy all the goods of existence. These chosen ones are not only
exempt from productive labor, but also from the “labor” of domination. “It is for you to believe and serve
(Dienstbarkeit)!” Such is the destiny Zarathustra offers ordinary mortals in his ideal society, whose number
is too great (den Vielzuvielen).

Above them stands the caste of those who give orders: guardians of the law and warriors. At the summit
stands the king, “the highest image of the warrior, judge, and guardian of the law.” Compared to the supermen,
all of these are auxiliaries. They are employed in the rude tasks of domination, transmitting to the mass
of slaves the will of the legislators. Finally, the highest caste is that of the masters: the creators of values,
the legislators, the supermen. They inspire the activity of the entire social organism. They play on earth
the same role that God, according to Christian faith, plays in the universe. Thus even the labor of leadership
does not fall upon superior beings, but only upon the most elevated among the inferior. As for the chosen
—the supermen—freed from all social and moral obligations, they lead lives full of adventure, happiness,
and joy. “Given that I live,” says Nietzsche, “I want life to overflow, to be in me and outside me as prodigal,
as luxurious as possible.” The cult of suffering here concerns physical suffering, which no devotion on the
part of slaves can spare the superman. As for suffering tied to social disturbances, the superman must, of
course, be completely freed from it. If there remains one mandatory task for the superman (and this only for the
superman in Werden, in the process of becoming), it is that of perfecting himself—that is, eliminating all that
resembles pity. The superman falls if he allows himself to be dominated by feelings of pity, regret, or sympathy.

According to the former table of values, pity is a virtue; Nietzsche considers it the greatest temptation and the
most frightful danger. The gravest sin, according to Zarathustra, the most horrible misfortune, is pity. If the
superman feels anything for the unfortunate, if he is touched by the sight of sorrow, his destiny has ended.
He is vanquished; his name must be crossed off the list of masters. “Everywhere,” says Zarathustra, “there
resounds the voice of those to whom it is indispensable that death be preached—or eternal life; which of the
two is of no importance to me, as long as they disappear as quickly as possible.” Before elaborating his positive
ideal, Nietzsche subjected dominant social norms in the realms of the state, law, and especially morality to
critique. He judged it necessary to “revalue all values.” At first glance, what radicalism, what daring revolutionary
ambition! Riehl claims that before Nietzsche no one had analyzed moral values or criticized moral principles.
This opinion, though widespread, is entirely superficial. Humanity has repeatedly felt the need for fundamental
ethical revision, and many thinkers have carried out this task in a more radical and profound manner than
Nietzsche. If there is something original in his system, it is not the transvaluation of values itself, but rather
the point of view from which it proceeds: the will to power, which underlies the aspirations, demands, and
desires of the superman. This becomes the criterion for evaluating past, present, and future. But even this
originality is doubtful. Nietzsche himself recognized two fundamental moral tendencies throughout history:
master morality and slave morality. This duality is not his discovery. “It is for you to believe and serve,”
Zarathustra tells those whose number is too great. The higher caste consists of masters, creators of values.

This morality is created for them alone. What novelty is there here? Even landlords under serfdom understood
that there were people with blue blood and those without, and that what was permissible for one was reprehensible
for the other. One of Nietzsche’s least critical admirers admits that if we strip his ideas of their paradoxical and
poetic form, they are often far less novel than they appear at first glance. Nietzsche’s philosophy is not as new
as it seems. It is original only insofar as it can be explained exclusively through the complex individuality of its
author. How, then, can we explain the rapid spread of his ideas? Only by recognizing that the social soil from
which they sprang is in no way exceptional. There exist large groups whose social conditions correspond
perfectly to Nietzsche’s doctrine. In Russian literature, Gorky and Nietzsche have often been compared. At
first glance, this seems strange. Yet despite enormous differences, the connection is closer than it first appears.
Gorky’s heroes are not the humiliated and offended; they are, in their own way, supermen. Their marginal
position is often not the result of defeat, but of a conscious rejection of social norms. Nietzsche became the
ideologue of a group living like birds of prey at society’s expense—not the miserable lumpenproletariat, but a
parasitic proletariat of higher caliber. This group is heterogeneous but united by its methodical plundering of
social wealth without participation in organized production. It would be mistaken to conclude that all Nietzscheans
are financiers or speculators. Bourgeois individualism has spread far beyond the bourgeoisie itself. Many who
have never heard of Nietzsche live by his principles despite themselves. Nietzsche contests all the norms of
bourgeois society. The average bourgeois, reasonable and moralizing, disgusts him as much as the proletarian.
The bourgeois superman seizes, pillages, consumes—and adds, “There is nothing more to be said.” The
respectable bourgeoisie responded to Nietzsche with hostility. Max Nordau, for example, saw in him a
theoretician of degeneration and moral insanity. Yet those who live by exploitation cannot expect approval
from bourgeois morality. Bourgeois society prohibits exploitation only when it is turned against itself.

Supermen of all kinds live off surplus value and therefore cannot submit to bourgeois ethics. They require a new
morality—and Nietzsche provided it. Nietzsche teaches that noble life is an uninterrupted chain of dangerous
adventures. Happiness interests him less than risk. In an unstable social position, this philosophy appealed to
parasitic strata far more than the dull virtues of moderation preached by bourgeois moralists. Nietzsche rejects
democracy with fury. He divides humanity into masters and slaves. The morality of the masters is not meant for
all; it is meant for the few. The many must find their happiness in obedient labor for the sake of those born to
rule.Nietzsche offers no objective criterion for determining who belongs among the chosen. The answer depends
entirely on will and predatory talent. His philosophy is riddled with contradictions. He rejects morality, yet
preserves it among supermen. He glorifies individualism yet venerates aristocratic tradition. The aristocrat
always dominated the individualist within him. This explains why opposed social elements claim Nietzsche.
Adventurers take from him the principle that everything is permitted. Aristocrats in decline take from him
their hatred of democracy. Figures like Gabriele D’Annunzio echo Nietzsche almost word for word in their
contempt for the masses and longing for domination. It is time to conclude. We do not claim to have exhausted
Nietzsche’s philosophy. Our aim was to identify the social base that gave birth to Nietzscheism—not merely
as a doctrine, but as a social current of our time. Purely ideological reactions lead nowhere. The correct
approach is social analysis. This base reveals itself as rotten, pernicious, and poisoned. Let them invite
us as much as they wish to dive into Nietzscheism and breathe the fresh air of proud individualism. We
will reply with skepticism, echoing Nathaniel in the Gospel: “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”