Chapter 13 The Value Of Life Part 2

 [31] All this presupposes that pleasure
        is the yardstick
           for the value
               of life.

    Now
         life manifests itself
            through a number
               of instinctive desires (needs).

    If
         the value of life
            depended
           on its
              producing more pleasure
          than pain,
       an instinct
          which
             brought
           to its owner
               a balance
                  of pain
            would have
               to be called
                  valueless.

    Let us,
       therefore,
          examine instinct
             and pleasure
          to see
             whether
                 the former
              can be measured
                 by the latter.

    In order not
        to arouse
           the suspicion that
              we consider
                 life
               to begin only
            at the level of
       "aristocracy
          of the intellect",
             we shall begin with the
           "purely animal"
              need,
                 hunger.

    [32] Hunger
        arises
           when
              our organs
                 are unable
              to continue
                  their proper function
               without a fresh
                   supply of food.

    What
         a hungry man
            wants first
           of all is
              to satisfy his hunger.

    As soon
        as the supply
            of nourishment
               has reached the point
      where
           hunger ceases,
      everything
         that the instinct for food craves
       has been attained.

    The enjoyment that comes
        with being satisfied
           consists primarily
              in putting
                 an end
        to the pain caused
            by hunger.

    But
         to the mere instinct
            for food
               a further need
                  is added.

    For man
        does not merely desire
           to repair
              the disturbance
           in the functioning
              of his organs
                 by the consumption
                    of food,
       or to overcome
           the pain
              of hunger;
       he seeks
          to effect this
             to the accompaniment
                of pleasurable sensations
                   of taste.

    If
         he feels hungry
            and is
           within half
               an hour
                   of an appetizing meal,
       he may even refuse
          inferior food,
       which could satisfy him sooner,
          so as not
             to spoil
           his appetite
               for the better fare
              to come.

    He needs hunger
        in order to
           get the full enjoyment
              from his meal.

    Thus
         for him
              hunger
            becomes
           at the same time
               a cause
                   of pleasure.

    Now
         if
             all the existing hunger
           in the world
              could be satisfied,
       we should
          then have
             the total quantity
           of enjoyment attributable
               to the presence
                   of the need
                       for nourishment.

    To this
        would still have
           to be added
              the special pleasure
         which
             the gourmet
                achieves
           by cultivating
          his palate
             beyond the common measure.
 
    [33] This quantity of pleasure
        would reach
           the highest conceivable value
         if
             no need
          aiming
             at the kind
                of enjoyment
                   under consideration
                      remained
              unsatisfied,
       and
          if with the enjoyment
             we had not
                to accept
               a certain amount
           of pain
               into the bargain.
 
    [34] Modern science
        holds
           the view that nature
              produces more life
          than
             it can sustain,
                that is to say,
                   more hunger than
                      it is able
          to satisfy.

    The surplus
        of life
       thus produced
         must perish
        in pain
           in the struggle
              for existence.

    Admittedly
          the needs
             of life
                at every moment
                   in the course
                       of the world
                          are greater than
           the available means
              of satisfaction,
       and
          that
             the enjoyment of life
                is affected as a result.

    Such enjoyment
         as actually does occur,
            however,
           is not
              in the least reduced.

    Wherever
         a desire is satisfied,
       the corresponding quantity of pleasure
          exists,
       even though
           in the desiring creature
               itself
                  or
               in its fellows
                  there are plenty
                     of unsatisfied instincts.

    What is,
       however,
          diminished
             by all
                this is the value
                   of the enjoyment
                      of life.

    If only
         a part
            of the needs
               of a living creature
          finds satisfaction,
       it experiences
          a corresponding degree
             of enjoyment.

    This pleasure
        has
           a lower value,
       the smaller it
          is
             in proportion
                to the total demands
                   of life
                       in the field
                           of the desires
                               in question.

    One can represent
          this value
             by a fraction,
       of which
          the numerator
              is the pleasure actually experienced
         while
             the denominator
                is the sum total
           of needs.

    This fraction
        has the value 1
           when
              the numerator
                 and the denominator
                are equal,
       that is,
          when all needs are fully satisfied.

    The fraction
        becomes greater than 1
           when
              a creature
                 experiences more pleasure
              than
                 its desires demand;
       and
          it becomes smaller
             than 1
         when
             the quantity of pleasure
                falls short
                   of the sum total
                      of desires.

    But the fraction
          can never become
              zero as long
                 as the numerator
                has any value
           at all,
       however small.

    If
         a man
            were
               to make
                  up a final account
                     before his death,
       and were
          to think
             of the quantity
                of enjoyment
                   connected
           with a particular instinct (for example, hunger)
         as being distributed
            over the whole
               of his life
                   together
                       with all
                      the demands
                         made
                       by this instinct,
       then
          the pleasure
             experienced
            might perhaps have
          a very small value,
       but
          it could never become valueless.

    If the quantity
        of pleasure remains constant,
           then,
        with an increase
           in the needs
              of the creature,
      the value of the pleasure
         diminishes.

    The same
        is true
           for the sum
               of life
                   in nature.

    The greater
         the number
            of creatures
               in proportion
                   to those
         which are able
            to satisfy their instincts fully,
       the smaller
          is the average value
             of pleasure
                in life.

    The cheques on life's pleasure
          which
             are drawn
           in our favour
               in the form
                   of our instincts,
       become less valuable
          if we
              cannot expect to cash
                 them
           for the full amount.

    If
         I get enough
            to eat
           for three days
               and as a result
         must
            then go hungry
           for another three days,
       the actual pleasure
           on the three days
               of eating
                  is not thereby diminished.

    But
         I have now
            to think of it
           as distributed
              over six days,
       and thus
           its value
              for my food-instinct
          is reduced by half.

    In just
         the same way
            the magnitude of pleasure
               is related
                  to the degree
                     of my need.

    If
         I am hungry enough
            for two pieces
               of bread
                  and can only get
          one,
       the pleasure
          I derive from it
             had only half
                the value it
        would have had
           if the eating of it
              has satisfied my hunger.

    This is the way that
          the value of a pleasure
              is determined in life.

    It is measured
        by the needs
            of life.

    Our desires
        are
           the yardstick;
       pleasure
          is
             the thing
            that is measured.

    The enjoyment
        of satisfying
           hunger
       has a value only
      because
           hunger exists;
      and
         it has
            a value
          of a definite magnitude
              through the proportion
         it bears
            to the magnitude
               of the existing
                  hunger.

    [35] Unfulfilled
        demands
           of our life
              throw
           their shadow
              even upon satisfied
            desires,
       and thus
          detract
             from the value
                of pleasurable hours.

    But
         we can also speak
            of the present value
               of a feeling
                  of pleasure.

    This value
        is
           the lower,
       the smaller the pleasure is
           in proportion
               to the duration
                   and intensity
                      of our desire.
 
    [36] A quantity of pleasure
        has its full value
           for us
         when
            in duration
           and
              degree it exactly coincides
                 with our desire.

    A quantity
        of pleasure
       which is smaller
         than
            our desire diminishes
               the value
                  of the pleasure;
      a quantity
         which is greater produces
            a surplus
        which
           has not been demanded
          and
             which
                is felt
              as pleasure
                 only so long as,
      whilst enjoying
          the pleasure,
      we can increase the intensity
          of our desire.

    If
         the increase in our desire
            is unable
          to keep
             pace
                with the increase
                   in pleasure,
       then pleasure
          turns into displeasure.

    The thing
        that would otherwise satisfy us
           now assails us
              without our wanting it
            and makes us
                  suffer.

    This proves
          that pleasure
             has value
           for us
               only to the extent
              that
                 we can measure it
               against our desires.

    An excess
        of pleasurable feeling
           turns into pain.

    This may be observed especially
        in people
       whose desire
         for a particular kind
            of pleasure is very small.

    In people
         whose instinct for food
            is stunted,
       eating
          readily becomes
        nauseating.

    This again shows
          that desire
             is the standard
         by which
            we measure the value
           of pleasure.
 
    [37] Now the pessimist
          might say that
         an unsatisfied instinct for food
            brings
           into the world
          not only displeasure
             at the lost enjoyment,
       but also positive pain,
          misery and want.

    He can base
        this statement
           upon the untold misery
              of starving people
                 and upon the vast amount
            of suffering
           which
              arises indirectly
            for such people
                from their lack
                    of food.

    And
         if
             he wants to extend
                his assertion
           to nature outside man
               as well,
       he can point
           to the suffering
              of animals
         that die
            of starvation
               at certain times
                   of the year.

    The pessimist
        maintains
           that
         these evils far
            outweigh the amount of pleasure
               that
                  the instinct for food
                     brings into the world.
 
    [38] There
        is indeed
           no doubt
              that one
                 can compare pleasure
               and pain
                   and can estimate
                       the surplus
           of one
               or the other
         much as we
              do
           in the case
               of profit and loss.

    But
         if the pessimist
            believes that
         because there is a surplus
            of pain
          he
              can conclude
                  that life is valueless,
       he falls
           into the error
               of making
         a calculation
             that
                in real life
                   is never made.
 
    [39] Our desire,
       in any given case,
          is directed
             to a particular object.

    As we
         have seen,
       the value
           of the pleasure
               of satisfaction
          will be the greater,
       the greater
          is the amount
             of pleasure
                in relation
                   to the intensity
                       of our desire.

    On this intensity
        of desire
           also will depend
          how much
               pain
              we are willing
                 to bear
      as part
         of the price
            of achieving the pleasure.

    We compare
        the quantity
           of pain not
        with the quantity
            of pleasure
                but with the intensity
            of our desire.

    If
         someone takes great delight
            in eating,
           he will,
              by reason
                 of his enjoyment
               in better times,
       find it easier
          to bear
              a period
           of hunger than
              will someone
         for whom
            eating
               is
          no pleasure.

    A woman
          who wants to have
             a child
                compares the pleasure
         that would come
            from possessing it
           not with the amount
               of pain
                   due to pregnancy,
                      childbirth,
                   nursing and so
                      on,
       but
          with her desire
             to possess the child.
 
    [40] We never aim
        at a certain quantity
            of pleasure
                in the abstract,
      but
         at concrete satisfaction
            in a perfectly definite way.

    If we
        are aiming
           at a pleasure
         which
            must be satisfied
           by a particular object
               or a particular sensation,
       we shall not be satisfied
           with some other
              object
           or some other sensation
          that gives us
             an equal amount
           of pleasure.

    If we
        are aiming
           at satisfying
          our hunger,
       we cannot replace
          the pleasure this
              would give us
                 by a pleasure equally great,
       but produced
           by going
               for a walk.

    Only
         if
             our desire were,
                quite generally,
               for a certain fixed quantity
                  of pleasure
               as such,
       would
          it disappear
             as soon
           as the price
               of achieving
              it
                 were seen
                    to be
                       a still greater quantity
                   of pain.

    But
         since
             satisfaction of a particular kind
                is being aimed at,
       fulfillment
          brings the pleasure even
         when,
            along with it,
               a still greater pain
        has
           to be taken
              into the bargain.

    But
         because
             the instincts of living creatures
                  move
               in definite directions
                   and
                      go after concrete goals,
       the quantity
           of pain
              endured
           on the way
               to the goal
                  cannot be set down
                     as an equivalent factor
                        in our calculations.

    Provided
          the desire
             is sufficiently intense
          to be
         present
            in some degree
               after having overcome the pain
       -- however great
          that pain
             in itself
            may be --
               then
                  the pleasure of satisfaction
                     can still be tasted
                   to the full.

    The desire,
       therefore,
          does not compare
             the pain
            directly to the pleasure
               achieved,
       but compares it
           indirectly by
              relating
          its own intensity
             to that of the pain.

    The question
        is not
           whether
              the pleasure to be gained
             is greater than
                the pain,
       but
          whether
             the desire for the goal
                is greater than
                   the hindering effect
                      of the pain involved.

    If the hindrance
          is greater than the desire,
       then
          the desire
             gives way
           to the inevitable,
       weakens
          and strives no further.

    Since our demand
          is for satisfaction
             in a particular way,
       the pleasure
          connected
             with it
            acquires
           a significance
         such that,
       once we
          have achieved satisfaction,
       we need
          take the quantity
             of pain
           into account
               only to the extent
              that it
                 has reduced the intensity
               of our desire.

    If
         I am
             a passionate admirer
           of beautiful views,
       I never calculate
           the amount
              of pleasure
         which
             the view
                from the mountain top
                   gives me
               as compared directly
                  with the pain
                     of the toilsome ascent
                        and descent;
       but
          I reflect whether,
       after having overcome
           all difficulties,
       my desire for the view
          will still be sufficiently intense.

    Only indirectly,
       through the intensity
           of the desire,
       can pleasure
          and pain
             together
            lead
               to a result.

    Therefore
         the question
            is not at all
         whether
            there is
          a surplus
             of pleasure or of pain,
       but
          whether
             the will
                for pleasure
                   is strong enough
           to overcome the pain.

    [41] A proof
        for the correctness
            of this statement
       is the fact
           that
              we put
                 a higher value
                on pleasure
      when it
         has
       to be purchased
          at the price
             of great pain
           than
              when
                 it falls
            into our lap like
               a gift
                  from heaven.

    When suffering
        and
       misery
           have toned
        down our desire
            and yet
               after all
      our goal
         is reached,
            then the pleasure,
               in proportion
                  to the amount
            of desire
               still left,
      is all
         the greater.

    Now,
       as
          I have shown (page 189),
       this proportion
          represents
             the value
                of the pleasure.

    A further proof
        is given
           through the fact
          that living creatures (including man)
              give expression
                 to their instincts
                    as long
         as they
            are able
               to bear
              the pain and misery involved.

    The struggle for existence
        is
           but a consequence
              of this fact.

    All existing life
        strives
           to express itself,
       and
          only that part
             of it whose desires
          are smothered
             by the overwhelming weight
                of difficulties
          abandons the struggle.

    Every living creature
        seeks
           food
              until lack of food
            destroys
          its life.

    Man, too,
       does not turn his hand
           against himself
         until
             he believes,
                rightly
           or wrongly,
       that
          those aims
             in life
                that
        are worth his striving
           are beyond his reach.

    So long
        as he still believes
           in the possibility
              of reaching what,
            in his view,
               is worth
       striving for,
      he will battle
          against all misery
             and pain.

    Philosophy
        would first have
           to convince him
          that an act
             of will
            makes
                  sense
              only
                 when the pleasure
                    is greater than the pain;
       for
          by nature
             he will strive
           for the objects
               of his desire
         if
             he can bear
                the necessary pain,
       however great it
          may be.

    But
         such a philosophy
        would be mistaken
           because
              it
                 would make
                    the human will dependent
           on a circumstance
        (the surplus
           of pleasure
              over pain)
           which is originally foreign
               to man.

    The original measure
        of his will
           is desire,
      and desire
         asserts itself
            as long as it can.

    When it
        is a question
           of pleasure
              and pain
                 in the satisfaction
                    of a desire,
       the calculation
          that is made,
       not in philosophical theory,
          but in life,
       can be compared
           with the following.

    If in buying
          a certain quantity
             of apples
                I am obliged
              to take twice
                 as many
                    rotten ones
         as sound ones
       -- because
          the seller wants
             to clear his stock --
                I shall not hesitate
                   for one moment
                  to accept
                      the bad apples
                   as well,
       if
          the smaller quantity
             of good
            ones are worth so much
           to me
              that
                 in addition
                    to their purchase price
                 I am also prepared
                    to bear
                   the expense
               of disposing
                   of the bad ones.

    This example
        illustrates the relation
           between the quantities
               of pleasure
                   and pain
                      resulting
                         from an instinct.

    I determine
        the value
           of the good apples
              not by
             subtracting
                the total number
                   of the good
                ones from
      that
         of the bad ones
        but by assessing
       whether
          the good
             ones still have
                   value
        for me
           in spite of
              the presence
                 of the bad ones.
 
    [42] Just
         as I leave
            the bad apples
           out of account
              in the enjoyment
                 of the good ones,
       so
          I give myself
             up to the satisfaction
           of a desire
          after having shaken
             off the unavoidable pain.
 
    [43] Even
         if
             pessimism
                were
            right
               in its assertion
              that
                  there is more pain
             then pleasure
                in the world,
       this would have
          no
        influence
           on the will,
       since
          living creatures
             would still strive
           after the pleasure that remains.

    The empirical proof that pain
        outweighs
              joy
        (if
             such proof
                could be given)
           would certainly be effective
               for showing up
                  the futility
                     of the school
                        of philosophy
                     that sees
                        the value
               of life
                   in a surplus
                      of pleasure (eudemonism)
             but
                not for showing
                   that the will,
                      as such,
                   is irrational;
       for the will
          is not set
             upon a surplus
           of pleasure,
       but
          upon the amount
             of pleasure that remains
                after getting over the pain.

    This still appears
        as a goal worth
       striving for.
 
    [44] Some
         have tried
            to refute
               pessimism
           by stating
         that it
            is impossible
          to calculate
              the surplus
           of pleasure or
               of pain
                   in the world.

    That any calculation
        can be done
           at all depends on
         whether
             the things to be calculated
                can be compared
               in respect
                   of their magnitudes.

    Every pain
        and every pleasure
       has
          a definite magnitude
       (intensity
          and duration).

    Further,
       we can compare
           pleasurable feelings
              of different kinds one
                 with another,
               at least approximately,
       with regard to their magnitudes.

    We know
         whether
             we derive more entertainment
                from a good cigar
                   or from a good joke.

    Therefore there can be
        no objection
           to comparing different sorts
        of pleasure
           and pain
              in respect
                 of their magnitudes.

    And
         the investigator
             who sets himself
                the task
           of determining
               the surplus
           of pleasure
              or pain
                 in the world starts
                    from fully justified assumptions.

    One may declare
        the conclusions
           of pessimism
       to be false,
      but
         one cannot doubt
            that quantities
          of pleasure
             and pain
           can be scientifically estimated,
      and
         the balance of pleasure
            thereby determined.

    It is,
       however,
          quite
         wrong
            to claim
          that the result
             of this calculation
                has
                   any consequences
                      for the human will.

    The cases
         where
             we really make
                the value
           of our activity dependent
               on whether pleasure
                  or pain
                shows
              a surplus
                 are
               those
             where the objects towards which
                 our activity
                    is directed
                       are all
              the same to us.

    If it
        is only a question
           whether,
       after the day's work,
          I am
             to amuse myself
           by a game
               or by light conversation,
       and
          if I
             am totally
                indifferent
               to what
              I do as long
                 as it serves
          the purpose,
       then
          I simply ask myself:
             What
            gives me
          the greatest surplus
             of pleasure?

    And
         I shall most certainly abandon
            the activity
               if
                  the scales incline
               towards the side
                   of displeasure.

    If we
        are buying a toy
           for a child
         we consider,
            in selecting,
           what will give him
          the greatest happiness.

    In all other cases
          we do not base
             our decision
           exclusively on the balance
               of pleasure.

    [45] Therefore,
       if
          the pessimists
              believe
          that
         by showing
              pain
                 to be
                    present
               in greater quantity
              than pleasure
                  they are preparing
                     the ground
                   for unselfish devotion
                       to the work
                           of civilization,
       they forget
          that the human will,
       by its very nature,
          does not allow itself
             to be influenced
           by this knowledge.

    Human
        striving
           is directed
              towards the measure
                 of satisfaction
                that is possible
                   after all
                      difficulties
                         are overcome.

    Hope
         of such satisfaction
            is the foundation
           of all human activity.

    The work
        of every individual
            and of the whole
        of civilization
           springs
              from this hope.

    Pessimistic ethics
        believes
           that it must present
              the pursuit
           of happiness
               as an impossibility
                   for man
          in order that
              he may devote himself
                 to his proper moral tasks.

    But
         these moral tasks are nothing
            but the concrete natural
               and spiritual instincts;
       and man
          strives
             to satisfy them
         in spite of
             the incidental pain.

    The pursuit
        of happiness
       which
          the pessimist
             would eradicate
         is therefore nowhere
            to be found.

    But the tasks
         which man
            has to fulfill,
               he does fulfill,
                  because
                     from the very nature
               of his being
              he wants to fulfill them,
       once
          he has properly recognized
             their nature.

    Pessimistic ethics
        declares
           that
              only
                  when a man
                      has given
                         up the quest
                            for pleasure
                               can
                     he devote himself to what
                        he recognizes
                       as his task
                           in life.

    But
         no system of ethics
            can ever invent
               any life tasks other
              than
             the realization
                of the satisfactions
                   that human desires
                      demand
                   and the fulfillment
                       of man's moral ideals.

    No ethics can deprive man
        of the pleasure
       he experiences
          in the fulfillment
             of his desires.

    When
         the pessimist says,
        "Do not strive
           for pleasure,
              for you
            can never attain it;
           strive rather
               for what you
                  recognize
                     to be your task,"
           we must reply,
              "But this is just
                 what man does,
               and the notion
              that
                 he strives merely
               for happiness
                  is no
                 more than
                    the invention
                       of an errant philosophy."

    He aims
        at the satisfaction
            of what
       he himself desires,
      and
         he has
            in view
               the concrete objects
              of his striving,
      not "happiness"
          in the abstract;
              and
             fulfillment
                 is for him a pleasure.

    When
         pessimistic ethics demands,
        "Strive
           not for pleasure,
              but
                 for the attainment
                    of what you
                   see as your life's task,"
           it hits
               on the very thing
             that man,
           in his own being,
              wants.

    Man does not
          need to
             be turned inside out
            by philosophy,
       he does not need to
          discard his human nature,
       before
          he can be moral.

    Morality
        lies
           in striving
               for a goal
              that one
                  recognizes as justified;
           it is human nature
          to pursue
             it as long
           as the pain incurred
              does not inhibit
           the desire
               for it altogether.

    This is
          the essence
             of all genuine will.

    Ethical behaviour
        is not based
           upon the eradication
               of all striving
                  for pleasure
                     to the end
                  that bloodless abstract ideas
                      may establish their dominion unopposed
                         by any strong yearnings
                            for the enjoyment
                               of life,
       but rather
           upon a strong
              will
                 sustained
               by ideal intuitions,
       a will that reaches
           its goal
         even though
             the path be thorny.
 
    [46] Moral ideals
          spring
             from the moral imagination
                of man.

    Their realization
        depends
           on his desire
               for them
                  being
              intense enough
                 to overcome
                    pain and misery.

    They are his intuitions,
       the driving forces
          which
             his spirit harnesses;
       he wants them,
          because
             their realization
          is his highest pleasure.

    He needs
        no ethics
       to forbid him
          to strive
        for pleasure and
       then to tell him
         what
            he shall strive
        for.

    He will strive
        for moral ideals
       if
          his moral imagination
             is sufficiently active
       to provide him
          with intuitions
             that give
            his will
               the strength
           to make
              its way
        against all
            the obstacles inherent
                in his constitution,
      including
         the pain
            that is necessarily involved.
 
    [47] If a man strives
        for sublimely great ideals,
       it is
          because they
             are the content
           of his own being,
       and
          their realization
             will bring him
           a joy compared
         to which
            the pleasure
               that a limited outlook
              gets
                 from the gratification
                    of commonplace
                       desires
            is
          a mere triviality.

    Idealists revel,
       spiritually,
          in the translation
             of their ideals
                into reality.
 
    [48] Anyone
          who
              would eradicate the pleasure brought
           by the fulfillment
               of human desires
                  will first have
                     to make man
                        a slave
                           who acts not
         because
             he wants
           to
         but only
             because he must.

    For the achievement
        of what
           one wanted
       to do
          gives pleasure.

    What
         we call good
            is not
         what
             a man
                must do
             but
                 what
                     he will want to do
                        if
                           he develops
                              the true nature
                       of man
                          to the full.

    Anyone
          who
              does not acknowledge
                  this must first drive
           out of man all
         that man
             himself wants to do,
                and then,
               from outside,
       prescribe
          the content
             he is
                to give
               to his will.
 
    [49] Man values
        the fulfillment
            of a desire
           because
              the desire springs
            from his own being.

    What is achieved
        has its value
           because it
              has been wanted.

    If
         we deny any value
            to what man
               himself wants,
       then aims
          that do have
              value
        will have
           to be found
              in something
         that man
            does not want.
 
    [50] An ethics
        built
           on pessimism
              arises
           from the disregard
               of moral imagination.

    Only
         if
             one considers
                 that the individual human spirit
                    is itself incapable
           of giving content
              to its
            striving
               can
          one expect
             the craving
           for pleasure
               to account
                   fully for
                      all acts of will.

    A man
         without imagination
            creates
           no moral ideas.

    They must be given
        to him.

    Physical nature
        sees
           to it
              that
                 he strives
               to satisfy
          his lower desires.

    But the development
        of the whole man
       also includes
          those desires that originate
             in the spirit.

    Only
         if
             one believes
          that man
             has
                no such spiritual desires
                   can
                  one declare
              that
                 he must receive
                    them from
               without.

    Then
         one would also be entitled
            to say
          that it
              is man's duty to do
         what he
            does not want.

    Every ethical system
         that demands
            of man
               that
                  he should suppress his own
         will
            in order to fulfill
               tasks
             that he
                does not want,
       reckons not
           with the whole man
               but with one
         in which
             the faculty of spiritual desire
                is lacking.

    For a man
         who is harmoniously developed,
       the so-called ideals
           of virtue lie,
              not without,
           but
              within the sphere
           of his own being.

    Moral action consists not
        in the eradication
            of a one-sided personal
               will
      but
         in the full development
        of human nature.

    Those
         who
            hold
         that moral ideals
            are attainable only
         if man
            destroys
           his own personal will,
       are not aware
          that these ideals are wanted
             by man
          just
         as he wants
            the satisfaction
               of the so-called animal instincts.

    [51] It cannot be denied
         that the views
            here outlined
               may easily be misunderstood.

    Immature people
        without moral
       imagination like
         to look
        upon the instincts
            of their half-developed natures
                as the fullest expression
                    of the human race,
      and reject all
         moral ideas
        which they
             have not themselves produced,
      in order that
         they may
       "live themselves
          out" undisturbed.

    But
         it goes
            without saying
          that
         what is
              right
           for a fully developed human being
              does not hold good
           for half-developed human natures.

    Anyone
         who still needs
            to be educated
           to the point
         where
             his moral nature
                breaks through
               the husk
           of his lower passions,
       will not have
          the same things
             expected
           of him
               as of a mature person.

    However,
       it was not
           my intention
          to show
         what needs
            to be impressed
           upon an undeveloped person,
       but
          what lies
             within the essential nature
                of a mature human being.

    My intention
        was
           to demonstrate
              the possibility
           of freedom,
       and
          freedom
             is manifested not
           in actions
              performed
           under constraint
               of sense or soul
         but
            in actions
               sustained
           by spiritual intuitions.
 
    [52] The mature man
        gives himself
           his own value.

    He does not aim
        at pleasure,
       which
          comes
             to him
                as a gift
                   of grace
                      on the part
                         of Nature
                            or of the Creator;
       nor does
          he fulfill
             an abstract duty
         which
            he recognizes as such
          after he
             has renounced the striving
           for pleasure.

    He acts
        as he
           wants
              to act,
      that is,
          in accordance
              with the standard
                 of his ethical intuitions;
      and
         he finds
            in the achievement
               of what
         he wants
            the true enjoyment
          of life.

    He determines the value
        of life
            by measuring achievements
                against aims.

    An ethics which replaces "would"
        with mere "should",
       inclination
           with mere duty,
       will consequently determine the value
           of man
               by measuring
              his fulfillment
                 of duty
                    against the demands
                 that it makes.

    It measures man
        with a yardstick external
            to his own being.

    The view
         which
            I have here developed
               refers man
            back to himself.

    It recognizes
        as the true value
            of life
       only
      what
         each individual
            regards
        as such,
       according to
          the standard
             of his own will.

    It no more acknowledges
         a value of life
            that is not recognized
           by the individual
          than
             it does
           a purpose
              of life
                 that has not originated
               in him.

    It sees
        in the individual
       who
           knows himself
              through and through,
      his own master
          and his own assessor.
 
    Author's addition,
       1918

 
    [1]
         The argument
            of this chapter
               will be misunderstood
          if
             one is caught
                by the apparent objection
         that the will,
            as such,
               is the irrational factor
                  in man and
         that once
             this irrationality
                is made
            clear
               to him
                  he will see that
              the goal
                 of his ethical striving
                must lie
               in ultimate emancipation
                   from the will.

    An apparent objection
        of exactly
            this kind
         was brought
        against me
            from a reputable quarter
                in that
                   I was told
      that it
         is the business
            of the philosopher
           to make
               good
       just
      what lack
         of thought
            leads animals
        and most men
            to neglect,
               namely,
            to strike
               a proper balance
        of life's account.

    But this objection
          just misses the main point.

    If freedom
        is to be realized,
       the will in human nature
          must be sustained
             by intuitive thinking;
       at the same time,
          however,
       we find that
           an act
              of will
            may also be determined
           by factors other
          than intuition,
       though
           only in the free
              realization
                 of intuitions
          issuing
             from man's essential nature
                do
             we find morality
                and its value.

    Ethical individualism
        is well able
           to present morality
               in its full dignity,
       for it
          sees
             true morality
           not in what
              brings
           about the agreement
               of an act
                   of will
                      with a standard
                   of behaviour
                       in an external way,
       but
          in what arises
             in man
          when he
              develops his moral will
           as an integral part
               of his whole
                  being
         so that to do
             what is not
                moral
                   appears
               to him
                   as a stunting and
                      crippling
                         of his nature.