Alexis de Tocqueville, Democracy in America. The text below is.docx

Alexis de Tocqueville, Democracy in America. The text below
is excerpted from the Schliefer translation,
published by Liberty Fund and available for download online,
with the exception of II.iv.6 below. Chapter titles are
taken from the Mansfield/Winthrop translation (Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 2000), which is the most
accurate translation available; chapter titles are taken from the
Mansfield/Winthrop translation as well.
Volume II, Part II, Chapter 1 – Why Democratic Peoples Show
a More Ardent and More Lasting Love for
Equality than for Freedom
The first and most intense of the passions given birth by
equality of conditions, I do not need to
say, is the love of this very equality. So no one will be
surprised that I talk about it before all the others.
Everyone has noted that in our time, and especially in France,
this passion for equality has a
greater place in the human heart every day. It has been said a
hundred times that our contemporaries have
a much more ardent and much more tenacious love for equality
than for liberty; but I do not find that we
have yet adequately gone back to the causes of this fact. I am
going to try.
You can imagine an extreme point where liberty and equality
meet and merge.
Suppose that all citizens participate in the government and that
each one has an equal right to take

part in it.
Since no one then differs from his fellows, no one will be able
to exercise a tyrannical power;
men will be perfectly free, because they will all be entirely
equal; and they will all be perfectly equal,
because they will be entirely free. Democratic peoples tend
toward this ideal.
That is the most complete form that equality can take on earth;
but there are a thousand other
forms that, without being as perfect, are scarcely less dear to
these peoples.
Equality can become established in civil society and not reign
in the political world. Everyone
can have the right to pursue the same pleasures, to enter the
same professions, to meet in the same places;
in a word, to live in the same way and to pursue wealth by the
same means, without all taking the same
part in government.
A kind of equality can even become established in the political
world, even if political liberty does not
exist. Everyone is equal to all his fellows, except one, who is,
without distinction, the master of all, and
who takes the agents of his power equally from among all.
It would be easy to form several other hypotheses according to
which a very great equality could
easily be combined with institutions more or less free, or even
with institutions that would not be free at
all.
So although men cannot become absolutely equal without being
entirely free, and consequently
equality at its most extreme level merges with liberty, you are

justified in distinguishing the one from the
other.
The taste that men have for liberty and the one that they feel for
equality are, in fact, two distinct
things, and I am not afraid to add that, among democratic
peoples, they are two unequal things.
If you want to pay attention, you will see that in each century, a
singular and dominant fact is
found to which the other facts are related; this fact almost
always gives birth to a generative thought, or to
a principal passion that then ends by drawing to itself and
carrying along in its course all sentiments and
all ideas. It is like the great river toward which all of the
surrounding streams seem to flow.
Liberty has shown itself to men in different times and in
different forms; it has not been linked
exclusively to one social state, and you find it elsewhere than in
democracies. So it cannot form the
distinctive characteristic of democratic centuries.
The particular and dominant fact that singles out these centuries
is equality of conditions; the
principal passion that agitates men in those times is love of this
equality.
Do not ask what singular charm the men of democratic ages find
in living equal; or the particular
reasons that they can have to be so stubbornly attached to
equality rather than to the other advantages that
society presents to them. Equality forms the distinctive
characteristic of the period in which they live; that
alone is enough to explain why they prefer it to everything else.

But, apart from this reason, there are several others that, in all
times, will habitually lead men to
prefer equality to liberty.
If a people could ever succeed in destroying by itself or only in
decreasing the equality that reigns
within it, it would do so only by long and difficult efforts. It
would have to modify its social state, abolish
its laws, replace its ideas, change its habits, alter its mores. But,
to lose political liberty, it is enough not to
hold on to it, and liberty escapes.
So men do not hold on to equality only because it is dear to
them; they are also attached to it
because they believe it must last forever.
You do not find men so limited and so superficial that they do
not discover that political liberty
may, by its excesses, compromise tranquility, patrimony, and
the life of individuals. But only attentive
and clear-sighted men see the dangers with which equality
threatens us, and ordinarily they avoid pointing
these dangers out. They know that the miseries that they fear
are remote, and they imagine that those
miseries affect only the generations to come, about whom the
present generation scarcely worries. The
evils that liberty sometimes brings are immediate; they are
visible to all, and more or less everyone feels
them. The evils that extreme equality can produce appear only
little by little; they gradually insinuate
themselves into the social body; they are seen only now and
then, and, at the moment when they become
most violent, habit has already made it so that they are no
longer felt.

The good things that liberty brings show themselves only over
time, and it is always easy to fail
to recognize the cause that gives them birth.
The advantages of equality make themselves felt immediately,
and every day you see them flow
from their source.
Political liberty, from time to time, gives sublime pleasures to a
certain number of citizens.
Equality provides a multitude of small enjoyments to each man
every day. The charms of equality
are felt at every moment, and they are within reach of all; the
most noble hearts are not insensitive to
them, and they are the delight of the most common souls. So the
passion to which equality gives birth has
to be at the very same time forceful and general.
Men cannot enjoy political liberty without purchasing it at the
cost of some sacrifices, and they
never secure it except by a great deal of effort. But the
pleasures provided by equality are there for the
taking. Each one of the small incidents of private life seems to
give birth to them, and to enjoy them, you
only have to be alive.
Democratic peoples love equality at all times, but there are
certain periods when they push the
passion that they feel for it to the point of delirium. This
happens at the moment when the old social
hierarchy, threatened for a long time, is finally destroyed, after
a final internal struggle, when the barriers
that separated citizens are at last overturned. Men then rush
toward equality as toward a conquest, and

they cling to it as to a precious good that someone wants to take
away from them. The passion for
equality penetrates the human heart from all directions; it
spreads and fills it entirely. Do not tell men that
by giving themselves so blindly to one exclusive passion, they
compromise their dearest interests; they
are deaf. Do not show them that liberty is escaping from their
hands while they are looking elsewhere;
they are blind, or rather they see in the whole universe only one
single good worthy of desire.
What precedes applies to all democratic nations. What follows
concerns only ourselves.
Among most modern nations, and in particular among all the
peoples of the continent of Europe,
the taste and the idea of liberty only began to arise and to
develop at the moment when conditions began
to become equal, and as a consequence of this very equality. It
was absolute kings who worked hardest to
level ranks among their subjects. Among these peoples, equality
preceded liberty; so equality was an
ancient fact, when liberty was still something new; the one had
already created opinions, customs, laws
that were its own, when the other appeared alone, and for the
first time, in full view. Thus, the second was
still only in ideas and in tastes, while the first had already
penetrated habits, had taken hold of mores, and
had given a particular turn to the least actions of life. Why be
surprised if men today prefer the one to the
other?
I think that democratic peoples have a natural taste for liberty;
left to themselves, they seek it,
they love it, and it is only with pain that they see themselves
separated from it. But they have an ardent,

insatiable, eternal, invincible passion for equality; they want
equality in liberty, and if they cannot obtain
that, they still want equality in slavery. They will suffer
poverty, enslavement, barbarism, but they will
not suffer aristocracy.
This is true in all times, and above all in our own. All men and
all powers that would like to fight
against this irresistible power will be overturned and destroyed
by it. In our day, liberty cannot be
established without its support, and despotism itself cannot
reign without it.
Volume II, Part II, Chapter 2 – On Individualism in Democratic
Countries
I have shown how, in centuries of equality, each man looked for
his beliefs within himself; I want
to show how, in these same centuries, he turns all his sentiments
toward himself alone.
Individualism is a recent expression given birth by a new idea.
Our fathers knew only egoism.1
Egoism is a passionate and exaggerated love of oneself, which
leads man to view everything only
in terms of himself alone and to prefer himself to everything.
Individualism is a considered and peaceful sentiment that
disposes each citizen to isolate himself
from the mass of his fellows and to withdraw to the side with
his family and his friends; so that, after thus

creating a small society for his own use, he willingly abandons
the large society to itself.
Egoism is born out of blind instinct; individualism proceeds
from an erroneous judgment rather
than from a depraved sentiment. It has its source in failings of
the mind as much as in vices of the heart.
Egoism parches the seed of all virtues; individualism at first
dries up only the source of public
virtues, but, in the long run, it attacks and destroys all the
others and is finally absorbed into egoism.
Egoism is a vice as old as the world. It hardly belongs more to
one form of society than to
another.
Individualism is of democratic origin, and it threatens to
develop as conditions become equal.
Among aristocratic peoples, families remain for centuries in the
same condition, and often in the
same place. That, so to speak, makes all generations
contemporaries. A man almost always knows his
ancestors and respects them; he believes he already sees his
grandsons, and he loves them.
He willingly assumes his duty toward both, and he often
happens to sacrifice his personal enjoyments for
these beings who are no more or who do not yet exist.
Aristocratic institutions have, moreover, the effect of tying each
man closely to several of his
fellow citizens.
Since classes are very distinct and unchanging within an
aristocratic people, each class becomes

for the one who is part of it a kind of small country, more
visible and dearer than the large one.
Because, in aristocratic societies, all citizens are placed in fixed
positions, some above others,
each citizen always sees above him a man whose protection he
needs, and below he finds another whose
help he can claim.
So men who live in aristocratic centuries are almost always tied
in a close way to something that
is located outside of themselves, and they are often disposed to
forget themselves. It is true that, in these
same centuries, the general notion of fellow is obscure, and that
you scarcely think to lay down your life
for the cause of humanity; but you often sacrifice yourself for
certain men.
In democratic centuries, on the contrary, when the duties of
each individual toward the species
are much clearer, devotion toward one man [<or one class>]
becomes more rare; the bond of human
affections expands and relaxes.
Among democratic peoples, new families emerge constantly out
of nothing, others constantly fall
back into nothing, and all those that remain change face; the
thread of time is broken at every moment,
and the trace of the generations fades. You easily forget those
who preceded you, and you have no idea
about those who will follow you. Only those closest to you are
of interest.
Since each class is coming closer to the others and is mingling
with them, its members become
indifferent and like strangers to each other. Aristocracy had

made all citizens into a long chain that went
from the peasant up to the king; democracy breaks the chain and
sets each link apart.

1 This word might also be translated as “selfishness.”
As conditions become equal, a greater number of individuals

will be found who, no longer rich
enough or powerful enough to exercise a great influence over
the fate of their fellows, have nonetheless
acquired or preserved enough enlightenment and wealth to be
able to be sufficient for themselves. The
latter owe nothing to anyone, they expect nothing so to speak
from anyone; they are always accustomed
to consider themselves in isolation, and they readily imagine
that their entire destiny is in their hands.
Thus, not only does democracy make each man forget his
ancestors, but it hides his descendants
from him and separates him from his contemporaries; it
constantly leads him back toward himself alone
and threatens finally to enclose him entirely within the solitude
of his own heart.
Vol. II, book IV, Chapter 1 – Equality Naturally Gives Men the
Taste for Free Institutions
Equality, which makes men independent of each other, makes
them contract the habit and the
taste to follow only their will in their personal actions. This
complete independence, which they enjoy
continually vis-a-vis their equals and in the practice of private
life, disposes them to consider all authority
with a discontented eye, and soon suggests to them the idea and
the love of political liberty. So men who
live in these times march on a natural slope that leads them
toward free institutions. Take one of them at
random; go back, if possible, to his primitive instincts; you will
discover that, among the different
governments, the one that he conceives first and that he prizes
most, is the government whose leader he
has elected and whose actions he controls.
Of all the political effects that equality of conditions produces,

it is this love of independence that first
strikes our attention and that timid spirits fear even more; and
we cannot say that they are absolutely
wrong to be afraid, for anarchy has more frightening features in
democratic countries than elsewhere.
Since citizens have no effect on each other, at the instant when
the national power that keeps them all in
their place becomes absent, it seems that disorder must
immediately be at its height and that, with each
citizen on his own, the social body is suddenly going to find
itself reduced to dust.
I am convinced nevertheless that anarchy is not the principal
evil that democratic centuries must
fear, but the least.
Equality produces, in fact, two tendencies: one leads men
directly to independence and can push
them suddenly as far as anarchy; the other leads them by a
longer, more secret, but surer road toward
servitude.
Peoples easily see the first and resist it; they allow themselves
to be carried along by the other
without seeing it; it is particularly important to show it.
As for me, far from reproaching equality for the unruliness that
it inspires, I praise it principally
for that. I admire equality when I see it deposit deep within the
mind and heart of each man this obscure
notion of and this instinctive propensity for political
independence. In this way equality prepares the
remedy for the evil to which it gives birth. It is from this side
that I am attached to it.
Vol. II, book IV, Chapter 6 – What Kind of Despotism

Democratic Nations Have to Fear
It would seem that if despotism were to be established among
the democratic nations of our days,
it might assume a different character; it would be more
extensive and more mild; it would degrade men
without tormenting them. I do not question that, in an age of
instruction and equality like our own,
sovereigns might more easily succeed in collecting all political
power into their own hands and might
interfere more habitually and decidedly with the circle of
private interests than any sovereign of antiquity
could ever do. But this same principle of equality which
facilitates despotism tempers its rigor. We have
seen how the customs of society become more humane and
gentle in proportion as men become more
equal and alike. When no member of the community has much
power or much wealth, tyranny is, as it
were, without opportunities and a field of action. As all fortunes
are scanty, the passions of men are
naturally circumscribed, their imagination limited, their
pleasures simple. This universal moderation
moderates the sovereign himself and checks within certain
limits the inordinate stretch of his desires.
Independently of these reasons, drawn from the nature of the
state of society itself, I might add many
others arising from causes beyond my subject; but I shall keep
within the limits I have laid down.
Democratic governments may become violent and even cruel at
certain periods of extreme
effervescence or of great danger, but these crises will be rare
and brief. When I consider the petty
passions of our contemporaries, the mildness of their manners,

the extent of their education, the purity of
their religion, the gentleness of their morality, their regular and
industrious habits, and the restraint which
they almost all observe in their vices no less than in their
virtues, I have no fear that they will meet with
tyrants in their rulers, but rather with guardians.1
I think, then, that the species of oppression by which
democratic nations are menaced is unlike
anything that ever before existed in the world; our
contemporaries will find no prototype of it in their
memories. I seek in vain for an expression that will accurately
convey the whole of the idea I have formed
of it; the old words despotism and tyranny are inappropriate: the
thing itself is new, and since I cannot
name, I must attempt to define it.
I seek to trace the novel features under which despotism may
appear in the world. The first thing
that strikes the observation is an innumerable multitude of men,
all equal and alike, incessantly
endeavoring to procure the petty and paltry pleasures with
which they glut their lives. Each of them,
living apart, is as a stranger to the fate of all the rest; his
children and his private friends constitute to him
the whole of mankind. As for the rest of his fellow citizens, he
is close to them, but he does not see them;
he touches them, but he does not feel them; he exists only in
himself and for himself alone; and if his
kindred still remain to him, he may be said at any rate to have
lost his country.
Above this race of men stands an immense and tutelary power,
which takes upon itself alone to
secure their gratifications and to watch over their fate. That
power is absolute, minute, regular, provident,

and mild. It would be like the authority of a parent if, like that
authority, its object was to prepare men for
manhood; but it seeks, on the contrary, to keep them in
perpetual childhood: it is well content that the
people should rejoice, provided they think of nothing but
rejoicing. For their happiness such a
government willingly labors, but it chooses to be the sole agent
and the only arbiter of that happiness; it
provides for their security, foresees and supplies their
necessities, facilitates their pleasures, manages their
principal concerns, directs their industry, regulates the descent
of property, and subdivides their
inheritances: what remains, but to spare them all the care of
thinking and all the trouble of living?
Thus it every day renders the exercise of the free agency of man
less useful and less frequent; it
circumscribes the will within a narrower range and gradually
robs a man of all the uses of himself. The
principle of equality has prepared men for these things; it has
predisposed men to endure them and often
to look on them as benefits.
After having thus successively taken each member of the
community in its powerful grasp and
fashioned him at will, the supreme power then extends its arm
over the whole community. It covers the
surface of society with a network of small complicated rules,
minute and uniform, through which the
most original minds and the most energetic characters cannot
penetrate, to rise above the crowd. The will
of man is not shattered, but softened, bent, and guided; men are
seldom forced by it to act, but they are
constantly restrained from acting. Such a power does not
destroy, but it prevents existence; it does not
tyrannize, but it compresses, enervates, extinguishes, and

stupefies a people, till each nation is reduced to
nothing better than a flock of timid and industrious animals, of
which the government is the shepherd.
I have always thought that servitude of the regular, quiet, and
gentle kind which I have just
described might be combined more easily than is commonly
believed with some of the outward forms of
freedom, and that it might even establish itself under the wing
of the sovereignty of the people.
Our contemporaries are constantly excited by two conflicting
passions: they want to be led, and they wish
to remain free. As they cannot destroy either the one or the
other of these contrary propensities, they
strive to satisfy them both at once. They devise a sole, tutelary,
and all-powerful form of government, but
elected by the people. They combine the principle of
centralization and that of popular sovereignty; this
gives them a respite: they console themselves for being in
tutelage by the reflection that they have chosen
their own guardians. Every man allows himself to be put in
leading-strings, because he sees that it is not a
person or a class of persons, but the people at large who hold
the end of his chain.
By this system the people shake off their state of dependence
just long enough to select their
master and then relapse into it again. A great many persons at
the present day are quite contented with this
sort of compromise between administrative despotism and the
sovereignty of the people; and they think
they have done enough for the protection of individual freedom
when they have surrendered it to the

power of the nation at large. This does not satisfy me: the
nature of him I am to obey signifies less to me
than the fact of extorted obedience. I do not deny, however, that
a constitution of this kind appears to me
to be infinitely preferable to one which, after having
concentrated all the powers of government, should
vest them in the hands of an irresponsible person or body of
persons. Of all the forms that democratic
despotism could assume, the latter would assuredly be the
worst.
When the sovereign is elective, or narrowly watched by a
legislature which is really elective and
independent, the oppression that he exercises over individuals is
sometimes greater, but it is always less
degrading; because every man, when he is oppressed and
disarmed, may still imagine that, while he yields
obedience, it is to himself he yields it, and that it is to one of
his own inclinations that all the rest give
way. In like manner, I can understand that when the sovereign
represents the nation and is dependent
upon the people, the rights and the power of which every citizen
is deprived serve not only the head of the
state, but the state itself; and that private persons derive some
return from the sacrifice of their
independence which they have made to the public. To create a
representation of the people in every
centralized country is, therefore, to diminish the evil that
extreme centralization may produce, but not to
get rid of it.
I admit that, by this means, room is left for the intervention of
individuals in the more important
affairs; but it is not the less suppressed in the smaller and more
privates ones. It must not be forgotten that
it is especially dangerous to enslave men in the minor details of

life. For my own part, I should be
inclined to think freedom less necessary in great things than in
little ones, if it were possible to be secure
of the one without possessing the other.
Subjection in minor affairs breaks out every day and is felt by
the whole community
indiscriminately. It does not drive men to resistance, but it
crosses them at every turn, till they are led to
surrender the exercise of their own will. Thus their spirit is
gradually broken and their character
enervated; whereas that obedience which is exacted on a few
important but rare occasions only exhibits
servitude at certain intervals and throws the burden of it upon a
small number of men. It is in vain to
summon a people who have been rendered so dependent on the
central power to choose from time to time
the representatives of that power; this rare and brief exercise of
their free choice, however important it
may be, will not prevent them from gradually losing the
faculties of thinking, feeling, and acting for
themselves, and thus gradually falling below the level of
humanity.
I add that they will soon become incapable of exercising the
great and only privilege which
remains to them. The democratic nations that have introduced
freedom into their political constitution at
the very time when they were augmenting the despotism of their
administrative constitution have been led
into strange paradoxes. To manage those minor affairs in which
good sense is all that is wanted, the
people are held to be unequal to the task; but when the
government of the country is at stake, the people
are invested with immense powers; they are alternately made
the play things of their ruler, and his

masters, more than kings and less than men. After having
exhausted all the different modes of election
without finding one to suit their purpose, they are still amazed
and still bent on seeking further; as if the
evil they notice did not originate in the constitution of the
country far more than in that of the electoral
body.
It is indeed difficult to conceive how men who have entirely
given up the habit of self-
government should succeed in making a proper choice of those
by whom they are to be governed; and no
one will ever believe that a liberal, wise, and energetic
government can spring from the suffrages of a
subservient people.
A constitution republican in its head and ultra-monarchical in
all its other parts has always
appeared to me to be a short-lived monster. The vices of rulers
and the ineptitude of the people would
speedily bring about its ruin; and the nation, weary of its
representatives and of itself, would create freer
institutions or soon return to stretch itself at the feet of a single
master.
Vol. II, book IV, Chapter 7 (excerpts) – Continuation of the
Preceding Chapters
I believe that it is easier to establish an absolute and despotic
government among a [democratic]
people where conditions are equal than among another, and I

think that, if such a government were once
established among such a people, not only would it oppress
men, but in the long run it would rob from
each of them some of the principal attributes of humanity.
…
Another instinct very natural to democratic peoples, and very
dangerous, is that which leads them
to scorn individual rights and to take them into little account.
Men are in general attached to a right and show it respect by
reason of its importance or of the
long use that they have made of it. Individual rights which are
found among democratic peoples are
ordinarily of little importance, very recent and very unstable;
that means that they are often easily
sacrificed and violated almost always without regrets.
Now it happens that, in this same time and among these same
nations in which men conceive a natural
scorn for the rights of individuals, the rights of the society
expand naturally and become stronger; that is
to say that men become less attached to particular rights, at the
moment when it would be most necessary
to keep them and to defend the few of them that remain.
So it is above all in the democratic times in which we find
ourselves that the true friends of
liberty and of human grandeur must, constantly, stand up and be
ready to prevent the social power from
sacrificing lightly the particular rights of some individuals to
the general execution of its designs. In those
times no citizen is so obscure that it is not very dangerous to
allow him to be oppressed, or individual
rights of so little importance that you can surrender to
arbitrariness with impunity. The reason for it is

simple. When you violate the particular right of an individual in
a time when the human mind is
penetrated by the importance and the holiness of the rights of
this type, you do harm only to the one you
rob. But to violate such a right today is to corrupt the national
mores profoundly and to put the entire
society at risk, because the very idea of these kinds of rights
tends constantly among us to deteriorate and
become lost.
There are certain habits, certain ideas, certain vices that belong
to the state of revolution, and that
a long revolution cannot fail to engender and to generalize,
whatever its character, its objective and its
theater are. When whatever nation has several times in a short
expanse of time changed leaders, opinions
and laws, the men who compose it end by contracting the taste
for movement and by becoming
accustomed to all movements taking place rapidly and with the
aid of force. They then naturally conceive
a contempt for forms, whose impotence they see every day, and
only with impatience do they bear the
dominion of rules, which have been evaded so many times
before their eyes.
Since the ordinary notions of equity and morality no longer
suffice to explain and justify all the
novelties to which the revolution gives birth each day, you latch
onto the principle of social utility, you
create the dogma of political necessity; and you become readily
accustomed to sacrificing particular
interests without scruples and to trampling individual rights
underfoot, in order to attain more promptly
the general goal that you propose.
…

I see among our contemporaries two opposite but equally fatal
ideas.
Some see in equality only the anarchical tendencies that it
engenders. They fear their free will;
they are afraid of themselves.
The others, in smaller number, but better enlightened, have
another view. Alongside the road that,
starting at equality, leads to anarchy, they have finally found
the path that seems to lead men invincibly
toward servitude; they bend their soul in advance to this
necessary servitude; and despairing of remaining
free, they already adore at the bottom of their heart the master
who must soon come.
The first abandon liberty because they consider it dangerous;
the second because they judge it
impossible.
If I had had this last belief, I would not have written the work
that you have just read; I would
have limited myself to bemoaning in secret the destiny of my
fellow men.
I wanted to put forth in full light the risks that equality makes
human independence run, because I
believe firmly that these risks are the most formidable as well
as the least foreseen of all those that the
future holds. But I do not believe them insurmountable.
The men who live in the democratic centuries that we are
entering naturally have the taste for
independence. Naturally they bear rules with impatience: the

permanence of even the state they prefer
wearies them. They love power; but they are inclined to scorn
and to hate the one who exercises it, and
they easily escape from between his hands because of their
smallness and their very mobility.
These instincts will always be found, because they emerge from
the core of the social state which
will not change. For a long time they will prevent any
despotism from being able to become established,
and they will provide new weapons to each new generation that
wants to fight in favor of the liberty of
men.
So let us have for the future this salutary fear that makes us
vigilant and combative, and not this
sort of soft and idle terror that weakens and enervates hearts.
First Part
To them our footsteps sound too lonely in the lanes. And if at
night
lying in their beds they hear a man walking outside, long before
the sun
rises, they probably ask themselves: where is the thief going?
Do not go to mankind and stay in the woods! Go even to the

animals
instead! Why do you not want to be like me – a bear among
bears, a bird
among birds?”
“And what does the saint do in the woods?” asked Zarathustra.
The saint answered: “I make songs and sing them, and when I
make
songs I laugh, weep and growl: thus I praise God.
With singing, weeping, laughing and growling I praise the god
who is
my god. But tell me, what do you bring us as a gift?”
When Zarathustra had heard these words he took his leave of
the saint
and spoke: “What would I have to give you! But let me leave
quickly before
I take something from you!” – And so they parted, the oldster
and the
man, laughing like two boys laugh.
But when Zarathustra was alone he spoke thus to his heart:
“Could it
be possible! This old saint in his woods has not yet heard the
news that
God is dead!” –
!
When Zarathustra came into the nearest town lying on the edge
of the
forest, he found many people gathered in the market place, for it
had been
promised that a tightrope walker would perform. And

Zarathustra spoke
thus to the people:
“I teach you the overman.! Human being is something that must
be
overcome. What have you done to overcome him?
All creatures so far created something beyond themselves; and
you
want to be the ebb of this great flood and would even rather go
back to
animals than overcome humans?
! “Ich lehre euch den Übermenschen.” Just as Mensch means
human, human being, Übermensch
means superhuman, which I render throughout as overman,
though I use human being, mankind,
people, and humanity to avoid the gendered and outmoded use
of “man.” Two things are achieved
by using this combination. First, using “human being” and other
species-indicating expressions
makes it clear that Nietzsche is concerned ecumenically with
humans as a species, not merely with
males. Secondly, expanding beyond the use of “man” puts
humans in an ecological context; for
Zarathustra to claim that “the overman shall be the meaning of
the earth” is to argue for a new
relationship between humans and nature, between humans and
the earth. Overman is preferred
to superhuman for two basic reasons; first, it preserves the word
play Nietzsche intends with his
constant references to going under and going over, and
secondly, the comic book associations called
to mind by “superman” and super-heroes generally tend to
reflect negatively, and frivolously, on
the term superhuman.

"
Thus Spoke Zarathustra
What is the ape to a human? A laughing stock or a painful
embarrass-
ment. And that is precisely what the human shall be to the
overman: a
laughing stock or a painful embarrassment.
You have made your way from worm to human, and much in
you is
still worm. Once you were apes, and even now a human is still
more ape
than any ape.
But whoever is wisest among you is also just a conflict and a
cross
between plant and ghost. But do I implore you to become ghosts
or plants?
Behold, I teach you the overman!
The overman is the meaning of the earth. Let your will say: the
overman
shall be the meaning of the earth!
I beseech you, my brothers, remain faithful to the earth and do
not
believe those who speak to you of extraterrestrial hopes! They
are mixers
of poisons whether they know it or not.

They are despisers of life, dying off and self-poisoned, of whom
the
earth is weary: so let them fade away!
Once the sacrilege against God was the greatest sacrilege, but
God
died, and then all these desecrators died. Now to desecrate the
earth is
the most terrible thing, and to esteem the bowels of the
unfathomable
higher than the meaning of the earth!
Once the soul gazed contemptuously at the body, and then such
con-
tempt was the highest thing: it wanted the body gaunt, ghastly,
starved.
Thus it intended to escape the body and the earth.
Oh this soul was gaunt, ghastly and starved, and cruelty was the
lust
of this soul!
But you, too, my brothers, tell me: what does your body
proclaim
about your soul? Is your soul not poverty and filth and a pitiful
content-
ment?
Truly, mankind is a polluted stream. One has to be a sea to take
in a
polluted stream without becoming unclean.
Behold, I teach you the overman: he is this sea, in him your
great
contempt can go under.

What is the greatest thing that you can experience? It is the
hour of
your great contempt. The hour in which even your happiness
turns to
nausea and likewise your reason and your virtue.
The hour in which you say: ‘What matters my happiness? It is
poverty
and filth, and a pitiful contentment. But my happiness ought to
justify
existence itself!’
#
First Part
The hour in which you say: ‘What matters my reason? Does it
crave
knowledge like the lion its food? It is poverty and filth and a
pitiful
contentment!’
The hour in which you say: ‘What matters my virtue? It has not
yet
made me rage. How weary I am of my good and my evil! That is
all poverty
and filth and a pitiful contentment!’
The hour in which you say: ‘What matters my justice? I do not
see that
I am ember and coal. But the just person is ember and coal!’
The hour in which you say: ‘What matters my pity? Is pity not
the cross

on which he is nailed who loves humans? But my pity is no
crucifixion.’
Have you yet spoken thus? Have you yet cried out thus? Oh that
I might
have heard you cry out thus!
Not your sin – your modesty cries out to high heaven, your
stinginess
even in sinning cries out to high heaven!
Where is the lightning that would lick you with its tongue?
Where is
the madness with which you should be inoculated?
Behold, I teach you the overman: he is this lightning, he is this
madness! –”
When Zarathustra had spoken thus someone from the crowd
cried out:
“We have heard enough already about the tightrope walker, now
let us
see him too!” And all the people laughed at Zarathustra. But the
tightrope
walker, believing that these words concerned him, got down to
his work.
$
Now Zarathustra looked at the people and he was amazed. Then
he spoke
thus:
“Mankind is a rope fastened between animal and overman – a
rope over

an abyss.
A dangerous crossing, a dangerous on-the-way, a dangerous
looking
back, a dangerous shuddering and standing still.
What is great about human beings is that they are a bridge and
not a
purpose: what is lovable about human beings is that they are a
crossing
over and a going under.
I love those who do not know how to live unless by going
under, for
they are the ones who cross over.
I love the great despisers, because they are the great venerators
and
arrows of longing for the other shore.
%
I love those who do not first seek behind the stars for a reason
to go
under and be a sacrifice, who instead sacrifice themselves for
the earth, so
that the earth may one day become the overman’s.
I love the one who lives in order to know, and who wants to
know so
that one day the overman may live. And so he wants his going
under.

I love the one who works and invents in order to build a house
for the
overman and to prepare earth, animals and plants for him: for
thus he
wants his going under.
I love the one who loves his virtue: for virtue is the will to
going under
and an arrow of longing.
I love the one who does not hold back a single drop of spirit for
himself,
but wants instead to be entirely the spirit of his virtue: thus he
strides as
spirit over the bridge.
I love the one who makes of his virtue his desire and his doom:
thus
for the sake of his virtue he wants to live on and to live no
more.
I love the one who does not want to have too many virtues. One
virtue
is more virtue than two, because it is more of a hook on which
his doom
may hang.
I love the one whose soul squanders itself, who wants no thanks
and
gives none back: for he always gives and does not want to
preserve
himself.$
I love the one who is ashamed when the dice fall to his fortune
and who

then asks: am I a cheater? – For he wants to perish.
I love the one who casts golden words before his deeds and
always does
even more than he promises: for he wants his going under.
I love the one who justifies people of the future and redeems
those of
the past: for he wants to perish of those in the present.
I love the one who chastises his god, because he loves his god:
for he
must perish of the wrath of his god.
I love the one whose soul is deep even when wounded, and who
can
perish of a small experience: thus he goes gladly over the
bridge.
I love the one whose soul is overfull, so that he forgets himself,
and all
things are in him: thus all things become his going under.
$ See Luke &%:!!. This is the first of approximately &!" direct
allusions to the Bible, in which Nietzsche
typically applies Christ’s words to Zarathustra’s task, or inverts
Christ’s words in order to achieve
a life- and earth-affirming effect. Whenever possible, these
passages will be translated using the
phrasing of the Bible. For drafts and alternative versions of the
various chapters, biblical references,
and other references see vol. '() of the Kritische
Studienausgabe, which provides commentary to
vols. (–'((( and treats TSZ on pp. *%+–!$$.
,

First Part
I love the one who is free of spirit and heart: thus his head is
only the
entrails of his heart, but his heart drives him to his going under.
I love all those who are like heavy drops falling individually
from the
dark cloud that hangs over humanity: they herald the coming of
the
lightning, and as heralds they perish.
Behold, I am a herald of the lightning and a heavy drop from
the cloud:
but this lightning is called overman. –”
"
When Zarathustra had spoken these words he looked again at
the people
and fell silent. “There they stand,” he said to his heart, “they
laugh, they
do not understand me, I am not the mouth for these ears.
Must one first smash their ears so that they learn to hear with
their
eyes? Must one rattle like kettle drums and penitence preachers?
Or do
they believe only a stutterer?
They have something of which they are proud. And what do
they call
that which makes them proud? Education they call it, it

distinguishes
them from goatherds.
For that reason they hate to hear the word ‘contempt’ applied to
them.
So I shall address their pride instead.
Thus I shall speak to them of the most contemptible person: but
he is
the last human being.”
And thus spoke Zarathustra to the people:
“It is time that mankind set themselves a goal. It is time that
mankind
plant the seed of their highest hope.
Their soil is still rich enough for this. But one day this soil will
be poor
and tame, and no tall tree will be able to grow from it anymore.
Beware! The time approaches when human beings no longer
launch
the arrow of their longing beyond the human, and the string of
their bow
will have forgotten how to whir!
I say to you: one must still have chaos in oneself in order to
give birth
to a dancing star. I say to you: you still have chaos in you.
Beware! The time approaches when human beings will no longer
give
birth to a dancing star. Beware! The time of the most
contemptible
human is coming, the one who can no longer have contempt for

himself.
Behold! I show you the last human being.
+
‘What is love? What is creation? What is longing? What is a
star?’ –
thus asks the last human being, blinking.
Then the earth has become small, and on it hops the last human
being,
who makes everything small. His kind is ineradicable, like the
flea beetle;
the last human being lives longest.
‘We invented happiness’ – say the last human beings, blinking.
They abandoned the regions where it was hard to live: for one
needs
warmth. One still loves one’s neighbor and rubs up against him:
for one
needs warmth.
Becoming ill and being mistrustful are considered sinful by
them:
one proceeds with caution. A fool who still stumbles over
stones or
humans!
A bit of poison once in a while; that makes for pleasant dreams.
And

much poison at the end, for a pleasant death.
One still works, for work is a form of entertainment. But one
sees to it
that the entertainment is not a strain.
One no longer becomes poor and rich: both are too burdensome.
Who
wants to rule anymore? Who wants to obey anymore? Both are
too bur-
densome.
No shepherd and one herd! Each wants the same, each is the
same, and
whoever feels differently goes voluntarily into the insane
asylum.
‘Formerly the whole world was insane’ – the finest ones say,
blinking.
One is clever and knows everything that has happened, and so
there is
no end to their mockery. People still quarrel but they reconcile
quickly –
otherwise it is bad for the stomach.
One has one’s little pleasure for the day and one’s little
pleasure for the
night: but one honors health.
‘We invented happiness’ say the last human beings, and they
blink.”
And here ended the first speech of Zarathustra, which is also
called
“The Prologue,” for at this point he was interrupted by the

yelling and
merriment of the crowd. “Give us this last human being, oh
Zarathustra” –
thus they cried – “make us into these last human beings! Then
we will
make you a gift of the overman!” And all the people jubilated
and clicked
their tongues. But Zarathustra grew sad and said to his heart:
“They do not understand me. I am not the mouth for these ears.
Too long apparently I lived in the mountains, too much I
listened to
brooks and trees: now I speak to them as to goatherds.
&-
First Part
My soul is calm and bright as the morning mountains. But they
believe
I am cold, that I jeer, that I deal in terrible jests.
And now they look at me and laugh, and in laughing they hate
me too.
There is ice in their laughter.”
#
Then, however, something happened that struck every mouth
silent and
forced all eyes to stare. For in the meantime the tightrope
walker had
begun his work; he had emerged from a little door and was

walking across
the rope stretched between two towers, such that it hung
suspended
over the market place and the people. Just as he was at the
midpoint of his
way, the little door opened once again and a colorful fellow
resembling
a jester leaped forth and hurried after the first man with quick
steps.
“Forward, sloth, smuggler, pale face! Or I’ll tickle you with my
heel! What
business have you here between the towers? You belong in the
tower, you
should be locked away in the tower, for you block the way for
one who is
better than you!” And with each word he came closer and closer
to him.
But when he was only one step behind him, the terrifying thing
occurred
that struck every mouth silent and forced all eyes to stare: – he
let out a yell
like a devil and leaped over the man who was in his way. This
man, seeing
his rival triumph in this manner, lost his head and the rope. He
threw
away his pole and plunged into the depths even faster than his
pole, like a
whirlwind of arms and legs. The market place and the people
resembled
the sea when a storm charges in: everyone fled apart and into
one another,
and especially in the spot where the body had to impact.
But Zarathustra stood still and the body landed right beside him,
badly
beaten and broken, but not yet dead. After a while the shattered

man
regained consciousness and saw Zarathustra kneeling beside
him. “What
are you doing here?” he said finally. “I’ve known for a long
time that the
devil would trip me up. Now he is going to drag me off to hell:
are you
going to stop him?”
“By my honor, friend!” answered Zarathustra. “All that you are
talking
about does not exist. There is no devil and no hell. Your soul
will be dead
even sooner than your body – fear no more!”
The man looked up mistrustfully. “If you speak the truth,” he
said,
“then I lose nothing when I lose my life. I am not much more
than an
animal that has been taught to dance by blows and little treats.”
&&
“Not at all,” said Zarathustra. “You made your vocation out of
danger,
and there is nothing contemptible about that. Now you perish of
your
vocation, and for that I will bury you with my own hands.”
When Zarathustra said this the dying man answered no more,
but he
moved his hand as if seeking Zarathustra’s hand in gratitude. –

%
Meanwhile evening came and the market place hid in darkness.
The people
scattered, for even curiosity and terror grow weary. But
Zarathustra sat
beside the dead man on the ground and was lost in thought, such
that he
lost track of time. Night came at last and a cold wind blew over
the lonely
one. Then Zarathustra stood up and said to his heart:
“Indeed, a nice catch of fish Zarathustra has today! No human
being
did he catch, but a corpse instead.
Uncanny is human existence and still without meaning: a jester
can
spell its doom.
I want to teach humans the meaning of their being, which is the
over-
man, the lightning from the dark cloud ‘human being.’
But I am still far away from them, and I do not make sense to
their
senses. For mankind I am still a midpoint between a fool and a
corpse.
The night is dark, the ways of Zarathustra are dark. Come, my
cold
and stiff companion! I shall carry you where I will bury you
with my own
hands.”

,
When Zarathustra had said this to his heart, he hoisted the
corpse onto
his back and started on his way. And he had not yet gone a
hundred paces
when someone sneaked up on him and whispered in his ear –
and behold!
The one who spoke was the jester from the tower. “Go away
from this
town, oh Zarathustra,” he said. “Too many here hate you. The
good and
the just hate you and they call you their enemy and despiser; the
believers
of the true faith hate you and they call you the danger of the
multitude.
It was your good fortune that they laughed at you: and really,
you spoke
like a jester. It was your good fortune that you took up with the
dead dog;
when you lowered yourself like that, you rescued yourself for
today. But
go away from this town – or tomorrow I shall leap over you, a
living man
&*
THE SECOND TREATISE ON GOVERNMENT
Ch. 1—on political power
§2-3: political power defined

Ch. 2—on the state of nature
§4. All men naturally in a state of perfect freedom to order
actions, dispose of possessions
and persons, within the bounds of the law of nature, without
asking leave or depending
upon will of any man. What is the law of nature? Reason—see
section 6.
This is also a state of equality: all power/jurisdiction is
reciprocal, i.e., no one has
more than any other. It is “evident”—nothing could be
moreso—that creatures of same
species/rank born to same advantages of nature and same
faculties are equal, unless God
Himself should obviously set one above another by an “evident
and clear appointment,”
i.e., the sort of thing that one could not be wrong about.
§6. Liberty is not identical with license. Liberty accords with
the law of nature. What’s
that? Reason. Liberty, then, is rational freedom. In the state of
nature all men are obliged
to the law of nature, which teaches all men who will but consult
it. What’s the problem
here, then? Not all men will consult it. If men consult it, it
teaches that they are all equal
and independent, the workmanship of God and therefore free
from molestation by other
men. Because of this and their equivalent faculties, there is no
natural subordination of
one man to another, therefore no man has a right to destroy or
use any other man. The
law of nature says every man is bound to preserve himself and,
when there is no conflict,

to preserve the rest of mankind.
§7. Since the law of nature wills peace and the preservation of
mankind, in the state of
nature every man has the responsibility for executing the law of
nature. Every man
therefore has a right to punish. Why? It’s because the law of
nature would be in vain
without penalties attached. Since state of nature is a state of
perfect equality, there is no
natural judge to whom to appeal. Every man is his own judiciary
and his own executive.
§8. Thus in the state of nature man has power over another only
when that other violates
the law of nature, which is reason. This power, however, is
limited to what is required for
restraint and reparation. Punishment is not vengeance but the
making whole again of the
injured and the teaching of the offender not to do it again. The
standard in nature is the
law of nature itself, which is to say “reason and common
equity,” which is the measure
set by God for men’s security.
§11. Because of the duty to preserve all mankind, all men have
the right to punish
violations of the law of nature; reparations, however, can only
be taken by the one who
has been harmed. The criminal who violates the law of nature
has abandoned reason, the
“common rule and measure” God has given to mankind, and by
his deed has declared
war on all man kind. Like a dangerous beast, he may be slain—
he has abandoned his
humanity.

§12. What about lesser breaches? Should they be punished by
death? No, but with
degree and severity that make it an ill-bargain for offenders.
§14. Who really lives in this state today? Rulers. International
relations is the state of
nature.
Ch. 3—on the state of war
§16. State of war is state of enmity and destruction declared by
sedate settled design on
another mans life. it is reasonable that the one so threatened has
a right to destroy the
source of the threat. All men are to be preserved, but when that
is not possible, the safet
of the innocent is to be preferred.
§17. The one who puts himself into a state of war may be
destroyed, and the one who
attempts to enslave someone puts himself into a state of war
with that person. Slavery is
thus a violation of the natural law and therefore unreasonable.
The slave can legitimately
slay his so-called master.
§19. The difference between state of war and state of nature,
confounded by Hobbes,
consists in this: men living together according to reason without
a common superior, with
authority to judge between them, is the state of nature. This is

the state of nature in the
high sense. In the low sense, as Locke has implicitly admitted,
it’s Hobbes.
§20. State of war continues until the aggressor sues for peace on
terms acceptable to the
aggrieved. If that doesn’t happen, it continues until the
aggressor is destroyed (remember,
his actions declare himself at war with all mankind—that’s why
it doesn’t end if the
aggrieved party is destroyed).
§21. To avoid this state of war, men form governments.
Ch. 4—on slavery
§23. Man cannot voluntarily enslave himself, and forcible
enslavement is, as we have
seen, a cause for war.
Ch. 5—on property
§34. God gives world to men in common, for their benefit, He
cannot have meant it to be
uncultivated.
§37. Appropriating land to oneself does not lessen but increases
the common stock of
mankind. Who makes better use of land, the farmer with one
acre or the nobleman with a
hundred acres? Locke’s argument is the small farmer will make
better use.

§42. The “wise and godlike” prince will promote cultivation
because it benefits all of his
people. How does the protection of private property benefit all?
It allows the poor to
acquire and therefore change their station.
§44. The great foundation of property is labor.
Ch. 6—on paternal power
§52: reason and revelation both tell us that it’s parental power,
not paternal power. The
mother has at least an equal right with the father (maybe even
more). Revelation confirms
this. Locke speaks extensively of the dignity and equality of
women in the First Treatise.
§54. This is important—Locke admits that there are some kinds
of inequality: Age,
Virtue, Excellence of Parts and Merit; Birth may subject some
and Alliance or Benefits
others to pay honor to some who deserve such, either by nature,
gratitude, or somewhat
else. Yet these inequalities are consistent with equality.
§55. Children—born to equality but not in it. They live in bonds
to their parents until
reason and age free them. This is in accordance with the natural
law, which not only
prescribes rights but also imposes duties – in this case, the
duties of parent to child.
§57. Children, born ignorant, do not fall under the law of reason
immediately as Adam
did. Someone who lacks reason is not free and cannot be free.
Note also lines 10-14: the

only way the law of nature can be justified is if it does this. Our
freedom is secure under
the law of nature (reason) because it directs us away from what
is detrimental to us.
Liberty and freedom are identical; where there is no law there is
no freedom.
§58. Parental power arises from duty to children under the
natural law. God gave man
reason and therefore free will under the law of nature. When
man is not in that state,
someone else must will for him just as someone else must
understand for him. Children
are like Aristotle’s natural slave, but for Locke they grow out of
it. Without reason or
understanding the will has no validity. Others have to be
responsible for those who are in
this position. The question to ask is: how strictly are such
distinctions drawn? Can one
usurp someone else’s will on the grounds that, even as an adult,
someone continually
makes self-destructive and bad decisions?
Ch. 7—on the beginnings of political societies
§77. Fairly straightforward Also pre-political societies
(usefully compared to Aristotle)
1. Man and wife
2. Parents and children
3. Master and servant (servant is not the same as slave for
Locke – servants are
paid; selling your labor is consonant with the law of nature)
Ch. 8—on the ends of political society and government

§91 and 95. This is fairly straightforward. Locke’s point is that
no one can leave the state
of nature unwillingly.
Ch. 9 – of the ends of political society and government
§123. Why leave state of nature? Most men are not observers of
justice and equity.
§124. Chief end of government is the preservation of property
and persons of the citizens.
Also introduction of what is lacking in state of nature. First
legislature; then (§125)
judiciary and (§126) executive.
§127. State of nature is an ill condition
§128. Two powers in the state of nature
§129. First power is given up to regulation by law.
§130. Second power is wholly given up.
§131. Limit and purpose of government.
Ch. 10
This is basically comparative government. Locke’s most
important point: what kind of a
government a government is will be determined by where the
legislative power is placed.

§133. Locke is holding his cards back at this point: any
independent community is a
commonwealth.
Ch. 11—extent of the legislative power
§135. FIRST it cannot be absolutely arbitrary over the lives of
the people. Why? See
lines 9-12 especially. Lines 21-23: what the legislature can
never do. Lines 26-27: even
the legislature is bound by the law of nature.
§136. SECONDLY, the legislature cannot just make it up as
they go along. Laws must
be promulgated, and judges must be authorized. Compare §90-
91 on the need for such
judges.
§137. There is no consent to tyranny or absolute monarchy.
Lines 23-27: without the rule
of law, life under government is worse than state of nature.
§138. THIRDLY, the supreme power cannot take property from
anyone without consent
(but compare §120, lines 11-16). Lines 12-17 seem to indicate
government can regulate
property, but it cannot do so arbitrarily. In governments with a
permanent rather than
variable legislature, there is a danger that such a legislature will
become a faction
(compare Federalist No. 10).
§139. Again, property cannot be taken by government without

the consent of the
property-owner. Note also that he makes an important
distinction between absolute and
arbitrary power (this distinction might make a good paper
topic). Absolute power may be
legitimate in the defense of the commonwealth—Locke’s
example is military discipline.
It’s an absolute power, but not arbitrary: the sergeant can order
the soldier to “march up
to the mouth of a Cannon” but cannot command him to give
over his property. Blind
obedience in military matters is necessary for the good of the
commonwealth—and this
does not violate the self-preservation principle of the natural
law, because the natural law
is the foundation of the compact, and the compact results in not
just rights but duties.
§140.Taxes qua taxes are perfectly legitimate. Locke’s point is
that those who benefit
from the protection of government must contribute to the
ongoing operations of
government—but they must still do it under the rubric of
consent (i.e., the consent of the
majority). Levying taxes without the consent of the majority is a
violation of the
“Fundamental Law of Property” and therefore a violation of
natural rights and a
subversion of the purpose of government (which it to protect the
life, liberty and property
of the citizen).
§141. FOURTHLY, the legislative power cannot transfer the
power of making laws to
any other hands. The people are the source of legislative power,
and that power is vested

in the legislative body. It is not thereby the legislative body’s
power. It is still the
people’s power, and as such the legislature cannot delegate it to
anyone. Note that this is
precisely what Congress does in the 20th century (see Landis,
The Administrative Process
and Marini, The Politics of Budget Control, especially chapter
6). Locke’s point is that it
is a violation of natural law.
§142. A summary. Note that all of these underlie the list of
grievances in the Declaration
of Independence. Locke’s earlier apparent indifference to the
form of government is now
abandoned; the end of this chapter shows that he is concerned
with the right form. Leo
Strauss calls this “natural constitutional law” (reference
needed).
Ch. 14—on prerogative
§159. Prerogative is the right of the executive to act without the
law and sometimes even
against the law for the sake of the commonwealth. The first
example Locke provides
concerns the use of the pardoning power—the executive may
pardon the guilty “where it
can prove no prejudice to the innocent.” Locke’s crucial point
here is that the law cannot
do everything.
§160. Prerogative defined—the rule of choice by the prudent
executive regardless of the
law. Thomas Jefferson’s Louisiana Purchase is a good example
of this (Jefferson doubted
that he could buy it; Spain ceded it to France on the grounds
that it not be sold to another

country; both Jefferson and Napoleon acted with prerogative).
Ch. 16—Conquest
This chapter corrects Locke’s earlier, “idealistic” account of the
origins of government; it
also shows how radical he really is: the crucial point is that
since most governments are
founded in conquest, hardly any government is founded justly.
If there is no consent,
however, there is no commonwealth. Locke also addresses the
limitations on the rights of
the conqueror imposed by the natural law. It’s also very
Jeffersonian – non-republican
government is illegitimate.
§192 – how unjustly founded governments can become
legitimate: consent of the
governed and security of rights (compare the Declaration of
Independence).
Ch. 19—on the dissolution of government; note that Jefferson
borrows extensively
from this chapter.
§222. Again, the reason for entering into society—preservation
of property; this is why
they choose and authorize a legislature. Locke writes “whenever
the Legislators

endeavour to take away, and destroy the Property of the People,
or reduce them to
Slavery under Arbitrary Power, they put themselves into a state
of War with the People,
who are there upon absolved from any farther Obedience, and
are left to the common
Refuge, which God has provided for all men against Force and
Violence” (lines 10-16).
What is that refuge? The appeal to heaven. By breaching the
trust the people had in them,
the legislature has forfeited all authority. All of this also
applies to the “supreame
Executor,” who holds a “double trust”—he also violates that
trust when he corrupts the
representatives. This can be nothing but a declared intent to
subvert the government—
and, per §220, the governed need not wait until such subversion
is accomplished to act in
their defense.
§223. This is not a recipe for anarchy or perpetual revolutions;
people resist change in the
forms to which they are accustomed. They are slow to give up
their constitutions, and the
implication—as Jefferson phrases it—is that they will endure
while wrongs can be
tolerated.
§224. So—does this promote frequent rebellion?
§225. The people will not make a revolution unless there is “a
long train of Abuses,
Prevarications, and Artifices, all tending the same way.”
§230. Here, subverting just government is “the greatest Crime…
a Man is capable of.”

In sarcasm the mischievous one and the weakling meet. But they
mis-
understand one another. I know you.
You may have only those enemies whom you can hate, but not
enemies
to despise. You must be proud of your enemy: then the
successes of your
enemy are your successes too.
Rebellion – that is the nobility of slaves. Let your nobility be
obedience!
Your commanding itself shall be obeying!
To a good warrior “thou shalt” sounds nicer than “I will.” And
every-
thing you hold dear you should first have commanded to you.
Let your love for life be love for your highest hope, and let your
highest
hope be the highest thought of life!
But you shall have your highest thought commanded by me –
and it
says: human being is something that shall be overcome.
So live your life of obedience and war! What matters living
long! Which
warrior wants to be spared!

I spare you not, I love you thoroughly, my brothers in war! –
Thus spoke Zarathustra.
On the New Idol
Somewhere still there are peoples and herds, but not where we
live, my
brothers: here there are states.
State? What is that? Well then, lend me your ears now, for I
shall say
my words about the death of peoples.
State is the name of the coldest of all cold monsters. It even lies
coldly,
and this lie crawls out of its mouth: “I, the state, am the
people.”
This is a lie! The ones who created the peoples were the
creators, they
hung a faith and a love over them, and thus they served life.
The ones who set traps for the many and call them “state” are
annihi-
lators, they hang a sword and a hundred cravings over them.
Where there are still peoples the state is not understood, and it
is hated
as the evil eye and the sin against customs and rights.
This sign I give you: every people speaks its own tongue of
good and
evil – which the neighbor does not understand. It invented its
own lan-

guage through customs and rights.
But the state lies in all the tongues of good and evil, and
whatever it
may tell you, it lies – and whatever it has, it has stolen.
!"
First Part
Everything about it is false; it bites with stolen teeth, this biting
dog.
Even its entrails are false.
Language confusion of good and evil: this sign I give you as the
sign of
the state. Indeed, this sign signifies the will to death! Indeed, it
beckons
the preachers of death!
Far too many are born: the state was invented for the
superfluous!
Just look at how it lures them, the far-too-many! How it gulps
and
chews and ruminates them!
“On earth there is nothing greater than I: the ordaining finger of
God
am I” – thus roars the monster. And not only the long-eared and
the
shortsighted sink to their knees!
Oh, even to you, you great souls, it whispers its dark lies!

Unfortunately
it detects the rich hearts who gladly squander themselves!
Yes, it also detects you, you vanquishers of the old God! You
grew
weary in battle and now your weariness still serves the new
idol!
It wants to gather heroes and honorable men around itself, this
new
idol! Gladly it suns itself in the sunshine of your good
consciences – the
cold monster!
It wants to give you everything, if you worship it, the new idol.
Thus it
buys the shining of your virtue and the look in your proud eyes.
It wants to use you as bait for the far-too-many! Indeed, a
hellish piece
of work was thus invented, a death-horse clattering in the
regalia of divine
honors!
Indeed, a dying for the many was invented here, one that touts
itself as
living; truly, a hearty service to all preachers of death!
State I call it, where all are drinkers of poison, the good and the
bad;
state, where all lose themselves, the good and the bad; state,
where the
slow suicide of everyone is called – “life.”
Just look at these superfluous! They steal for themselves the
works

of the inventors and the treasures of the wise: education they
call their
thievery – and everything turns to sickness and hardship for
them!
Just look at these superfluous! They are always sick, they vomit
their
gall and call it the newspaper. They devour one another and are
not even
able to digest themselves.
Just look at these superfluous! They acquire riches and yet they
become
poorer. They want power and first of all the crowbar of power,
much
money – these impotent, impoverished ones!
!#
Watch them scramble, these swift monkeys! They scramble all
over each other and thus drag one another down into the mud
and
depths.
They all want to get to the throne, it is their madness – as if
happiness
sat on the throne! Often mud sits on the throne – and often too
the throne
on mud.
Mad all of them seem to me, and scrambling monkeys and
overly

aroused. Their idol smells foul to me, the cold monster: together
they all
smell foul to me, these idol worshipers.
My brothers, do you want to choke in the reek of their snouts
and
cravings? Smash the windows instead and leap into the open!
Get out of the way of the bad smell! Go away from the idol
worship of
the superfluous!
Get out of the way of the bad smell! Get away from the steam of
these
human sacrifices!
Even now the earth stands open for great souls. Many seats are
still
empty for the lonesome and twosome, fanned by the fragrance
of silent
seas.
An open life still stands open for great souls. Indeed, whoever
possesses
little is possessed all the less: praised be a small poverty!
There, where the state ends, only there begins the human being
who
is not superfluous; there begins the song of necessity, the
unique and
irreplaceable melody.
There, where the state ends – look there, my brothers! Do you
not see
it, the rainbow and the bridges of the overman? –

Thus spoke Zarathustra.
On the Flies of the Market Place
Flee, my friend, into your solitude! I see you dazed by the noise
of the
great men and stung by the stings of the little.
Wood and cliff know worthily how to keep silent with you. Be
once more
like the tree that you love, the broad-branching one: silent and
listening
it hangs over the sea.
Where solitude ends, there begins the market place; and where
the
market place begins, there begins too the noise of the great
actors and the
buzzing of poisonous flies.
!$

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