Neitzsche, philosophy, stoic, dreamer,

Transcript

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Hello. I'm Brett. And this is on truth and lie in an extra moral sense. But I need to, 18 73 in some remote corner of the universe, 18 73 in some remote corner of the universe poured out a glimmering in innumerable solar systems. There once was a star on which clever animals invented knowledge. That was the hardiest and most manned a cious minute of world history. Yet, only a minute after nature had drawn a few breaths, the star grew cold and the clever animals had to die. One might invent such a fable and still not have illustrated sufficiently how wretched, how shadowy and flighty, how aimless and arbitrary the human intellect, IQ peers in nature. There have been eternities when it did not exist. When it is done for again, nothing will have happened for. This intellect has no further mission that would lead beyond human life. It is human rather and only its owner and producer gives it such importance as if the world pivoted around it. But if we could communicate with the mosquito, then we would learn that it floats through the air with the same self importance feeling within itself. The flying center of the world. There is nothing in nature so despicable or insignificant that it cannot immediately be blown up like a bag by a silent breath of this power of knowledge, just as every porter wants and admire the proudest human being. The philosopher thinks that he sees the eyes of the universe, telescopic lee focused from all sides on his actions and thoughts. It is strange that this should be the effect of the intellect. For, after all it was given only that the aid to the most unfortunate, most delicate, most evanescent beings, in order to hold them for a minute in existence, from which otherwise without a gift, they would have every reason to flee as quickly as Lessing's son. The hardiness which goes with knowledge and feeling which shrouds the eyes and senses of a man in the blinding fog, therefore deceives him about the value of existence by carrying in itself the most flattering evaluation of knowledge itself. Its most universal effect is deception, but even its most popular effects have something out of the same character. The intellect as a means of for the preservation of the individual unfolds its chief powers in simulation. For this is the means by which the weaker, less robust individual preserve themselves, since they are denied the chance of waging the struggle for existence with horns or the fangs of beasts of prey in man. This art of simulation reaches its peak here, deception, flattery lying, cheating, talking behind the back, posing, living in a borrowed splendor, being masked, the disguise of convention, acting a role before others, and before oneself. In short, the constant fluttering around the single flame of vanity is so much the rule and the law that almost nothing is more incomprehensible than how an honest and pure urge for truth could make its appearance among men. They deeply immersed illusions and dream images. Their eyes glide only over the surface of the things and sees forms. They're feeling nowhere leads into truth, but content itself with the reception of stimuli playing as it were. The game of blind man's buff on the back of things. Moreover, man permits himself to be lied to at night, his life, long when he dreams and his moral sense never even tries to prevent this. Although men have been said to have overcome snoring by sheer power. What indeed does man know of himself? Can he even once perceive himself completely laid out as if in an illuminated glass case does not nature keep much the most from him, even about his own body to spell, bind and confine him in a proud deceptive consciousness. Far from the coils of the intestines, the quick current of the bloodstream and the involved tremors of the fibers she threw away the key. And whoa! Oh! To the calamitous curiosity, which might appear just once through a crack in the chamber of consciousness and looked down and sense that a man rests upon the merciless, the greedy, the insatiable, the murderous and the indifference of his ignorance hanging in dreams as it were upon the back of a tiger. In view of this, whence in all the world comes the urge of truth insofar as the individual wants to preserve himself against other individuals in the natural state of affairs, he employs the intellect mostly for simulation alone, but because man out of need for boredom, wants to exist socially heard fashion? He requires a peace pact. And he endeavors to banish at least the very crudest bellum omnium contra ominous from his world. This piece packed brings with it something that looks like the first step toward the attainment of this enigmatic urge for truth. For now that is fixed, which henceforth shall be truth. That is a regulatory valid and obligatory designation of things is invented. And his linguistic legislation also furnishes the first laws of truth. For it is here that the contrast between the truth and the lie originates. The liar uses the valid designations, the words to make the unreal appear as real war of all against all he says. For example, I am rich when the word poor would be the correct designation of his simulation situation. He abuses the fixed conventions by arbitrary changes, or even by reversals of the names. When he does this in a self serve anyway, damaging to others. Then society will no longer trust him, but exclude him thereby. Men do not flee from being deceived as much as being damaged by perception. What they hate at this stage is basically not the deception, but the bad hostile consequences of certain kinds of deceptions. In a similar limited way. Man wants truth. He desires the agreeable, life, life preserving consequences of truth. But he is indifferent to pure knowledge, which he has no consequences. He is even hostile to possibly damaging and destructive truths, and, moreover. What about these conventions of language? Are they really the product of knowledge of the sense of truth? Do they do the designations and the things coincide? Is the language the adequate expression of all realities? Only through forgetfulness can man ever achieve the illusion of possessing a truth in the sense of just designated? If he does not wish to be satisfied with truth in the form of tautology that is with empty shells, then he will forever by illusions for truth. What is a word? An image of a nerve stimulus in sounds, but to infer the nerve stimulus to cause outside of us, it is already the result of a false and unjustified application of the principle of reason. The different languages set side by side show that what matters with words is never the truth, never an adequate expression else. There would be not so many languages the thing itself, for what is pure truth without consequences would be is quite incomprehensible to the creators of language, and not all worth aiming for. One designates only the relations of things to man and to express them. One calls on the boldest metaphors a nerve stimulus first transposed into an image. First metaphor. An image in turn initiated by a sound Second metaphor. Let us give special consideration to the formation of concepts everywhere. It immediately becomes a concept in as such as it is not intended to serve as a reminder of the unique and wholly individualized original experience to which it owes its birth but must at the same time fit innumerable, more or less similar cases, which means strictly speaking never equal. In other words. A lot of unequal cases, every concept originally originates through or equating what is unequal. No leaf is ever wholly equals another. The concept leaf is formed through an arbitrary abstraction from these individual differences, forgetting the distinctions and now gives rise to the idea that in nature there might be something besides the leaves which would be leaf. Some kind of original form which leaves have been woven marked, copied, colored, curled and painted but by unskilled hands so that no copy turned out to be correct, reliable and faithful images of the original form we call a person honest. So I did he act honestly. Today we ask our answers usually sound like this because of his honesty, honesty. That is to say again. The leaf is the cause of leafs. After all, we know nothing of an essence like quality named honesty. We know only numerous individualized and thus unequal actions which we equate by omitting the unequal and and by then calling them honest actions. In the end we distill from the quality as a call to with the name of honesty. What then is truth? A mobile army of metaphors, meta NMS and anthropomorphism in short a sum of human relations which have been enhanced transposed and embellished poetically and rhetorically and which have long use seem firm, canonical and obligatory to a people, truce or illusions about which one has forgotten that this is why they are metaphors which are worn out and without sensuous power coins, which have lost their pictures and now matter only as metal no longer as coins, what we still do not know where the urge for truth comes from for as far as we have heard of, the obligation imposed by society that it should exist to be truthful means using the customary metaphors in moral terms, the obligation to lie according to a fixed convention, to lie heard like in a style obligatory for all.