Oswald Spengler Selected Essays Translation and Introduction by Donald O. White (Chicago, Illinois: enry !

egnery Co"pany, #$%&'

Contents Introduction (russianis" and Socialis" (essi"is") The Two *aces o+ !ussia and ,er"any-s Eastern (roble"s .iet/sche and is Century On the ,er"an .ational Character Is World (eace (ossible)

Introduction 0We lea1e it to the reader to 2read between the lines2 o+ this critical introduction which appeared with this edition o+ the Essays.3 4ittle re"ains today o+ the great international Oswald Spengler 1ogue o+ the #$56-s and #$76-s. The title o+ his two81olu"e "agnu" opus, The Decline o+ the West, 0#3 crops up now and again in a 1ariety o+ conte9ts, but one rarely "eets people who ha1e actually read the wor: or e1en portions o+ it. It could be argued, o+ course, that e1en in the heyday o+ the Spenglerian cult the readers o+ his ;outline o+ a "orphology o+ world history; were +ew, and those who grasped what it was really about, still +ewer. The cult was borne, it see"s +air to say, by a widespread hunch that the all too palpable ills o+ the "odern world had been accurately diagnosed by this Teutonic doctor8prophet. Spengler, the "an o+ the perpetual scowl, beca"e a whole generation-s sy"bol +or the +utility o+ hu"an endea1or. While scholars were busy +erreting out the "any errors o+ detail that The Decline o+ the West contains, news o+ the boo:-s so"ber "essage reached intellectual and pseudo8intellectual circles in all the Western countries and beyond. To participate in the +utility rite it was <uite unnecessary to ha1e read the boo:= the "ere "ention o+ Spengler-s na"e su++iced to e9press a whole "ood o+ resignation in the +ace o+ the i"personal cruelty o+ history. (#. >olu"e I appeared in #$#?, >olu"e II in #$55.' The reasons +or the e1entual passing o+ the Spengler cult are, I thin:, readily apparent. It is not that the historical "ethodology de"onstrated in The Decline o+ the West has been conclusi1ely @udged +allacious or out"oded= historians and philosophers o+ history still attend to the de1elop"ental and ;"orphological; proble"s that the boo: presents, and, while un<uali+ied assent is rare a"ong the pro+essionals, Spengler continues to be a respectable sub@ect +or scholarly in<uiry. .or is it true that the intellectual "ood in the Western world has changed so +unda"entally +ro" that o+ thirty and +orty

years ago as to preclude an audience +or Spengler-s "essage. I+ anything, the pessi"is", genuine or +eigned, that put his na"e on thousands o+ lips in the twenties and thirties has increased rather than subsided since his death. The "odern totalitarian state, World War II, the e"ergence o+ So1iet !ussia as a "a@or world power, the e1er "ore rapid ad1ance o+ technology 88 all o+ which he (howe1er 1aguely' +oresaw and predicted in his writings 88 ought to ha1e assured his continued rele1ance in the .uclear Age. Aside +ro" the appearance o+ other writers o+ i"aginati1e power who ha1e replaced hi" as spo:es"en +or the predica"ent o+ "odern "an, a nu"ber o+ e9ternal e1ents ha1e obscured Spengler-s signi+icance +or the past thirty years. There is, +irst o+ all, the +act o+ his death in #$7%, at a ti"e when the regi"e in his own country had e++ecti1ely "u//led hi" and when the re"ainder o+ the Western world had once again begun to suspect all things ,er"an. Spengler-s disagree"ent with the .ational Socialist dictatorship, docu"ented in his boo:let Bears o+ Decision (published in the su""er o+ #$77', e1o:ed a go1ern"ent ban on the "ention o+ his na"e in the ,er"an press, and caused Spengler, already a physically bro:en "an, to @oin the ran: o+ the ;inner e"igration.; Abroad, the i"age o+ the brooding ,eschichtsphilosoph beca"e lin:ed with the +rightening display o+ political cynicis" personi+ied by itler, the ;new Caesar.; The irony o+ this "ista:en i"age has ne1er been +ully reali/ed, despite the e++orts o+ scholars in ,er"any and elsewhere to recount and e9plain the last years o+ Spengler-s li+e to postwar readers. In +act, little has e1er been :nown outside o+ ,er"any o+ Spengler-s acti1e concern with conte"porary politics +ro" the ti"e o+ publication o+ The Decline o+ the West to his death al"ost twenty years later. Cudging +ro" the paucity o+ translations o+ his shorter writings, one is inclined to conclude that the world was content with the notion o+ Spengler as the her"it genius, the ,reat Dind who stood utterly aloo+ +ro" his ti"e and society in order to +or"ulate inspired and pro+ound theories o+ uni1ersal history. (erhaps the present selection o+ essays and speeches will help to alter this o1ersi"pli+ied portrait. Once the o1erwhel"ing success o+ the +irst 1olu"e o+ The Decline o+ the West had beco"e apparent, Spengler was +re<uently as:ed to write or spea: on historical and political sub@ects. The prediction o+ +uture de1elop"ents was, a+ter all, part o+ the "ethod propounded in The Decline o+ the West. Cultures, he had theori/ed there, had risen and +allen in the past= once it is established precisely where our own conte"porary Western culture stands within the recurring pattern o+ birth, +lowering, and decay, it will be possible to +oretell, at least in general ter"s, the course o+ history in the ti"e that re"ains at our disposal. Thus, when consulting hi" +or pronounce"ents on +uture e1ents and trends, the countless ,er"an and +oreign clubs, newspapers, institutions, and indi1iduals were in e++ect si"ply ta:ing hi" at his word, and there is so"e e1idence, in his correspondence as well as in the pronounce"ents the"sel1es, that he was not entirely displeased by his role o+ popular oracle. And, li:e all +a"ous oracles, he was "ost o+ten deliberately 1ague and a"biguous when telling the +uture. !eaders "ay be surprised to disco1er in these shorter wor:s that Spengler ga1e such attention to the political e1ents o+ his day. In the opening paragraph o+ (russianis" and Socialis", written about a year a+ter the +irst 1olu"e o+ The Decline o+ the West was published, we learn that the sub@ect "atter o+ this political tract co"prises ;at least in part, the ger"inal stage in the de1elop"ent o+ the entire thesis; o+ the larger wor:. And, indeed, the argu"ent o+ (russianis" and Socialis" reaches deep into past history in order to e9plain present8day a++airs and to help predict the political con+igurations o+ to"orrow. The genuine worry and indignation that in+or"ed this pa"phlet8length state"ent "a:e it all the "ore plausible to see: the roots o+ his broader ;"orphological; 1iew o+ world history in his own conser1ati1e, nationalistic political belie+s.

Spengler was not entirely co"+ortable, howe1er, when spea:ing out on conte"porary politics 88 not because he lac:ed con1ictions on such "atters as parlia"entary de"ocracy and laisse/ +aire econo"ics, but because the language o+ the political pa"phlet was si"ply not his idio", and because the hectic pace o+ topical discussion did not appeal to his scholarly disposition. ;I ha1e @ust +inished "y political piece 0(russianis" and Socialis"3,; he wrote to a +riend in .o1e"ber, #$#$, ;under e9tre"e ner1ous pressure, +or each page had to be deli1ered i""ediately to the printer. I a" not a born @ournalist, and conse<uently I wrote out E66 pages o+ rough dra+t in +our wee:s, and then started paring in order to get #66 printed pages o+ readable ,er"an. I reali/e now how I ought to wor:, and shall ne1er again accept any assign"ent that carries a deadline with it.; !ather than eli"inate the signs o+ haste that the essay does ha1e, I ha1e translated it in its entirety, +or I belie1e that the reader is entitled to sense the urgency that produced this state"ent +ro" Spengler during the early "onths o+ the Wei"ar !epublic. Together with the later boo:let, Bears o+ Decision, it re"ains his "ost i"portant and detailed political "ani+esto. The essay ;(essi"is"); written in #$5# as a correcti1e to the si"plistic popular response to the +irst 1olu"e o+ The Decline o+ the West, atte"pts to clari+y the "eaning o+ that best8selling boo: by distinguishing its "ethod and approach +ro" those o+ the acade"ic historians and philosophers. To the "any war8weary Europeans who har:ened to the ter" Fntergang as a con+ir"ation o+ their worst +ears +or Western culture, Spengler o++ered in this short essay a so"ewhat brighter, i+ no less doggedly +atalistic 1iew o+ our culture-s prospects. The issue o+ pessi"is" touches on the parado9 o+ all deter"inistic world 1iews, including Spengler-s: I+ the course o+ +uture e1ents is ine1itable, what use is there o+ trying to change it) Spengler-s answer here "a:es, I thin:, "ore e"otional than logical sense. ;.o, I a" not a pessi"ist,; he writes. ;(essi"is" "eans not to see any "ore tas:s. I see so "any unsol1ed tas:s that I +ear we shall ha1e neither ti"e nor "en enough to go at the".; The essay closes with what is perhaps Spengler-s "ost o"inous prediction: ;We ,er"ans will ne1er again produce a ,oethe, but indeed a Caesar.; A do/en years later, the prophet cringed at the +ul+ill"ent o+ his prophecy. The speech on ;.iet/sche and is Century; was deli1ered be+ore in1ited guests at the .iet/sche Archi1e in Wei"ar on October, #$5G. Throughout the #$56-s Spengler "aintained cordial relations with Elisabeth *Hrster8.iet/sche, the sister o+ the deceased philosopher. It was not until #$7E, when *rau *Hrster8.iet/sche had in1ited itler to the Archi1e and blatantly co"pro"ised her brother-s heritage by supporting the .a/is- ideological clai" to .iet/sche as a ;precursor,; that Spengler, already benu"bed by the o++icial proscription o+ his Bears o+ Decision, se1ered his connections with this irresponsible wo"an. The #$5G speech contains percepti1e and e1en pro+ound co""ent on .iet/sche-s li+e and wor:s, but also a great deal that is pertinent to the spea:er hi"sel+. .iet/sche, he said in this Wei"ar lecture, ;was the +irst to e9perience as a sy"phony the i"age o+ history that had been created by scholarly research out o+ data and nu"bers 88 the rhyth"ic se<uence o+ ages, custo"s, and attitudes.; Anyone +a"iliar with .iet/sche-s writings will readily concede the truth o+ what Spengler said here, but he will also notice that the point is <uite patently o1erstated. Clearly, Spengler was ascribing to one o+ his "ost i"portant spiritual guides an achie1e"ent that was in +act his own. The occasion +or which Spengler co"posed his lecture entitled ;The Two *aces o+ !ussia and ,er"any-s Eastern (roble"s; was a con1ention o+ captains o+ industry in the heart o+ the !uhr district in early #$55. Ie+ore audiences such as this one he naturally indulged his penchant +or oracular predictions= his re"ar:s about ;the co"ing religion o+ !ussia; "ight stri:e us as a"using now that we ha1e witnessed So1iet de1elop"ents +ro" Stalin to Jhrushche1 and beyond. Iut there is enough depth and insight to this speech to "a:e one suppose that Spengler "ay, allowing the !ussian people enough

ti"e to co"e to itsel+, carry the day a+ter all. is obser1ations ;On the ,er"an .ational Character,; written as an occasional piece +or the +irst issue o+ the annual periodical Deutschland in #$5&, are as accurate and illu"inating as any writings I :now on the sa"e sub@ect. Though his nationalist te"pera"ent shines through the discussion, he e1idently saw "ore clearly than "ost o+ his conte"poraries the inherent a"biguity o+ ,er"an habits and tendencies. The +inal ite" is Spengler-s cabled response to a poll o+ +a"ous personages conducted by the A"erican "aga/ine earst-s International8Cos"opolitan, and appeared in the Canuary, #$7% issue (in barely ade<uate translation'. The <uestion put to the participants in this ti"ely sy"posiu" was the +ollowing: ;Will it +inally be brought ho"e to us that it is hu"an nature itsel+, with its racial antagonis"s, econo"ic ri1alries, and territorial s<uabbles, that will :eep plunging us +ore1er into wars) Or is there reason to belie1e that so"e day the peoples o+ the earth "ay abolish wholesale :illing and en@oy their li1es in security and peace); !eplies were recei1ed +ro" nineteen pro"inent personalities, including Eleanor !oose1elt, Dar: Sulli1an, A"elia Earhart, Dean Inge, ,eneral ;Iilly; Ditchell, a1eloc: Ellis, Dahat"a ,andhi, and 4in Bu T-ang. Their opinions ranged +ro" ,andhi-s and Drs. !oose1elt-s guarded opti"is" to the star: and hopeless picture drawn by Spengler. This brie+ state"ent on world peace was Oswald Spengler-s +inal public pronounce"ent. It is ironic that he should appear as the sole representati1e o+ ,er"any in the Cos"opolitan sy"posiu"= A"erican readers will ha1e interpreted his biologistic language and his re"ar:s on the ;colored peoples; as yet another "ani+estation o+ .a/i ideology. Fn:nown to the rest o+ the world was Spengler-s +rustration and sorrow o1er what was happening in his country. The oracle spo:e, and was +ore1er silent.

(essi"is") *irst published in (reuKische CahrbLcher, C4MMMI> (#$5#'.

Dy boo: 0#3 has "et with widespread "isunderstandings. In a sense, that is al"ost an ine1itable conco"itant o+ any no1el approach which arri1es at new conclusions. Such a reaction is all the "ore to be e9pected when the conclusions reached, or e1en the perspecti1es and "ethodology that led to the", present a serious challenge to the pre1ailing "ood o+ an age. When such a boo: chances to beco"e +ashionable, the "isunderstandings will "ultiply. *or then people are con+ronted suddenly by a co"ple9 o+ ideas which they should actually not ha1e atte"pted to digest until a+ter years o+ preparatory reading. With "y own boo: there is the added di++iculty that only the negati1e side o+ the picture has hitherto reached the public. Dost critics ha1e neglected to obser1e that this +irst 1olu"e represents only a +rag"ent +ro" which, as I was soon to reali/e, it is not easy to +or" conclusions about what is to +ollow. The +orthco"ing second 1olu"e will round out the ;Dorphology o+ World istory,; thus bringing to a close "y e9a"ination o+ at least one aspect o+ the proble". Attenti1e readers will ha1e noticed that I touched brie+ly on a second aspect, the ethical <uestion, in "y essay (russianis" and Socialis". (#. The Decline o+ the West, >ol. I.'

One +urther obstacle to an understanding o+ "y boo: is the rather disconcerting title it bears. I was care+ul to e"phasi/e that this title was chosen years be+ore publication, and that it ob@ecti1ely describes a si"ple +act +or which e1idence can be +ound in the "ost +a"iliar e1ents o+ world history. Still, there are people who cannot hear the word ;decline; without thin:ing o+ a sudden and dread+ul cala"ity. Dy title does not i"ply catastrophe. (erhaps we could eli"inate the ;pessi"is"; without altering the real sense o+ the title i+ we were to substitute +or ;decline; the word ;+ul+ill"ent,; bearing in "ind the special +unctions that ,oethe assigned to this concept in his own world 1iew. owe1er, e1en the +irst install"ent o+ "y boo: was not addressed to speculati1e persons, but to acti1e ones. Dy ai" was to present an i"age o+ the world to be li1ed with, rather than to de1ise a syste" +or pro+essional philosophers to brood o1er. I was not aware o+ this distinction at the ti"e, but it will ob1iously pre1ent a large nu"ber o+ readers +ro" arri1ing at a true understanding o+ what the boo: is about. The acti1e person li1es in the world o+ pheno"ena and with it. e does not re<uire logical proo+s, indeed he o+ten cannot understand the". ;(hysiogno"ic rhyth"; 88 one o+ the ter"s that practically no one has been able to co"prehend +ully 88 gi1es hi" deeper insights than any "ethod based on logical proo+ e1er could. I "ade assertions in "y boo: which scholarly readers ha1e regarded as co"pletely contradictory. Bet all these are things that ha1e long been +elt and cherished pri1ately, though not necessarily consciously, by indi1iduals who are inclined to a li+e o+ action. When such indi1iduals read boo:s, that is to say, when they enter the real" o+ theory, they re@ect the sa"e ;historical relati1is"; that is second nature to the" when they are engaged in practical acti1ity, or are obser1ing people and situations +or the purposes o+ action. The conte"plati1e person, on the other hand, is by nature re"ote +ro" li+e. e 1iews it +ro" a distance, +or it is strange and goes against the grain. As soon as it threatens to beco"e so"ething other than an obser1ed ob@ect, he is annoyed. Conte"plati1e persons collect, dissect, and arrange things, not +or any practical purpose but si"ply because it "a:es the" happy. They de"and logical proo+s and :now how to go about getting the". To the", a boo: such as "ine "ust +ore1er re"ain an aberration. *or I con+ess that I ha1e ne1er had anything but conte"pt +or ;philosophy +or its own sa:e.; To "y way o+ thin:ing there is nothing "ore tedious than pure logic, scienti+ic psychology, general ethics and esthetics. 4i+e is not "ade up o+ science and generalities. E1ery line that is not written in the ser1ice o+ acti1e li1ing see"s to "e super+luous. At the ris: o+ being ta:en too literally, I would say that "y way o+ loo:ing at the world is related to the ;syste"atic; way as the "e"oirs o+ a states"an are related to the ideal state o+ a utopian. The +or"er writes down what he has li1ed through= the latter records what he has drea"ed up. .ow there does e9ist, particularly in the ,er"an tradition, what "ight be called a states"anli:e way o+ e9periencing the world, an un+orced and unsyste"atic attitude toward li+e which can be recorded only by "eans o+ a :ind o+ "etaphysical "e"oir8writing. It is i"portant to reali/e that "y boo: belongs in this tradition. I+ in the +ollowing I "ention so"e illustrious na"es, it is not "eant to i"ply anything about the <uality o+ the boo: but "erely to indicate the type o+ 1ision that went into its "a:ing. A power+ul strea" o+ ,er"an thought runs +ro" 4eibni/ to ,oethe and egel, and on into the +uture. 4i:e all things ,er"an, this strea" was +orced to run underground and to +low on unnoticed through the centuries. *or o1er the sa"e period e1en the creators o+ this tradition +ound that they had to adapt the"sel1es to +oreign and super+icial patterns o+ thought.

4eibni/ was ,oethe-s great teacher, although the latter was ne1er really conscious o+ it. ,oethe o+ten adopted genuinely 4eibni/ian ideas, either out o+ a natural a++inity +or his thought or through the in+luence o+ his +riend erder. In such instances, howe1er, he always re+erred to Spino/a, whose "ode o+ thin:ing was in +act <uite dissi"ilar. 4eibni/-s outstanding characteristic was his constant in1ol1e"ent in the i"portant e1ents o+ his ti"e. I+ we were to re"o1e +ro" his wor:s all the ite"s that are concerned with politics, the reuni+ication o+ the churches, "ining pro@ects, and the organi/ation o+ science and "athe"atics, not "uch would be le+t. ,oethe rese"bles hi" in that he always thought historically, i.e., with constant re+erence to the real +acts o+ e9istence. 4i:e 4eibni/, he would ne1er ha1e been capable o+ constructing an abstract philosophical syste". egel was the last great thin:er to ta:e political realities as his point o+ departure without letting his thought be entirely s"othered by abstractions. Then ca"e .iet/sche, a dilettante in the best sense, who held +ir"ly aloo+ +ro" acade"ic philosophy, which by his ti"e had beco"e altogether sterile. e was ta:en in by Darwin-s theories, yet he transcended the age o+ English Darwinis". e ga1e us the 1ision with which we can now bring about a 1ictory +or a 1ital and practical approach to world history. These are, as I now see, the pre"ises that unconsciously in+luenced "y writing. A"ong the" there is not a single ;syste"; o+ generalities. The historical co"pilations o+ 4eibni/, ,oethe-s obser1ations on nature, and egel-s lectures on world history were all written in clear 1iew o+ +actual reality 88 so"ething that cannot be said o+ Jant-s and Schopenhauer-s wor:s. I construe the relationships between reality and speculati1e thought in a "anner wholly di++erent +ro" the syste"atic philosophers. *or the" reality is li+eless "atter +ro" which laws can be deri1ed. *or "e, reality presents e9a"ples that illu"inate an e9perienced thought, a thought which is co""unicable only in this +or". Iecause this approach is unscienti+ic, it re<uires an unco""on +acility +or thin:ing in broad outlines and +or synthesi/ing. It nor"ally happens, as I ha1e had occasion to notice, that as the reader concentrates on one point in "y boo: he <uic:ly loses sight o+ the others. In doing so he "isconstrues e1erything, +or the boo: is so cohesi1e that to isolate a single detail is tanta"ount to co""itting an error. Doreo1er, one "ust be able to read between the lines. Dany things are "erely hinted at, while others cannot be e9pressed at all in scienti+ic +ashion. The central idea is the concept o+ Destiny. The reason it is so di++icult to "a:e the reader understand it is that the process o+ syste"atic, rational thought leads hi" to its 1ery opposite: the idea o+ causality. Destiny and Chance are "atters <uite re"ote +ro" the apprehension o+ cause and e++ect, antecedent and conse<uent. There is a danger that Destiny "ay be "isunderstood as si"ply another way o+ re+erring to a causal se<uence that e9ists without being readily 1isible. The scienti+ic "ind will ne1er be able to grasp this. The ability to percei1e +acts o+ an e"otional and 1ital nature ceases as soon as one begins to thin: analytically. Destiny is a word whose "eaning is +elt. Ti"e, Bearning, and 4i+e are closely related concepts. .o one can presu"e to understand the essence o+ "y thought unless he can sense the ulti"ate "eaning o+ these words as I intended it. The idea o+ Destiny leads to a :ind o+ e9perience that is e9ceedingly di++icult to co"prehend. I call it ;depth e9perience.; It is "ore closely related to rational thought, but only in its end e++ect, not in its origins. This concept presents us with two o+ the "ost di++icult proble"s o+ all. What is "eant by the word ;Ti"e;) There is no scienti+ic answer to this <uestion. What is "eant by the word ;Space;) ere, rational thought "ay possibly pro1ide us with an answer. Bet a connection e9ists between Destiny and Ti"e, and also between Space and Causality. What, then, is the relationship between Destiny and Cause) The answer to this is +unda"ental to the concept o+ depth e9perience, but it lies beyond all "anners o+ scienti+ic e9perience and co""unication. The +act o+ depth e9perience is as indisputable as it is ine9plicable.

A third concept, li:ewise 1ery di++icult to grasp, is that o+ (hysiogno"ic !hyth". This is actually so"ething which e1ery hu"an being possesses. e li1es with it and constantly applies it to practical ends. It is so"ething one is born with and which cannot be ac<uired. The pro1erbial naN1etO and ludicrousness displayed in public a++airs by the old8style abstract scholar is a result o+ the retarded de1elop"ent o+ this rhyth". .e1ertheless, e1en this personality type possesses enough o+ it to go on li1ing. What I ha1e in "ind, howe1er, is a 1ery e9alted +or" o+ this !hyth", an unconscious techni<ue o+ grasping not "erely the pheno"ena o+ e1eryday li+e but the sense o+ the uni1erse. *ew persons can be said to "aster it. It is the techni<ue that "a:es a genuine historian the e<ual o+ a born states"an, despite the disparity between theory and practice. O+ the two principal techni<ues o+ gaining :nowledge and understanding, it is without doubt the "ore i"portant by +ar +or history and real li+e. The other "ethod, syste"atic thought, ser1es only to disco1er truths. Iut +acts are "ore i"portant than truths. The entire course o+ political and econo"ic history, indeed o+ all hu"an endea1ors, is dependent on the constant application o+ this techni<ue by indi1iduals, including the insigni+icant indi1iduals who are historically passi1e as well as the great ones who "a:e history. The physiogno"ic techni<ue is predo"inant during "ost o+ the wa:ing li+e o+ historically acti1e and passi1e indi1iduals. Iy co"parison, the syste"atic techni<ue, which is the only one recogni/ed by philosophy, is 1irtually reduced to historical insigni+icance. What "a:es "y approach so unorthodo9 is the +act that it is consciously based on the techni<ue o+ real li+e. As a result it is inwardly consistent, though it lac:s a syste". The concept that has caused the "ost serious "isunderstandings is the one to which I assigned, not <uite +ortunately perhaps, the ter" ;relati1is".; This has not the slightest thing in co""on with the relati1is" o+ physical science, which is based solely on the "athe"atical contrast between constant and +unction. It will ta:e years +or readers to beco"e su++iciently +a"iliar with "y concept +or it to gain real currency. *or it is a co"pletely ethical 1iew o+ the world in which indi1idual li1es ta:e their course. To those who ha1e not understood the concept o+ Destiny, this ter" will be "eaningless. As I see it, !elati1is" in history is an a++ir"ation o+ the idea o+ Destiny. The uni<ueness, irre1ocability, and nonrecurrence o+ all e1ents is the +or" in which Destiny "ani+ests itsel+ to the hu"an eye. 4i:e the (hysiogno"ic Techni<ue, this !elati1is" has e9isted, either in acti1e li+e or in passi1e obser1ation, at all ti"es. It is such a natural part o+ real li+e, and is in such co"plete control o+ e1eryday occurrences, that it does not reach the consciousness. In +act, when the "ind is engaged in theori/ing, i.e., when it is +or"ing generali/ations, the e9istence o+ this !elati1is" is usually denied e"phatically. The idea is not really new as such. In our late age there can be no new ideas. Throughout the entire nineteenth century not one <uestion was raised that had not already been disco1ered, re+lected upon, and brilliantly +or"ulated by the Scholastics. It is only because !elati1is" is such an intrinsic ele"ent o+ li+e, and thus so unphilosophical an idea, that it has not been considered suitable as part o+ a ;syste".; The old adage, ;One "an-s "eat is another "an-s poison,; is @ust about the re1erse o+ all acade"ic philosophy. The acade"ic is bent on pro1ing that one "an-s "eat is e1ery "an-s "eat, i.e., that the ethical point he has @ust pro1ed in his boo: is binding on all. I ha1e <uite consciously ta:en the opposite standpoint, na"ely that o+ li+e, not o+ thought. The two naN1e positions "aintain either that so"ething e9ists that has nor"ati1e 1alue +or all eternity regardless o+ Ti"e and Destiny, or that such a thing does not e9ist. owe1er, what is here called !elati1is" is neither o+ these two positions. It is here that I ha1e created

so"ething new. It is an e9perienced +act that ;world history; is not a uni+ied se<uence o+ e1ents, but rather a collection o+ high cultures, o+ which there ha1e been eight in nu"ber up to now. The li+e histories o+ these cultures are <uite independent o+ each other, yet each shares a si"ilar structural pattern with all the others. This being established, I de"onstrated that e1ery obser1er, regardless o+ whether he thin:s in ter"s o+ li+e or o+ thought only, thin:s solely as a representati1e o+ his own particular ti"e. With this we can dis"iss one o+ the "ost absurd criticis"s le1eled against "y 1iews: the argu"ent that !elati1is" carries with it its own re+utation. The conclusion to be drawn is that +or e1ery culture, +or e1ery epoch within a culture, and +or e1ery :ind o+ indi1idual within an epoch there e9ists an o1erall perspecti1e that is i"posed and e9acted by the ti"e in <uestion. This perspecti1e "ust be considered absolute +or that particular ti"e, but not with respect to other ti"es. There is a perspecti1e i"posed by our own ti"e, yet it goes without saying that it is di++erent +ro" that o+ the Age o+ ,oethe. ;True; and ;+alse; are concepts that cannot be applied here. The only pertinent descripti1e ter"s are ;deep; and ;shallow.; Whoe1er thin:s di++erently is, in any case, incapable o+ thin:ing historically. Any 1ital approach to the proble"s o+ history, including the one I a" proposing, belongs to a single ti"e. It e1ol1ed out o+ a pre1ious approach and will in turn e1ol1e into another. There are in all o+ history @ust as +ew totally correct or totally +alse approaches as there are right and wrong stages in the growth o+ a plant. All are necessary, and the only sensible thing to say is that a certain stage is success+ul or unsuccess+ul with respect to the de"ands o+ the "o"ent. The sa"e holds true +or e1ery world 1iew, no "atter when it arises. E1en the "ost hard8bitten syste"atic philosopher +eels this. e uses such ter"s as ;obsolete,; ;typical +or the age,; and ;pre"ature; to describe the 1iews o+ others. Iy so doing he is ad"itting that the concepts o+ truth and +alsity ha1e "eaning only +or the outer shell o+ science, but not +or its 1ital essence. Thus we arri1e at the distinction between +acts and truths. A +act is so"ething uni<ue, so"ething which has really e9isted or will really e9ist. A truth is so"ething which can e9ist as a possibility without e1er entering reality. Destiny has to do with +acts= the relation between cause and e++ect is a truth. All this has been :nown since ti"e i""e"orial. What "en ha1e +ailed to reali/e, howe1er, is that li+e, +or that 1ery reason, has to do only with +acts, that it is "ade up o+ +acts e9clusi1ely, and that its only "ode o+ response is +actual. Truths are <uantities o+ thought, and their i"portance lies solely within the real" o+ thought. Truths can be +ound in a doctoral dissertation in philosophy= +lun:ing a doctoral e9a"ination is a +act. !eality begins where the real" o+ thought ends. .o one, not e1en the "ost ascetic syste"atician, can o1erloo: this +act o+ li+e. And, indeed, he does not o1erloo: it. Iut he +orgets it as soon as he starts thin:ing about li+e instead o+ li1ing it. I+ I can lay clai" to any acco"plish"ent at all, it is that no one can e1er again 1iew the +uture as an unwritten tablet on which anybody can inscribe whate1er pleases his +ancy. The capricious and arbitrary outloo: that endorses the "otto ;It shall be thusP; "ust now gi1e way to a cool and clear 1ision that sees the possible, and there+ore necessary, +acts o+ the +uture, and that "a:es its options accordingly. The +irst thing that con+ronts "an in the +or" o+ Destiny is the ti"e and place o+ his birth. This is an inescapable +act= no a"ount o+ thought can co"prehend its origin, and no will can a1ert it. Doreo1er, it is the "ost decisi1e +act o+ all. E1eryone is born into a people, a religion, a class, an age, a culture. It is Destiny that deter"ines whether a "an be born a sla1e in (ericlean Athens, a :night at the ti"e o+ the Crusades, or a laborer-s or rich "an-s son in our own day. I+ anything can be called +ate, +ortune, or destiny, it is this. istory "eans that li+e is constantly changing. *or the indi1idual, howe1er, li+e is precisely thus and so, and not otherwise. With his birth the indi1idual recei1es his nature and a particular range o+ possible tas:s, within which he has the pri1ilege o+ +ree choice. Whate1er his nature wills or is capable o+, whate1er his birth allows or pre1ents, +or e1ery indi1idual

there is prescribed a de+inite range o+ happiness or "isery, greatness or cowardice, tragedy or absurdity, which will "a:e up his li+e only. What is "ore, Destiny deter"ines whether his li+e is to ha1e signi+icance +or the li1es o+ those around hi", that is to say, whether it will be "eaning+ul +or history. In the light o+ this, the "ost +unda"ental o+ +acts, all philosophi/ing about ;the; tas: o+ ;hu"anity; and ;the; nature o+ ;"orality; is idle tal:. That is what is truly no1el in "y approach, an idea that had to be e9pressed and "ade accessible to li+e a+ter the entire nineteenth century had stri1en toward it: *austian "an-s conscious relation to history. (eople ha1e not understood why I chose to substitute a new i"age +or the usual pattern (anti<uity 88 Diddle Ages 88 "odern ti"es'. Dan li1es constantly ;in an i"age;= it go1erns his decisions, and shapes his "entality. e can ne1er rid hi"sel+ o+ an old i"age until he has ac<uired a new one and has "ade it co"pletely his own. ; istorical 1ision; 88 this is possible only +or Western European "an, and e1en +or hi" it is possible only +ro" this "o"ent on. .iet/sche could still spea: o+ the historical disease. e used this ter" to describe what he saw around hi": the +aint8hearted ro"anticis" o+ the poets and writers, the philologians- drea"li:e nostalgia +or the distant past, the patriots- habit o+ ti"idly consulting pre1ious history be+ore arri1ing at any decisions, the urge to co"pare, sy"pto"atic o+ insu++icient "ental independence. Since #?&6 we ,er"ans ha1e su++ered "ore +ro" this disease than any other nation. Is it not true that we ha1e continually loo:ed to the ancient Teutons, to the Crusader :nights, and Hlderlin-s ,ree:s whene1er we ha1e been at a loss +or what to do in the Age o+ Electricity) The Iritish ha1e been "ore +ortunate. They ha1e preser1ed all the institutions that sprang up in the wa:e o+ the .or"an Con<uest: their laws, +reedo"s, and custo"s. At all ti"es they ha1e been able to sustain an i"pressi1e tradition without e1er seeing it in @eopardy. They ha1e ne1er +elt the need to co"pensate +or a thousand years o+ shattered ideals by ga/ing nostalgically into the re"ote past. The historical disease lingers on in the idealis" and hu"anis" o+ today-s ,er"any. It is causing us to concoct pretentious plans +or i"pro1ing the world= each day brings so"e radically new and +oolproo+ sche"e +or gi1ing all aspects o+ li+e their +inal, correct +or". The only practical outco"e o+ all these designs lies in the +act that they are e9hausting crucial energies through senseless <uarreling, spoiling our chances to disco1er real opportunities, and +ailing to gi1e 4ondon and (aris any real co"petition. istorical 1ision is the direct opposite o+ this. Those who ha1e it are e9perts 88 con+ident, cool8headed e9perts. A thousand years o+ historical thought and research ha1e spread out be+ore us a 1ast treasure, not o+ :nowledge, +or that is relati1ely uni"portant, but o+ e9perience. Once these e9periences are 1iewed in the perspecti1e I ha1e @ust described, they ta:e on an entirely new "eaning. Fp to now 88 this is truer +or the ,er"ans than +or any other nation 88 we ha1e loo:ed to the past +or "odels to li1e by. Iut there are no "odels. There are only e9a"ples o+ how the li+e o+ indi1iduals, peoples, and cultures ha1e e1ol1ed, reached "aturity, and beco"e e9tinct. These e9a"ples show us the relationships that e9ist between inborn character and e9ternal conditions, between Te"po and Duration. We are not gi1en patterns to i"itate. !ather, we can obser1e how so"ething happened, and thus learn what conse<uences to e9pect +ro" our own situation. Fp to now only a +ew persons ha1e had such insights, and then only with regard to their i""ediate pupils, subordinates, or co8wor:ers. So"e superior states"en ha1e had it as well, but only in connection with personalities and nations o+ their own ti"e. This was the re+ined art o+ controlling li+e-s +orces, ac<uired through the ability to sei/e its opportunities and predict its changes. With this art one could be "aster o1er others or e1en be Destiny itsel+. We are now in a position to do li:ewise +or

our own culture, predicting its course +or centuries ahead as i+ it were an organis" whose inner structure we had studied e9hausti1ely. We reali/e that e1ery +act is a chance occurrence, un+oreseen and unpredictable. Bet with the picture o+ other cultures be+ore us, we can be @ust as sure that the nature and course o+ +uture li+e, o+ indi1iduals as well as o+ cultures, are not accidental. *uture de1elop"ents can, o+ course, be brought to per+ection, threatened, corrupted, and destroyed by the +ree choice o+ acti1e persons. Iut they can ne1er be di1erted +ro" their real direction and "eaning. This has "ade possible +or the +irst ti"e a truly great +or" o+ education. It will re<uire the recognition o+ inner potentialities. It will "ean i"posing obligations, not on the basis o+ ;ideal; abstractions, but in agree"ent with the prediction o+ +uture +acts. It will necessitate the training o+ indi1iduals and whole generations +or the +ul+ill"ent o+ these obligations. *or the +irst ti"e we are able to see that the entire literature o+ ideal ;truths,; all o+ those noble, well8"eant, and +oolhardy sche"es, outlines, and brainstor"s, all o+ those boo:s, pa"phlets, and speeches are absolutely useless. All other cultures ha1e, at a corresponding stage in their de1elop"ent, labeled these things +or what they are and consigned the" to obli1ion. Their only tangible e++ect was to ha1e puny scholars write boo:s about the" later. 4et "e repeat: *or the "ere obser1er there "ay be such things as truths= +or li+e there are no truths, only +acts. This leads "e to the <uestion o+ pessi"is". When in #$##, under the i"pression o+ the e1ents at Agadir, I suddenly disco1ered "y ;philosophy,; the European8A"erican world was in+used with the tri1ial opti"is" o+ the Darwinist age. With the title o+ "y boo:, chosen in instincti1e opposition to the pre1ailing "ood, I unconsciously put "y +inger on the aspect o+ e1olution that no one was willing to see. I+ I had to choose again now, I would try with another +or"ula to stri:e at today-s e<ually tri1ial pessi"is". I would be the last person to "aintain that history can be appraised by "eans o+ a catchword. Ie that as it "ay, as +ar as the ;goal o+ hu"anity; is concerned I a" a con1inced and thoroughgoing pessi"ist. As I see it, hu"anity is a /oological entity. I see no progress, no goal or path +or "an:ind, e9cept perhaps in the "inds o+ Western progress8"ongers. In this "ere "ass o+ population I can distinguish no such thing as a ;spirit,; not to spea: o+ a unity o+ e++ort, +eeling, or understanding. The only place where I can "a:e out a "eaning+ul ad1ance o+ li+e toward a particular goal, a unity o+ soul, will, and e9perience, is in the history o+ single cultures. What we disco1er there is, to be sure, li"ited and +actual. Bet it shows us a progression +ro" desire to acco"plish"ent, cul"inating in new tas:s that do not ta:e the +or" o+ ethical catchwords and generalities but, rather, o+ tangible historical goals. Whoe1er chooses to call this pessi"is" will re1eal thereby his utterly pedestrian idealis". This :ind o+ person sees history as a highway, with "an:ind plodding along steadily in one direction, +ore1er +ollowing so"e philosophical clichO or other. The philosophers, each in his own way but nonetheless ;correctly; in e1ery case, ha1e long since hit upon the subli"e and abstract ter"inology to describe the true goal and essence o+ our earthly so@ourn. Bet opti"is" consists +urther in +ore1er stri1ing a+ter these slogans without e1er reaching the". A concei1able end to all this stri1ing would spoil the ideal. Whosoe1er ob@ects to all this is a pessi"ist. I would be asha"ed to go through li+e with such tawdry ideals. There is in all o+ this the di++idence o+ born drea"ers and cowards, people who cannot stand to +ace reality and +or"ulate a real goal in a +ew sensible words. They insist on broad generalities that glitter in the distance. This cal"s the +ears o+ those who are i"potent when it co"es to anything de"anding leadership, enterprise, or initiati1e. I a" aware that a boo: such as "ine can ha1e de1astating conse<uences +or these people. ,er"ans ha1e written to "e +ro" A"erica that +or persons who are deter"ined to be so"ething in li+e, the boo: has

the e++ect o+ a bracing tonic. Still, those born only +or drea"ing, poetry, and oratory can be conta"inated by any boo:. I :now these ;+air youths;= the uni1ersities and literary coteries are +airly crawling with the". *irst it was Schopenhauer, and then .iet/sche, who +reed the" +ro" the obligation to e9pend energy. .ow they ha1e +ound a new liberator. .o, I a" not a pessi"ist. (essi"is" "eans not to see any "ore tas:s. I see so "any unsol1ed tas:s that I +ear we shall ha1e neither ti"e nor "en enough to go at the". The practical aspects o+ physics and che"istry ha1e co"e nowhere near the li"its o+ their possibilities. Technology has yet to reach its pea: in nearly all +ields. One o+ the "a@or tas:s still +acing "odern classical philology is to create an i"age o+ anti<uity that will re"o1e +ro" the "inds o+ our educated populace the ;classical; picture, with its in1itation to pedestrian idealis". There is no better place than Classical anti<uity to learn how "atters really stand in the world, and how ro"anticis" and abstract ideals ha1e been shattered ti"e and again by +actual e1ents. Things would be <uite di++erent +or us i+ we had spent "ore ti"e in school on Thucydides and less on o"er. Fp to now no states"an has e1er thought to write a co""entary on Thucydides, (olybius, or Tacitus +or our young people. We ha1e neither an econo"ic history o+ anti<uity nor a history o+ ancient politics. Despite the astonishing parallels to Western European history no one has e1er written a political history o+ China to the reign o+ Shih uang Ti. The 4aw, i"posed by the social and econo"ic structure o+ our ci1ili/ation, is still in the initial stages o+ being in1estigated. According to those "ost +a"iliar with the +ield, the science o+ @urisprudence has yet to reach out beyond philology and dry scholasticis". (olitical econo"ics is as yet not really a science at all. I shall re+rain +ro" discussing the political, econo"ic, and organi/ational tas:s we +ace in our own +uture. What our conte"plati1es and idealists are see:ing is a co"+ortable Weltanschauung, a philosophical syste" that re<uires only that one be con1inced by it= they want a "oral e9cuse +or their ti"orousness. These are the born debaters who spend their days in the re"ote corners o+ li+e discussing things. 4et the" stay there. We cannot +ashion a progra" +or the +uture "illennia o+ hu"anity without running the ris: o+ its being thwarted i""ediately by reality. It is possible, howe1er, to do so"ething o+ the sort +or the ne9t +ew centuries o+ *austian culture, the historical outlines o+ which are 1isible. What are the i"plications o+ these +acts) The (uritan pride o+ England says, ;E1erything is predestined. There+ore I "ust e"erge 1ictorious.; The others say, ;E1erything is predestined. That is prosaic and not at all idealistic. ence there is no use e1en trying.; Iut the truth is that the tas:s +acing the +actual persons a"ong us Westerners are innu"erable. *or the ro"antics and ideologists, howe1er, who cannot thin: o+ the world without writing poe"s, painting pictures, de1ising ethical syste"s, or li1ing sole"n Weltanschauungen, it is <uite understandably a hopeless prospect. I shall co"e right out and say it 88 let those who wish cry out in protest: The historical signi+icance o+ art and abstract thought is seriously o1errated. .o "atter how i"portant their role has been during great eras, there ha1e always been "ore essential things. In the history o+ art the i"portance o+ ,rLnewald and Do/art cannot be o1eresti"ated. In the real history o+ the ages o+ Charles > and 4ouis M> their e9istence is o+ no conse<uence at all. It "ay happen that a great historical e1ent sti"ulates an artist. The re1erse has ne1er occurred. What is being produced by way o+ art today does not e1en bear signi+icance +or art history. And as +ar as today-s acade"ic philosophy is concerned, none o+ its 1arious ;schools; has the slightest pertinence +or li+e or the soul. .either our educated citi/enry nor scholars in the other disciplines are really paying attention to the". All they are good +or is to ha1e dissertations written about the", which will be <uoted in later dissertations, none o+ which will e1er be read e9cept

by +uture philosophy pro+essors. It was .iet/sche who <uestioned the 1alidity o+ science. It is high ti"e that we as:ed the sa"e <uestions about art. Eras without genuine art and philosophy can still be great eras= the !o"ans ha1e de"onstrated this +or us. Bet +or those who are always a step behind the ti"es, the arts are synony"ous with 4i+e itsel+. .ot +or us, howe1er. (eople ha1e told "e that without art li+e is not worth li1ing. I as: in return: *or who" is it not worth li1ing) I should not care to ha1e li1ed as a sculptor, ethical philosopher, or dra"atist in the days o+ Darius and Caesar. .or would I care to ha1e been a "e"ber o+ so"e Ste+an ,eorge Circle, attac:ing !o"an politics +ro" behind the *oru" with the grand pose o+ the littOrateur. .o one can ha1e a closer a++inity +or the great art o+ our past 88 +or there is none today 88 than I. I should not care to li1e without ,oethe, Sha:espeare, or the great "onu"ents o+ older architecture. I a" thrilled by any subli"e !enaissance "asterpiece, precisely because I a" aware o+ its li"itations. I lo1e Iach and Do/art "ore than I can say= but this cannot "a:e "e spea: o+ all the thousands o+ writers, painters, and philosophers that populate our cities as true artists and thin:ers. There is "ore painting, writing, and ;outlining; going on in ,er"any today than in all the other countries put together. Is this culture) Or is it a de+iciency o+ our sense o+ reality) Are we so rich in creati1e talent, or are we lac:ing in practical energy) And do the results @usti+y in any way at all the noisy sel+8ad1ertise"ent) E9pressionis", yesterday-s 1ogue, produced not a single personality or artistic wor: o+ any note. As soon as I began to <uestion the sincerity o+ that "o1e"ent I was shouted down by a thousand 1oices. (ainters, "usicians, and poets tried to pro1e "e wrong, but with words, not with deeds. I shall stand corrected when they co"e +orth with the e<ui1alent o+ Tristan, the a""er:la1ier Sonata, Jing 4ear, or the paintings o+ DarOes. It is a great "ista:e to consider these +laccid, e++e"inate, super+luous ;"o1e"ents; as the necessary pheno"ena o+ our age. I call this the artsy8cra+tsy approach. Architecture, painting, poetry, religion, politics, e1en philosophy itsel+ are treated as handicra+ts, techni<ues that can be taught and learned within the +our walls o+ the studio. This is the argu"ent that e"anates +ro" all o+ our ;circles; and brotherhoods, ca+Os and lecture halls, e9hibits, @ournals, and publishing houses 88 and it ree:s to high hea1en. It not only wants to be tolerated, it wants +ull sway. It calls itsel+ ,er"an. It purports to clai" the +uture. E1en in this area I see tas:s ahead +or us, yet I loo: in 1ain +or the "en ("enP' to per+or" the". One o+ the tas:s +or our century is the ,er"an no1el. Fp to now we ha1e had only ,oethe. The art o+ the no1el re<uires outstanding personalities, superior in 1igor and breadth o+ 1ision, reared in cultural e9cellence, high8"inded but tact+ul in their 1iews. As yet there is no ,er"an prose to "atch the English and the *rench. What we ha1e is the indi1idual style o+ single writers, isolated e9a"ples o+ personal "astery against a bac:ground o+ 1ery poor a1erage per+or"ance. The no1el could bring about this i"pro1e"ent. .owadays, howe1er, practical "en such as industrialists and ar"y o++icers are using better, sounder, clearer, "ore pro+ound language than the tenth8rate scribblers who thin: style is a sport. ere in the land o+ Till Eulenspiegel we ha1e yet to produce a co"edy in the grand "anner, subli"e and pro+ound, cle1er, tragic, light and re+ined. It is now al"ost the only re"aining +or" in which a writer can be poet and philosopher at once, and without pretense. 4i:e .iet/sche a while ago, I still +eel the need +or a ,er"an Car"en, +ull o+ spice and wit, spar:ling with "elody and rhyth", a wor: to stand in the proud tradition o+ Do/art, Cohann Strauss, Iruc:ner, and the young Schu"ann. Iut the

orchestral acrobats o+ today are inco"petents. Since Wagner-s death not one great creator o+ "elody has appeared on the scene. There was a ti"e when art was a 1ital enterprise, when li+e-s rhyth" too: hold o+ artists, their wor:s, and their public to such an e9tent that pro+undity o+ thought, rather than +or"al e9actitude, was the true criterion o+ artistic greatness. Instead o+ this 1ital rhyth", we ha1e today what is called the ;creati1e outline; 88 the "ost despicable thing i"aginable. E1erything that lac:s li+e is getting ;outlined.; They are ;outlining; a pri1ate culture with theosophy and the leader8cult= they are ;outlining; a pri1ate religion with editions o+ Iuddha on hand8"ade paper= they are ;outlining; a State in the spirit o+ Eros. Since the !e1olution there ha1e been ;outlines; +or agriculture, co""erce, and industry. These ideals should be dashed to pieces= the louder the noise, the better. ardness, !o"an hardness is ta:ing o1er now. Soon there will be no roo" +or anything else. Art, yes= but in concrete and steel. 4iterature, yes= but by "en with iron ner1es and unco"pro"ising depth o+ 1ision. !eligion, yes= but ta:e up your hy"nboo:, not your classy edition o+ Con+ucius, and go to church. (olitics, yes= but in the hands o+ states"en and not idealists. .othing else will be o+ conse<uence. And we "ust ne1er lose sight o+ what lies behind and ahead o+ us citi/ens o+ this century. We ,er"ans will ne1er again produce a ,oethe, but indeed a Caesar.

On the ,er"an .ational Character *irst published in Deutsches Adelsblatt, M4II (#$5G'.

The character o+ a people is the product o+ its destinies. In the last analysis it is not soil, cli"ate, s:y, and sea that deter"ine this character. .or is it race or blood. These things are "erely the raw "etal that gets ha""ered into shape by historical reality. 4east o+ all is a people-s character the result o+ its culture, that which it has ac<uired through speech, writing, and reading. Such things cannot e1en be regarded as outer trappings. In history, character is wrought "ore by su++ering than by success. !o"an character was not a conse<uence o+ the 1ictories won in the great era +ollowing the Iattle o+ Sentiu". !ather, the 1ictories presupposed the e9istence o+ this character, which was +or"ed in the pre1ious long centuries o+ "isery when the !o"an people constantly li1ed on the 1erge o+ annihilation. The white peoples o+ today, e1en the oldest a"ong the", are not "ore than one thousand years old. They ha1e co"e into being since the ti"e o+ Charle"agne, when ,er"anic tribes "ingled with the scattered re"ains o+ past nations, thus creating a hand+ul o+ new lines. What has since happened to the" can be read in their national characters, which "ay e9hibit wea: or strong, subli"e or ridiculous, pro+ound or shallow traits. There it can be seen whether they +eel at ho"e or estranged in the world, whether they see: their +ortune in it or su++er by it. Bet e1en the intense gaiety o+ so"e regions, e1en the laughter o+ the inns and +ol: +esti1als still bears testi"ony to strea"s o+ blood and tears, to countless "assacres, heartbrea:ing disappoint"ents, the sacri+ice o+ whole generations, and repeated +ailures and de+eats. ;World history,; which ga1e these peoples their character as heroes, "artyrs, or +ools, is a single great tragedy. And as long as it continues it will re"ain one. It is si"ply that "ost o+

us are too cultured to belie1e it. There are peoples whose character is si"plicity itsel+. Others are unable to +igure the"sel1es out, not to spea: o+ anyone else understanding the". The English"an is a pu//le to no one. English history "o1es in a straight line 88 a"id "uch bloodshed, to be sure, but without sharp turns or hesitations. The English"an harbors no troubles within his breast= all his proble"s can be +ound on a "ap. All the "ore enig"atic are the ,er"ans. *ro" the start they ha1e spent their li1es pondering their proble"s, each one occupied with his own and "any with those o+ their +ellow country"en. a1e they +ound an answer) It has been suggested that the ,er"an people lac:s a character entirely. (erhaps that is correct. It has not one, but se1eral characters 88 as "any as there are ,er"ans, perhaps "ore. All other national characters are re+lected in ours. We ha1e a"ong us !o"an and ,ree:, English, Spanish, and .orse types, and we are constantly longing +or a true ho"e in so"e distant cli"e. The reasons +or this are e1ident i+ we glance at history. All other peoples ha1e a history, a path leading +ro" a beginning to an end. In this sense our history is di++erent. Ours is an o+ten repeated atte"pt to +ind a beginning. England-s destiny had its distinct and signi+icant beginning with the .or"an Con<uest= *rance-s began with the *ran:s, Spain-s with the >isigoths. ,er"an destiny had its dubious start with the uni+ication o+ Sa9ons, Swabians, Ia1arians, *ranconians, and Thuringians under a "ystical crown. The ;+ace; o+ ,er"any loo:s li:e the "ap o+ #G66 or #&66. Too "uch character then) Bes, that too. We are characteristic to the point o+ lunacy. Our intelligentsia is a 1eritable collection o+ eccentrics. Such pro+ound thought8syste"sP Such WeltanschauungenP Such political ideasP Each writes his own ,er"an, each beha1es in his own way, each belie1es and desires so"ething di++erent. Iut is that our true nature, or is it a role we are playing +or our own bene+it while we wait +or the real thing) The soul o+ the ,er"an people is +illed with surprising and du"+ounding capabilities +or e9cellence and +ailure. Dany ha1e clai"ed to understand this soul, but none has +igured correctly. ence the suspicion +elt toward us on the outside, and the e1en stronger suspicion we hold against each other. We are insecure in a world where e1eryone wants to be sure o+ his neighbor. Other peoples, during the course o+ their history, ha1e used up or worn o++ certain character traits they ac<uired in the dar:, re"ote ti"es o+ their beginnings. We are still in possession o+ these traits, +or we lac: a history. We ha1e retained the 1estiges o+ .ordic instincts as portrayed in the Icelandic sagas: unsociability, taciturnity, the her"it instinct, doggedness, obstinacy= we ha1e "ore "a1eric:s than "aster"inds. Would we as a people, with better luc: in political a++airs, ha1e been able to create unaided the genteel society o+ the eighteenth century) ,ood +or", as an i"perati1e, as an e9alted duty or as a challenge, is contrary to our nature. We are in the habit o+ letting oursel1es go 88 poetically, intellectually, and socially, in +ull 1iew o+ oursel1es and others. We do this least +re<uently in "usic= but we ha1e e9peri"ented with the 1erse +or"s o+ all ti"es and all peoples, and the "ost e9tra1agant +antasy is our proper do"ain. .o other people could ha1e pro+ited "ore +ro" care+ul upbringing by a re+ined society. Iut then there is our seriousness, our tenacity, our <uiet, patient adherence to duties once assu"ed, our de1otion to e1erything we ha1e been able to preser1e in spite o+ our lac: o+ sel+8 con+idence. Our capacity +or wor:, particularly that o+ our econo"ic and technological leaders, is ini"itable. *uture generations will loo: bac: with incredulous ad"iration on the reconstruction we ha1e acco"plished within @ust +our years o+ such a catastrophe. And now to the decisi1e +actor: our boundless urge to +ollow and ser1e, to worship anyone or anything, to belie1e blindly and with dogli:e loyalty, all ad1ice to the contrary notwithstanding. This too is a 1estigial trait +ro" the distant past. In "odern situations it can either be great or desperately co"ical,

but it do"inates the history o+ our so1ereigns, churches, and parties. In no other country is a ;cause; or a leader, not e1en the caricature o+ one, so sure o+ a +ollowing. *or one who :nows how to use it, this is a latent source o+ i""ense power. We ha1e had too little historical e9perience to be s:eptical about this. E1ery peasant in the Ial:ans, e1ery A"erican longshore"an has "ore political :now8how than we do. Are we children) (erhaps. ,rown8up children o+ this sort ha1e "ore than once altered the path o+ history. Iut we "ust not +orget one other aspect: our sluggish blood, our ,e"Lt, our irresoluteness. .iet/sche once wrote, ;A ,er"an is capable o+ great things, but it is i"probable that he will do the".; Di++icult to set in "otion, ha1ing little sel+8assurance, disinclined to pathos in oursel1es, we are a +ar cry +ro" the theater8li:e political scene o+ Southern Europe, where the play can still go on in spite o+ +ailures. All in all, no other people today is "ore in need o+ a leader in order si"ply to ha1e +aith in itsel+. And yet no other people can "ean "ore to a great leader. In the right hands, all o+ its +aults will turn to "erits. What the outco"e o+ this "ight be is i"possible to +oretell with the custo"ary "ethods o+ political prognostication. At ti"es when go1ern"ent and diplo"acy are conducted along strict traditional lines, as they were in the eighteenth century, such a national character as ours is doo"ed to prolonged slu"ber. ,er"any-s political potential had been +orgotten, and .apoleon was 1ery "uch surprised when he suddenly "et up with it. Today there are no longer any 1enerable +or"s o+ political e9istence whose age is an al"ost unassailable power. >iolence has co"e into its own, opportunis" as well. istory is returning to the +reedo" o+ its pri"iti1e instincts, and the lands and the seas are the spoils. Does that "a:e us a ti"ely people)

.iet/sche And is Century An address deli1ered on October #E, #$5G, .iet/sche-s eightieth birthday, at the .iet/sche Archi1e, Wei"ar *irst published in Spengler, !eden und Au+sQt/e (Dunich, #$7&'.

4oo:ing bac: at the nineteenth century and letting its great "en pass be+ore the "ind-s eye, we can obser1e an a"a/ing thing about the +igure o+ *riedrich .iet/sche, so"ething that was hardly noticeable in his own ti"e. All the other outstanding personages, including Wagner, Strindberg, and Tolstoy, re+lect to a certain degree the color and shape o+ those years. Each o+ the" was so"ehow bound up with the shallow opti"is" o+ the progress8"ongers, with their social ethics and utilitarianis", their philosophy o+ "atter and energy, prag"atis" and ;adaptation;= each o+ the" "ade sacri+ice a+ter sacri+ice to the spirit o+ the ti"e. Only one person represents a radical departure +ro" this pattern. I+ the word ;unti"ely,; which he hi"sel+ coined, is applicable to anyone at all, then it is .iet/sche. One searches in 1ain throughout his whole li+e and all o+ his thought +or any indication that he "ight ha1e yielded inwardly to any 1ogue or +ad.

In this respect he is the antithesis o+, and yet in so"e ways pro+oundly related to, the second ,er"an o+ "odern ti"es whose li+e was one great sy"bol: ,oethe. These are the only two notable ,er"ans whose e9istence has pro+ound signi+icance apart +ro" and in addition to their wor:s. Iecause both were aware o+ this +ro" the beginning and continually ga1e utterance to this awareness, their e9istence has beco"e a treasure +or our nation and an integral part o+ its spiritual history. It was ,oethe-s good +ortune to be born at the high noon o+ Western culture, at a ti"e o+ rich and "ature intellectuality which he hi"sel+ e1entually ca"e to represent. e had only to beco"e the epito"e o+ his own ti"e in order to achie1e the disciplined grandeur i"plied by those who later called hi" the ;Oly"pian.; .iet/sche li1ed a century later, and in the "eanti"e a great change had occurred, one which we are only now able to co"prehend. It was his +ate to co"e into the world a+ter the !ococo period, and to stand a"id the totally cultureless #?%6-s and #?&6-s. Consider the streets and houses he had to li1e in, the clothing +ashions, +urniture, and social "ores he had to obser1e. Consider the way people "o1ed about in social circles in his day, the way they thought, wrote, and +elt. ,oethe li1ed at a ti"e +illed with respect +or +or"= .iet/sche longed desperately +or +or"s that had been shattered and abandoned. ,oethe needed only to a++ir" what he saw and e9perienced around hi"= .iet/sche had no recourse but to protest passionately against e1erything conte"porary, i+ he was to rescue anything his +orebears had be<ueathed to hi" as a cultural heritage. Ioth o+ these "en stro1e during their whole li1es +or strict inner +or" and discipline. Iut the eighteenth century was itsel+ ;in +or".; It possessed the highest type o+ society that Western Europe has e1er :nown. The nineteenth century had neither a distinguished society nor any other :ind o+ +or"al attributes. Apart +ro" the incidental custo"s o+ the urban upper class it possessed only the scattered re"ains, preser1ed with great di++iculty, o+ aristocratic and "iddle8class tradition. ,oethe was able to understand and sol1e the great proble"s o+ his ti"e as a recogni/ed "e"ber o+ his society, as we learn in Wilhel" Deister and Electi1e A++inities= .iet/sche could re"ain true to his tas: only by turning his bac: on society. is +right+ul loneliness stands as a sy"bol o1er against ,oethe-s cheer+ul gregariousness. One o+ these great "en ga1e shape to e9isting things= the other brooded o1er none9isting things. One o+ the" wor:ed +or a pre1ailing +or"= the other against a pre1ailing +or"lessness. Aside +ro" this, howe1er, +or" was so"ething 1ery di++erent +or each o+ the". O+ all the great ,er"an intellectuals, .iet/sche was the only born "usician. All the others 88 thin:ers, poets, and painters ali:e 88 ha1e either been shapers o+ "aterial or ha1e ta:en "aterial apart. .iet/sche li1ed, +elt, and thought by ear. e was, a+ter all, hardly able to use his eyes. is prose is not ;written,; it is heard 88 one "ight e1en say sung. The 1owels and cadences are "ore i"portant than the si"iles and "etaphors. What he sensed as he sur1eyed the ages was their "elody, their "eter. e disco1ered the "usical :eys o+ +oreign cultures. Ie+ore hi", no one :new o+ the te"po o+ history. A great "any o+ his concepts 88 the Dionysian, the (athos o+ Distance, the Eternal !ecurrence 88 are to be understood <uite "usically. e sensed the rhyth" o+ what is called nobility, ethics, herois", distinction, and "aster "orality. e was the +irst to e9perience as a sy"phony the i"age o+ history that had been created by scholarly research out o+ data and nu"bers 88 the rhyth"ic se<uence o+ ages, custo"s, and attitudes. e hi"sel+ had "usic, @ust as he wal:ed, spo:e, dressed, e9perienced other people, stated proble"s, and drew conclusions. What Iildung had been +or ,oethe, was +or .iet/sche tact in the broadest sense: social, "oral, historical, and linguistic tact, a +eeling +or the proper se<uence o+ things, "ade all the :eener by his su++ering in an age that had 1ery little o+ this +eeling. 4i:e Rarathustra, ,oethe-s Tasso was born o+ su++ering, but Tasso succu"bed to a +eeling o+ wea:ness when challenged by a conte"porary world which he lo1ed and which he regarded as superior to hi"sel+. Rarathustra abhorred the conte"porary world, and +led +ro" it to distant worlds o+ the past and +uture.

The inability to +eel ;at ho"e; in one-s own ti"e 88 that is a ,er"an curse. Iecause o+ the guilt o+ our past we ca"e into bloo" too late and too suddenly. Ieginning with Jlopstoc: and 4essing, we had to co1er in eighty years a distance +or which other nations had centuries. *or this reason we ne1er de1eloped a +or"al inner tradition or a distinguished society that could act as guardian o+ such a tradition. We borrowed +or"s, "oti+s, proble"s, and solutions +ro" all sides and struggled with the", whereas others grew up with the" and in the". Our end was i"plicit in our beginning. einrich 1on Jleist disco1ered 88 he was the +irst to do so 88 the proble"atics o+ Ibsen at the sa"e ti"e that he stro1e to e"ulate Sha:espeare. This tragic state o+ a++airs produced in ,er"any a series o+ outstanding artistic personalities at a ti"e when England and *rance had already gone o1er to producing literati 88 art and thought as a pro+ession rather than a destiny. Iut it also caused the +rag"entation and +rustration e9pressed in "uch o+ our art, the thwarting o+ +inal ai"s and artistic thoroughness. Today we use the ter"s ;Classical; and ;!o"antic; to denote the antithesis that appeared around #?66 e1erywhere in Western Europe, literary (etersburg included. ,oethe was a Classic to the sa"e e9tent that .iet/sche was a !o"antic, but these words "erely designate the predo"inant hues in their essential natures. Each o+ the" also possessed the other potentiality, which at ti"es urged its way to the +oreground. ,oethe, whose *aust8"onologues and West8Eastern Di1an are high points o+ !o"antic sensibility, stro1e at all ti"es to con+ine this urge +or distance and boundlessness within clear and strict traditional +or"s. Si"ilarly, .iet/sche o+ten suppressed his ac<uired inclination +or the Classical and rational, which held a two+old +ascination +or hi" by reason o+ te"pera"ent and philological pro+ession, to what he ter"ed the Dionysian, at least when he was e1aluating. Ioth "en were borderline cases. Cust as ,oethe was the last o+ the Classics, .iet/sche was, ne9t to Wagner, the last o+ the !o"antics. Iy their li1es and their creations they e9hausted the possibilities o+ these two "o1e"ents. A+ter the", it was no longer possible to render the "eaning o+ the ages in the sa"e words and i"ages 88 the i"itators o+ the Classical dra"a and the latter8day Rarathustras ha1e pro1ed this. Doreo1er, it is i"possible to in1ent a new "ethod o+ seeing and saying li:e theirs. ,er"any "ay well bring +orth i"pressi1e +or"ati1e "inds in the +uture= howe1er, +ortunate +or us, they will nonetheless be isolated occurrences, +or we ha1e reached the end o+ the grand de1elop"ent. And they will always be o1ershadowed by the two great +igures o+ ,oethe and .iet/sche. An essential characteristic o+ Western Classicis" was its intense preoccupation with the conte"porary world. While see:ing to control hu"an dri1es that tend in opposite directions, it atte"pted to "a:e the past and the +uture coalesce in the conte"porary situation. ,oethe-s dictu" about the ;De"ands o+ the Day,; his ;cheer+ul present,; i"ply a+ter all that he called upon 1arious :inds o+ past +igures and e1ents 88 his ,ree:s, his !enaissance, ,Ht/ 1on Ierlichingen, *aust, and Eg"ont 88 in order to in+use the" with the spirit o+ his own ti"e. The result is that when reading such wor:s as Tasso or Iphigenia we are not at all "ind+ul o+ historical precedent. Cust the opposite is the case with the !o"antics= their proper do"ain was re"ote places and ti"es. They longed +or withdrawal +ro" the present to distant and +oreign real"s, to the past and +uture o+ history. .one o+ the" e1er had a pro+ound relationship with the things that surrounded hi". The !o"antic is enticed by whate1er is strange to his nature, the Classic by what is proper to his nature. .oble drea"ers on the one hand, noble "asters o+ drea"s on the other. The one type adored the con<uerors, rebels, and cri"inals o+ the past, or ideal states and super"en o+ the +uture= the other type construed states"anship in practical, "ethodical ter"s or, li:e ,oethe and u"boldt, e1en practiced it the"sel1es. One o+ ,oethe-s great "asterpieces is the con1ersation between Eg"ont and Willia" o+ Orange. e lo1ed .apoleon, +or he was witness to his deeds in his own ti"e and locality. e was ne1er able to recreate artistically the 1iolent personalities o+ the past= his Caesar went unwritten. Iut that is precisely the type o+ personality that .iet/sche worshipped 88 +ro" a distance. At close range, as with

Iis"arc:, he was repelled by the". .apoleon would also ha1e repelled hi". e would ha1e see"ed to hi" uncouth, shallow, and "indless, li:e the .apoleonic types that li1ed around hi" 88 the great European politicians and the rough8and8ready business"en who" he ne1er e1en saw, "uch less understood. e needed a 1ast distance between the Then and the .ow in order to ha1e a genuine relationship with a gi1en reality. Thus he created his Super"an and, al"ost as arbitrarily, the +igure o+ Cesare Iorgia. These two tendencies are tragically present in the "ost recent ,er"an history. Iis"arc: was a Classic o+ politics. e based his calculations entirely on things that e9isted, things he could see and "anipulate. The +anatical patriots neither lo1ed nor understood hi" until his creati1e wor: appeared as a +inished product, until he could be ro"antically trans+igured as a "ythic personage: ;The Old Dan o+ the Sa9on *orests.; On the other hand, 4udwig II o+ Ia1aria, who perished as a !o"antic and who ne1er created or e1en could ha1e created anything o+ enduring 1alue, actually recei1ed this :ind o+ lo1e (without returning it', not only +ro" the people at large, but also +ro" artists and thin:ers who should ha1e loo:ed "ore closely. Jleist is regarded in ,er"any with, at best, a reluctant ad"iration that is tanta"ount to re@ection, particularly in those instances where he succeeded in o1erco"ing his own !o"antic nature. e is inwardly <uite re"ote +ro" "ost ,er"ans, unli:e .iet/sche, whose nature and destiny were in "any ways si"ilar to the Ia1arian :ing-s, and who is instincti1ely honored e1en by those who ha1e ne1er read hi". .iet/sche-s longing +or re"oteness also e9plains his aristocratic taste, which was that o+ a co"pletely lonely and 1isionary personality. 4i:e the Ossian8type !o"anticis" that originated in Scotland, the early Classicis" o+ the eighteenth century began on the Tha"es and was later ta:en across to the Continent. It is i"possible to consider it apart +ro" the !ationalis" o+ the sa"e period. The Classicists engaged in the act o+ creati1ity consciously and deliberately= they replaced +ree i"agination with :nowledge, at ti"es e1en with scholarly erudition. They understood the ,ree:s, the !enaissance, and ine1itably also the world o+ conte"porary acti1e a++airs. These English Classicists, all o+ the" o+ high social standing, helped create liberalis" as a philosophy o+ li+e as it was understood by *rederic: the ,reat and his century: the deliberate ignoring o+ distinctions that were :nown to e9ist in the practical li+e but were in any case not considered as obstacles= the rational preoccupation with "atters o+ public opinion that could neither be gotten rid o+ nor hushed up, but that so"ehow had to be rendered har"less. This upper8class Classicis" ga1e rise to English de"ocracy 88 a superior +or" o+ tactics, not a codi+ied political progra". It was based on the long and intensi1e e9perience o+ a social stratu" that habitually dealt with real and practicable possibilities, and that was there+ore ne1er in danger o+ losing its essential congeniality. ,oethe, who was also conscious o+ his social ran:, was ne1er an aristocrat in the passionate, theoretical sense 88 unli:e .iet/sche, who lac:ed the habituation to regular practical e9perience. .iet/sche ne1er really beca"e +a"iliar with the de"ocracy o+ his ti"e in all its strength and wea:ness. To be sure, he rebelled against the herd instinct with the wrath o+ his e9tre"ely sensiti1e soul, but the chie+ cause o+ his anger was to be +ound so"ewhere in the historical past. e was doubtless the +irst to de"onstrate in such radical +ashion how in all cultures and epochs o+ the past the "asses count +or nothing, that they su++er +ro" history but do not create it, that they are at all ti"es the pawns and 1icti"s o+ the personal will o+ indi1iduals and classes born to be rulers. (eople had sensed this o+ten enough be+ore, but .iet/sche was the +irst to destroy the traditional i"age o+ ;hu"anity; as progress toward the solution o+ ideal proble"s through the agency o+ its leaders. erein lies the i""ense di++erence between the historiography o+ a .iebuhr or a !an:e, which as an idea was li:ewise o+ !o"antic origin, and .iet/sche-s "ethod o+ historical 1ision. is way o+ loo:ing into the soul o+ past epochs and peoples o1erca"e the "ere prag"atic structure o+ +acts and e1ents.

Bet such a techni<ue re<uired detach"ent. English Classicis", which produced the +irst "odern historian o+ ,reece in ,eorge ,rote 88 a business"an and practical politician 88 was <uite e9clusi1ely the a++air o+ higher society. It ennobled the ,ree:s by regarding the" as peers, by ;present8ing; the" in the truest sense o+ the word as distinguished, culti1ated, intellectually re+ined hu"an beings who at all ti"es acted ;in good taste; 88 e1en arner and (indar, poets who" the English school o+ classical philology was the +irst to pre+er o1er orace and >irgil. *ro" the higher circles o+ English society this Classicis" entered the only corresponding circles in ,er"any, the courts o+ the s"all principalities, where the tutors and preachers acted as inter"ediaries. The courtly at"osphere o+ Wei"ar was the world in which ,oethe-s li+e beca"e the sy"bol o+ cheer+ul con1i1iality and purpose+ul acti1ity. Wei"ar was the +riendly center o+ intellectual ,er"any, a place that o++ered cal" satis+action to a degree un:nown by any other ,er"an writer, an opportunity +or har"onious growth, "aturing, and ageing that was Classical in a speci+ically ,er"an sense. .e9t to this career there is the other, which li:ewise ended in Wei"ar. It started out in the seclusion o+ a (rotestant pastor-s ho"e, the cradle o+ "any i+ not "ost o+ ,er"any-s great "inds, and reached its height in the sun8drenched solitude o+ the Engadin. .o other ,er"an has e1er li1ed such an i"passioned pri1ate e9istence, +ar re"o1ed +ro" all society and publicity 88 though all ,er"ans, e1en i+ they are ;public; personalities, ha1e a longing +or such solitude. is intense yearning +or +riendship was in the last analysis si"ply his inability to lead a genuine social li+e, and thus it was a "ore spiritual +or" o+ loneliness. Instead o+ the +riendly ;,oethe house; on Wei"ar-s *rauenplan, we see the @oyless little cottages in Sils8Daria, the solitude o+ the "ountains and the sea, and +inally a solitary brea:down in Turin 88 it was the "ost thoroughly !o"antic career the nineteenth century e1er o++ered. .e1ertheless, his need to co""unicate was stronger than he hi"sel+ belie1ed, "uch stronger at any rate than ,oethe-s, who was one o+ the "ost taciturn o+ "en despite the social li+e that surrounded hi". ,oethe-s Electi1e A++inities is a secreti1e boo:, not to spea: o+ Wilhel" Deister-s Bears o+ Wandering and *aust II. is "ost pro+ound poe"s are "onologues. The aphoris"s o+ .iet/sche are ne1er "onologues= nor are the .ight Song and the Dionysus Dithyra"bs co"pletely "onologues. An in1isible witness is always present, always watching. That is why he re"ained at all ti"es a belie1ing (rotestant. All the !o"antics li1ed in schools and coteries, and .iet/sche in1ented so"ething o+ the sort by i"agining that his +riends were, as listeners, his intellectual peers. Or again, he created in the re"ote past and +uture a circle o+ inti"ates, only to co"plain to the", li:e .o1alis and Hlderlin, o+ his loneliness. is whole li+e was +illed with the torture and bliss o+ renunciation, o+ the desire to surrender and to +orce his inner nature, to bind hi"sel+ in sa"e way to so"ething that always pro1ed to be +oreign to hi"sel+. Bet that is how he de1eloped insight into the soul o+ epochs and cultures that could ne1er re1eal their secrets to sel+8assured, Classical "inds. This organic pessi"is" o+ his being e9plains the wor:s and the se<uence in which they appeared. We who were not able to e9perience the great +lourishing o+ "aterialis" in the "id8nineteenth century should ne1er cease to be a"a/ed at the audacity that went into the writing, at such a tender age and contrary to the opinions o+ conte"porary philological scholarship, o+ The Iirth o+ Tragedy. The +a"ous antithesis o+ Apollo and Dionysus contains "uch "ore than e1en today-s a1erage reader can co"prehend. The "ost signi+icant thing about that essay was not that its author disco1ered an inner con+lict in ;Classical; ,reece, the ,reece that had been the purest "ani+estation o+ ;hu"anity; +or all others e9cept perhaps Iacho+en and Iurc:hardt. Dore i"portant still was that e1en at that age he possessed the superior 1ision that allowed hi" to peer into the heart o+ whole cultures as i+ they were organic, li1ing indi1iduals. We need only read Do""sen and Curtius to notice the tre"endous di++erence. The others regarded ,reece si"ply as the su" o+ conditions and e1ents occurring within a

certain span o+ ti"e and space. Our present8day "ethod o+ loo:ing at history owes its origin, but not its depth, to !o"anticis". In .iet/sche-s day, history, as +ar as ,reece and !o"e were concerned, was little "ore than applied philology, and as +ar as the Western peoples were concerned little "ore than applied archi1al research. It in1ented the idea that history began with written records. The liberation +ro" this 1iew ca"e out o+ the spirit o+ "usic. .iet/sche the "usician in1ented the art o+ +eeling one-s way into the style and rhyth" o+ +oreign cultures, aside +ro" and o+ten in contradiction to the written docu"ents. Iut what did written docu"ents "atter anyway) With the word ;Dionysus; .iet/sche disco1ered what the archaeologists e1entually brought to light thirty years later 88 the underworld and the undersoul o+ Classical culture, and ulti"ately the spiritual +orce that underlies all o+ history. istorical description had beco"e the psychology o+ history. The eighteenth century and Classicis", including ,oethe, belie1ed in ;culture; 88 a single, true, "ental and "oral culture as the tas: o+ a uni+ied hu"anity. *ro" the 1ery beginning .iet/sche spo:e <uite un+orcedly o+ ;cultures; as o+ natural pheno"ena that si"ply began at a certain ti"e and place, without reason or goal or whate1er an all8too8hu"an interpretation "ight wish to "a:e o+ it. ;At a certain ti"e; 88 the point was "ade clear +ro" the 1ery +irst ti"e in .iet/sche-s boo: that all o+ these cultures, truths, arts, and attitudes are peculiar to a "ode o+ e9istence that "a:es its appearance at one certain ti"e and then disappears +or good. The idea that e1ery historical +act is the e9pression o+ a spiritual sti"ulus, that cultures, epochs, estates, and races ha1e a soul li:e that o+ indi1iduals 88 this was such a great step +orward in historical depth8analysis that e1en the author hi"sel+ was at the ti"e not aware o+ its +ull i"plications. owe1er, one o+ the things the !o"antic yearns +or is to escape +ro" hi"sel+. This yearning, together with the great "is+ortune o+ ha1ing been born in that particular period in history, caused .iet/sche to ser1e as a herald +or the "ost banal +or" o+ realis" in his second boo:, u"an, All8Too8 u"an. These were the years when Western !ationalis", a+ter abandoning its glorious beginnings with !ousseau, >oltaire, and 4essing, ended as a +arce. Darwin-s theories, together with the new +aith in "atter and energy, beca"e the religion o+ the big cities= the soul was regarded as a che"ical process in1ol1ing proteins, and the "eaning o+ the uni1erse boiled down to the social ethics o+ enlightened philistines. .ot a single +iber o+ .iet/sche-s being was party to these de1elop"ents. e had already gi1en 1ent to his disgust in the +irst o+ his ;Fnti"ely Deditations,; but the scholar in hi" en1ied Cha"+ort and >au1enargues and their lighthearted and so"ewhat cynical "anner o+ treating serious topics in the style o+ the grand "onde. The artist and enthusiast in hi" was perple9ed by the "assi1e sobriety o+ an Eugen DLhring, which he "istoo: +or true greatness. (riestly character that he was, he proceeded to un"as: religion as pre@udice. .ow the goal o+ li+e was :nowledge, and the goal o+ history beca"e +or hi" the de1elop"ent o+ intelligence. e said this in a tone o+ ridicule that ser1ed to heighten his own passion, precisely because it hurt to do so, and because he su++ered +ro" the unreali/able longing to create in the "idst o+ his own ti"e a seducti1e picture o+ the +uture that would contrast with e1erything he was born into. While the ecstatic utilitarianis" o+ the Darwinian school was e9tre"ely re"ote +ro" his way o+ thin:ing, he too: +ro" it certain secret re1elations that no true Darwinist e1er drea"ed o+. In The Dawn o+ Day and The ,ay Science there appeared, in addition to a way o+ loo:ing at things that was "eant to be prosaic and e1en scorn+ul, another techni<ue o+ e9a"ining the world 88 a restrained, <uiet, ad"iring attitude that penetrated deeper than any "ere realist could e1er hope to achie1e. Who, be+ore .iet/sche, had e1er spo:en in the sa"e way o+ the soul o+ an age, an estate, a pro+ession, o+ the priest and the hero, or o+ "an and wo"an) Who had e1er been able to su""ari/e the psychology o+ whole centuries in an al"ost "etaphysical +or"ula) Who had e1er postulated in history, rather than +acts and ;eternal truths,; the types o+ heroic, su++ering, 1isionary, strong, and diseased li+e as the actual substance o+ e1ents as they happen)

That was a wholly new :ind o+ li1ing +or"s, and could ha1e been disco1ered only by a born "usician with a +eeling +or rhyth" and "elody. *ollowing this presentation o+ the physiogno"y o+ the ages o+ history, a science o+ which he was and will always be the creator, he reached to the outer li"its o+ his 1ision to describe the sy"bols o+ a +uture, his +uture, which he needed in order to be cleansed o+ the residue o+ conte"porary thought. In one subli"e "o"ent he con@ured the i"age o+ Eternal !ecurrence, as it had been 1aguely sur"ised by ,er"an "ystics in the Diddle Ages 88 an endless circling in the eternal 1oid, in the night o+ i""easurable eons, a way to lose one-s soul utterly in the "ysterious depths o+ the cos"os, regardless o+ whether such things are scienti+ically @usti+iable or not. Into the "idst o+ this 1ision he placed the Super"an and his prophet, Rarathustra, representing the incarnate "eaning o+ hu"an history, in all its bre1ity, on the planet that was his ho"e. All three o+ these creations were co"pletely distant, i"possible to relate to conte"porary conditions. *or this 1ery reason they ha1e e9erted a curious attraction on e1ery ,er"an soul. *or in e1ery ,er"an soul there is a place where drea"s are drea"ed o+ social ideals and a +iner +uture +or "an:ind. ,oethe lac:ed such a corner in his soul, and that is why he ne1er beca"e a truly popular personage. The people sensed this lac:, and thus they called hi" aloo+ and +ri1olous. We shall ne1er o1erco"e this re1erie o+ ours= it represents within us the unli1ed portion o+ a great past. Once ha1ing arri1ed at this height, .iet/sche posed the <uestion as to the 1alue o+ the world, a <uestion that had acco"panied hi" since childhood. Iy doing so he brought to an end the period o+ Western philosophy that had considered the types o+ :nowledge as its central proble". This new <uestion li:ewise had two answers: a Classical and a !o"antic answer or, to put it in the ter"s o+ the ti"e, a social and an aristocratic answer. ;4i+e has 1alue to the sa"e degree as it ser1es the totality; 88 that was the answer o+ the educated English"en who had learned at O9+ord to distinguish between what a person stated as his considered opinion and what the sa"e person did at decisi1e "o"ents as a politician or business"an. ;4i+e is all the "ore 1aluable, the stronger its instincts are; 88 that was the answer gi1en by .iet/sche, whose own li+e was delicate and easily in@ured. Ie that as it "ay, +or the 1ery reason that he was re"ote +ro" the acti1e li+e he was able to grasp its "ysteries. is ulti"ate understanding o+ real history was that the Will to (ower is stronger than all doctrines and principles, and that it has always "ade and +ore1er will "a:e history, no "atter what others "ay pro1e or preach against it. e did not concern hi"sel+ with the conceptual analysis o+ ;will;= to hi" the "ost i"portant thing was the i"age o+ acti1e, creati1e, destructi1e Will in history. The ;concept; o+ will ga1e way to the ;aspect; o+ will. e did not teach, he si"ply pointed "atters out: ;Thus it was, and thus it shall be.; E1en i+ theoretical and priestly indi1iduals will it a thousand ti"es di++erently, the pri"e1al instincts o+ li+e will still e"erge 1ictorious. What a di++erence between Schopenhauer-s world 1iew and this oneP And between .iet/sche-s conte"poraries, with their senti"ental plans +or i"pro1ing the world, and this de"onstration o+ hard +actsP Such an acco"plish"ent places this last !o"antic thin:er at the 1ery pinnacle o+ his century. In this we are all his pupils, whether we wish to be or not, whether we :now hi" well or not. is 1ision has already i"perceptibly con<uered the world. .o one writes history any "ore without seeing things in his light. e undertoo: to e1aluate li+e using +acts as the sole criteria, and the +acts taught that the stronger or wea:er will to succeed deter"ines whether li+e is 1aluable or worthless, that goodness and success are al"ost "utually e9clusi1e. is i"age o+ the world reached its cul"ination with a "agni+icent criti<ue o+ "orality in which, instead o+ preaching "orality, he e1aluated the "oralities that ha1e arisen in history 88 not according to any ;true; "oral syste" but according to their success. This was indeed a ;re1aluation o+ all 1alues,; and although we now :now that he "isstated the antithesis o+ Christian and

"aster8"orality as a result o+ his personal su++ering during the #??6-s, nonetheless the ulti"ate antithesis o+ hu"an e9istence lay behind his state"ent= he sought it, and sensed it, and belie1ed that he had captured it with his +or"ula. I+ instead o+ ;"aster "orality; we were to say the instincti1e practice o+ "en who are deter"ined to act, and instead o+ ;Christian "orality; the theoretical ways in which conte"plati1e persons e1aluate, then we would ha1e be+ore us the tragic nature o+ all "an:ind, whose do"inant types will +ore1er "isunderstand, co"bat, and su++er +ro" each other. Deed and thought, reality and ideal, success and rede"ption, strength and goodness 88 these are +orces that will ne1er co"e to ter"s with one another. Bet in historical reality it is not the ideal, goodness, or "orality that pre1ails 88 their :ingdo" is not o+ this world 88 but rather decisi1eness, energy, presence o+ "ind, practical talent. This +act cannot be gotten rid o+ with la"ents and "oral conde"nations. Dan is thus, li+e is thus, history is thus. (recisely because all action was +oreign to hi", because he :new only how to thin:, .iet/sche understood the +unda"ental essence o+ the acti1e li+e better than any great acti1e personality in the world. Iut the "ore he understood, the "ore shyly he withdrew +ro" contact with action. In this way his !o"antic destiny reached +ul+ill"ent. Fnder the +orce o+ these last insights, the +inal stage o+ his career too: shape in strict contrast to that o+ ,oethe, who was not +oreign to action but who regarded his true calling as poetry, and there+ore restrained his actions cheer+ully. ,oethe, the (ri1y Councillor and Dinister, the celebrated +ocal point o+ European intellect, was able to con+ess during his last year o+ li+e, in the +inal act o+ his *aust, that he loo:ed upon his li+e as ha1ing attained +ul+ill"ent. ;Tarry now, thou art so +airP; 88 that is a phrase e9pressi1e o+ the "ost bliss+ul satiety, spo:en at the "o"ent when the acti1e physical wor: is co"pleted under *aust-s co""and, to endure now and +ore1er"ore. It was the great and +inal sy"bol o+ the Classicis" to which this li+e had been dedicated, and which led +ro" the controlled cultural education o+ the eighteenth century to the controlled e9ercise o+ personal talent o+ the nineteenth. Bet one cannot create distance, one can only proclai" it. Cust as *aust-s death brought a Classical career to an end, the "ind o+ the loneliest o+ wanderers 1anished with a curse upon his age during those "ysterious days in Turin, when he watched the last "ists disappear +ro" his i"age o+ the world and the highest pea:s co"e e1er clear into 1iew. This pu//ling +inal episode o+ his li+e is the 1ery reason .iet/sche-s e9istence has had the stronger in+luence on the world e1er since. ,oethe-s li+e was a +ull li+e, and that "eans that it brought so"ething to co"pletion. Countless ,er"ans will honor ,oethe, li1e with hi", and see: his support= but he can ne1er trans+or" the". .iet/sche-s e++ect is a trans+or"ation, +or the "elody o+ his 1ision did not end with his death. The !o"antic attitude is eternal= though its +or" "ay at ti"es be uni+ied and co"plete, its thought ne1er is. It will always con<uer new areas, either destroying the" or changing the" radically. .iet/sche-s type o+ 1ision will pass on to new +riends and ene"ies, and these in turn will hand it down to other +ollowers and ad1ersaries. E1en i+ so"eday no one reads his wor:s any longer, his 1ision will endure and be creati1e. is wor: is not a part o+ our past to be en@oyed= it is a tas: that "a:es ser1ants o+ us all. As a tas: it is independent o+ his boo:s and their sub@ect "atter, and thus a proble" o+ ,er"an destiny. In an age that does not tolerate otherworldly ideals and ta:es 1engeance on their authors, when the only thing o+ recogni/ed 1alue is the :ind o+ ruthless action that .iet/sche bapti/ed with the na"e o+ Cesare Iorgia, when the "orality o+ the ideologues and world i"pro1ers is li"ited "ore radically than e1er to super+luous and innocuous writing and speech8"a:ing 88 in such an age, unless we learn to act as real history wants us to act, we will cease to e9ist as a people. We cannot li1e without a +or" o+ wisdo" that does not "erely console in di++icult situations, but helps one to get out o+ the". This :ind o+ hard

wisdo" "ade its +irst appearance in ,er"an thought with .iet/sche, despite the +act that it was cloa:ed in thoughts and i"pressions he had gathered +ro" other sources. To the people "ost +a"ished +or history in all the world, he showed history as it really is. is heritage is the obligation to li1e history in the sa"e way.

The Two *aces O+ !ussia And ,er"any-s Eastern (roble"s An address deli1ered on *ebruary #G, #$55, at the !henish8Westphalian Iusiness Con1ention in Essen *irst published in Spengler, (olitische Schri+ten (Dunich, #$75'.

In the light o+ the desperate situation in which ,er"any +inds itsel+ today 88 de+enseless, ruled +ro" the West by the +riends o+ its ene"ies, and the 1icti" o+ undi"inished war+are with econo"ic and diplo"atic "eans 88 the great proble"s o+ the East, political and econo"ic, ha1e risen to decisi1e i"portance. I+ +ro" our 1antage point we wish to gain an understanding o+ the e9tre"ely co"ple9 real situation, it will not su++ice "erely to +a"iliari/e oursel1es with conte"porary conditions in the broad e9panses to the east o+ us, with !ussian do"estic policy and the econo"ic, geographic, and "ilitary +actors that "a:e up present8day So1iet !ussia. Dore +unda"ental and i"perati1e than this is an understanding o+ the world8historical +act o+ !ussia itsel+, its situation and e1olution o1er the centuries a"id the great old cultures 88 China, India, Isla", and the West 88 the nature o+ its people, and its national soul. (olitical and econo"ic li+e is, a+ter all, 4i+e itsel+= e1en in what "ay appear to be prosaic aspects o+ day8to8day a++airs it is a +or", e9pression, and part o+ the larger entity that is 4i+e. One can atte"pt to obser1e these "atters with ;!ussian; eyes, as our co""unist and de"ocratic writers and party politicians ha1e done, i.e., +ro" the standpoint o+ Western social ideologies. Iut that is not ;!ussian; at all, no "atter how "any citi+ied "inds in !ussia "ay thin: it is. Or one can try to @udge the" +ro" a Western8European 1iewpoint by considering the !ussian people as one "ight consider any other ;European; people. Iut that is @ust as erroneous. In reality, the true !ussian is basically 1ery +oreign to us, as +oreign as the Indian and the Chinese, whose souls we can li:ewise ne1er +ully co"prehend. Custi+iably, the !ussians draw a distinction between ;Dother !ussia; and the ;+atherlands; o+ the Western peoples. These are, in +act, two <uite di++erent and alien worlds. The !ussian understands this alienation. Fnless he is o+ "i9ed blood, he ne1er o1erco"es a shy a1ersion to or a naN1e ad"iration o+ the ,er"ans, *rench, and English. The Tartar and the Tur: are, in their ways o+ li+e, closer and "ore co"prehensible to hi". We are easily decei1ed by the geographic concept o+ ;Europe,; which actually originated only a+ter "aps were +irst printed in #E66. The real Europe ends at the >istula. The acti1ity o+ the Teutonic :nights in the Ialtic area was the coloni/ation o+ +oreign territory, and the :nights the"sel1es ne1er thought o+ it in any other way. In order to reach an understanding o+ this +oreign people we "ust re1iew our own past. !ussian history between $66 and #$66 A.D. does not correspond to the history o+ the West in the sa"e centuries but, rather, to the period e9tending +ro" the Age o+ !o"e to Charle"agne and the ohenstau+en e"perors. Our heroic poetry, +ro" Ar"inius to the lays o+ ildebrand, !oland, and the .ibelungs, was

recapitulated in the !ussian heroic epics, the byliny, which began with the :nights at the court o+ (rince >ladi"ir (d. #6#E', the Ca"paign o+ Igor, and with Ilya Duro"ets, and ha1e re"ained a 1ital and +ruit+ul art +or" through the reigns o+ I1an the Terrible and (eter the ,reat, the Iurning o+ Doscow, and to the present day. 0#3 Bet each o+ these worlds o+ pri"e1al poetry e9presses a 1ery di++erent :ind o+ basic +eeling. !ussian li+e has a di++erent "eaning altogether. The endless plains created a so+ter +or" o+ hu"anity, hu"ble and "orose, inclined to lose itsel+ "entally in the +lat e9panses o+ its ho"eland, lac:ing a genuine personal will, and prone to ser1ility. These characteristics are the bac:ground +or high8le1el politics in !ussia, +ro" ,enghis Jhan to 4enin. (#. C+. "y The Decline o+ the West, II, #$5++.' *urther"ore, the !ussians are se"i8no"ads, e1en today. .ot e1en the So1iet regi"en will succeed in pre1enting the +actory wor:ers +ro" dri+ting +ro" one +actory to another +or no better reason than their inborn wanderlust. 053 That is why the s:illed technician is such a rarity in !ussia. 073 Si"ilarly, the ho"e o+ the peasant is not the 1illage or the countryside into which he was born, but the great e9panses. E1en the "ir or so8called agrarian co""une 88 not an ancient idea, but the outgrowth o+ ad"inistrati1e techni<ues e"ployed by the tsarist go1ern"ents +or the raising o+ ta9es 88 was unable to bind the peasant, unli:e his ,er"anic counterpart, to the soil. Dany thousands o+ the" +looded into the newly de1eloped regions in the steppes o+ southern !ussia, Tur:estan, and the Caucasus, in order to satis+y their e"otional search +or the li"its o+ the in+inite. The result o+ this inner restlessness has been the e9tension o+ the E"pire up to the natural borders, the seas and the high "ountain ranges. In the si9teenth century Siberia was occupied and settled as +ar as 4a:e Iai:al, in the se1enteenth century up to the (aci+ic. (5. C+. se1eral stories o+ 4es:o1, and particularly o+ ,or:i.' (7. E9cept perhaps in the earlier arteli, groups o+ wor:ers under sel+8chosen leaders, which accepted contracts +or certain :inds o+ wor: in +actories and on estates. There is a good description on an artel- in 4es:o1-s The De"orable Angel.' E1en "ore deep8seated than this no"adic trait o+ the !ussians is their dar: and "ystical longing +or Iy/antiu" and Cerusale". It appears in the outer +or" o+ Orthodo9 Christianity and nu"erous religious sects, and thus has been a power+ul +orce in the political sphere as well. Iut within this "ystical tendency there slu"bers the unborn new religion o+ an as yet i""ature people. There is nothing Western about this at all, +or the (oles and Ial:an Sla1s are also ;Asiatics.; The econo"ic li+e o+ this people has also assu"ed indigenous, totally non8European +or"s. The Strogano1 +a"ily o+ "erchants, which began con<uering Siberia on its own under I1an ,ro/ny 0G3 and placed so"e o+ its own regi"ents at the tsar-s disposal, had nothing at all in co""on with the great business"en o+ the sa"e century in the West. This huge country, with its no"adic population, "ight ha1e re"ained in the sa"e condition +or centuries, or "ight perhaps ha1e beco"e the ob@ect o+ Western colonial a"bitions, had it not been +or the appearance o+ a "an o+ i""ense world8political signi+icance, (eter the ,reat. (G. ,ro/ny "eans ;the terri+ying, @ust, awe8inspiring; in the positi1e sense, not ;the terrible; with Western o1ertones. I1an I> was a creati1e personality as was (eter the ,reat, and one o+ the "ost i"portant rulers o+ all ti"e.' There is probably no other e9a"ple in all o+ history o+ the radical change in the destiny o+ an entire

people such as this "an brought about. is will and deter"ination li+ted !ussia +ro" its Asiatic "atri9 and turned it into a Western8style nation within the Western world o+ nations. is goal was to lead !ussia, until then landloc:ed, to the sea 88 at +irst, unsuccess+ully, to the Sea o+ Aso1, and then with per"anent success to the Ialtic. The +act that the shores o+ the (aci+ic had already been reached was, in his eyes, wholly uni"portant= the Ialtic coast was +or hi" the bridge to ;Europe.; There he +ounded (etersburg, sy"bolically gi1ing it a ,er"an na"e. In place o+ the old !ussian "ar:et centers and princely residences li:e Jie1, Doscow, and .i/hni8.o1gorod, he planted Western European cities in the !ussian landscape. Ad"inistration, legislation, and the state itsel+ now +unctioned on +oreign "odels. The boyar +a"ilies o+ Old !ussian chie+tains beca"e +eudal nobility, as in England and *rance. is ai" was to create abo1e the rural population a ;society; that would be uni+ied as to dress, custo"s, language, and thought. And soon an upper social stratu" actually +or"ed in the cities, ha1ing a thin Western 1eneer. It played at erudition li:e the ,er"ans, and too: on esprit and "anners li:e the *rench. The entire corpus o+ Western !ationalis" "ade its entry 88 scarcely understood, undigested, and with +ate+ul conse<uences. Catherine II, a ,er"an, +ound it necessary to send writers such as .o1i:o1 and !adishche1 into @ail and e9ile because they wished to try out the ideas o+ the Enlighten"ent on the political and religious +or"s o+ !ussia. 0E3 (E. ;Ceho1a, Cupiter, Irah"a, ,od o+ Abraha", ,od o+ Doses, ,od o+ Con+ucius, ,od o+ Roroaster, ,od o+ Socrates, ,od o+ Darcus Aurelius, ,od o+ the Christians 88 Thou art e1erywhere the sa"e, eternal ,odP; (!adishche1'.' And econo"ic li+e changed also. In addition to its ages8old ri1er tra++ic, !ussia now began to engage in ocean shipping to distant ports. The old "erchant tradition o+ the Strogano1s, with their cara1an trade to China, and o+ the +airs at .i/hni8.o1gorod, now recei1ed an o1erlay o+ Western European ;"oney thin:ing; in ter"s o+ ban:s and stoc: e9changes. 0%3 .e9t to the old8style handicra+ts and the pri"iti1e "ining techni<ues in the Frals there appeared +actories, "achines, and e1entually railroads and stea"ships. (%. C+. Decline o+ the West, II, G?6+., G$E.' Dost i"portant o+ all, Western8style politics entered the !ussian scene. It was supported by an ar"y that no longer con+or"ed to conditions o+ the wars against the Tartars, Tur:s, and Jirghi/= it had to be prepared to do battle against Western ar"ies in Western territory, and by its 1ery e9istence it continually "isled the diplo"ats in (etersburg into thin:ing that the only political proble"s lay in the West. Despite all the wea:nesses o+ an arti+icial product "ade o+ stubborn "aterial, (etrinis" was a power+ul +orce during the two hundred years o+ its duration. It will be possible to assess its true acco"plish"ents only at so"e distant +uture ti"e, when we can sur1ey the rubble it will ha1e le+t behind. It e9tended ;Europe,; theoretically at least, to the Frals, and "ade o+ it a cultural unity. An e"pire that stretched to the Iering Strait and the indu Jush had been Westerni/ed to the e9tent that in #$66 there was hardly "uch di++erence between cities in Ireland and (ortugal and those in Tur:estan and the Caucasus. Tra1el was actually easier in Siberia than in so"e countries in Western Europe. The Trans8Siberian !ailway was the +inal triu"ph, the +inal sy"bol o+ the (etrinist will be+ore the collapse. Bet this "ighty e9terior concealed an internal disaster. (etrinis" was and re"ained an alien ele"ent a"ong the !ussian people. In reality there e9isted not one but two !ussias, the apparent and the true, the o++icial and the underground !ussia. The +oreign ele"ent brought with it the poison that caused that i""ense organis" to +all ill and die. The spirit o+ Western !ationalis" o+ the eighteenth century and

Western Daterialis" o+ the nineteenth, both re"ote and inco"prehensible to genuine !ussian thought, ca"e to lead a grotes<ue and sub1ersi1e e9istence a"ong the intelligentsia in the cities. There arose a type o+ !ussian intellectual who, li:e the !e+or"ed Tur:, the !e+or"ed Chinese, and the !e+or"ed Indian, was "entally and spiritually debased, i"po1erished, and ruined to the point o+ cynicis" by Western Europe. It began with >oltaire, and continued +ro" (roudhon and Dar9 to Spencer and aec:el. In Tolstoy-s day the upper class, irreligious and opposed to all nati1e tradition, preened itsel+ with blasO pretentiousness. ,radually the new world 1iew seeped down to the bohe"ians in the cities, the students, de"agogues, and literati, who in turn too: it ;to the people; to i"plant in the" a hatred o+ the Western8style upper classes. The result was doctrinaire bolshe1is". At +irst, howe1er, it was solely the +oreign policy o+ !ussia that "ade itsel+ pain+ully +elt in the West. The original nature o+ the !ussian people was ignored, or at least not understood. It was nothing but a har"less ethnographic curiosity, occasionally i"itated at bals "as<ues and in operettas. !ussia "eant +or us a ,reat (ower in the Western sense, one which played the ga"e o+ high politics with s:ill and at ti"es with true "astery. What we did not notice was that two tendencies, alien and ini"ical to each other, were operati1e in !ussia. One o+ these was the ancient, instincti1e, unclear, unconscious, and subli"inal dri1e that is present in the soul o+ e1ery !ussian, no "atter how thoroughly westerni/ed his conscious li+e "ay be 88 a "ystical yearning +or the South, +or Constantinople and Cerusale", a genuine crusading spirit si"ilar to the spirit our ,othic +orebears had in their blood but which we hardly can appreciate today. Superi"posed on this instincti1e dri1e was the o++icial +oreign policy o+ a ,reat (ower: (etersburg 1ersus Doscow. Iehind it lay the desire to play a role on the world stage, to be recogni/ed and treated as an e<ual in ;Europe.; ence the hyper8re+ined "anners and "ores, the +aultless good taste 88 things which had already begun to degenerate in (aris since .apoleon III. The +inest tone o+ Western society was to be +ound in certain (etersburg circles. At the sa"e ti"e, this :ind o+ !ussian did not really lo1e any o+ the Western peoples. e ad"ired, en1ied, ridiculed, or despised the", but his attitude depended practically always on whether !ussia stood to gain or lose by the". ence the respect shown +or (russia during the Wars o+ 4iberation (!ussia would ha1e li:ed to poc:et (russian territory' and +or *rance prior to the World War (the !ussians laughed at her senile cries +or re1anche'. Bet, +or the a"bitious and intelligent upper classes, !ussia was the +uture "aster o+ Europe, intellectually and politically. E1en .apoleon, in his ti"e, was aware o+ this. The !ussian ar"y was "obili/ed at the western border= it was o+ Western proportions and was un"ista:ably trained +or battle on Western terrain against Western +oes. !ussia-s de+eat at the hands o+ Capan in #$6E can be partly e9plained by the lac: o+ training +or war+are under anything but Western conditions. Such policies were supported by a networ: o+ e"bassies in the great capitals o+ the West (which the So1iet go1ern"ent has replaced with Co""unist party centers +or agitation'. Catherine the ,reat too: away (oland, and with it the +inal obstacle between East and West. The cli"a9 ca"e with the sy"bolic @ourney o+ Ale9ander I, the ;Sa1ior o+ Europe,; to (aris. At the Congress o+ >ienna, !ussia at ti"es played a decisi1e role, as also in the oly Alliance, which Detternich called into being as a bulwar: against the Western re1olution, and which .icholas I put to wor: in #?G$ restoring order in the absburg state in the interest o+ his own go1ern"ent. Iy "eans o+ the success+ul tradition o+ (etersburg diplo"acy, !ussia beca"e "ore and "ore in1ol1ed in great decisions o+ Western European politics. It too: part in all the intrigues and calculations that not only concerned areas re"ote +ro" !ussia, but were also <uite inco"prehensible to the !ussian spirit.

The ar"y at the western border was "ade the strongest in the world, and +or no urgent reason 88 !ussia was the only country no one intended to in1ade a+ter .apoleon-s de+eat, while ,er"any was threatened by *rance and !ussia, Italy by *rance and Austria, and Austria by *rance and !ussia. One sought alliance with !ussia in order to tip the "ilitary balance in one-s +a1or, thus spurring the a"bitions o+ !ussian society toward e1er greater e++orts in non8!ussian interests. All o+ us grew up under the i"pression that !ussia was a European power and that the land beyond the >olga was colonial territory. The center o+ gra1ity o+ the E"pire de+initely lay to the west o+ Doscow, not in the >olga region. And the educated !ussians thought the 1ery sa"e way. They regarded the de+eat in the *ar East in #$6E as an insigni+icant colonial ad1enture, whereas e1en the s"allest setbac: at the western border was in their eyes a scandal, inas"uch as it occurred in +ull 1iew o+ the Western nations. In the south and north o+ the E"pire a +leet was constructed, <uite super+luous +or coastal de+ense: its sole purpose was to play a role in Western political "achinations. On the other hand, the Tur:ish Wars, waged with the ai" o+ ;liberating; the Christian Ial:an peoples, touched the !ussian soul "ore deeply. !ussia as the heir to Tur:ey 88 that was a "ystical idea. There were no di++erences o+ opinion on this <uestion. That was the Will o+ ,od. Only the Tur:ish Wars were truly popular wars in !ussia. In #?6& Ale9ander I +eared, not without reason, that he "ight be assassinated by an o++icers- conspiracy. The entire o++icers- corps pre+erred a war against the Tur:s to one against .apoleon. This led to Ale9ander-s alliance with .apoleon at Tilsit, which do"inated world politics until #?#5. It is characteristic how Dostoye1s:y, in contrast to Tolstoy, beca"e ecstatic o1er the Tur:ish War in #?&&. e suddenly ca"e ali1e, constantly wrote down his "etaphysical 1isions, and preached the religious "ission o+ !ussia against Iy/antiu". Iut the +inal portion o+ Anna Jarenina was denied publication by the !ussian Dessenger, +or one did not dare to o++er Tolstoy-s s:epticis" to the public. As I ha1e "entioned, the educated, irreligious, Westerni/ed !ussians also shared the "ystical longing +or Cerusale", the Jie1 "on:-s notion o+ the "other country as the ;Third !o"e,; which a+ter (apal !o"e and 4uther-s Wittenberg was to ta:e the +ul+ill"ent o+ Christ-s "essage to the Cerusale" o+ the apostles. This barely conscious national instinct o+ all !ussians opposes any power that "ight erect political barricades on the path that leads to Cerusale" by way o+ Iy/antiu". In all other countries such political obstacles would si"ply disturb either national conceit (in the West' or national apathy (in the *ar East'= in !ussia, the "ystical soul o+ the people itsel+ was pierced and pro+oundly agitated. ence the brilliant successes o+ the Sla1ophil "o1e"ent, which was not so "uch interested in winning o1er (oles and C/echs as in gaining a +oothold a"ong the Sla1s in the Christian Ial:an countries, the neighbors o+ Constantinople. E1en at an earlier date, the oly War against .apoleon and the Iurning o+ Doscow had in1ol1ed the e"otions o+ the entire !ussian people. This was not @ust because o+ the in1asion and plundering o+ the !ussian countryside, but because o+ .apoleon-s ob1ious long8range plans. In #?6$ he had ta:en o1er the Illyrian pro1inces (the present Bugosla1ia' and thus beca"e "aster o+ the Adriatic. This had decisi1ely strengthened his in+luence on Tur:ey to the disad1antage o+ !ussia, and his ne9t step would be, in alliance with Tur:ey and (ersia, to open up the path to India, either +ro" Illyria or +ro" Doscow itsel+. The !ussians- hatred o+ .apoleon was later trans+erred to the absburg "onarchy, when its designs on Tur:ish territory 88 in Detternich-s ti"e the Danubian principalities, and a+ter #?&? Saloni:i 88 endangered !ussian "o1es toward the south. *ollowing the Cri"ean War they e9tended their hatred to include ,reat Iritain, when that nation appeared to lay clai" to Tur:ish lands by bloc:ading the Straits and later by occupying Egypt and Cyprus. *inally, ,er"any too beca"e the ob@ect o+ this hatred, which goes 1ery deep and cannot be allayed by practical considerations. A+ter #?&?, ,er"any neglected its role as a !ussian ally to beca"e "ore and "ore the protector and preser1er o+ the cru"bling absburg state, and thereby also, despite Iis"arc:-s

warning, the supporter o+ Austro8 ungarian intentions in the Ial:ans. The ,er"an go1ern"ent showed no understanding o+ the suggestion "ade by Count Witte, the last o+ the !ussian diplo"ats +riendly to ,er"any, to choose between Austria and !ussia. We could ha1e had a reliable ally in !ussia i+ we had been willing to loosen our ties to Austria. A total reorientation o+ ,er"an policy "ight ha1e been possible as late as #$##. *ollowing the Congress o+ Ierlin, hatred o+ ,er"any began to spread to all o+ !ussian society, +or Iis"arc: succeeded in restraining !ussian diplo"acy in the interest o+ world peace and "aintaining the balance o+ power in ;Europe.; *ro" the ,er"an point o+ 1iew this was probably correct, and in any case it was a "aster stro:e o+ Iis"arc:ian states"anship. Iut in the eyes o+ (etersburg it was a "ista:e, +or it depri1ed the !ussian soul o+ the hope o+ winning Tur:ey, and +a1ored England and Austria. And this !ussian soul was one o+ the i"ponderables that de+ied diplo"atic treat"ent. ostility to ,er"any :ept on growing and e1entually entered all le1els o+ !ussian urban society. It was di1erted "o"entarily when Capanese power, rising up suddenly and broadening the hori/ons o+ world politics, +orced !ussia to e9perience the *ar East as a danger /one. Iut that was soon +orgotten, especially since ,er"any was so grotes<uely inept as to understand neither the i""ediate situation nor the +uture possibilities. In ti"e, the senseless idea o+ the Ierlin8Iaghdad !ailway ca"e up= ,er"any now see"ed intent on capturing +ull control o+ this path to Constantinople, a "o1e which would ha1e bene+itted neither ,er"an politics nor the ,er"an econo"y. Cust as in the +ield o+ politics, the econo"ic li+e o+ !ussia was di1ided into two "ain tendencies 88 the one acti1e and aggressi1e, the other passi1e. The passi1e ele"ent was represented by the !ussian peasantry with its pri"iti1e agrarian econo"y= 0&3 by the old8style "erchants with their +airs, cara1ans, and >olga barges= by !ussian cra+ts"en= and +inally by the pri"iti1e "ining enterprises in the Frals, which de1eloped out o+ the ancient techni<ues o+ pre8Christian ;blac:s"ith tribes,; independent o+ Western "ining "ethods and e9perience. The +orging o+ iron was in1ented in !ussia in the second "illenniu" I.C. 88 the ,ree:s retained a 1ague recollection o+ the beginning o+ this art. This si"ple and traditional +or" o+ econo"y gradually +ound a power+ul co"petitor in the ci1ili/ed world o+ Western8style urban econo"y, with its ban:s, stoc: e9changes, +actories, and railroads. Then it was "oney econo"y 1ersus goods econo"y= each o+ these +or"s o+ econo"ic e9istence abhors the other, each tries to attac: and annihilate the other. (&. On the contrast between agrarian and urban econo"y, see Decline o+ the West, II, G&&++.' The (etrinist state needed a "oney econo"y in order to pay +or its Westerni/ed politics, its ar"y, and its ad"inistrati1e hierarchy, which was laced with pri"iti1e corruption. Incidentally, this +or" o+ corruption was habitual public practice in !ussia= it is a necessary psychological conco"itant o+ an econo"y based on the e9change o+ goods, and is +unda"entally di++erent +ro" the clandestine corruption practiced by Western European parlia"entarians. The state protected and supported econo"ic thin:ing that was oriented toward Western capitalis", a type o+ thin:ing that !ussia neither created nor really understood, but had i"ported and now had to "anage. *urther"ore, !ussia had also to +ace its doctrinary opposite, the econo"ic theory o+ co""unis". Co""unis" was in +act inseparable +ro" Western econo"ic thin:ing. It was the Dar9ist capitalis" o+ the lower class, preached by students and agitators as a 1ague gospel to the "asses in the (etrinist cities. Still, the decisi1e and truly agitating +actor +or !ussia-s +uture was not this literary, theoretical trend in the urban underground. It was, rather, the !ussians- pro+ound, instincti1ely religious abhorrence o+ all Western econo"ic practices. They considered ;"oney; and all the econo"ic sche"es deri1ed +ro" it, socialistic as well as capitalistic, as sin+ul and satanic. This was a genuine religious +eeling, "uch li:e

the Western e"otion which, during the ,othic centuries, opposed the econo"ic practices o+ the Arabic8 Cewish world and led to the prohibition +or Christians o+ "oney8lending +or interest. In the West, such attitudes had +or centuries been little "ore than a clichO +or chapel and pulpit, but now it beca"e an acute spiritual proble" in !ussia. It caused the suicide o+ nu"erous !ussians who were sei/ed by ;terror o+ the surplus 1alue,; whose pri"iti1e thought and e"otions could not i"agine a way o+ earning a li1ing that would not entail the ;e9ploitation; o+ ;+ellow hu"an beings.; This genuine !ussian senti"ent saw in the world o+ capitalis" an ene"y, a poison, the great sin that it ascribed to the (etrinist state despite the deep respect +elt +or ;4ittle *ather,; the Tsar. Such, then, are the deep and "ani+old roots o+ the !ussian philosophy o+ intellectual nihilis", which began to grow at the ti"e o+ the Cri"ean War and which produced as a +inal +ruit the bolshe1is" that destroyed the (etrinist state in #$#&, replacing it with so"ething that would ha1e been absolutely i"possible in the West. Contained within this "o1e"ent is the orthodo9 Sla1ophils- hatred o+ (etersburg and all it stood +or, 0?3 the peasants- hatred o+ the "ir, the type o+ 1illage co""une that contradicted the rural concept o+ property passed down through countless +a"ily generations, as well as e1ery !ussian-s hatred o+ capitalis", industrial econo"y, "achines, railroads, and the state and ar"y that o++ered protection to this cynical world against an eruption o+ !ussian instincts. It was a pri"e1al religious hatred o+ unco"prehended +orces that were +elt to be godless, that one could not change and thus wished to destroy, in order that li+e could go on in the old8+ashioned way. (?. ;The +irst re<uire"ent +or the liberation o+ popular +eeling in !ussia is to hate (etersburg with heart and soul; (A:sa:o1 to Dostoye1s:y'. C+. Decline o+ the West, II, #$7++.' The peasants detested the intelligentsia and its agitating @ust as strongly as they detested what these people were agitating against. Bet in ti"e the agitation brought a s"all cli<ue o+ cle1er but by and large "ediocre personalities to the +ore+ront o+ power. E1en 4enin-s creation is Western, it is (etersburg 88 +oreign, ini"ical, and despised by the "a@ority o+ !ussians. So"e day, in so"e way or other, it will perish. It is a rebellion against the West, but born o+ Western ideas. It see:s to preser1e the econo"ic +or"s o+ industrial labor and capitalist speculation as well as the authoritarian state, e9cept that it has replaced the Tsarist regi"e and pri1ate capitalist enterprise with an oligarchy and state capitalis", calling itsel+ co""unis" out o+ de+erence to doctrine. It is a new 1ictory +or (etersburg o1er Doscow and, without any doubt, the +inal and enduring act o+ sel+8destruction co""itted by (etrinis" +ro" below. The actual 1icti" is precisely the ele"ent that sought to liberate itsel+ by "eans o+ the rebellion: the true !ussian, the peasant and cra+ts"an, the de1out "an o+ religion. Western re1olutions such as the English and *rench see: to i"pro1e organically e1ol1ed conditions by "eans o+ theory, and they ne1er succeed. In !ussia, howe1er, a whole world was "ade to 1anish without resistance. Only the arti+icial <uality o+ (eter the ,reat-s creation can e9plain the +act that a s"all group o+ re1olutionaries, al"ost without e9ception dunces and cowards, has had such an e++ect. (etrinis" was an illusion that suddenly burst. The bolshe1is" o+ the early years has thus had a double "eaning. It has destroyed an arti+icial, +oreign structure, lea1ing only itsel+ as a re"aining integral part. Iut beyond this, it has "ade the way clear +or a new culture that will so"e day awa:en between ;Europe; and East Asia. It is "ore a beginning than an end. It is te"porary, super+icial, and +oreign only inso+ar as it represents the sel+8destruction o+ (etrinis", the grotes<ue atte"pt syste"atically to o1erturn the social superstructure o+ the nation according to the theories o+ Jarl Dar9. At the base o+ this nation lies the !ussian peasantry, which doubtless played a "ore i"portant role in the success o+ the #$#& !e1olution than the intellectual crowd is willing to ad"it. These are the de1out peasants o+ !ussia who, although they do not yet +ully

reali/e it, are the archene"ies o+ bolshe1is" and are oppressed by it e1en worse than they were by the Dongols and the old tsars. *or this 1ery reason, despite the hardships o+ the present, the peasantry will so"e day beco"e conscious o+ its own will, which points in a wholly di++erent direction. The peasantry is the true !ussian people o+ the +uture. It will not allow itsel+ to be per1erted and su++ocated, and without a doubt, no "atter how slowly, it will replace, trans+or", control, or annihilate bolshe1is" in its present +or". ow that will happen, no one can tell at the "o"ent. It depends, a"ong other things, on the appearance o+ decisi1e personalities, who, li:e ,enghis Jhan, I1an I>, (eter the ,reat, and 4enin, can sei/e Destiny by their iron hand. ere, too, Dostoye1s:y stands against Tolstoy as a sy"bol o+ the +uture against the present. Dostoye1s:y was denounced as a reactionary because in his (ossessed he no longer e1en recogni/ed the proble"s o+ nihilis". *or hi", such things were @ust another aspect o+ the (etrinist syste". Iut Tolstoy, the "an o+ good society, li1ed in this ele"ent= he represented it e1en in his rebellion, a protest in Western +or" against the West. Tolstoy, and not Dar9, was the leader to bolshe1is". Dostoye1s:y is its +uture con<ueror. There can be no doubt: a new !ussian people is in the process o+ beco"ing. Sha:en and threatened to the 1ery soul by a +right+ul destiny, +orced to an inner resistance, it will in ti"e beco"e +ir" and co"e to bloo". It is passionately religious in a way we Western Europeans ha1e not been, indeed could not ha1e been, +or centuries. As soon as this religious dri1e is directed toward a goal, it possesses an i""ense e9pansi1e potential. Fnli:e us, such a people does not count the 1icti"s who die +or an idea, +or it is a young, 1igorous, and +ertile people. The intense respect en@oyed o1er the past centuries by the ;holy peasants; who" the regi"e o+ten e9iled to Siberia or li<uidated in so"e other way 88 such +igures as the priest Cohn o+ Jronstadt, e1en !asputin, but also I1an and (eter the ,reat 88 will awa:en a new type o+ leaders, leaders to new crusades and legendary con<uests. The world round about, +illed with religious yearning but no longer +ertile in religious concerns, is torn and tired enough to allow it suddenly to ta:e on a new character under the proper circu"stances. (erhaps bolshe1is" itsel+ will change in this way under new leaders= but that is not 1ery probable. *or this ruling horde 88 it is a +raternity li:e the Dongols o+ the ,olden orde 88 always has its sights set on the West as did (eter the ,reat, who li:ewise "ade the land o+ his drea"s the goal o+ his politics. Iut the silent, deeper !ussia has already +orgotten the West and has long since begun to loo: toward .ear and East Asia. It is a people o+ the great inland e9panses, not a "ariti"e people. An interest in Western a++airs is upheld only by the ruling group that organi/es and supports the Co""unist parties in the indi1idual countries 88 without, as I see it, any chance o+ success. It is si"ply a conse<uence o+ Dar9ist theory, not an e9ercise in practical politics. The only way that !ussia "ight again direct its attention to the West 88 with disastrous results +or both sides 88 would be +or other countries (,er"any, +or instance' to co""it serious errors in +oreign policy, which could concei1ably result in a ;crusade; o+ the Western powers against bolshe1is" 88 in the interest, o+ course, o+ *ranco8 Iritish +inancial capital. !ussia-s secret desire is to "o1e toward Cerusale" and Central Asia, and ;the; ene"y will always be the one who bloc:s those paths. The +act that England established the Ialtic states and placed the" under its in+luence, thereby causing !ussia to lose the Ialtic Sea, has not had a pro+ound e++ect. (etersburg has already been gi1en up +or lost, an e9pendable relic o+ the (etrinist era. Doscow is once again the center o+ the nation. Iut the destruction o+ Tur:ey, the partition o+ that country into *rench and English spheres o+ in+luence, *rance-s establish"ent o+ the 4ittle Entente which closed o++ and threatened the area +ro" !u"ania southwards, *rench atte"pts to win control o+ the Danubian principalities and the Ilac: Sea by aiding the reconstruction o+ the apsburg state 88 all these e1ents ha1e "ade England and, abo1e all, *rance the heirs to !ussian hatred. What the !ussians see is the re1i1i+ication o+ .apoleonic tendencies= the crossing o+ the Ieresina was perhaps not, a+ter all, the +inal sy"bolic e1ent in that "o1e"ent. Iy/antiu" is and re"ains the Subli"e ,ateway to

+uture !ussian policy, while, on the other side, Central Asia is no longer a con<uered area but part o+ the sacred earth o+ the !ussian people. In the +ace o+ this rapidly changing, growing !ussia, ,er"an policy re<uires the tactical s:ill o+ a great states"an and e9pert in Eastern a++airs, but as yet no such "an has "ade his appearance. It is clear that we are not the ene"ies o+ !ussia= but whose +riends are we to be 88 o+ the !ussia o+ today, or o+ the !ussia o+ to"orrow) Is it possible to be both, or does one e9clude the other) Dight we not @eopardi/e such +riendship by +or"ing careless alliances) Si"ilarly obscure and di++icult are our econo"ic connections, the actual ones and the potential ones. (olitics and econo"ics are two 1ery di++erent aspects o+ li+e, di++erent in concept, "ethods, ai"s, and signi+icance +or the soul o+ a people. This is not reali/ed in the age o+ practical "aterialis", but that does not "a:e it any less +ate+ully true. Econo"ics is subordinate to politics= it is without <uestion the second and not the +irst +actor in history. The econo"ic li+e o+ !ussia is only super+icially do"inated by state capitalis". At its base it is sub@ect to attitudes that are 1irtually religious in nature. At any rate it is not at all the sa"e thing as top8le1el !ussian politics. Doreo1er, it is 1ery di++icult to predict its short and long8range trends, and e1en "ore di++icult to control these trends +ro" abroad. The !ussia o+ the last tsars ga1e the illusion o+ being an econo"ic co"ple9 o+ Western sta"p. Iolshe1ist !ussia would li:e to gi1e the sa"e illusion= with its co""unist "ethods it would e1en li:e to beco"e an e9a"ple +or the West. Bet in reality, when considered +ro" the standpoint o+ Western econo"ics, it is one huge colonial territory where the !ussians o+ the +ar"lands and s"all towns wor: essentially as peasants and cra+ts"en. Industry and the transportation o+ industrial products o1er the rail networ:s, as well as the process o+ wholesale distribution o+ such products, are and will always re"ain inwardly +oreign to this people. The business"an, the +actory head, the engineer and in1entor are not ;!ussian; types. As a people, no "atter how +ar indi1iduals "ay go toward adapting to "odern patterns o+ world econo"ics, the true !ussians will always let +oreigners do the :ind o+ wor: they re@ect because they are inwardly not suited to it. A close co"parison with the Age o+ the Crusades will clari+y what I ha1e in "ind. 0$3 At that ti"e, also, the young peoples o+ the .orth were nonurban, co""itted to an agrarian econo"y. E1en the s"all cities, castle co""unities, and princely residences were essentially "ar:etplaces +or agricultural produce. The Cews and Arabs were a +ull thousand years ;older,; and +unctioned in their ghettos as e9perts in urban "oney econo"y. The Western European +ul+ills the sa"e +unction in the !ussia o+ today. ($. C+. Decline o+ the West, II, Chapters MIII and MI>, ;The *or"8World o+ Econo"ic 4i+e.;' Dachine industry is basically non8!ussian in spirit, and the !ussians will +ore1er regard it as alien, sin+ul, and diabolical. They can bear with it and e1en respect it, as the Capanese do, as a "eans toward higher ends, +or one casts out de"ons by the prince o+ de"ons. Iut they can ne1er gi1e their soul to it as did the ,er"anic nations, which created it with their dyna"ic sensibility as a sy"bol and "ethod o+ their struggling e9istence. In !ussia, industry will always re"ain essentially the concern o+ +oreigners. Iut the !ussians will be able to distinguish sensiti1ely between what is to their own and what is to the +oreigners- ad1antage. As +ar as ;"oney; is concerned, +or the !ussians the cities are "ar:ets +or agricultural co""odities= +or us they ha1e been since the eighteenth century the centers +or the dyna"ics o+ "oney. ;Doney thin:ing; will be i"possible +or the !ussians +or a long ti"e to co"e. *or this reason, as I ha1e e9plained, !ussia is regarded as a colony by +oreign business interests. ,er"any will be able to gain certain ad1antages +ro" its pro9i"ity to the country, particularly in light o+ the +act that both powers ha1e the sa"e ene"y, the +inancial interest8groups o+ the Allied nations.

Bet the ,er"an econo"y can ne1er e9ploit these opportunities without support +ro" superior politics. Without such support a chaotic sei/ure o+ opportunities will ensue, with dire conse<uences +or the +uture. The econo"ic policy o+ *rance has been +or centuries, as a result o+ the sadistic character o+ the *rench people, "yopic and purely destructi1e. And a serious ,er"an policy in econo"ic a++airs si"ply does not e9ist. There+ore it is the pri"e tas: o+ ,er"an business to help create order in ,er"an do"estic a++airs, in order to set the stage +or a +oreign policy that will understand and "eet its obligations. Iusiness has not yet grasped the i""ense econo"ic signi+icance o+ this do"estic tas:. It is decidedly not a <uestion, as co""on pre@udice would ha1e it, o+ "a:ing politics sub"it to the "o"entary interests o+ single groups, such as has already occurred by "eans o+ the worst :ind o+ politics i"aginable, party politics. It is not a <uestion o+ ad1antages that "ight last +or @ust a +ew years. Ie+ore the war it was the large agricultural interests, and since the war the large industrial interests, that atte"pted to +ocus national policy on the obtaining o+ te"porary ad1antages, and the results were always nil. Iut the ti"e +or short8range tactics is o1er. The ne9t decades will bring proble"s o+ world8historical di"ensions, and that "eans that business "ust at all ti"es be subordinate to national politics, not the other way around. Our business leaders "ust learn to thin: e9clusi1ely in political ter"s, not in ter"s o+ ;econo"ic politics.; The basic re<uire"ent +or great econo"ic opportunity in the East is thus order in our politics at ho"e.

Is World (eace (ossible) A cabled reply to an A"erican poll *irst published in Cos"opolitan, Canuary, #$7%.

The <uestion whether world peace will e1er be possible can only be answered by so"eone +a"iliar with world history. To be +a"iliar with world history "eans, howe1er, to :now hu"an beings as they ha1e been and always will be. There is a 1ast di++erence, which "ost people will ne1er co"prehend, between 1iewing +uture history as it will be and 1iewing it as one "ight li:e it to be. (eace is a desire, war is a +act= and history has ne1er paid heed to hu"an desires and ideals. 4i+e is a struggle in1ol1ing plants, ani"als, and hu"ans. It is a struggle between indi1iduals, social classes, peoples, and nations, and it can ta:e the +or" o+ econo"ic, social, political, and "ilitary co"petition. It is a struggle +or the power to "a:e one-s will pre1ail, to e9ploit one-s ad1antage, or to ad1ance one-s opinion o+ what is @ust or e9pedient. When other "eans +ail, recourse will be ta:en ti"e and again to the ulti"ate "eans: 1iolence. An indi1idual who uses 1iolence can be branded a cri"inal, a class can be called re1olutionary or traitorous, a people bloodthirsty. Iut that does not alter the +acts. Dodern world8co""unis" calls its wars ;uprisings,; i"perialist nations describe theirs as ;paci+ication o+ +oreign peoples.; And i+ the world e9isted as a uni+ied state, wars would li:ewise be re+erred to as ;uprisings.; The distinctions here are purely 1erbal.

Tal: o+ world peace is heard today only a"ong the white peoples, and not a"ong the "uch "ore nu"erous colored races. This is a perilous state o+ a++airs. When indi1idual thin:ers and idealists tal: o+ peace, as they ha1e done since ti"e i""e"orial, the e++ect is always negligible. Iut when whole peoples beco"e paci+istic it is a sy"pto" o+ senility. Strong and unspent races are not paci+istic. To adopt such a position is to abandon the +uture, +or the paci+ist ideal is a static, ter"inal condition that is contrary to the basic +acts o+ e9istence. As long as "an continues to e1ol1e there will be wars. Should the white peoples e1er beco"e so tired o+ war that their go1ern"ents can no longer incite the" to wage it, the earth will ine1itably +all a 1icti" to the colored "en, @ust as the !o"an E"pire succu"bed to the Teutons. (aci+is" "eans yielding power to the in1eterate nonpaci+ists. A"ong the latter there will always be white "en 88 ad1enturers, con<uerors, leader8types 88 whose +ollowing increases with e1ery success. I+ a re1olt against the whites were to occur today in Asia, countless whites would @oin the rebels si"ply because they are tired o+ peace+ul li1ing. (aci+is" will re"ain an ideal, war a +act. I+ the white races are resol1ed ne1er to wage war again, the colored will act di++erently and be rulers o+ the world.