Nietzsche wrote the following in Thus Spoke Zarathustra
Lo! I show you the Last Man.
"What is love? What is creation? What is longing? What is a star?" -- so asks the Last Man, and blinks.
The earth has become small, and on it hops the Last Man, who makes
everything small. His species is ineradicable as the flea; the Last Man
lives longest.
"We have discovered happiness" -- say the Last Men, and they blink.
They have left the regions where it is hard to live; for they need
warmth. One still loves one's neighbor and rubs against him; for one
needs warmth.
Turning ill and being distrustful, they consider sinful: they walk warily. He is a fool who still stumbles over stones or men!
A little poison now and then: that makes for pleasant dreams. And much poison at the end for a pleasant death.
One still works, for work is a pastime. But one is careful lest the pastime should hurt one.
One no longer becomes poor or rich; both are too burdensome. Who still
wants to rule? Who still wants to obey? Both are too burdensome.
No shepherd, and one herd! Everyone wants the same; everyone is the
same: he who feels differently goes voluntarily into the madhouse.
"Formerly all the world was insane," -- say the subtlest of them, and they blink.
They are clever and know all that has happened: so there is no end to
their derision. People still quarrel, but are soon reconciled --
otherwise it upsets their stomachs.
They have their little pleasures for the day, and their little pleasures for the night, but they have a regard for health.
"We have discovered happiness," -- say the Last Men, and they blink.1
Do you think we, the current gen of people, are the Last Men? It seems like it. We don't want to be bothered with high achievements, ultimate issues, or even local issues; we just want everyone to get along and equal in every respect (instead of equal opportunity) and just kind of float along in a "don't stir the pot because someone might get his feelings hurt" kind of life. Meaningless? This is my mood today. Bleh.
1. Thus Spake Zarathustra by , Zarathustra's Prologue 5
Thursday, September 13, 2012
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"A little poison now and then: that makes for pleasant dreams. And much poison at the end for a pleasant death."
ReplyDeleteSounds like our modern society, in many ways.