Nietzsche and the Sons of Adam
Image: “Heroes” by Viktor Vasnetsov
Most of the discourse surrounding the work of 19th century German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche and Christianity concerns his critiques thereof and the nature of his opposition. Nietzsche is widely conceived of as an opponent to Christianity, and for good reason. Many of his ideas flat-out contradict the standard teachings of nearly all Christian denominations, and many of Nietzsche’s later works, such as Antichrist and Thus Spoke Zarathustra, are aimed at directly deconstructing Christian ways of thinking. However, for the believing Christian, Nietzsche’s work still has a great deal to offer, because of his unparalleled analyses of the human condition. The story of Cain and Abel in particular is a powerful reflection of many anthropological insights Nietzsche offers in works such as Beyond Good and Evil and On the Genealogy of Morals, which I will explore in this piece.
In the fourth chapter of the book of Genesis, we are told that sometime following their expulsion from the Garden of Eden, Adam and Eve give birth to two children: Cain, the elder brother, and Abel, the younger. Abel is a pastoralist, while Cain is an agriculturalist. This is a very important point that is often overlooked, but it is pivotal for the argument I want to make.
In his On the Genealogy of Morals, Nietzsche notes that civilizations as we know them tend to find their origins in the conquest of settled agricultural peoples by warrior pastoralists. Various cultures from the Ancient Greeks to the Mongol Empire were founded precisely in this way. The conquering warriors make themselves into an aristocracy by subjugating and/or integrating the agriculturalists whom they overcome in battle. A tension forms in the relationship of subjugator to subjugated, or “master” and “slave,” leading to the development of two opposing ethical systems. The master values that which he possesses: strength, beauty, honor, riches, and courage. Because of his worldly success, the master further believes himself to be favored by God or “the gods.” This is what Nietzsche calls “master morality.” In view of the master, the slave is overcome by feelings of what Nietzsche calls ressentiment – a French term that refers to an all-consuming envy for one’s superior(s) coupled with an inability to act on those feelings. The slave wants what the master has, but he has neither the will nor the capability to take it. Thus, instead of a physical revolt, the slave takes his revenge through an inversion of values. The slave comes to decide that the master is actually inferior to himself, because of his very success. In the mind of the slave, lack of honor becomes humility, lack of riches becomes temperance, lack of sexual access becomes chastity, and an inability to take revenge becomes mercy. This is what Nietzsche calls “slave morality,” and it is in this way of thinking that Nietzsche sees the origin of Christianity, among other systems of value that, supposedly, exalt weakness over strength. Nietzsche’s arguments against Christianity largely stem from his worry that it tends to lead otherwise strong men down a path of impotence and escapism.
However, the story of Cain and Abel might give us greater insight into how we might interface Nietzsche’s psychological analysis with the Christian ethos. Abel, the pastoralist, is the strong, conquering, master type, and his sacrifices are acceptable to God. Interpreted allegorically, though not to the diminishment of the literal, Abel is made strong by his lifestyle contending with beasts of the field, in combination with his diet of nutrient-rich meat. Cain, on the other hand, is weakened by his diet of grain and the back-breaking labor that agriculture requires. Abel is shown favor by God for his virtue, while Cain is left feeling envious and resentful. Instead of embracing the virtuous path, like his brother, Cain takes his revenge by murdering Abel, and he is cursed for it. This same pattern echoes in various places throughout scripture. Many of the more prominent characters throughout the old testament, such as Moses and David, are also pastoralists. One of the most common images of Christ, Himself, is as a shepherd.
What do we make of this scriptural trend? Well, we don’t want to make the claim that God always favors the strong, merely because of their strength. Otherwise, God would have favored Goliath over David. He who values strength for its own sake tends to become a bully or a tyrant, not unlike the Pharaoh in Egypt or Nebuchadnezzar, the King of Babylon. Yet, the issue isn’t strength in itself, but the aim towards which that strength is directed. The Pharaoh is evil, not because of his power, but because he uses his power to oppress and exploit others. Moses on the other hand is good, because he uses power to serve others.
Valuing both martial virtue and self-sacrificial love, the people of the medieval era came to develop the concept of chivalry as a synthesis of the two. The paragon of chivalric virtue, or the knight, is one who uses his power in order to defend the weak. Old Testament figures, such as Moses and David, were seen as ancient models of this mode of being. Though they were humble, temperate, and just, they would not have been able to accomplish their great aims were it not for their manliness. How would the Christian Roman Emperor, Heraclius, have come to retake Alexandria from the Persians or Godfrey de Bouillon have established the Kingdom of Jerusalem without manly virtue?
Nietzsche is right to value strength, but it must be used in the service of noble ends. We are called to achieve great things in the name of God, and it is strength and courage that allows us to most effectively fulfill this calling. It is strength and courage that can make the good man into a knight or even a king. Will you remain resentful and dejected as Cain, or will you face evil with boldness and master it as Abel?
