Nietzsche modifies the quintessentially German notion of the forest as an idyll, which our author described in the first part of this two-part series (link). This follow-up aims to precisely understand this modification and its significance for our time.

Nietzsche’s preferred landscape for thought is the high mountains. In this context, the forest becomes important as the tree line—a zone where life is just barely possible before it freezes. For Nietzsche, the timberline becomes the muse of a thinker who lives dangerously and always on the edge. Modernity can thus be described as a cultural high forest that is constantly on the verge of withering; the fading of the idyll of forest solitude is obvious to the Germans. Nietzsche’s stance is long past being an elitist attitude; in post-war modernity, for instance within various subcultures, it has become a mass mentality. In the current movement of social radicalization, however, we are observing a new kind of mass resentment—to escape it, we must relearn the art of shaping our own lives as a heroic idyll on the edge of the abyss.

Is there a connection between place and thought? How might Nietzsche’s philosophy and the forest be linked?

In German culture, the forest often appears as the epitome of the idyllic. In the penultimate part of our series “The Forest as a Living Foundation”, our author Michael Meyer-Albert argues that Nietzsche gave this idyll a completely new form by dynamizing it.

He begins by discussing two forms of the traditional idyll. While the classical idyll in Southern European traditions (such as in Virgil) tended to celebrate the sunny, Arcadian pastoral landscape or the orderly garden, the philosophical idyll is found within the walls of the academy. A refuge from doxa, a tribute to the logos.

Meyer-Albert then analyzes the German forest as a specifically German form of the idyll using the term “Waldeinsamkeit” (forest solitude), coined by the Romantic writer Ludwig Tieck (1773–1853). Here, the forest is understood as a near-religiously charged sanctuary from the demands of modernity. If defended aggressively, this romanticism can quickly turn into reactionary mythology—even in a modern, left-wing guise.

Nietzsche’s modification of the anti-modern German forest idyll into a heroic idyll that affirms modernity serves as a counter-proposal to all these traditional forms of the idyllic—this will be the focus of the second part of this article (link).

The actress Andrea Ummenberger is currently putting Nietzsche on stage in Halle with a solo play. In a captivating evening at the theatre, the audience can experience the thinker as he possibly was, at least in the interpretation of Austrian writer Alexander Widner, during his last years: not necessarily mentally abducted, but rather insane and in permanent conflict with his sister, his mother — and last but not least his home country. A self-proclaimed fool who rebels against the tight shackles of German small-mindedness and dreams of the South and liberated sensuality. Ummenberger shows us a Nietzsche who still has something to say to us today; not a brilliant idol, but rather a complex anti-hero who asks important questions.

Nietzsche certainly did not have any children and is also not particularly friendly about the subject of fatherhood in his work. For him, the free spirit is a childless man; raising children is the task of women. At the same time, he repeatedly uses the child as a metaphor for the liberated spirit, as an anticipation of the Übermensch. Is he perhaps able to inspire today's fathers after all? And can you be a father and a Nietzschean at the same time? Henry Holland and Paul Stephan, both fathers, discussed this question.

We also published the complete, unabridged discussion on the Halcyonic Association for Radical Philosophy YouTube channel (Part 1, part 2).

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The continuous refinement of large language models, or LLMs for short, allows increasingly accurate stylistic interpretations of texts. This also applies to the writing styles of philosophers. For example, it has recently been possible to chat with Socrates or Schopenhauer — usually with consistent quality and limited depth of content.1 In recent months, our guest author Tobias Brücker has tried to generate exciting Nietzsche texts using various AI methods. In the following, he will present some of these generated, “new Nietzsche texts”, describe their creation and draw a brief conclusion.

In this two-part essay, Paul Stephan examines how Nietzsche uses the wanderer as a personification of modern nihilism. After he is in the first part (link) focused on the general cultural significance of movement metaphors and the metaphor of wandering in Nietzsche's important brother in spirit, the Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard, it will now primarily be about Nietzsche himself.

For a total of 20 years, Bangladesh was ruled by an iron, authoritarian regime under Sheikh Hasina, the daughter of the first president since the country's independence from Pakistan, Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. But within a very short period of time, nationwide uprisings of such violence broke out in July 2024 that they overthrew Hasina after just one month and drove him into exile. How did this victory come from below and how does Nietzsche help us The will to power and continue his elaborations by Foucault and Deleuze to understand this historic moment?

After Christian Saehrendt took a primarily biographical look at Nietzsche's relationship to music on this blog in June last year (link), Paul Stephan focuses in this article on Nietzsche's content statements about music and comes to a somewhat different conclusion: For Nietzsche, music has a liberating power through its subjectivating power. It affirms our sense of self and inspires us to resist repressive norms and morals. However, not all music can do that. With late Nietzsche, this is no longer Richard Wagner's opera, but Georges Bizet's opera carmen. Our author recognizes a similar attitude in Sartre's novel The disgust and in black popular music, which is not about comfort or grief, but affirmation and overcoming.

It is well known that Nietzsche's history of influence has been read and absorbed across all political camps. But what about our present tense? Paul Stephan examines the writings of two authors who are about the same age as himself, in their mid/late 30s, and whose perspectives on Nietzsche could hardly be more different: While French journalist and YouTuber Julien Rochedy declares Nietzsche a pioneer of a right-wing cultural struggle, the German philosopher and political scientist Karsten Schubert attacks him for a left-wing identity politics. Both positions do not really convince our authors; rather, they are entirely within the framework of the prevailing simulation of politics as a cultural struggle, which would need to be countered by focusing on the really pressing life problems of contemporary humanity.

The Inn River rises at an altitude of just under 2,500 m in southeastern Switzerland, in the canton of Graubünden. Over a distance of 80 km, it first flows through a high-mountain valley called the Engadin. Here, not far from the sophisticated spa town of St. Moritz, it crosses two small lakes, Lake Sils and Lake Silvaplana, between which lies the idyllic mountain village of Sils Maria. The philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche spent several summers in this exquisite landscape and was inspired by it to write some of his most important works. Christian Saehrendt set out to search for clues at what is perhaps the most important “pilgrimage site” on the Nietzsche scene.

Nietzsche's criticism of science is perhaps one of the most provocative, but also the most relevant, sub-areas of Nietzsche's comprehensive critique of modern culture. Estella Walter reconstructs her perhaps most important formulation in the third treatise of The genealogy of morality and shows how Nietzsche's science is a form of estrangement Understands. She explains this concept, which is so central to modern philosophy, and bridges it from Nietzsche to (young) Marx: Both are critics of the alienations of the modern way of life, whose critiques we should read together in order to reach a comprehensive understanding of it.

The late Nietzsche repeatedly imagines himself as a descendant of Polish nobles. It is not just a personal whim, but also says something about Nietzsche's philosophical positioning: For him, Poland is a kind of “anti-nation,” a people of “big individuals” — and last but not least, the Polish noble republic is the political utopia of a radical democratic community, which, precisely in its failure, corresponds to his idea of “aristocratic radicalism.” Paul Stephan goes in this Long Read explores the deeper meaning of this topic in Nietzsche and questions his transfiguration of the old Rzeczpospolita: From a political point of view, this is not as desirable a model as Nietzsche suggests. Jean-Jacques Rousseau continues to lead in this regard Considerations on the Government of Poland from 1772.

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Tutaj znajdą Państwo tłumaczenie artykułu na język polski, wykonane przez Olimpię Smoleńską.

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In his recently published study Theory of Liberation [Theorie der Befreiung]Frankfurt philosopher Christoph Menke describes liberation as “fascination,” as pleasurable desubjectization and dedication. He refers decisively to Nietzsche — but for him, “fascination” means bewitching, entanglement in lack of freedom and resentment. Can the mystical power of fascination really set us free — or is it not rather Nietzsche's right and liberation means above all self-empowerment and autonomy, whereas the fascinated sacrifice means submission, not least to a fascist leader?