Nietzsche and Weber On Personality and D
Nietzsche and Weber On Personality and D
Interview
Howard Caygill
Author of On Resistance: A Philosophy of Defiance
Articles
Revisting ‘La Question’: A Political-Phenomenological Critique
of Merleau-Ponty’s Assessment of Algerian Decolonization
Dan Wood
Books Reviewed
Untimely Affects by Nadine Boljkovac
Marx and Alienation by Sean Sayers
Francois Laruelle’s Philosophies of Difference by Rocco Gangle
Diary of an Escape by Antonio Negri
Reading Negri by Pierre Lamarche,
Max Rosenkrantz and David Sherman
Antonio Negri by Timothy S. Murphy
Difficult Atheism by Christopher Watkin
Psychoanalysis is an Antiphilosophy by Justin Clemens
Nietzsche and Weber on Personality and
Democracy
by Zeynep Talay
Abstract
Introduction
In 1992, Tracy Strong wrote that ‘the Weber of Parsons and Shils is no longer
with us… instead, we have a more Nietzschean Weber’ (Strong, 1992: 9). That
more Nietzschean Weber is one who investigates modernity not from the
point of view of social order, but from that of the fate of the individual. At
the center of Nietzsche’s work is a conception of self, grounded in a critical
account of Cartesianism, in particular of the relationship between selfhood,
rationality, and morality. The central issue for Nietzsche is whether it is
possible, within a modern society, to breed a type of human being with a
capacity for what he calls self-overcoming and self-mastery. Weber’s notion
of personality, and of a character forged through some sort of struggle, is
similar to Nietzsche’s notion of self-mastery, and he too asks about what
type of human being will be forged in the future. Both thinkers were at least
Talay: Nietzsche and Weber on Personality and Democracy 31
The target of this passage is Kant. In Critique of Practical Reason, Kant argues
that the moral law is something that all rational creatures accept as an
ultimate fact of experience. He also suggests that moral obligation has a
twofold character: on the one hand, it is the most familiar experience of the
common man; on the other, it is the uncanniest of all experiences. Obligation
is both insistent and inescapable, a task that we are called to that
distinguishes it from every determination of desire that issues from self-love.
Obligation calls us to the ‘intelligible’ or ‘noumenal’ order. The moral law
must be expressed as a categorical imperative; it commands us
unconditionally.
At the same time, in the decision to obey or disobey we discover the
32 Talay: Nietzsche and Weber on Personality and Democracy
possibility of our freedom. ‘What else, then, can the freedom of the will be
but autonomy, i.e. the property of the will to be a law to itself?’ (Kant, 1959:
65; 446) Autonomous individuals act as both ‘sovereigns’ and ‘subjects’ if
they obey the very law that they promulgate to themselves. The autonomous
will does not submit to anything beyond itself, such as desire or appetite,
which is dependent for its fulfillment on external objects. The heteronomous
will, on the other hand, is a will that allows itself to be governed by some
pre-established principle. Briefly, in the second critique, Kant argues that
heteronomous principle cannot serve as the proper basis for morality;
morality presupposes autonomy.
Nietzsche comments on Kant’s concept of autonomy in The Gay
Science:
account of the relationship between the idea of shaping of the self and the
Calvinist ethos realized in calling, and in so doing somewhat steps out of
the shadow of Nietzsche and moves closer to Kantian concerns.
One indicator of this is the central role played by duty in Weber’s
work, albeit that here he quotes an exemplary saying not of Kant but of
Goethe:
Why does Weber insist on the importance of duty? What is the demand of
the day?
Strangely enough, in order to answer these questions we can turn to
Nietzsche again. At the beginning of the second essay of On the Genealogy of
Morals Nietzsche introduces his striking figure the ‘sovereign individual’,
claiming that finally ‘the tree actually bears fruit, where society and its
morality of custom finally reveal what they were simply the means to: we then
find the sovereign individual as the ripest fruit on its tree, like only to itself,
having freed itself from the morality of custom, an autonomous, supra-
ethical individual.’ Towards the end of Genealogy he writes:
This man of the future will redeem us, not just from the ideal
held up till now, but also from those things which had to arise
from it, from the great nausea, the will to nothingness, from
nihilism, that stroke of midday and of great decision that makes
the will free again, which gives earth its purpose and man his
hope again, this Antichrist and anti-nihilist, this conqueror of
God and of nothingness – he must come one day (Nietzsche, 1967:
71).
Nietzsche is fascinated by the idea that after a long and painful process
humanity, at last, will have the fruits, and that we – the moderns – are in a
transitional period.1 Even though it is true that Nietzsche regards culture as
a ‘tyranny against nature’, he also believes that there is a selective object of
culture whose function is to form a man capable of promising and thus of
making use of the future, a free and powerful man who is active. Modern
culture has produced Napoleon, Goethe… and even Nietzsche himself. And
Weber’s own analysis of the self achieved through Protestant discipline
concludes that ‘the personality thus constructed transformed and fortified
Talay: Nietzsche and Weber on Personality and Democracy 35
the self of the believer and made the new self capable of initiative,
innovation, and strength of an unusual kind’ (Goldman, 1988: 4).
However, unlike Nietzsche, Weber does not refer to a future that will
come one day, nor does he think that we are in a transitional period. While
Weber agrees with Nietzsche in ignoring the ‘fact that science – that is, the
techniques of mastering life based on science – has been celebrated with
naïve optimism as the way to happiness’ (Weber, 1989:17), he is even more
critical of the modern anti-scientific prophets in the Germany of his time.
Modern rationality – of science, of organization and so on – is here to stay.
This, and perhaps only this, is the meaning of his asides about the iron cage.
Similarly in ‘Science as a Vocation’ he states that ‘there are in principle no
mysterious, incalculable powers at work, but rather that one can in principle
master everything through calculation. But that means the disenchantment
of the world’ (Weber, 1989: 17). Although this seems to imply a kind of
pessimism on Weber’s part, I will claim that Weber is no less optimistic than
Nietzsche about the future, despite the fact that he suggests no final message
about how we should conduct our lives. For just like Nietzsche, Weber is
occupied with the question of ‘What sort of man will inhabit the future?’
In ‘Science as a Vocation’, after a long account of the external
conditions of an academic occupation in the context of the increasing
bureaucratization of the university, Weber finally turns to the expectations
of the audience: ‘But I believe that you really wish to hear about something
else – the inner vocation for science’ (Weber, 1989: 8). As Wilhelm Hennis
states, the lecture is basically to do with the question of ‘who has personality
within science?’ (Hennis, 1987: 71) And Weber gives the answer: ‘Personality
is only possessed in the realm of science by the man who serves only the
needs of his subject’, adding immediately that ‘this is true not only in science’
(Weber, 1989: 11). The lecture ‘Politics as a Vocation’ has the same pattern.
Weber devotes a considerable space to the definition of the state, of politics,
the distinction between living off and for politics and a comparative study of
political parties or groups at different times. Finally he comes to the point:
‘Now then, what inner enjoyments can this career offer and what personal
conditions are presupposed for one who enters this avenue?’ (Weber, 2001:
114). Of the three conditions – passion, a sense of proportion and a sense of
responsibility – passion is the most peculiar, because by it Weber means
‘matter-of-factness’, or devotion to a cause: ‘devotion to politics if it is not to
be frivolous intellectual play but rather genuinely human conduct, can be
born and nourished from passion alone’ (Weber, 2001: 114). This quite sober
definition of passion is a clue to the difference between Weber and Nietzsche.
For instance, although the passion of the scientist devoted to truth has
played a major role in the ongoing disenchantment of the world, although
36 Talay: Nietzsche and Weber on Personality and Democracy
In the end, Weber does not give a systematic analysis of different social
orders and their relation to ‘personality’ or of what type of man can inhabit
the future. Instead he left a series of challenges that later social and political
science was invited to take up. The question that I would like to ask now is,
to what extent have these challenges been addressed?
Weber’s friend Robert Michels said that all forms of political organization
will eventually develop into oligarchies. The iron law of oligarchy is just the
38 Talay: Nietzsche and Weber on Personality and Democracy
Can the same be said of political scientists and political sociologists who did
witness it? After World War II both disciplines established a fairly close link
between democracy and freedom on the one hand, and between
totalitarianism and a lack of freedom on the other. The types of freedom that
democracy was thought consistent with were the liberal freedoms of a
deontological or utilitarian sort. The effect of this was that Nietzschean and
Weberian doubts about democracy’s capacity to breed autonomous
personalities were marginalized; if they were entertained at all it was in
philosophy, critical theory, some versions of sociology (notably in theories
of mass society), and literature. The empirical study of political parties, trade
unions or professional organizations rather steered clear of them.
Take, for instance, Seymour Martin Lipset. Lipset did witness World
War II and its consequences, and as a result a central theme of his work was
the sustainability of political democracy. In one study he focused on the ITU
(International Typographical Union) and the emergence of a large socialist
party, the Cooperative Commonwealth Federation (CCF) in Canada, but he
did so partly in order to see whether Michels was right about the iron law of
oligarchy. Contrary to Michels, Lipset came to the optimistic conclusion that
ITU was ‘a large trade union which governed itself through an elaborate
democratic political system’ (Buxton, 1985: 212-13).
This looks like a dry statement of a value-neutral scholar; but as a
graduate student, Lipset had already agonized over Weberian questions
about the ethics of a scientist, and the dilemma of reconciling his political
commitment with the objective scientific research. As a young political
scientist, he wanted to give ‘personality’ to what he was doing. He came to
the conclusion that if one can manage to keep conclusions separate from
political biases, one can still be loyal to Weberian strictures, starting the study
with questions that are based on one’s own values, but keeping it objective
and value-free, allowing one to come to objective conclusions. Having faced
these ethical questions, later Lipset claims that the task of political sociologist
is to be concerned with cleavages as well as consensus, and to provide
political leaders with empirical knowledge and thereby contribute to the
effectiveness of the democratic system. He thought that too many political
sociologists focused either on cleavage or on consensus and thus contributed
to the perpetuation of ideology. A stable democratic system requires both
consensus and cleavage (Buxton, 1985: 228). It also presupposes a situation
where ‘all major political parties include supporters from many segments of
the population’. The question for Lipset then is not ‘what makes personality
possible?’ but ‘what makes democracy work?’, with the question of
40 Talay: Nietzsche and Weber on Personality and Democracy
personality being thought to take care of itself or be irrelevant. Lipset makes the
Tocquevillian argument that participation in any form of organized activity
has the effect of stimulating political participation (Lipset, 1956: 43-56).
This was written thirty years before the theme of ‘civil society’ became so
popular among intellectuals.
One piece of empirical research that helped in its popularization was
Robert Putnam’s Making Democracy Work, an endorsement-with-evidence of
Lipset’s statement. By focusing on the efficiency of the regional governments
that were elected in the early 1970s in Italy, Putnam explores ‘why norms
and networks of civic engagements powerfully affect the prospects for
effective, responsive government and why civic traditions are so stable over
long periods’ (Putnam 1992: 16). He claims that membership in voluntary
organizations such as labour unions, guilds, and even bird-watching clubs
and the like promote a sense of community, and in a nation with a strong
sense of civic community, a tolerance toward diversity and high level of
mutual trust are more possible. A strong civil society promotes social
connectedness and integration, and a corresponding set of attitudes and
habits; there is a strong link between voluntary cooperation and social capital
in the form of norms of reciprocity and networks of civic engagement. Social
capital refers to ‘features of social organization, such as trust, norms, and
networks, that can improve the efficiency of society by facilitating
coordinated actions’ (Putnam 1992: 167). At the other end of the spectrum,
‘where norms and networks of civic engagement are lacking, the outlook for
collective action appears bleak’ (Putnam 1992: 183). ‘The harmonies of a
choral society illustrate how voluntary collaboration can create value that
no individual, no matter how wealthy, no matter how wily, could produce
alone. In the civic community associations proliferate, memberships overlap,
and participation spills into multiple arenas of community life. The social
contract that sustains such collaboration in the civic community is not legal
but moral’ (Putnam 1992: 183).
Since Putnam’s work a whole wave of studies have appeared,
conducted in a similar spirit and formulating questions in the same sort of
language. Tusalem’s study of NGOs in ‘transitional societies’ is just one:
Tusalem states that states with a strong civil society promote the pluralism
of their societal groups and this approach leads NGOs to experience both
vertical and horizontal growth. These states support the idea that there
should be NGOs in the regions, provinces, and municipalities, since their
expansion is good for democracy. It is compatible with the sustainability of
democracy because, by bringing citizens together, NGOs create a space
where people can discuss the strengths and shortcomings of local and
national governments. ‘In the end, states with very dense and diffused NGOs
are better geared to make effective demands on the polity as a whole’
(Tusalem, 2007: 379).
Trust, norms, networks, social capital, social contract, efficiency, this
is the (increasingly popular) language of a political science that has left
Nietzschean and Weberian questions, and the deep brooding that gave rise
to them, a long way behind. Its questions are different: how can civic
engagement be fostered? How do civil society organizations contribute to
better policy-making? How can individuals’ demands on the polity be met?
On the question of how individual people can face up to the demands of the
day, this work is largely silent.
Conclusion
autonomy and personality continue to cast their shadows, or ought to. And
it probably should remain an open question whether belonging to a bird-
watching club or a choir is quite what Weber had in mind when he said that
we should meet the demands of the day and devote ourselves to something
with passion.
Endnotes
1
In Beyond Good and Evil Nietzsche presents the following historical
sequence: 1) a pre-moral (vormoralische) period in which the value or disvalue
of an action was derived from its consequences; 2) a moral period which
shifts from assessing consequences to assessing ‘intentions’ and which
involves the first attempts at self-knowledge; 3) an ‘extra-moral’
(aussermoralische) period which is a threshold upon which we ‘immoralists’
stand and in which we believe that morality in the traditional sense, the
morality of intentions, was a prejudice. Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and
Evil (New York: Vintage, 1966), p.32.
Bibliography
Buxton, William (1985) Talcott Parsons and the Capitalist Nation-State Toronto;
Buffalo; London: University of Toronto Press
Goldman, Harvey (1988) Max Weber and Thomas Mann: Calling and the Shaping
of the Self Berkeley; Los Angeles; London: University of California Press
Nietzsche, Friedrich (1996) Human, all too Human New York; London;
Routledge
Tusalem, Rolin F (2007) “A boon or a bane? The role of civil society in third
and fouth-wave democracies” International Political Science Review 28, 361-86