Fenrir's Fangs

11. The New Idol

  SOMEWHERE there are still peoples and herds, but not with us, my
brethren: here there are states.
  A state? What is that? Well! open now your ears unto me, for now
will I say unto you my word concerning the death of peoples.
  A state, is called the coldest of all cold monsters. Coldly lieth it
also; and this lie creepeth from its mouth: "I, the state, am the
people."
  It is a lie! Creators were they who created peoples, and hung a
faith and a love over them: thus they served life.
  Destroyers, are they who lay snares for many, and call it the state:
they hang a sword and a hundred cravings over them.
  Where there is still a people, there the state is not understood,
but hated as the evil eye, and as sin against laws and customs.
  This sign I give unto you: every people speaketh its language of
good and evil: this its neighbour understandeth not. Its language hath
it devised for itself in laws and customs.
  But the state lieth in all languages of good and evil; and
whatever it saith it lieth; and whatever it hath it hath stolen.
  False is everything in it; with stolen teeth it biteth, the biting
one. False are even its bowels.
  Confusion of language of good and evil; this sign I give unto you as
the sign of the state. Verily, the will to death, indicateth this
sign! Verily, it beckoneth unto the preachers of death!
  Many too many are born: for the superfluous ones was the state
devised!
  See just how it enticeth them to it, the many-too-many! How it
swalloweth and cheweth and recheweth them!
  "On earth there is nothing greater than I: it is I who am the
regulating finger of God."- thus roareth the monster. And not only the
long-eared and short-sighted fall upon their knees!
  Ah! even in your ears, ye great souls, it whispereth its gloomy
lies! Ah! it findeth out the rich hearts which willingly lavish
themselves!
  Yea, it findeth you out too, ye conquerors of the old God! Weary
ye became of the conflict, and now your weariness serveth the new
idol!
  Heroes and honourable ones, it would fain set up around it, the
new idol! Gladly it basketh in the sunshine of good consciences,-
the cold monster!
  Everything will it give you, if ye worship it, the new idol: thus it
purchaseth the lustre of your virtue, and the glance of your proud
eyes.
  It seeketh to allure by means of you, the many-too-many! Yea, a
hellish artifice hath here been devised, a death-horse jingling with
the trappings of divine honours!
  Yea, a dying for many hath here been devised, which glorifieth
itself as life: verily, a hearty service unto all preachers of death!
  The state, I call it, where all are poison-drinkers, the good and
the bad: the state, where all lose themselves, the good and the bad:
the state, where the slow suicide of all- is called "life."
  Just see these superfluous ones! They steal the works of the
inventors and the treasures of the wise. Culture, they call their
theft- and everything becometh sickness and trouble unto them!
  Just see these superfluous ones! Sick are they always; they vomit
their bile and call it a newspaper. They devour one another, and
cannot even digest themselves.
  Just see these superfluous ones! Wealth they acquire and become
poorer thereby. Power they seek for, and above all, the lever of
power, much money- these impotent ones!
  See them clamber, these nimble apes! They clamber over one
another, and thus scuffle into the mud and the abyss.
  Towards the throne they all strive: it is their madness- as if
happiness sat on the throne! Ofttimes sitteth filth on the throne.-
and ofttimes also the throne on filth.
  Madmen they all seem to me, and clambering apes, and too eager.
Badly smelleth their idol to me, the cold monster: badly they all
smell to me, these idolaters.
  My brethren, will ye suffocate in the fumes of their maws and
appetites! Better break the windows and jump into the open air!
  Do go out of the way of the bad odour! Withdraw from the idolatry of
the superfluous!
  Do go out of the way of the bad odour! Withdraw from the steam of
these human sacrifices!
  Open still remaineth the earth for great souls. Empty are still many
sites for lone ones and twain ones, around which floateth the odour of
tranquil seas.
  Open still remaineth a free life for great souls. Verily, he who
possesseth little is so much the less possessed: blessed be moderate
poverty!
  There, where the state ceaseth- there only commenceth the man who is
not superfluous: there commenceth the song of the necessary ones,
the single and irreplaceable melody.
  There, where the state ceaseth- pray look thither, my brethren! Do
ye not see it, the rainbow and the bridges of the Superman?-

  Thus spake Zarathustra.