The Secret of Companionship

The Birth of Tragedy (Die Geburt der Tragödie) is the first major work by German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche, published in 1872 when he was just 27 years old and serving as a professor of classical philology at the University of Basel. Though initially met with hostile reviews from the academic establishment, it has since become one of the most influential works in aesthetics, philosophy, and literary criticism.

Companionship is not merely a matter between people of the same era or under the same roof. On my desk, there has long resided a neighbor from the 19th century—Friedrich Nietzsche.

Through restless searching, I picked up The Birth of Tragedy, its lines of text weaving before my eyes. Across countless afternoons, Nietzsche led me into the world of ancient Greek tragedy. With intoxicated prose, he composed the pinnacle of binary opposition, piercing through the complacent corner built solely upon reason.

Yet Nietzsche's incisive pen also brought incomprehension during my first reading. He hurled numerous challenges at Socrates. I had immersed myself for a long time in the prevailing admiration for Socrates' "Socratic method" and "supremacy of reason." Nietzsche's critique descended upon me with unexpected aggression, igniting in turn my hostility toward him. He argued that Socrates' advocacy of "reason as virtue" subverted the spirit of Greek tragedy, shattering the balance between Apollo's ideal structures and Dionysus's primal life impulses, eroding the chaotic vitality that Dionysus represented. Yet even so, reason and efficiency had long permeated my daily life. To defend my existing spiritual framework, I brazenly launched an attack against Nietzsche. I made every effort to counter his arguments and regain control over reason.

It was precisely in this process that I couldn't help but ask myself, "Where did my hostility toward Nietzsche come from?" Why was I spending time and energy studying his philosophical thought? I was forced to reexamine Nietzsche's views. Did he truly oppose reason itself? He did not, in fact, oppose reason itself. Nietzsche defined the pinnacle of Greek tragedy as a binary opposition that also represents a balance between Apollo and Dionysus, symbolizing the perfect union of reason and instinctual impulse. Considering his life and times, what he truly opposed was perhaps only the "instrumental rationality" flourishing in the early industrial age—not "reason" itself. Unlike reason's consideration of values and purposes, instrumental rationality concerns itself only with means and efficiency, addressing only "how" rather than "why." In Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Nietzsche's declaration that "God is dead" embodies precisely how instrumental rationality shattered faith without seeking a replacement, thereby exposing its essential nihilism. But why did Nietzsche devote so much ink to attacking Socrates? I gradually discovered that Nietzsche actually shared much in common with Socrates—for instance, both loved dialectical thinking. Nietzsche himself stated that he regarded the latter as "a worthy enemy." Precisely because he and Socrates stood so close in the heights of philosophical thought, he sought to forge a connection with Socrates through "critique." Nietzsche also acknowledged that the so-called "pinnacle" of Greek tragedy perhaps never existed at all. Consequently, the hypothesis that Socrates caused this "pinnacle's" demise would also be invalidated. To establish an intellectual connection with Socrates, Nietzsche did not hesitate to create a "pinnacle." Thus, this critique is perhaps more a form of recognition, and at its core, Nietzsche and Socrates were engaged in a spiritual resonance that transcended time and space.

Reflecting upon myself: Where did my hostility toward Nietzsche come from? His spiritual world captivated me from the very beginning. While racking my brains to refute Nietzsche, I was attempting to stand at the same height as him—and even Socrates—trying to catch a glimpse of their torrents of thought. This intellectual connection at the same elevation, unconstrained by time and space, is spiritual resonance. Only after resonating can there be "appreciation" and "critique." Whether it is the companionship between Nietzsche and Socrates or my companionship with Nietzsche, the ultimate secret lies in high-frequency spiritual resonance.