It does not follow that the meaning must be given from above; that life and suffering must come neatly labeled; that nothing is worth while if the world is not governed by a purpose. – Walter Kaufmann

Walter A. Kaufmann

In my late teens and for too long after I had some odd beliefs. They are irrelevant now, and here, save insofar as they led me to read at some depth the writings of Friedrich Nietzsche. I don’t think reading Nietzsche was at all a mistake. In some ways, it’s thanks to him that I recovered my self from my convictions. But there is a greater debt I owe, and that is to the one translator of Nietzsche I trusted wholeheartedly: Walter A. Kaufmann (b. 1-July-1921, d. 4-September-1980), Professor of Philosophy at Princeton. So impressed was I with his erudition and lucid prose, after reading two or three of his Nietzsche translations, and moved by his whole attitude toward philosophy and life—as I found it expressed in his prefaces and footnotes to Nietzsche’s works, and especially in his book, Nietzsche: Philosopher, Psychologist, Antichrist—that I went out and bought three more of his books.

I am currently re-reading the first of those books: Critique of Religion and Philosophy (1958), and I wanted to quote at length from the “Preface to the Princeton Paperback Edition” in the hope that you, dear reader, will perhaps be inspired, too, to seek out his works. Kaufmann is an especially vibrant philosopher, passionate, yet no less incisive for it, and he speaks to the secular humanist with a clear voice of matters oft neglected. He speaks even to the jaded, experienced adult like me, who has seen much but has not necessarily borne in mind some of the most important lessons of an otherwise thoughtful life.

Without further ado, I give you the quotation:

Detail from Rembrandt's ''Large Self-Portrait'' (1652)

Rembrandt’s “Large Self-Portrait” in the Vienna art museum cast a spell on me when I first saw it. But it spoke to me even more when I saw it again in 1962 after three weeks in Poland. In Warsaw I had virtually smelled the blood of the Jews killed there in 1943, and I had also spent an afternoon in Auschwitz. The portrait looked more powerful than ever after these experiences. Rembrandt had been twelve when the Thirty Years War began, and this painting was done four years after the devastation of Europe had ended. In those days there was no market for Rembrandt’s many self-portraits. They were not painted for clients nor with any hope of a sale. Here was integrity incarnate. But how could one pass the muster of these eyes? One has to do something for a living, especially if one has a family, but I felt that I wanted to write only in the spirit in which Rembrandt had painted himself, without regard for what might pay or advance my career. And whenever I think about the millions killed during the second World War and ask myself what I have done with the life granted to me but not to so many others, the books I have written spell some small comfort. …The aspect of [Critique of Religion and Philosophy] about which I don’t have any second thoughts at all is that I feel more than ever that humanists should be concerned less with the opinions of their peers and elders than with the challenge of Rembrandt’s eyes.

Let these words be a clarion call to make the welkin ring, and may we find in our lives the strength to answer.