The first important point Nietzsche makes about morality is that, historically, the first quality that distinguished the morally good from the morally bad was social rank. He calls this a “pathos of distance” between the “noble, powerful, high-stationed and high minded” and the “low, low-minded, common and plebeian” (26). This “pathos” was the historical origin of the “antithesis” between “‘good’ and ‘bad’” (26). Nietzsche’s point is important because he is breaking off from popular European conceptions of morality’s origin that emphasize qualities such as pity and vanity (see Rousseau, for example). One thing that seems important here is the implication that if wealth determines morality, then morality is contingent on social constructs. Wealth is not inherent—neither is morality.
Nietzsche distinguishes the dualism of good/bad from good/evil. Historically, this distinction arises from the historical event of a “slave revolt in morality” (34). Besides the anti-semitic undertones apparent in Nietzsche’s argument, the slave revolt in morality occurs when the low social classes develop enough hatred or “ressentiment” to collapse the distance between the high and low classes. He writes, “The slave revolt in morality begins when ressentiment itself becomes creative and gives birth to values” (36). Nietzsche describes the result of the slave revolt in morality as the disposal of “the masters” and the rise of the “common man” (36). As opposed to the moral distinction between good/bad which “acts and grows spontaneously,” the distinction between good/evil relies on ressentiment as a driver.
Ressentiment—the driver in the slave revolt of morality—parallels Nietzsche’s conception of revenge from The Wanderer and His Shadows. Here, Nietzsche sets up two different kinds of revenge (two different responses). The first kind is an instinctive blow made out of fear, based in self preservation. The second kind of revenge is a “reflection on the other person’s vulnerability” with the objective of hurting the other person to restore someone’s honor (180). This second kind of revenge is defined by the fact that it “wants to prove” (181). Honor is required for this definition to function, for without honor, there would be no need to prove anything to the opponent.
Superimposing “revenge” in the place of resentment adds an interesting layer to Neitzsche’s story of the slave revolt in morality. If slave morality constitutes good based on resentment, then it would also stand to say that good can be constituted by revenge. Revenge constructs its own conception of morality. This comparison brings to light another question: if honor is revenge’s driver, then what role does honor play in slave morality? Perhaps honor can be broadened to mean something more like “dignity” or “self-esteem.” For the common man to instigate a slave revolt in morality, they need to possess this honor/dignity/self-esteem. Constructing a genealogical account of morality would need to include some explanation for how this honor/dignity/self-esteem came to be. Is it innate? Is it contingent on other factors?
The slave revolt in morality (the replacing of “evil” for “bad”) is, perhaps, a kind of revenge. It seems transgressive to modern sensibilities to equate morality with revenge. Morality seems like it should limit revenge or encourage against it. What Neitzsche demonstrates here is that, on the contrary, morality and revenge are intimately related.
