As I am fond of doing, with a fondness that finds its grounds in the call of thinking, I have given this post an intentionally ambiguous title. That title can be taken in two very different ways, depending on whether one takes the genitive ‘of’ in the title to be used possessively or objectively.

To give an example of such ambiguity, “the fear of the enemies” can mean, if the ‘of’ functions possessively, the fear that the enemies themselves feel toward their opponents. On the other hand, “the fear of the enemies” can mean the fear felt by those opponents themselves feel towards those enemies. In that case, the ‘of’ functions objectively.

To give another, perhaps even clearer example,  the expression “the love of God” can mean, on the one hand, God’s love for whomever or whatever God loves, in which case it is functioning “possessively,” such that it is God who does the loving. But the same expression, “the love of God,” can also mean, on the other hand, the love someone or something other than God has for God Godself, in which case it is functioning “objectively,” such that it is God who is being loved rather than God doing the loving.

In just the same way, my title, “The Mastery of Slaves,” can mean two very different things. On the one hand, it can mean the mastery, in the degenerate sense of dominion and control — the mastery in short, that those who count as “slave-masters” have over those who count as their “slaves.” On the other hand, it can mean the genuine mastery, in the original and originating sense of knowing how to exercise some skill, that even slaves themselves—and perhaps especially slaves — can and often do acquire, and can then pass on to others when appropriate. That is, slaves can be masters in the sense that someone who gains high skill at carpentry becomes a master carpenter, under the tutelage of whom apprentice carpenters can learn such mastery themselves.[1]   

The original, originating sense of mastery, that which means the acquisition of a skill that can be passed on to others, is mastery in the deepest, most genuine sense. In contrast, the mastery that is no more than the exercise of dominion and control is no genuine mastery at all. It betrays, rather, a lack of all genuine mastery, and a compulsion to disguise and hide that lack behind the sheer use of force. It is mastery only in the sense of coercive power, not in the rich, originating sense of potency, of capacity.[2]                                              

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The arsonist and the authority who promises to protect the community against arson are probably at bottom of entirely similar essence, but the latter achieves his goal differently than the former: namely, through regular fees he charges the community,  no longer through arson.   

— Nietzsche, Der Wanderer und sein Schatten (The Wanderer and His Shadow)[3]

 

It is far easier for slaves to become genuine masters than it is for slave-masters to become genuine masters. The chains that bind slave-masters are chains forged by themselves, just as Ebenezer Scrooge himself forged the immensely long chains that bound him in Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, forging them “length by length, and yard by yard,” as the ghost of Christopher Marley, Scrooge’s long dead partner, tells him in a famous scene. That is what makes it all but impossible for slave-masters ever to free themselves so that they may attain genuine mastery over anything. They are so caught up in the illusion of their own power, which is really powerlessness — powerlessness of the very same kind that addicts have over their addictions, which they too have forged themselves through their own actions—that only some genuine power outside themselves, one greater than their own power of dominion and control, greater not in mere degree, but in basic kind, could ever possibly free them. Only such a thing as a visit from a ghost can deliver them from bondage.

The larceny committed by arsonists seeking personal gain by means of their acts of arson is far more honest than the larceny committed by those who pretend to be protecting people from such arsonists, but who are actually stealing the same people blind through the taxes and other dues they charge for their supposed “service.” Above all, self-admitted arsonists are far more honest with themselves about themselves: far more honest about being robbers who rob from others to benefit themselves. Their selfishness has nothing hidden about it. What’s more, they have to work at their larceny, acquiring skill at extortion.  

In contrast, the duly constituted “official authorities” who demand fees from those they claim to be protecting, are liars as well as extortionists.  

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Note to my readers: I will continue heed the call to follow along this same general path of thinking that I have followed both in this post and in my immediately preceding one — namely, the call to follow the path of thinking about mastery and slavery, and how the two interrelate — in  my next few posts.

[1] For further discussion of this point, see the second section of my preceding post, “On Masters and Mastery,” which went up at this website on September 11 of this year —

[2] On this distinction between coercive and capacitating power, see my book The Irrelevance of Power, available through the link provided in the “Store” at the top of this blogsite.

[3] The opening lines of aphorism 22, in my own free translation.