Dear, Herr Nietzsche

Dear,
Herr Nietzsche 

My favorite story of you, is the one where you went insane. A man was beating on the stallion, and though the stallion was larger, stronger, faster, superior in every way, the man subdued it. And you cried out, "I understand you!" I don't believe you said this on your own accord, but saw the way religion took strong human beings, and subdued it like that horse.

Yet, imagine humanity without the horse. The most beautiful thing in creation is man's relationship with the beasts. Beasts thirty times our size, man has tamed and befriended, has ridden, has taken to war, has held in his hands. From vipers to lions, man has befriended all the beasts of the field. Could there, Nietzsche, be this cooperation between man and beast if the animals did not subdue? Could there be the beauty of the friendship, between a man and his horse, or a man and his dog?

Such it is, that even the animals obey a morality which you do not understand. The morality of camaraderie, kindness, love and affection. The morality of trust, and cooperation. Where the horse has helped man grow his crops for thousands of years, and helped us supply ourselves with food. They have given us their meat, they have given us their time and energy. Such it is, that sacrifice has created a natural bond between man and animal. One which you would destroy. For if the horse had broken his restraints, and if the horse had never been tamed, it would starve in the wild like you did. Or, it would simply be without the ability to ride. There would never be friendship nor loyalty between it and its owner.

No, you went insane, knowing religion had taken an animal, powerful and strong, and had subdued it. Rightly it ought to be subdued, for the horse is better use to itself and mankind if it is bridled by religion. If it does not buck the stranger off its back. For, by this cooperation, religion has tended to unify human beings, and allow us to forge relationships and common bonds. Religion must subdue the animal within us, if we are to ever form kind bonds, and trust and the superior elements of true happiness---which is love.

If we were an untamable stallion, being broken by religion and made weak by it---how would the horse ever improve its strength, except by the tow of a plough? It would never grow stronger. It would forever be weaker, fed on wild grasses instead of cultured grains. It would have no shelter---no barn to comfort and warm it. It would, rather, be in the fields roaming, in danger on every corner from hunters, wolves, lions and jackals.

Do you really wish this state on mankind? One where we throw off our bonds and keep ourselves tethered to a wild ferocity? Where now the horse is outmoded, and only the rich own them. They are obsolete, taken over by a machine and not a man. Your ultimate goal is to replace men with machines---cold, steel, hardened machines. For what flesh would the horse have, the most beautiful of God's creation, if all men needed were automobiles? We are quickly destroying the wildlife, and horses too would go extinct one day. Yet, you feel a kinship with the horse, being broken by the restraints its handler has given it. Should men had never progressed, it would still be common for a man to own a horse. Instead, we have machines.

Truly, your progression of man to machine is inevitable. For it is profitable for men to shed themselves of their flesh, and take on an iron bone. And like the horse, we shall die. We shan't be strong, but delivered to the wheel of fortune.

You died in an insane asylum. For this horse broke you. Yet its restraints are the thing that made it useful to us. And for progress to continue, it shall require that man go extinct, and never share love or witness beauty. To never understand those things, nor joy nor trust nor faith.

I speak to you, one who is dead. I do not call forth your specter, for you are dead. Yet, do understand that I love the horse more than you. I would see it nibble at the farmer's apple, take grains from his children's hand, and be embraced as an old friend toward the twilight of its life, than for it to be replaced by an automobile.