Where Freud attempts to heal the pain of the mind, Nietszche appears to give meaning to it. This dichotomy of science and passion appear completed by each of their works.Which makes me think of commodity fetishism. Nobody really needs meaning, or mental health to survive. These works of literature are themselves commodity fetishism.
Nietszche releases his book (albeit to a limited number of people) to fulfill percieved need of god, but if he were as selfish as his book would have us believe, he would never have released it at all, unless he would consider himself not selfish enough. And of course, what do people need to feel fulfilled at all? Let’s not forget Freud, his entire book was about making people able to overcome what before would be considered inconveniences, eccentricities, or darwin award winning behaviour. All sympathy to those with such problems, the point is that previous ages would have forced the person to either deal with their problem, or they be removed from society, in either case solving the problem. It was a bad deal, no doubt about it, but it’s not as bad a deal as we would percieve it to be today, I imagine back then they’d just accept it.
And if these things are commodity fetishism same as our need for hundreds of pairs of shoes, perhaps we need to reconsider what is necessary. It’s not necessary that we have hundreds of pairs of shoes anymore than we live happy, fulfilling lives, but they certainly are nice to have.
All this makes me think of the painting below. The picture is of the Me devil Land of Cockaigne, (pronounced the same as the drug). In the Medieval period, people fantasized about this mythical land as having a great deal of food. The picture you see depicts men, so full, they have no more desire than to lay there on his back.
Now, we have enough food to make that a possibility. More than necessary in fact. But now, no amount of food seems sufficient to fill the gaping hole in our soul. Forget food actually, there are thousands of authors writing thousands of books a day, and yet we still haven’t found the one ‘answer’ we’re looking for, in fact it’s harder to find than ever, because now unlike then, it’s hidden in a sea of knowledge.
In the middle ages, you didn’t really need that many books. In fact, you were likely to have had only one book read to you if you were in the middle ages (remember if you were in the middle ages you were most likely illiterate and could not read it yourself), that is of course the Bible. And understanding that book was a distant second to the importance of food.
Rather than making do with what we have, we now need more information than we could ever consume.
But finding a satisfactory explaination as to why we should continue to feed ourselves or get out of bed every day is a purpose in itself. I am not sure we will ever find that kind of satisfaction that the man in the Land of Cockaigne enjoys forever (barring drugs) but I do believe the pursuit in itself is necessary.
Which brings me to my point; commodity fetishism (if we extend it to art and literature) isn’t a means to an end, but rather a means of living. People say you can’t buy happiness and it’s true, it won’t get us to the Land of Cockaigne so long as we live (unless you believe heroin will get you there), but it will bring variation that we need to survive, because if it’s one thing that the human race has become accustomed to in modernity; it’s adaptability, and I believe it’s more fulfilling than the Land of Cockaigne could ever be.

