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Last series I looked at Heidegger’s interpretation of Holderlin’s poem Germania in terms of re-thinking Greek Philosophy.  Specifically, we looked at Heidegger’s Preparatory Reflections: Poetry and Language. 

In this new series I’m going to further explore Hölderlin’s “Germania” and also his poem “The Rhine” to look at the question of “The People.”  What does it mean to be a “People.”  Certainly, the Germans are a proud and historic people, though the question of German pride came to a forefront in the previous century with the horror of Nazism.  In previous times, Germans as a people were synonymous with high art and culture.  But what is a people?  We noted previously humans are different from animals like dogs because of the richness of our contexts.  We live according to the human condition of Death, for instance   A dog no more lives out of an understanding of the “doggy condition” than does the dog relate to a “doggy Zeitgeist.”  Likewise, dogs don’t belong to a “people.”  Even today the notion of being a “people” has gone vague and so we only think it at times like international sporting events (Team Canada beath Team Sweden in overtime last night in Hockey!)

Friedrich Nietzsche had a complex and often critical view of the German people, which evolved over time. Here are some key points from his writings regarding Germans.  In “Beyond Good and Evil” (1886), Nietzsche criticizes the German character for being too ponderous, lacking in subtlety, and overly influenced by the scholarly and metaphysical. He sees the German spirit as heavy, inward-looking, and somewhat philistine, contrasting it with the lighter, more artistic spirit of the French or the more practical nature of the English, “The German soul has passages and galleries in it, there are caves, hiding-places, and dungeons therein; its disorder has much of the charm of the mysterious; the German himself is often not at home in himself, he is often afraid of himself, and does not get to the bottom of himself.” (Beyond Good and Evil, Aphorism 244). Note the idea of not-being-at home that we saw previously with the Greeks in terms of deinon and apolis.

Nietzsche’s criticism extended to German nationalism and its cultural manifestations, particularly his former idol Richard Wagner, whom he initially admired but later distanced himself from. In “The Case of Wagner” (1888), he associates Wagner’s music with what he perceives as the decadence and cultural regression of Germany, accusing it of pandering to the masses and the state, “German music is romanticism par excellence, therefore also the most dangerous and most seductive form of the German spirit.” (The Case of Wagner). Nietzsche was fiercely critical of what he saw as the moralistic, conformist, and herd mentality of the German populace, especially in the context of Prussian militarism and the burgeoning German Empire. He finds this spirit antithetical to his ideal of the Übermensch (Overman) and individual greatness, “The German himself does not exist, he is becoming, he is ‘developing’. One day he will perhaps be something, but at present he is more than anything else a chaos.” (Human, All Too Human)

Nietzsche also critiqued the German academic and philosophical tradition for being overly systematic, pedantic, and lacking in life-affirming vigor. He saw this as a reflection of a broader cultural malaise, where philosophy was more about preserving tradition than fostering creativity or critical thought, “The German universities have a great deal to answer for, they have been the most successful enemies of the German intellect.” (Twilight of the Idols). Nietzsche’s views on Germans were thus marked by a mix of criticism for their perceived cultural, philosophical, and moral shortcomings, alongside a recognition of their potential for transformation and greatness if they could overcome these traits. His perspective is nuanced, often harsh, but aimed at provoking a reevaluation of what it means to be German in a philosophical and cultural context.

We sometimes speak of native people that they are a “people of the land.”  When people refer to Indigenous groups as “people of the land,” they are highlighting several interconnected concepts.  Indigenous peoples often have profound, longstanding relationships with specific geographical areas. This connection is not just physical but also spiritual, cultural, and historical. For example, the Maori of New Zealand have a concept called “whenua,” which means both “land” and “placenta,” symbolizing the deep connection between people and land from birth. The land holds cultural, spiritual, and historical significance for Indigenous communities. The stories, ceremonies, and traditions are often tied to specific landscapes. The Anishinaabe in North America, for instance, have creation stories linked to the Great Lakes, which are seen as part of their cultural identity.

Many Indigenous cultures view themselves as caretakers of the land rather than owners, practicing sustainable living methods that ensure the land’s health for future generations. The Tla-o-qui-aht First Nation in Canada has a principle called “Iisaak” (respect), which guides their forest stewardship practices to ensure environmental sustainability. For many Indigenous groups, land is central to their identity, sovereignty, and political rights. The Sami people in Scandinavia have fought for recognition of their land rights, which are integral to their cultural survival and political autonomy.

The phrase can also refer to the historical claims and legal battles over land rights. Native American tribes in the U.S., like the Lakota, have fought for the return of sacred lands such as the Black Hills, emphasizing their historical continuity and legal rights to these areas. The land is often the source of livelihood through traditional practices like hunting, fishing, gathering, and agriculture. In Australia, the Yolngu people’s relationship with the land includes managing it through fire to promote biodiversity, which is crucial for their sustenance. In essence, calling Indigenous people “people of the land” underscores a holistic relationship where land is not merely a resource but a living entity integral to their existence, culture, and future. This concept often contrasts with more extractive or ownership-based views of land in many modern societies.

Now, there is going to be something to do with mourning that speaks to the German people.  Heidegger comments for Hölderlin that

Fundamental attunements—to use a customary distinction here—do not concern the soul, but the spirit. Pain and suffering in general are only by virtue of our enduring a conflict. Animals too can indeed endure pain and suffering, but their suffering and being in pain is not sorrow, just as stomach pains are not in themselves sorrow, nor the kind of pain that mourning is. Nor are these merely a ‘higher’ kind of feelings, but rather something essentially different… Rather, this originary mourning is the lucid superiority of the simple goodness of a grave pain—a fundamental attunement. It opens up beings as a whole differently, and in an essential manner. (Heidegger, Martin. Hölderlin’s Hymns: “Germania” and “The Rhine” (Studies in Continental Thought) (p. 123-4). Indiana University Press. Kindle Edition.)

We know the distinction between soul and spirit from the bible, though we also know “spirit” from “Zeitgeist,” which need not suggest anything religious.  The term “Zeitgeist” comes from German, where “Zeit” means “time” and “Geist” means “spirit” or “ghost.” It was first used in the 18th century by the philosopher Johann Gottfried Herder in his work “Ideas for the Philosophy of History of Humanity” (1784-1791). Herder used the term to describe the spirit or mood of an age, the intellectual, cultural, ethical, and political climate of a particular period in history. Since then, “Zeitgeist” has been adopted into English and other languages to refer to the defining spirit or mood of a particular period of history as shown by the ideas and beliefs of the time.