When we utilise metaphor, we take two distinctly unrelated objects, and transfer qualities from one to the other. In early Nietzsche, metaphor is especially tied to the general notion of truth. This is not because truth is arrived at by means of metaphor, e.g., when Shakespeare pines that his lover is a hot summer’s day, the reader concludes that the truth of matter must be that the lover is a source of warmth to Shakespeare. Rather, for Nietzsche, there is no truth of the matter: there is only metaphor, dangerously reclassified as truth.

This argument is not as far-fetched as it appears prima facie. It is not too radical to conceive of our most basic ideas are constructed of various layers of metaphor. Consider, for example, the process of designation in language. Nietzsche distinguishes between two separate planes of metaphor.

The first metaphor:

  • “A nerve stimulus transformed into an image — the first metaphor!” (TL. 256). Suppose John looks off into the shadowy distance and sees a tree. The process by which the brain translates the information received by the optic system is not the tree-in-itself, but the process does allow John to comprehend the experience of viewing the tree, or to conceive of the tree. It facilitates the contemplation of an imprecise impression of a tree-in-itself. There is simply no other humanly possible way to intake and process information. John cannot literally implant the tree-in-itself into his brain, and so, all he has is an interpretation of a tree-in-itself. This is the first metaphor; an object being reduced into an idea.

The second metaphor:

  • “The image then reproduced in a sound — the second metaphor!” (TL. 256). The literal combination of letters and sounds John uses to represent the word ‘tree’ is inherently arbitrary. T-R-E-E does not designate the tree-in-itself, but rather, denotes the imprecise impression John has of the tree-in-itself. This makes it almost a metaphor for the first metaphor noted above. Nietzsche further details this by saying that “we believe that we know something about the things themselves when we talk about trees, colours, snow and flowers, and yet we possess nothing but metaphors for things which do not correspond in the slightest to the original entities” (TL. 256). The words themselves are inherently meaningless; however, they retain a certain value, as it is a combination of words, of metaphors, that allows us to grasp at what we wish to be the truth.

These two described metaphors are actually layered on top of each other, as the foundation for the constructs we build as we experience the world. All of our experiences, all of our notions of truth, are simply further layerings of metaphor.

This idea of truth not existing as anything but a metaphor erroneously classified as truth is one that Nietzsche shows rather than tells. Rather than simply outlining a doctrine, Nietzsche gives a chain of metaphors to demonstrate the value of his argument. Consider this as another level of metaphor, more complex in nature and on a much larger scale: a string of individual words representing a process. In this case, this level of metaphor refers, not to John’s usage of T-R-E-E representing a tree-in-itself, but rather, John’s process of language designation acting as a metaphor for Nietzsche’s notion of truth being nothing but metaphor. This process can be described only by a compilation of individual words, individual metaphors, building a top an (admittedly arbitrary) foundation — and resulting in a collection of metaphors that signifies an extended metaphor.

This spider web imagery later described is central to the structure of Nietzsche’s writings. Biology tells us that a spider must spin its web out of material that he himself produces. In essence, this means that the spider’s very foundation in this world relies exclusively on self-made constructs. This extends to man, as “man may well be admired as a tremendous architectural genius, who succeeds in piling up an infinitely complicated cathedral of concepts on moving foundations and, as it were, running water. Admittedly, in order to find support on such foundations, it must be like a structure made of spider’s webs, delicate enough to be carried along by the waves, firm enough not to be blown apart by the wind” (258-259). Nietzsche intends this to be interpreted as an observation. In order for us to believe our metaphors are truth, our self-made constructions must be strong enough to support our convictions, our views of the world; but at the same time, they must be flexible enough to account for any challenges to our reality.

Perhaps it may help to think of the ‘holes’ within the structure of the web acting as a filter, allowing for man to sift away that which stands in opposition to his constructs. Nietzsche believes man acts in this fashion because “men do not flee from being deceived as much as from being damaged by deception: what they hate at this stage is basically not the deception but the bad, hostile consequences of certain kinds of deceptions” (TL. 256). In other words, Nietzsche does not believe that man particularly cares about being deceived—he only cares about being hurt by the shatters of his illusions.

This in turn explains why man holds onto metaphors and reclassifies them as ‘truth.’ Over time, there emerges, according to Nietzsche in On Truth and Lying, an all-too human tendency to cast aside the awareness of metaphor as metaphor, and replace it instead with what we desire to be a ‘truth’ — a power he dubs “dissimulation [reaching] its peak [in ]man: deception” (254). Our greatest deception, then, according to Nietzsche, is forgetting that metaphors are only metaphors. Too often we try to assure ourselves the metaphors we weave together out of our own selves are not constructs at all, but well-founded homes in which we can comfortably dwell.