According to French-Algerian philosopher Albert
Camus, our world has no ultimate meaning, but if it had, it would be impossible to know
it. It’s all pretty pointless as if the universe
is nothing more than a cosmic coincidence, born without any specific goal or significance. For some, such a meaningless existence could
lead to despair and even worse. So it seems that, for many, meaning is necessary
to live; and without meaning, life is not worth living. Humans crave purpose; no wonder that they
massively subscribe to belief systems that provide it, even if what they provide isn’t
rationally explicable. Taking such a “leap of faith,” Albert
Camus considered philosophical suicide, as we break with reason and embrace a conviction
just to answer the human desire for existential purpose when there isn’t any. This discrepancy between the human impulse
to ask ultimate questions and the impossibility of finding adequate answers, Camus called
The Absurd. In a previous video about Albert Camus, we
explored his philosophy of Absurdism and ways to deal with a meaningless existence. This video focuses more on how to live in
the face of life’s absurdity or, more specifically, how to be an absurd man (or woman, for that
matter). Is a meaningless life worth living? According to Albert Camus, it is. He believed we never live life fully if we
keep looking for its meaning. His book The Myth of Sisyphus states: People have played on words and pretended
to believe that refusing to grant a meaning to life necessarily leads to declaring that
it is not worth living. In truth, there is no necessary common measure
between these two judgments. End quote. This human requirement for meaning opposing
an impersonal, cold, silent universe that doesn’t provide us any hint of inherent
meaning or purpose, aka The Absurd, often drives people into escapism. Some find their meaning in a religion that
offers them not only the purpose of life but also the origins of the universe, divine rules
of conduct, and the possibility of reward in the afterlife. Others refuse to take the leap of faith (or
their rational minds simply don’t allow them to) but experience the subsequent void
of pointlessness so unbearably that they decide to make away with themselves (thus, suicide). The latter, Camus considered the only serious
philosophical problem. Camus distinguished two forms of suicide:
on the one end, physical suicide, and on the other, ‘philosophical suicide.’ By escaping from the absurd, we either end
up dead or as ‘walking dead;’ the latter are individuals who exchanged the painful,
absurd truth for comforting substitutes. They are the blue-pilled masses - the sheep
- fooling themselves and each other, existing under the veil of blissful ignorance. According to Camus, we should not give in
to the absurd. Instead, we should accept the inherent meaninglessness
of the universe and revolt against it. He stated: By the mere activity of consciousness I transform
into a rule of life what was an invitation to death—and I refuse suicide. End quote. Camus believed that a meaningless life is
worth living if we remain aware of the absurd contradiction between the human craving for
ultimate meaning and the universe’s negligence in providing one. To flourish in the face of this absurdity,
we have to become absurd ourselves. To the absurd man, Camus ascribed three characteristics:
revolt, freedom, and passion. First, the absurd man refuses to accept the
“invitation to death,” as he doesn’t commit physical or philosophical suicide. He entirely accepts the conflict between the
human desire for meaning and the impossibility of finding ultimate purpose and doesn’t
need any false, comforting substitutes to solve this conflict. He acknowledges that he cannot solve the conflict
and doesn’t wish to do so. And so, he revolts against his own instinctive
hunger for meaning, but also against the world, throwing all kinds of solutions at his face,
sometimes even forcing him to commit to a belief system. An example of the absurd man in revolt is
the character Meursault from Camus’ book The Stranger. Meursault is a solitary individual who enjoys
simple pleasures like swimming in the sea and being in the company of a woman named
Marie. When his mother dies, he doesn’t show grief. And when an Arab man on the beach threatens
him with a knife, he shoots him and doesn’t show sorrow afterward. Meursault doesn’t act in ways he in which
doesn’t feel inclined to act just to fit in with the rest or because it’s moral to
do so. The people in his environment are disgusted
by Meursault’s lack of emotions, a personality trait weighed heavily when the judge sentences
him to death. While waiting for his execution, the prison’s
chaplain tries to convert him to Christianity, but Meursault refuses, as he embraces the
world as it is: meaningless, random, indifferent. In doing so, he revolts against the human
thirst for an ultimate purpose. Although Meursault’s life was ending, he
died a free man, as in he didn’t sell out to any artificial meanings or irrational belief
systems. Camus wrote about the absurd man: He who, without negating it, does nothing
for the eternal. Not that nostalgia is foreign to him. But he prefers his courage and his reasoning. The first teaches him to live without appeal
and to get along with what he has; the second informs him of his limits. Assured of his temporally limited freedom,
of his revolt devoid of future, and of his mortal consciousness, he lives out his adventure
within the span of his lifetime. End quote
There are many interpretations of what Camus meant by “living without appeal.” But from reading the myth of Sisyphus and
his novels, he seems to point to an existence in which one doesn’t engage in the absurd
search for ultimate meaning. Living without appeal means embracing the
here and now, acknowledging that there isn’t anything to see for him beyond the mundane;
no higher purpose or divine morals, no afterlife, nothing. It seems to be a life without the intention
to appeal to anything more than the indifference, limitations, and meaninglessness we find in
the ordinary. Such an existence may come across as nihilistic. With Meursault’s character, Camus presents
a nihilistic tragic hero who doesn’t care about morality and just lives nihilistically,
gratifying his senses. He sees no inherent meaning in the universe
and manages to live happily without it. Aside from the characters in his novels, Camus
provided several examples of people he considered to have embraced the absurd in his book The
Myth of Sisyphus. These examples illustrate how one could live
in the face of meaninglessness (as Camus called it) without appeal. Although they might look like them, Camus
probably didn’t intend to present these examples as ‘archetypes,’ as they’re
not models that one should strive to live by; they’re just examples of absurd individuals. If one aims to live the ‘absurd life,’
it’s probably better to focus on why these people are absurd instead of mirroring their
actions. The Seducer As his first example of the absurd man, Camus
presents a well-known womanizer named Don Juan. This fictional character goes from woman to
woman, using the same tactics for each woman he conquers, devoting his whole life to seduction. Many people would consider the existence of
an individual that revolves entirely around the conquest of short-term lovers as shallow. How empty is someone’s life who does the
same thing repeatedly, and how significant is the risk of ending up alone and miserable
with such a lifestyle? Others believe that beyond the veil of Don
Juan’s actions hides a man’s desperate search for true love. But these claims assume that Don Juan needs
(or looks for) something beyond what he’s already doing. His life’s repetition, devoid of a higher
purpose, must be an effort to ultimately attain that higher purpose or, perhaps, a means of
escaping from it. From the perspective that a fulfilled life
requires meaning beyond the engagement in something banal like repetitive seduction
using the same tricks and tactics, a figure like Don Juan is tragic. But, Camus argues, to Don Juan, the pleasure
of seducing women and making love to them is enough. He lives for the moment and the joy of it. Moreover, the quantity of his partners doesn’t
mean that he doesn’t love. He does love and gives his love to many. Does that make it less valuable than what
people consider ‘true love?’ The Actor The second example of the absurd individual
comes in the form of a stage actor, who made a career out of experiencing many lives intensely. The stage actor embraces at least two realities
of life: that our lives are fleeting and that there’s no point in aiming for long-lasting
fame. As opposed to actors in films or writers whose
works survive for millennia, the performances of stage actors will not be recorded for generations
to enjoy. Their actions on stage only count in the present
moment, and there will be no trace of them except within themselves and the people who
observe them. And the stage actor doesn’t mind that his
actions aren’t eternalized. After all, looking at the vastness of the
universe and the limitlessness of time, even the works of the ancient philosophers won’t
survive. And thus, the ambition to leave a legacy is
pretty pointless. Therefore, stage acting embodies the absurd
life, which takes place in the present, for the moment, without appeal for anything beyond
that. When we look at plays, movies, and television
series, we always see the critical moments of the characters’ lives: the most passionate,
emotional, and dramatic events. And so, the actor lives the highlights of
all these different lives passionately within one lifespan, as opposed to the dull existence
of one life, let alone a life spent chasing eternal happiness in the future, which, often,
consists of following life-denying rules to purchase it. The actor lives the lives of people who aren’t
absurd like himself, but he lives them fleetingly. Paradoxically, by living many different lives,
the actor manages not to be tangled up in life. By keeping his distance, he doesn’t fall
into the trap of taking these lives too seriously. He realizes that we all play roles, and everything
we do is futile. The difference between the absurd man and
the rest is that the former knows it. Those who don’t know – the majority of
people – have conditioned themselves to pretend that their pretense is no pretense
but serious business; it amounts to something. But it doesn’t unless we follow some belief
telling us it does, according to the Absurdist philosophy. The absurd individual (in the form of an actor)
is aware of the absurd but embraces the characters’ lives. He’s pretending, enjoying the process, the
momentary appreciation of the audience, and thus affirming life by living many lives. Still, he sees the drama, the rules we cast
upon ourselves, and the meaning we ascribe to our existence as a big joke. The Conqueror The conqueror that Camus describes lives an
absurd life because she’s fully aware of the futility of her actions but engages in
them nonetheless. She doesn’t spend time contemplating and
doesn’t concern herself with the afterlife or higher ideals. She lives for the world her senses perceive,
namely, the here and now. Absurd conquerors know that their actions
are ultimately pointless. They’ll never conquer fate, and any change
they make in the world will eventually be undone. The empires of old, forged with the blood
of many, have all ceased to exist. Fighters for social justice might progress
in their time, but their accomplishments will perish in the long run. Fate wins every time. And the ultimate fate of all is destruction,
the great silence after a brief, insignificant moment of liveliness somewhere in a dark corner
of the universe. Hence, the conqueror acts as if. Her goal isn’t victory (although it would
be nice). Her goal is to conquer herself, experiencing
the triumph over her body and mind again and again. The conquerer wants to feel strong through
victory after victory and thus seeks to live life at a high level. The friendships on the battlefield, the close
relationships formed during conflict, she holds dear, as they’re intense and passionate. According to Camus, the absurd conqueror chooses
the sword over the cross, as the former concerns what’s certain, and the latter is just a
matter of hope and belief. I quote: There always comes a time when one must choose
between contemplation and action. This is called becoming a man. Such wrenches are dreadful. But for a proud heart there can be no compromise. There is God or time, that cross or this sword. This world has a higher meaning that transcends
its worries, or nothing is true but those worries. One must live with time and die with it, or
else elude it for a greater life. End quote. The seducer, the actor, and the conqueror
all play the absurd. They live in the present, lucidly, without
hope. Being without hope isn’t the same as being
hopeless, says Camus. Hopelessness is a form of despair that results
from being unable to embrace the absurd: being without the thing one desperately craves. However, being without hope can be a pleasurable
experience, according to Camus, if we acknowledge that it’s all pointless but live life intensely
nonetheless. Thank you for watching.
