In Search of Meaning (Part 1/3): Absurdity & the Limits of Reason
In a four-part series of previous posts I have tried to offer a sketch of Camus’ concept of absurdity (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, and Part 4). Before reading the following, I might recommend that new readers first visit those introductory posts on the topic.
Absurdity Revisited
We can attain some measure of the absurd by comparing ourselves with other animals. We may note that every animal continues an evolutionary trajectory whose sole purpose is physical survival and reproduction. The repetitious biological rhythm is both simple and predictable: eat, sleep, defecate, reproduce, and eventually die. In this regard humans are no different, though we are also distinct in some profound ways. Unlike other creatures, the human animal comes into the world with an anxious desire for meaning, purpose, and intelligible order. Camus was correct to say that “man is the only creature who refuses to be what he is” (Camus: Rebel, p. 11). But this desire for meaning is little more than a desperate and chilling caterwaul that echoes in the empty silence of the world. Our wishes go unfulfilled – our cries are pointless and absurd. The absurd is thus defined by two conditions: the existence of a meaning-seeking creature and the existence of a world devoid of absolute meaning. The formula might be stated as such:
[meaning-seeking human being] + [world devoid of meaning] = [absurdity]
Note that the world itself is not absurd – only in our relation to it as human beings, since we alone demand from the world that which it cannot provide.
It almost goes without saying that only a small proportion of mainstream society will ever recognize the absurdity of this shared human condition – fewer still are capable of sustaining that burden of awareness. Through the collective unconscious, our culture or society reflexively creates meaningful prescriptions for living. We then follow these cultural scripts without question, and the true terror of our situation remains comfortably obscured from view. In the Western world, for example, meaning is primarily attained through a Capitalist ideological system based on materialism and consumer utopianism. These illusions provide us with methods of attaining self-esteem, meaning, and a comfortable and seemingly stable societal structure.
Modern society also offers plenty of myths and psychological distractions, such as those found in our religious-like infatuation with science and technology, and our mythical belief in inevitable human ‘progress.’ Few question what we ought to be progressing toward. The method is clear: structure your life in endless pursuit of fictional cultural illusions, distract yourself, do not think too hard, and you will be rewarded with mind-numbing psychological comfort. The question of meaning is assumed and our anxiety never surfaces. We are effectively lobotomized by false illusionary structures reified by culture. The goal, it would seem, is to escape from this absurdity. But like the act of suicide (Absurdity Part 2), the creation of some absolute system of meaning entails a logical misstep – a ‘positive leap’ (Absurdity Part 3) that is nothing more than a wishful illusion… a comforting lie. And like all good defense-mechanisms, they only work so long as we allow ourselves to be deceived – forfeiting rationality for peace of mind.
The Limits of Reason
In my view, Camus’ brilliance and integrity are most evident in his resolute adherence to the uncomfortable middle-ground where absurdity is first uncovered, in his tenacious commitment to the original premises on which it is based, and in his recognition of the problem as being impenetrable to logical forms of complete resolution. Straddling this metaphysical divide, Camus was capable of identifying and denouncing ‘absolute’ values or sources of meaning that would only appear to solve the human dilemma, when in reality, they offer only denial or escape.
In The Myth of Sisyphus, Camus tracks the logical errors in finding absolute sources value in formalized religion, competing ideological and economic systems of government, the aspirational endeavors of science, and in the philosophical works of some of history’s most brilliant minds – which is why he would denounce being called a philosopher, on grounds that he hadn’t ‘sufficient faith’ in human reason. No amount of human reason can reconcile the underlying premises of the absurd without denying them. To remain logically coherent, we must keep the formula intact, without escaping the problem.
To do otherwise means ‘forgetting precisely what we ought not to forget,’ causing us to implicitly pledge allegiance to an ‘absolute’ system of illusionary values which leads to a path of ignorance, intolerance, injustice, death, and destruction. For example, how can we be in any position to seriously meet the challenge of climate change, when our part in the destruction of the environment is based on our having bought into a Capitalist way of life and consumer-defined prescriptions for happiness, success, purpose, and meaning? We have heard US Presidents talk about defending the ‘American way of life’ – without acknowledging that it is paid for on the backs of the poor, in the blood of those who live differently, and that it will continued to be paid for by the children of the future. Until we question our assumptive sources of meaning or value, reconciliation with ourselves and with humankind will remain elusive.
Camus noted that living with the absurd involves ‘lucid reason noting its limits.’ This lucidity is a requisite condition because confrontation with the absurd is both a logical discovery and a physical experience – an anxious discomfort that begs a submission of the mind in order to attain psychological distance from the problem. Only lucid awareness is prepared to authentically meet this confrontation. When Camus says that ‘reason must note its limits,’ he means that one must recognize the overwhelming temptation that causes us to leave the path of rational thought and the impossibility of reconciling the problem with logic. Reason is derailed to the precise degree of our emotional need for psychological harmony and our intolerance for ambiguity, groundlessness, and the anxiety related to our absurd human condition.
Human reason has historically engaged in a process of undermining itself when it seeks to escape the problem. This begins with a set of assumptive values that are judged infallible – such values are based more on underlying psychological needs than sound logic. These values are adopted by the larger society (usually after some bloody war that firmly establishes them in place). The reified source of meaning or value is then treated as an absolute – people are willing to live and die by it. Reason has already closed in on itself, becoming impenetrable to exterior logic.
The absurd appears to have no definitive solution. Camus claims that “the important thing … is not to be cured, but to live with one’s ailments” (Camus, MS: p. 41). Somehow we must accept the terms of the absurd and with lucid awareness recognize our thirst for meaning and tolerate our discomfort in knowing that this thirst will never be fully quenched.
Into the Blind Alley
Absurdism suggests that there cannot be any externally justifiable source of meaning or value. It wipes the slate clean and gives us a method for questioning inauthentic sources of meaning or value that will only serve to obscure or deceive. But what will absurdism prescribe as a course of action? Camus has reasoned in The Myth of Sisyphus, that one cannot sanction suicide, since it involves denying one of the premises upon which the absurd is based – it involves escaping the problem. But it begs the question as to how one ought to live. If meaning is relative and arbitrary, then what is there to believe in? What value could arise out of nothingness? How could it justify the actions of ones life? “If we believe in nothing, if nothing has any meaning and if we can affirm no values whatsoever, then everything is possible and nothing has any importance” (Camus, Rebel: p.5).
If the question of suicide is of primary importance to The Myth of Sisyphus, then the question of murder is the prominent topic of The Rebel. Camus wants to know, for example, whether political violence is acceptable in light of a lucid mind conscious of the absurd. At first glance it would seem to be at most a matter of indifference. What value can a human life hold when there are no absolute values? Why should human life be of any consequence? These questions are important, because even if we ‘play it safe’ by not acting in ways to hurt others, our inaction amounts to the same thing, since we implicitly accept the killing of others – by hands other than our own. We become a silent accomplice to murder. Should we be concerned? If so, how can we justify that concern?
Ultimately, Camus reasons that human life is not a matter of indifference and that it should cause us concern once we recognize that the fate that we share as individuals is shared by all human beings. We have reasoned that suicide is unacceptable and for the same reason murder is unacceptable.
“In terms of the encounter between human inquiry and the silence of the universe, murder and suicide are one and the same thing, and must be accepted or rejected together… if we deny that there are reasons for suicide, we cannot claim that there are grounds for murder. There are no half-measures about nihilism. Absurdist reasoning cannot defend the continued existence of its spokesman and, simultaneously, accept the sacrifice of others’ lives” (Camus, Rebel: p.7).
In order to remain committed to absurdist reasoning, we must uphold the premises of its terms – one of those terms is the conscious living and breathing human being. Once we reject absolute negation and suicide as acceptable courses of action (and to be alive and conscious is to implicitly reject it), we must accept that we are unable to deny the rights of others to live. To do otherwise would be contradictory. Camus thus observes that the same idea that led us to believe that murder might be a matter of indifference also deprives it of justification. “The absurd premise implies that human life is the only indubitable value, since it is this that makes the absurd encounter possible” (Foley, 2008).
The only coherent attitude in a world devoid of meaning and value would be to remain silent – if silence did not itself imply a value. And here the absurd can be seen as somewhat contradictory: “It is contradictory in its content because, in wanting to uphold life, it excludes all value judgments, when to live is, in itself, a value judgment. To breathe is to judge” (Camus: Rebel, p. 9). And so we remain tethered to the conscious human being who must find justification within and for him/herself, and by extension, for all of humanity:
“I proclaim that I believe in nothing and that everything is absurd, but I cannot doubt the validity of my proclamation and I must at least believe in my protest. The first and only evidence that is supplied me, within the terms of the absurdist experience, is rebellion. Deprived of all knowledge, incited to murder or to consent to murder, all I have at my disposal is this single piece of evidence, which is only reaffirmed by the anguish I suffer.”
The rebellion that Camus speaks of is of that against one’s very existence – in recognizing our shared human cry for meaning in light of this world that disappoints. Thus far we have established that the human life is of primary importance and perhaps the only indubitable value. In future posts we will explore this concept of meaningful rebellion in more detail, and show how the history of humankind can be seen as a series of rebellious acts that end in negating their own origins.
In Search of Meaning (Part 2/3): Rebellion
The unanswered question of human meaning gnaws at the collective unconsciousness like an open wound begging to be stitched. Lucid reasoning led us to the full scope of this dilemma – but it must also note its limits: it cannot reconcile the irreconcilable and one must not ‘forget’ what it has uncovered – human absurdity.
This is our uncomfortable burden… though the history of humankind consistently shows that it is largely incapable of carrying it. From a very broad analysis, our shared human history can be understood as a series of futile attempts to find relief from the problem through creation of a utopian ideal; a permanent and unshakable structure of value and meaning that might justify our existence and direct purposeful action. In light of the absurd, they can offer little more than ‘relative’ sources of meaning, but the human mind craves absolutes, and this is how they are treated, which leads to a path of justification for both suicide (as discussed in earlier posts) and even murder. What is worth living for is equally worth dying for and perhaps even worth killing for. Thus, the Holy Crusades of the Middle Ages brought death and destruction in the name of God, the atrocities of the Nazis were committed in the name of a utopian future populated by the Aryan Race, and the US Government justifies torture and numerous violations of human rights in the name of Homeland Security, protecting American Capitalism, and more generally, the ‘American way of life.’
According to Camus, the rise and fall of these ideological systems over time and throughout history can be understood in the broadest sense through their being punctuated and overthrown by movements of rebellion.
Metaphysical Rebellion
As discussed in the previous post, we rebel against our absurd human condition by asserting or defending a human value – perhaps the least questionable under scrutiny of the absurd, is the value of human life, since it is our confrontation with the world as conscious human beings that gives rise to the absurd dilemma, which we must keep intact if we are to remain logically coherent and faithful to its underlying premises. But where does this impulse to rebel originate from?
Camus compares the act of human rebellion to the dynamic between the master and slave: The master has historically dominated over the slave by use of political power or physical force. The slave is forcibly bent to the will of the master – against his own. But an impulse to rebel grows, not through an increase in physical strength or wish to dominate, but by his growing sense of injustice, inequality, and his right to relative freedom. This rebellious movement implies a growing awareness of himself as a conscious creature deserving of relative freedom and dignity; he is thus defending what he knows himself to be. To do otherwise would be to acquiesce to living not as a human, but as an animal (existing without demand for higher values and where the sole purpose is physical survival). In short, the impulse that moves the slave toward rebellion is guided by an ethic or value that in his or her mind must be upheld at any cost.
“Having up to now been willing to compromise, the slave suddenly adopts … an attitude of All or Nothing. … he is willing to accept the final defeat, which is death, rather than be deprived of the personal sacrament that he would call, for example, freedom. Better to die on one’s feet than to live on one’s knees. … If the individual, in fact accepts death and happens to die as a consequence of his act of rebellion, he demonstrates by doing so that he is willing to sacrifice himself for the sake of a common good … he considers these rights more important than himself (Camus, p. 15).”
Camus provides a few examples of metaphysical rebellion, including Dostoevsky’s fictional character of Ivan Karamazov, who rebels against God in the name of injustice. A conversation in his novel revolves around the discussion of how an all-powerful God can allow for the suffering of children – to which the Church typically responds: It is part of God’s larger plan, which we cannot possibly understand, and so we must submit to the mystery and to the Lord’s Truth. It is in this context that Ivan exclaims: “If the suffering of children, serves to complete the sum of suffering necessary for the acquisition of truth, I affirm from now onward that truth is not worth such a price (Dostoevsky, p. 245).” Leaving no room for doubt, Ivan further affirms that he would persist in his indignation even if he was wrong. In short, Ivan would not accept that truth should be paid for by injustice and the death of innocents and would sooner accept eternal damnation than condone such injustice. Modern atheists who quote Dostoevsky fail to understand the implication of this very crucial point – though I would suggest they could learn a lot from it. If the emotional force of the atheist movement originated out of a sense of profound injustice, inequality, and the demand for human dignity and free speech regardless of religious or non-religious belief, the New Atheist has seemingly forgotten it, along with the limit this movement once defended and the values it implied. In short, the New Atheists arguably undermine the same values the rebellious atheist movement initially sought to defend. They could never entertain the notion of ‘rejecting truth’ in the name of anything, since they themselves kneel at its scientistic altar – they seek to supplant the church of Christ only to replace it with the absolute worship of science (or more likely, scientism). Rather than acknowledge a shared right to human dignity and freedom of speech, many of these modern day scientific crusaders take pleasure in humiliating their religious opponents while trying to shove their own scientific Truth down their throats. Camus would assuredly say that at this point the movement loses all rights to legitimate rebellion, as it has instead become a slavish ideology.
“The rebel … limits himself, as a matter of principle, to refusing to be humiliated without asking that others should be (Camus, p. 18).”
Rebellious Unity
The true rebel thus asserts that the value they defend is owed, not only to herself, but to all humankind. She fights in defense of not just herself, but for all of humanity.
“When he rebels, a man identifies himself with other men and so surpasses himself, and from this point of view human solidarity is metaphysical (Rebel, p. 17). … rebellion plays the same role as does the “cogito” in the realm of thought: it is the first piece of evidence. But this evidence lures the individual from his solitude. It founds its first value on the whole human race. I rebel – therefore we exist (Camus, p. 22).”
To individually resist and overthrow another individual by physical means is not rebellion but the solitary will-to-power or the desire for domination. In a sense, it is driven by nihilism, since in its despair of transcendental values it reduces the human creature to a savage animal whose only recourse is to dominate or submit in the name of physical survival. But when we acknowledge and act in the name of a value larger than ourselves, we metaphysically join forces with the rest of humanity and simultaneously acknowledge ourselves as creatures of dignity. Rising from their existential isolation, individual human beings find recognition in the values of the unified collective.
“[N]ote that the basis of these values is rebellion itself. Man’s solidarity is founded upon rebellion, and rebellion, in its turn, can only find justification in solidarity. We have then, the right to say that any rebellion which claims the right to deny or destroy this solidarity loses simultaneously its right to be called rebellion and becomes in reality an acquiescence in murder. In the same way, this solidarity, except in so far as religion is concerned, comes to life only on the level of rebellion. … In order to exist, man must rebel, but rebellion must respect the limit it discovers in itself – a limit where minds meet and, in meeting, begin to exist. Rebellious thought, therefore, cannot dispense with memory: it is a perpetual state of tension. In studying its actions and its results, we shall have to say, each time, whether it remains faithful to its first noble promise or, through indolence or folly, it forgets its original purpose and plunges into a mire of tyranny or servitude (Camus, p. 22).
Historical Rebellion and Deification of Progress
Just as a mind conscious of the absurd will quickly seek to unburden itself by ‘forgetting’ its origins and by subscribing to an absolute (versus relative) system of meaning, the history of human rebellion has a likewise tendency toward ‘forgetting’ the relative values that initiated its movement, in search of a less weighty ‘absolute’ that can proscribe a clear course of action. As he overthrows his imprisoners, the slave forgets the limit that he had previously acknowledged and undermines the values that he sought to defend – he misplaces the value that had justified his rebellion through his connection to all of humankind. “The slave begins by demanding justice and ends by wanting to wear a crown (Camus, p. 25).”
Camus explores this process using various examples, including that of the French Revolution at the end of the 18th Century. Until then, people lived according to an ecclesiastical and monarchical society where God was believed to have granted divine power to Kings who would rule over the populace with impunity; countless thousands could starve while the King sat at a comfortable table with a full belly. Enlightenment values and a growing sense of inequality and injustice motivated a rebellion led by Robespierre and the Jacobins to overthrow the monarchy and severely limit the power of the church and religious authority. In its place, they would attempt to establish a society based on equality, citizenship, and human rights – this ‘new society’ was the envisioned goal and it would be erected at any cost. After sentencing King Luis XVI to the guillotine, Robespierre and the Jacobins operated an effectual Dictatorship and embarked on a Reign of Terror that executed anyone suspected of conspiring against this perfect society they were trying to build. In the first two years of seizing power, between 16,000 and 40,000 people were executed based on little more than rumor or circumstantial evidence. Murder was justified by the envisioned end of an unshakable French society of the future, based on absolute values of human worth, dignity, and equality, which could only be attained, it was argued, by temporarily suspending individual ‘freedom’ and ‘justice.’ When this new government was finally in place, it would all have been worth it (or so that is how the argument went). The God appointed King was thus overthrown, but a new church – one of dogmatic ideology – had been erected in its place. The terror eventually ended, somewhat ironically, with Robespierre’s death – and the rest is history.
“When the throne of God is overturned, the rebel realizes that it is now his own responsibility to create justice, order, and unity that he sought in vain within his own condition, and in this way to justify the fall of God. Then begins the desperate effort to create, at the price of crime and murder if necessary, the dominion of man (Rebel, p. 25)”
The source of rebellion begins in the awareness of injustice and a desired movement toward equality, but it often ends by stating those values in a purportedly unshakable ideological or socio-political structure, which in turn is used to justify his/her own unjust actions; the system is treated as an absolute – the act of rebellion forgets its limits while undermining the values it sought to uphold. The cycle arguably continues in a way that broadly predicts the rise and fall of meaning-systems, cultures, and entire civilizations. John Foley (2008) neatly summarizes the problem: “Having turned from God and the Church, accusing it of denying man what was rightfully his, the revolutionary, in turn, creates his own church, complete with his own set of dogmas or absolute truths, idolizing either history or a future vision of man himself (p. 58).”
“… these consequences are in no way due to rebellion itself, or at least they only occur to the extent that the rebel forgets his original purpose, tires of the tremendous tension created by refusing to give a positive or negative answer, and finally abandons himself to complete negation or total submission (Rebel, p. 25).”
A lucid mind that is conscious of the absurd, resists being tempted by absolute sources of meaning, just as they resist rebellious temptation in the name of absolute freedom or justice. Freedom and justice are intertwined. Absolute freedom is impossible, since its further reaches will naturally impinge on the freedom of others and undermine the value of justice. Absolute justice is also problematic as it impinges on individual and collective rights and freedoms and in some cases even human life. Camus was therefore skeptical about formalized ethics, claiming that “morality, when it is formal, devours.” A utilitarian approach, for example, seeks to rationally justify what may involve otherwise immoral actions as they relate to higher values or principles. The US Government can therefore drop atomic bombs on the Japanese cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki with little moral turmoil, based on the rationalization that those actions saved many lives that would have otherwise been lost through a long and protracted war. Camus has argued that such actions cannot be justified through utilitarian reasoning. This does not necessarily mean that in such difficult circumstances another action is always possible – only that it should not be justified by reason. I will say more about this curious dilemma in the final post.
One of the most important parts of the Rebel involves Camus’ critique of ideological systems and rebellious or revolutionary movements based on the notion of ‘history’ or ‘progress.’ The idea, for example, that freedom and justice can be suspended in the name of an absolute ideological system that in the future would see an end to all injustice, inequality, and human evil. The problem is that the ideological system is not used as a relative guide, but rather an absolute goal, where success is measured in terms of the perceived progress toward that goal. Once in place, the rationality of the goal itself is seldom questioned. In addition, the goal that supposedly justifies a course of action is not something typically realized within a matter of months and years, or even an entire lifetime – it is one that is promised in some distant future and is therefore a moving target. Thus, the Russian communists could justify their crimes as a necessary step in a series of historically defined successes – the progress of which could only be realized at some future point in history through finally achieving a virtuous and classless society. Camus thus critiqued the communists (and the philosopher Hegel) for what he called the ‘deification of History.’ In modern times we fall slave to the same error… following prescriptions for cultural success and progress as defined by scientific realism, technological advancement, and the materialistic and consumer-driven assumptions of our Capitalist society. These assumptions are seldom guides, but unquestionable goals that are often sought as ends in themselves; we never stop to question what we are ‘progressing’ toward. Thus it can be argued that we are, and likely will continue to be, a highly religious society – though the new religion is one of ideology. John Foley (2008) cited a wonderful quote from Nietzsche, where he critiques Hegel and this notion of historical progress or success:
“Hegel has implanted in a generation that he has thoroughly penetrated the worship of the ‘power of history’ that turns every moment into a sheer gaping at success, into an idolatry of the actual… If each success is comprised by a ‘rational necessity,’ and every event is the victory of logic or the ‘idea,’ then – down on your knees quickly, and let every step in the ladder of ‘successes’ be revered! What? There are no more ruling mythologies? What? Religions are becoming extinct? Look at the religion of the power of history, and the priests of the mythology of Ideas with their scarred knees! (p. 64).”
Camus likewise points out the illogicality of making a definitive goal out of such an elusive target: “To base divinity on history is paradoxically, to base an absolute value on approximate knowledge. Something ‘eternally historic’ is a contradiction in terms (Camus, p. 145).” Note that we could just as easily substitute the word ‘history’ with ‘science,’ since it is also based on an evolving approximation of accumulated human knowledge. Similar to as previously discussed, the ‘scientific method’ ceases to be a guide and instead becomes an ideological goal. We ignore the limitations of science and fail to appreciate its historical context, which leads to the almost laughable situation where modern individuals aspire to live ‘scientifically,’ or where people try to make value judgments based on a presumably absolute science (e.g. as Sam Harris does in trying to define morality in accordance with ‘science’).
I will summarize this post by pointing out what should by now be obvious: we cannot justify our actions (or inactions) by rationalizing them in accordance with some unquestioned ideological system of belief or absolute value. Those who attempt to do so will likely undermine the same values that initiated their will to act, which will in turn lead to injustice, and perhaps even murder. I will offer some closing comments in the final post.
In Search of Meaning (Part 3/3): Relative Rebellion
This post follows the previous two entries (part 1, part 2) exploring the human desire for meaning and its natural flow into Camus’ notion of rebellion.
Rebellion emerges from the rebel’s growing awareness and sensitivity to forms of injustice, slavery, or rational murder. To do nothing is to acquiesce to this state of affairs, or to be an implicit accomplice. There is no such thing as a ‘neutral’ or ‘innocent’ bystander. By recognizing a limit that has been crossed, the rebel defends a value that they believe must be upheld.
We discussed in the previous posts how historical acts of rebellion and revolution have fought to displace corrupt governments, regimes, or ideological systems of belief based on absolute sources of meaning or value. We saw some of the problems with such absolute systems, including the fact that they tend not to be treated as guides, but are instead regarded as objective goals. This means that ‘progress’ is not measured by the degree of adherence to the initial value one sought to defend, but by the degree that one realizes the absolute system that claims to protect this value absolutely and for all of time. In this way, the path toward the utopian end goal can be rationally justified through almost any means, but in doing so, one undermines the values they claimed to uphold – including freedom and justice. It has often been argued, for example, that justice and freedom can be temporarily suspended for segments of today’s society, since doing so brings the promise of a utopian future of tomorrow where freedom and justice will belong to everyone. But the future, and those who will populate it, is based on a faith, a hope, or a wishful dream. Meanwhile the people of flesh and blood are allowed to suffer.
“He who loves his friend loves him in the present, but the revolution wants to love only a man who has not yet appeared” (Camus, Rebel, p. 239).
The incipient rebel senses the hypocrisy of this situation and seeks to end it. But the problem with historical rebellion is cyclical. It again rationally justifies its own means, including murder and injustice, to achieve the end to the prevailing regime or ideological system (thus undermining the values it sought to defend), and upon displacing the dysfunctional system, it effectively replaces it with a new one, based again on some absolute system of ideas claiming to ‘finally’ bring unity, justice, and freedom into the human fold. But absolute systems of meaning, value, or purpose are prone to the issues already discussed. And again, the end result, along with the justification of the means that bring it into fruition… is only attainable in the elusive future – it is therefore a moving target, and an illusion. It is incapable of justifying anything.
“… if the revolution is the only positive value, it has a right to claim everything – even the denunciation and therefore the sacrifice of the friend. Henceforth, violence will be directed against one and all, in the service of an abstract idea. … the revolution was more important than the people it wanted to save…” (Camus, Rebel, p. 162)
Camus argues that the only way out of this dilemma is to avoid buying into absolute sources of meaning or value, while resisting the temptation toward absolute resolution to the question of human freedom or justice. As stated by Jean Grenier: “Absolute freedom is the destruction of all value; absolute value supresses all freedom.” Thus, authentic rebellion is only capable of being sustained by never losing sight of the value that initially justified its movement. Authentic forms of rebellion, like authentic sources of meaning, can only be ‘relative.’ We must not allow them to become absolutes – they can be a guide, but never a goal.
“… if he is a rebel, he ends by taking sides against the revolution. So much so that there is absolutely no progress from one attitude to the other, but coexistence and endlessly increasing contradiction. Every revolutionary ends by becoming either an oppressor or a heretic. In the purely historical universe that they have chosen, rebellion and revolution end in the same dilemma: either police rule or insanity” (Camus, Rebel, p. 249).
The slave must not seek to become the master by forgetting the limit they acknowledged; to do otherwise means to undermine the values they intended to defend and uphold. The true rebel protects the value in question, and the limit it implies, not only for him/herself, but for all humankind. The rebel is neither a slave nor master, but one who protests on behalf of a unified humanity, against the dialectic of both slave and master.
“The rebel undoubtedly demands a certain degree of freedom for himself; but in no case, if he is consistent, does he demand the right to destroy the existence and the freedom of others. He humiliates no one. The freedom he claims, he claims for all; the freedom he refuses, he forbids everyone to enjoy” (Camus, Rebel, p. 284).
The above quote beautifully illustrates my personal frustration with many modern day atheists. They rightfully rebel in ways to defend their own freedoms: to think and say what they wish without fear of oppression, judgment, or pressure to conform. But many in their protest seek to taunt, ridicule, and humiliate religious believers. I suspect that many would also secretly wish to wipe religion from the face of the earth – sincerely believing that it would solve many of the world’s problems. Countless modern day atheists believe so strongly in their cause that they seem desperate to convince their opponents of the veracity of their views, which are regarded as infallible and unshakable – and so they challenge those who do not agree with their views at every turn. But when anyone believes anything so strongly, it will inevitably lead to the rational justification of oppression, suspension of personal freedoms, and perhaps even murder. Camus chooses an apt quote from Palante: “If there is a single and universal truth, freedom has no reason for existing.” Atheism is rational, but even reason must note its limits… there is something in the tactics of the new atheists that make me, and many others, uncomfortable.
Rebellious Action: Necessity versus Justification
All of this talk about values and limits leads to an important question: must one always be consistent with the values one seeks to defend? Would that not in many cases cause us to become paralyzed to act – preventing us from being able to take necessary actions to protect the rights of ourselves or others? Camus argues that while actions inconsistent with our values may in rare cases become ‘necessary’ if we are to uphold that value, they ought not to be justified. Camus explores this curious idea in a very insightful and moving discussion of some of the key players sparking the Russian revolution in the early part of the 20th Century. Established in 1902, the Socialist Revolutionary Party was a rebellious effort to end the tyrannical and corrupt Russian government of that era. Some of its members planned and carried out government assassinations and acts of terrorism. They rebelled against a murderous government by allowing themselves to commit murder. Is this not contradictory? Did they not undermine the values that they sought to defend? What is important here, and what appears to have separated them from modern day anarchists, terrorists, and in many cases entire governments, is that they never attempted to defend or rationally justify their actions. They regarded their actions as necessary, but nonetheless wrong and never justifiable; no justification or rationalization could remove their guilt. This is why many were more than willing to walk to the gallows after committing their deeds. The moment they decided to act, they accepted that they would eventually pay for their deeds with their own lives. Blood must be paid for in blood.
“… they were incapable of justifying what they nevertheless found necessary, and conceived the idea of offering themselves as a justification and of replying by personal sacrifice to the question they asked themselves. … murder is identified with suicide … A life is paid for by another life, and from these two sacrifices springs the promise of a value.” (Camus, Rebel, p. 169).
Unlike modern-day terrorists, these Russian assassins did not rejoice in the success of their deeds – they were instead solemn and resolute in what needed to be done for the sake of upholding a value. And unlike modern-day martyrs, they did not find comfort in some illusionary afterlife full of joyful reward. “Martyrs do not build Churches; they are the mortar, or the alibi. Then come the priests and bigots” (Camus, Rebel, p. 172). Most of these men and women were atheists; they had no illusion about the finality of their acts. But even more impressive is that they were not looking to resurrect an absolute ideological system of their own. So unlike the Nazis or Communists, who could commit murder and even accept their own death believing that they took part in the near holy act of contributing to a utopian future of either a Thousand-Year Reich or a ‘classless society,’ many of these Russian assassins had nothing to rely on but the relative values of freedom and justice, which for them, were universal rights. For these reasons, Camus seems to regard them as an exemplary model, if only in how they were most consistent with the values that motivated them.
“The rebel has only one way of reconciling himself with his act of murder if he allows himself to be led into performing it: to accept his own death and sacrifice. He kills and dies so that it shall be clear that murder is impossible” (Camus, Rebel, p. 282).
There will be situations that call for actions (or inactions) that have the effect of causing death and destruction. However, we must recognize our guilt, and not seek to justify such acts, or else we undermine the value we sought to uphold. The US use of the atomic bomb is a case in point: if such use was indeed necessary (and that is open for debate), it ought not to have been justified – meaning that the US government was indeed guilty of mass murder. However, the government did not accept its guilt – it tried to rationally justify its actions, and in doing so, undermined the values (human life, justice, and freedom) that it sought to defend… committing itself instead to an idea or doctrine – namely, Capitalism and the North American way of life.
Concluding Comments
Readers of this blog will be aware of Camus’ influence on my way of thinking about the world. I wanted to create these foundational posts as an introduction to that way of thinking. So how do we summarize these ideas? First, we must understand that the world is devoid of absolute meaning. If we are to remain lucidly aware of our human condition, we must always ‘remember’ that, while recognizing the never-ending temptation toward mental distractions that psychologically deaden us, or by subscribing to absolute systems of meaning that provide a comfortable ‘false structure’ for living. The only meaning we have is the relative kind – and we must learn how to live with that and tolerate the anxiety it brings. Secondly, we must recognize that we are all in the same metaphysical boat, and in keeping the absurd condition intact, we must value the relative rights and freedoms of other conscious creatures. Thirdly, we must recognize that the values that we create through our connection with other human beings – such as freedom and justice, are likewise relative. We cannot have absolute freedom or justice without negating the other term. And while there are times when we must uncomfortably defend a shared human value, we must not undermine it through our choice of action, and when we do, we must accept our guilt, and not try to justify it, or else we undermine those values yet again. The take home message: whatever your worldview, try not to treat it as an absolute. ‘Entertain’ the possibility that you could be wrong, and do not force your ideas on others. If you are in a position of strength, defend those who are weaker. And what freedoms you want for yourself, ensure you are willing to defend them for us all.
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) -> make other human beings -> expandation towards the universe to find a universal meaning.
