The
concept of the absurd is generally understood as the human urge to find a
meaning in existence, and our inability to find any. It starts with Kierkegaard, who was the first to use the word “absurd” philosophically, in the
following note made by him in 1849 in his Journals:
“What is the Absurd? It is, as may quite easily be seen, that I,
a rational being, must act in a case where my reason and my powers of
reflection tell me: you can just as well do the one thing as the other, that is
to say, where my reason and reflection say: you cannot act, and yet here is
where I have to act... The Absurd, or to act by virtue of the absurd, is to act
upon faith ... I must act, but reflection has closed the road so I take one of
the possibilities and say: This is what I do, I cannot do otherwise because I
am brought to a standstill by my powers of reflection.”
However, absurdism
as a philosophy is generally attributed not to Kierkegaard, but to the French
philosopher-writer Albert Camus, and he has certainly deserved this attribution
by generously writing about the meaning of the absurd, and by his explicit
philosophical treatment of absurdity in his famous 1942 essay Le Mythe de
Sisyphe.
Sisyphus
is one of the most important philosophical generalizations of human existence
in world literature, and yet his great merit for philosophy has always been
conspicuously unappreciated. It is true that the great Camus, in the twentieth
century, has famously provided us with the most interesting angle on Sisyphus
to date, but, while giving him ample credit for this achievement, we cannot
ignore the fact that, pursuing that specific angle, he has somehow underappreciated
the allegorical value of this personage. He sees Sisyphus’ job merely as a
meaningless occupation, and discusses the need for his Sisyphus to discover a
meaning, and eventually happiness, in that glaring absurdity of his existence. Yet,
in following this particular angle, he is falling short of the full picture. He
fails to explain the nature of Sisyphus’ occupation, particularly the fact that
he is engaged in an activity which is not only senseless, but which also causes
great suffering; and it is this aspect of suffering that makes a lot of
difference in our analysis of Sisyphus, and its application to real life.
It
is perhaps unnecessary for us to know who exactly Sisyphus is, and why he has
been punished. After all, there is a tremendous difference between him and us:
he was condemned to an eternity of Sisyphean
labor, whereas our labor in life has a clearly delineated finish line,
beyond which we may count on either a blissful deliverance, or an eternal rest
in peace from all our worldly toils. Two utterly different psychologies are involved
here: a psychology of eternal hopelessness and a psychology of transcendent hope.
I understand Camus, of course, as he draws his own kind of lesson from his
hero, but perhaps we might draw more than one lesson from Sisyphus, and translate
his situation into a broader picture, relevant to our time, just as it is relevant
to all time.
Sisyphus
first appears to us from the pages of Homer, both the Iliad and the Odyssey,
but episodically, and not exactly along the lines where we would like to meet
him. Here are the two distinctive Homeric passages where Sisyphus is featured: the crime, and the punishment.---
“There is a city Ephyre in
the heart of Argos, pasture-land of horses, and there dwelt Sisyphus that was
the craftiest of men, Sisyphus, son of Aeolus; and he begat a son Glaucus; and
Glaucus begat peerless Bellerophon.” (Iliad
vi, 152-155)
“And I saw Sisyphus in
agonizing torment trying to roll a huge stone up to the top of a hill. He would
brace himself, and push it towards the summit with both hands, but just as he
was about to heave it over the crest its weight overcame him, and then down
again to the plain came bounding that pitiless boulder. He would wrestle again
and lever it back while the sweat poured from his limbs and the dust swirled
round his head.” (Odyssey xi, 593-600)
So,
the crime of Sisyphus is having been “the
craftiest of men,” (who cheated the gods and even death, but we do not
learn these details from Homer), and his punishment is hard, senseless labor.
It may be quite entertaining to learn the details of his crime, as revealed to
us by various sources of Greek mythology, but the crime does not correlate to
the punishment at all, in the sense of clarifying the latter, and thus it is
irrelevant to the focus of our interest, which is obviously Sisyphus’ “job in hell,” if I am allowed to put it
this way.
Now,
what exactly is Sisyphus doing as a matter of endless daily routine?
It
is right here that we finally make the connection between Sisyphean labor and
the meaning of human life as such. How many men and women during the past six
thousand years, and currently, could easily identify themselves with Sisyphus,
more than with any other personage of Greek mythology? ...
(This
is the end of Part I. Part II will be posted tomorrow.)
No comments:
Post a Comment