Camus and Existentialism

By Pierce K. Kozlowski

Albert Camus’ The Stranger, written in 1941, tells a story about a protagonist who is largely the embodiment of absurdism and existentialism if those philosophies were brought to their logical extremes. Naturally then, in writing the protagonist, Camus explores multiple subject areas relating to existentialism. Those subject areas include matters of fate and free will, whether they are illusory concepts or if they contradict each other; and the question of whether life has objective meaning or if it's ultimately meaningless. Albert Camus (1913-1960)—famous French existentialist, author, and journalist—lays forth two ideas in The Stranger that are cornerstones to both absurdism and existentialism: first, that fate and free will are not only real but that the two harmoniously coincide with one another; and second, life is meaningless and the only true meaning is for each individual to invent their own. On the contrary, those ideas are challenged by the notion of natural law, which posits that God created humanity, purposed them to observe his laws, and designed them to use reason to pursue virtue—with the binding of those ideas forming the basis of enlightenment thought. While these systems are staunchly opposed to one another, they ultimately agree that it is the free will of the individual as to what convictions the individual chooses to live by, regardless of how true those convictions are.

Compatibility Between Fate and Free Will

Fate and free will are not tangible objects capable of taking physical form, any more than Einstein’s theory of Special Relativity is capable of physically manifesting itself. However, they still exist despite being impalpable; incorporeal concepts do not cease to be simply because they are intangible. Moreover, fate and free will serve as explanatory concepts to better understand the nature of choice and outcome, and they both simultaneously exist in harmonic unison, with no logical dissonance between one another. These views on fate and free will are not uncontroversial, and intellectuals and writers across time concede those aforementioned points. A writer for The Economic Times put forward this very position—underscoring the connectedness between fate and free will. Langar writes, “Free will relates to our exercise of will when performing actions in the present, whereas fate is the sum total of the effect of past actions that influence our present life. Exercise of free will in the past becomes our fate in the present. In a broader sense, free will and fate are not separate” (Langar). While fate and free will are distinct, they are not separate and even work in tandem with one another.

This position is not particular to Langar, however, as Sartre made a similar case almost seven decades earlier. Jean-Paul Sartre (1905-1980), the truest expositor of existentialism, argued that humanity was granted a world in which it is their job to use their free will to individually remake themselves within the bounds of their circumstance, and by extension, there was also no objective good or evil. Sartre, in 1946, eloquently expressed this in his Essays on Existentialism:

"Nowhere is it written that the Good exists, that we must be honest, that we must not lie; because the fact is we are on a plane where there are only men . . . If existence really does precede essence, there is no explaining things away by reference to a fixed and given human nature. In other words, there is no determinism, man is free, man is freedom. On the other hand, if God does not exist, we find no values or commands to turn to which legitimize our conduct. So, in the bright realm of values, we have no excuse behind us, nor justification before us. We are alone, with no excuses. That is the idea I shall try to convey when I say that man is condemned to be free. Condemned, because he did not create himself, yet, in other respects is free; because, once thrown into the world, he is responsible for everything he does." (Sartre)

While Sartre touches on other subjects which could be further explored—objective morality and divinity specifically—his broader point was that fate and free will exist and even coexist, with fate determining certain outcomes based on particular circumstances and free will allowing the possibility of choice within the bounds of those circumstances (free will may or may not impact those end outcomes, but regardless, the capacity to choose is evidence of free will itself). Not being able to alter outcomes does not invalidate free will, and being able to alter outcomes does not invalidate fate. Both realities are true, as Langar and Sartre point out, with no contradiction between them.

The Existentialism of Albert Camus

Given that Camus was famously an existentialist, he undoubtedly shared Sartre’s general attitude and world view, specifically on the topics of fate and free will (Crowell). Naturally then, it makes sense that Camus explored and even mirrored some of those existentialist convictions in his own writing, something which manifests itself best in the primary character of The Stranger.

The protagonist of The Stranger, Monsieur Meursault, is a character who believes in both his capacity to exercise free will and the very real influence of non-divine fate (destiny not fated by a higher being, but an outcome which is most likely to occur based on certain circumstances). The trademark characteristic of Meursault is his unapologetic apathy, and he exercises his own free will to act and behave exactly as he feels—being his most authentic self, even if that means acting against societal expectations. Camus directly highlights this quality in Meursault in Part I, Chapter 1, when Meursault has virtually no reaction to the news that his mother had passed. Meursault coldly remarks, “Mother died today. Or maybe yesterday, I don’t know” (Camus 1). This was undoubtedly a noteworthy attribute Camus wanted to establish in Meursault since it constituted the book’s opening line. Camus, again, emphasizes this quality to readers later on in Part 1, Chapter 5, where Meursault engages in romantic relations with his co-worker, Marie, a day after his mother’s funeral; when Marie asks Meursault if he loved her and would be willing to marry her, he callously intoned, “it didn’t make any difference to me and that we could if she wanted to. Then she wanted to know if I loved her. I answered the same way I had the last time, that it didn’t mean anything but that I probably didn’t love her” (Camus 41). Meursault stays absolutely true to his own motivations and does not fake a single reaction to fit a mold that would otherwise be considered socially appropriate—exercising his free will to completely rebel against the arbitrary societal standards set upon him.

More than just showing Meursault impose his will to cut against social norms, Camus clearly underscores Meursault’s realization of his own free will later in the novel. In Part 2, Chapter 5, Meursault avers, “It was as if I had waited all this time for this moment and for the first light of this dawn to be vindicated” (Meursault). This is the point where Meursault is approaching his execution, and it is in that quotation that he affirms the fact that it was his choice—his exercise of free will—to utterly disregard any and all expectations society demanded of him (something which he does routinely throughout the novel). Meursault’s seemingly bizarre choices were ultimately not in vain because it was consistent with his undying adherence to being completely truthful and wholly authentic to himself and his interests; in other words, Meursault’s anti-conformist and apathetic preferences was his meaning for life.

While Meursault lends credence to the existence of free will, he also does the same thing with fate. This is best demonstrated in Part 1, Chapter 6, where Meursault was on a beach with an Arab who was irritating Meursault because of the sunlight reflecting off the blade the Arab was holding. Meursault ends up shooting and murdering the Arab not out of passion or defense, but out of a cacophony of physical sensations from the hot desert weather, and even ends up firing four unnecessary rounds into the already dead Arab after the fact. Meursault later faces punishment for his crimes and is questioned as to why he killed the Arab, and Meursault utterly passes the buck; he cleanses himself of personal responsibility, not because he wanted to lie, but because he genuinely believed that some absurd series of unlikely actions led to the murder of the Arab—fully believing that the murder was incidental. This is best expressed in Part 2, Chapter 3, in which Meursault says, “The prosecutor . . . would like to know whether I had gone back to the spring by myself intending to kill the Arab. ‘No,’ I said. Well, then, why was I armed and why did I return to precisely that spot? I said it just happened that way.” One of Meursault's friends Celeste echoes this exact sentiment just a few lines later, suggesting in the court that Meursault was not truly responsible for the murder of the Arab and that the case was just “bad luck” (Celeste 92). Meursault, as well as Celeste, implicitly suggesting that the death of the Arab was fully out of his own control is for Meursault to believe that fate also plays an influence in the consequences of life as much as free will.

Moreover, it can be reasonably argued that Meursault's apathetic attitude towards the situation was not only because he thought he had done no wrong, but because he finds death to be an absurd and ultimately meaningless occurrence. From the perspective of the existentialist, Meursault specifically, if the ultimate and overarching fate of life is death itself, then why bother lamenting it, regardless of whether it occurs naturally or by some artificial means (such as murder, an accident, or the guillotine)? Life is absurd since no one wants to lose it, but acceptance of death and indifference towards its occurrence is just as valid as lamenting it, if not more valid because, according to Meursault, it is meaningless and unavoidable in the end. It is the fate of fates, that which usurps all free will. Therefore, if Meursault indeed holds this position, why would he pay any mind to the death of the Arab? Why would he show concern for the loss of life? He would not. Just as Meursault recognizes free will, he gives equal weight to the effects of fate as well—with Camus expressing his acknowledgment of their coinciding nature through the lens of Meursault.

Meaning and Truth

The question of whether life possesses meaning or objective truth is the cornerstone of existentialist philosophy. Existentialism posits that meaning comes from looking within, ultimately rejecting notions of a universally ethical system that could be discerned by humans. This idea began with Soren Kierkegaard (1813-1855), a Danish philosopher and one of the earliest existentialist thinkers, who believed that meaning and truth were personal to each individual, and those things could only be discerned by the individual. Kierkegaard writes, “Subjectivity is truth . . . Objectively there is no infinite decision or commitment, and so it is objectively correct to annul the difference between good and evil . . . and the difference between truth and untruth” (Kaufmann 18). This view was not particular to Kierkegaard, as the torch of this idea later found its way into the hands of German philosopher Karl Jaspers (1883-1969), who concisely wrote, “All knowledge is interpretation” (Kaufmann 33-44).

A philosophy directly antithetical to existentialism as a whole is the binding of Christianity and Greek teleology, commonly referred to as ‘enlightenment’ or ‘traditional western’ thinking. However, debate surrounds these labels, as it's possible to be labeled as an ‘enlightenment’ proponent while subscribing only to notions of Greek reason apart from Christianity—examples being the enlightenment philosophers Voltaire, Holbach, and Rousseau.

Christianity puts forth a philosophy that suggests humanity is inherently valuable and a designed creation, made in the likeness of its creator. In the book of Genesis, God averred, “Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness . . . ” (Moses 1.26). Humanity possessed inherent value because they were made in the image of God, and since humanity was endowed with value by bearing God’s image, humanity’s duty, then, was to draw closer to God by living in accordance with his commandments. Furthermore, God highlighted the importance of the proper exercise of free will in the book of Deuteronomy:

“See, I set before you today life and prosperity, death and destruction. For I command you today to love the Lord, your God, to walk in obedience to him, and to keep his commands, decrees and laws. . . . Now choose life, so that you and your children may live." (Moses 30.15-20)

By exercising free will and choosing God, humanity becomes undersigned in a covenant with God. Even though God demands humanity’s obedience to his commandments, humanity still has a certain level of free will because God provides the freedom to honor his commandments and the freedom to disregard those commandments. This sentiment of freedom is consistent with scripture and plainly outlined in the book of Galatians: “For you were called to freedom, brethren; only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love be servants of one another” (Paul 5:13-14). Paul affirms the freedom God gives, but implores the reader to use that freedom righteously. In the book of Joshua, the choice as to what personal belief an individual abides by is the choice of the individual, with Joshua writing:

“If serving the Lord seems undesirable to you, then choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve, whether the gods your ancestors served beyond the Euphrates, or the gods of the Amorites, in whose land you are living. But as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord.” (Joshua 24:15)

Moses, Joshua, and Paul all understood that humanity had, in a sense, some level of freedom because humanity could act outside of God’s law, which is why they all consistently reached the same conclusion regarding the freedom to honor or disregard God’s commandments.

Furthermore, to pay the twofold price of salvation, Christ paid the first half through his sacrifice on the cross, and it was humanity’s job to foot the second half of that bill by accepting him—something only the holy spirit, the spirit of God, could bring humanity to do (John 6:44). Therefore, the acceptor is entitled to paradise for their recognition of Christ, and the rejecter is entitled to the abyss for their disregard of Christ. Put simply, an individual will not be forced to spend eternity with a God they reject, despise, and show no reverence to. By that same token, an individual will not be forced to spend an eternity absent of a God they accept, love, and pay homage to.

According to the Christian tenets, God gave humanity a certain level of free will in the sense that humanity can sin freely outside of God's law, and even though he originally purposed humanity to follow his commands, he does not force humanity’s hand in actually doing so—proven by mankind’s broadscale acts of sin which have been in direct opposition to the teachings of Christ (genocide and war despite the command to not kill, theft despite the command to not steal . . . etc, etc).

In Greek teleology, it is understood that humanity has the capacity to use reason and that humanity can use that reason to discern particular truths in nature—these truths are called natural law (Murphy). Moreover, not only could the truths of the universe be determined, but the purpose of things in the universe as well. Just as the final cause of a watch is to tell time, the final cause of human nature was to use reason to act in accordance with virtue. Plato (428-348 BCE) expressed this idea in The Republic:

"Is there some work of a soul that you couldn’t ever accomplish with any other living thing that is? For example, managing, ruling, and deliberating, and all such things—could we justly attribute them to anything other then a soul and assert that they are peculiar to it? . . Further, what about living? Shall we not say that it is the work of a soul?" (Plato)

Aristotle (384-322 BCE) agreed and more clearly expressed Plato’s point in Nicomachean Ethics, writing that “the work of a human being is an activity of the soul in accord with reason” (Aristotle). Older ancient thinkers, such as Pythagoras (570-495 BCE), more practically applied these ideas two centuries earlier which led to discoveries like the Pythagorean theorem and set the stage for notions of objective truth, specifically about the nature of the physical world —leading the broader works of Aristotle and Plato to pave the road for the objective, philosophical hallmark of the scientific method (Lane). The entwinement of reason and objective observation had been championed two centuries later, however, by Cicero (106 BC-43 BC), a philosophical heir to Plato and Aristotle, who most fulsomely expressed the philosophy of Greek teleology and reason in the The Republic:

"True law is right reason in agreement with nature; it is of universal application, unchanging and everlasting; it summons to duty by its commands, and averts from wrongdoing by its prohibitions. . . . There will not be different laws at Rome and at Athens, or different laws now and in the future, but one eternal and unchangeable law will be valid for all nations and all times, and there will be one master and ruler, that is, God, over us all, for he is the author of this law, it's promulgator, and it's enforcing judge." (Cicero)

While the ancients were polytheists rooted in rationality, and Christianity was monotheistism rooted in revelation, a bridge was built between these two vastly different worlds. This goes to the credit of St. Thomas Aquinas, who merged Christian theology with Aristotelian philosophy in his brilliant masterpiece, Summa Theologiae (Murphy). This created a binding tie between faith and reason, which would go on to influence a wide array of philosophers, such as John Locke, Montesquieu, and Thomas Paine; impact the philosophy of most of the Western world, spanning over most of modern Europe; and undergird the Constitution of the United States and the American Founders. This tie between faith and reason—enlightenment thought—has a throughline: A great force backstops all of existence, and that force is God, who is both the author of life and architect of creation. Since God made human life in his image, it is intrinsically valuable; naturally, then, it is imbued with divine purpose. God designed humanity to be thinking creatures, capable of using reason, and he purposed humanity to live in accordance with his commandments—providing a supposed, objective truth and definitive meaning which opposed the apparent subjective truth put forward by Kierkegaard and the meaninglessness proposed by Sartre.

Camus undoubtedly would have opposed such an objectivist philosophy, as he recognized a philosophical system that was much freer by virtue of its principles being rooted in life’s meaninglessness. Existentialism allows room for any truth or interpretation in life so long as the individual devised that truth or interpretation for themselves and did not impose it on others. Kierkegaard believed that there was no objective truth but ironically still recognized Christianity as his personal philosophical system, a system that has objectivist tenets, but Kierkegaard managed to reconcile with the freedom offered by existentialism (McDonald).

Conclusion

In The Stranger, Meursault represents a more atheist angle on existentialism and demonstrates this philosophy at its logical extremes; he routinely conveys his philosophy through his actions, which involves communicating one’s true self with unbridled honesty and rebelling against a conformist society. Moreover, Camus beautifully conveys a unique and entertaining take on existentialism, establishing two main ideas which underpin Camus’ own personal philosophy and absurdist existentialism as a whole: first, he thoroughly expressed that fate and free will are legitimate and compatible ideas with real-world effects; and second, life is ultimately meaningless, with the true purpose being to invent your own meaning. While Camus may very well be correct, an equal case can be made for the legitimacy of enlightenment thought, an opposing philosophy which argues three bedrock stances: first, there may, in fact, be a God that created humanity in his likeness and that God purposed humanity to draw closer to him by honoring his commandments; second, that God designed humanity to be thinking creatures, capable of using their “rational faculties” and right reason to pursue virtue; and lastly, that the entwinement of Christian faith and Greek reason was natural law, which went on to more broadly influence the societal cultures and government philosophies across Western Civilization.

At the end of the day, however, a theist has no more empirical evidence of their being a God than an atheist has of their being no God at all—providing a philosophically, mutually assured destruction on both sides. Interestingly, an individual can still be an existentialist and hold enlightenment beliefs just as Kierkegaard held Christian beliefs or as Meursault held atheist, anti-conformist beliefs. The only difference is that to be an existentialist, the first assumption has to be that life is meaningless and that the purpose is to invent personal meaning, even if that means turning to other philosophies or religions in search of that meaning. However, while great minds may disagree that life is meaningless, enlightenment proponents and existentialists collectively agree that electing a personal philosophy is the individual right and free will of each person who has the capacity to do so, regardless of how true that personal philosophy may be or what others may think of it.

References

1. Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, University of Chicago Press, 2011, 1098a.

2. Camus, Albert. The Stranger. First Vintage International Edition, 1988.

3. Cicero, Marcus Tullius. De Re Publica. Cambridge, MA: Loeb Classical Library, Harvard University Press, 2000, pp. 211.

4. Crowell, Steven, "Existentialism", The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Summer 2020 Edition), Edward N. Zalta (ed.), URL = <https://plato.stanford.edu/archives/sum2020/entries/existentialism/>.

5. Deuteronomy 30:15-20 (NIV)

6. Galatians 5:13-14 (NIV)

7. John 6:44 (NIV)

8. Joshua 24:15 (NIV)

9. Kaufmann, Walter. Existentialism from Dostoevsky to Sartre. Cleveland: Meridian Books, 1968, pp. 18, 33-34.

10. Genesis 1:26 (NIV)

11. Lane, Melissa, "Ancient Political Philosophy", The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Winter 2018 Edition), Edward N. Zalta (ed.), URL = <https://plato.stanford.edu/archives/win2018/entries/ancient-political/>.

12. Langar, R. K. “Fate and Free Will.” Economic Times Blog, Economic Times Blog, 13 Dec. 2019, economictimes.indiatimes.com/blogs/the-speaking-tree/fate-and-free-will-2/.

13. McDonald, William, "Søren Kierkegaard", The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Winter 2017 Edition), Edward N. Zalta (ed.), URL = <https://plato.stanford.edu/archives/win2017/entries/kierkegaard/>.

14. Murphy, Mark, "The Natural Law Tradition in Ethics", The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Summer 2019 Edition), Edward N. Zalta (ed.), URL = <https://plato.stanford.edu/archives/sum2019/entries/natural-law-ethics/>.

15. Plato, The Republic. 375 BCE, 353c-353e.

16. Sartre, Jean-Paul. Essays in Existentialism. New York: Citadel Press, 1993, pp. 41.