tag:theconversation.com,2011:/id/topics/existentialism-7652/articlesExistentialism – The Conversation2023-11-26T19:19:48Ztag:theconversation.com,2011:article/2138952023-11-26T19:19:48Z2023-11-26T19:19:48ZSimone de Beauvoir, Hannah Arendt, Simone Weil and Ayn Rand all felt ‘different’ in the world – and changed the way we think<p>The “actual impulse of astonishment” that sparks all philosophising is “honest bafflement that other people live as they do,” writes Wolfram Eilenberger in his new book, <a href="https://www.penguin.com.au/books/the-visionaries-9780241537374">The Visionaries</a>.</p>
<p>It’s a wild ride through ten of the worst years in the 20th century, spanning the period from 1933, the year Hitler was appointed Chancellor of Germany, to 1943 and the thick of the second world war. It’s told through the occasionally intersecting lives of four brilliant young women philosophers: Simone de Beauvoir and Simone Weil (both French), Russian-American Ayn Rand, and German-Jewish Hannah Arendt, who spent time exiled in France and New York. </p>
<p>Though very different, they all “experienced themselves as having been placed fundamentally differently in the world from how other people had been”. Eilenberger writes:</p>
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<p>All of them were tormented from an early age by the same questions: What could it be that makes me so different? What is it that I clearly can’t understand and experience like all the others? Am I really driving down the freeway of life in the wrong direction – or is it not perhaps the mass of wildly honking people coming toward me flashing their lights?</p>
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<p>I had thought myself reasonably schooled in the writings of these women, but discovered how little I actually knew about them – their early work and their jobs, who they knew and loved or loathed, and how the broken stick of 1930s Europe shaped the possibilities for their lives and thought. </p>
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<p><em>Review: The Visionaries: Arendt, Beauvoir, Rand, Weil, and the salvation of philosophy – Wolfram Eilenberger, trans Shaun Whiteside (Allen Lane)</em></p>
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<p>The Visionaries traces the gradual unfolding of their systems of thought, including how they changed their minds in response to the radically changed situations they found themselves in. </p>
<p>It builds, to some extent, on Eilenberger’s earlier volume, <a href="https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/576741/time-of-the-magicians-by-wolfram-eilenberger-translated-by-shaun-whiteside/">Time of the Magicians: Wittgenstein, Benjamin, Cassirer, Heidegger, and the Decade That Reinvented Philosophy</a>, which followed four brilliant young men who transformed European philosophy in the agonised decade following the first world war. </p>
<p>Both books weave the work of the philosophers with social history, biography, accounts of the cultural and economic environment, and depictions of the quarrels and agreements, friendships and passions that characterised their communities.</p>
<h2>Meet the philosophers</h2>
<p>The Visionaries opens at the end of 1943. Each character is a very young woman, only in her thirties. But each is already possessed of a trained mind, formidable intelligence and a determination to make sense of life, the universe, and everything. </p>
<p>Beauvoir is writing her first philosophical essay, is about to publish <a href="https://www.harpercollins.com.au/9780007204649/she-came-to-stay/">her first novel</a> and has a play in the works. Weil has been asked by occupied France’s shadow government to draw up plans and scenarios for the political reconstruction of France (after her offer to go “to the front to die for her ideals” was refused). </p>
<p>Rand is awaiting the publication of her debut book, <a href="https://www.penguin.com.au/books/the-fountainhead-9780141188621">The Fountainhead</a>, “a philosophical manifesto masquerading as a novel”. And exactly ten years after being driven out of Hitler’s Germany, Hannah Arendt is figuring out her next steps, reflecting that in “these dark times”:</p>
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<p>One only had to find the courage in oneself to open one’s eyes – keep them open – to perceive the abysses of one’s own time with an alert mind.</p>
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<p>After this opening chapter, the narrative jumps back a decade to 1933, and then progresses year by year, back to where it began. </p>
<p>First, we meet Simone de Beauvoir, who – with her life partner Jean-Paul Sartre – is associated with “<a href="https://theconversation.com/what-makes-a-good-life-existentialists-believed-we-should-embrace-freedom-and-authenticity-204364">existentialism</a>” (though Eilenberger writes that she avoids the term). Existentialism argues each individual is a free agent, capable of crafting their own identity and existence through acts of the will.</p>
<p>By 1943, Beauvoir was wrestling with one of existentialism’s core precepts: how individuals can achieve their best possible lives. She asked, why would someone even attempt this? After all, everything we do comes to nothing – because of time’s inexorable progress and our inevitable death – so why do anything at all? </p>
<p>At that stage, her answer is that we should do something because we are in the world as acting creatures, and therefore should grasp our freedom to act while we are able. </p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/what-makes-a-good-life-existentialists-believed-we-should-embrace-freedom-and-authenticity-204364">What makes a good life? Existentialists believed we should embrace freedom and authenticity</a>
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<h2>‘A heart that could beat right across the world’</h2>
<p>Simone Weil, whom we meet next, is pretty much the polar opposite of Beauvoir. Indeed, late in the volume Eilenberger notes:</p>
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<p>If we compare Weil’s <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/en/book/show/322933">Notebooks</a> with Beauvoir’s diaries and writings from the same time [1941–1942], we have the extremely strange impression of a telepathic contact between two minds resonating tensely at either end of an infinite piece of string.</p>
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<p>Where Beauvoir sees herself as comparatively separate from society, Weil had, as Beauvoir wrote, “a heart that could beat right across the world”. Despite her physical fraility (and probable <a href="https://theconversation.com/disease-evolution-the-origins-of-anorexia-and-how-its-shaped-by-culture-and-time-54571">anorexia</a>), Weil was possessed by enormous passion and empathy. The wellbeing of everyone else in the world absorbed her thoughts and actions during her short life (she died in 1943). </p>
<p>For years, Weil kept from her wages “precisely the minimum sum assigned to unemployed factory workers on state support, while the rest she donate[d] to needy or feeling comrades”. And she directed her obedient parents to use their unoccupied apartment to house refugees – it once hosted a meeting between exiled communist leader <a href="https://www.britannica.com/biography/Leon-Trotsky">Leon Trotsky</a> and “the new high command of the world revolution”. </p>
<p>Born into a Jewish family, Weil veered into a passionate and ascetic Christianity. For her, the point of being alive was to disappear into a future of nonbeing, confident that “Supernatural love alone creates reality” and that our meaning, if one can call it that, is to dissolve into a vessel for God’s will. </p>
<p>This is not a matter of “acting”, in Beauvoir’s terms, but of leaving the world of authenticity and safety in favour of some notion of the divine. (Perhaps unsurprisingly, Weil’s often brilliant work has attracted less attention than that of her fellow characters in this book.)</p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/guide-to-the-classics-simone-weils-the-need-for-roots-209514">Guide to the Classics: Simone Weil’s The Need for Roots</a>
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<h2>Ayn Rand and ‘no society’</h2>
<p>Ayn Rand comes next: her family’s home and possessions were expropriated in the 1917 <a href="https://theconversation.com/world-politics-explainer-the-russian-revolution-100669">October Revolution</a>, on the grounds they were representatives of the Jewish “bourgeoisie”. They fled to Crimea, then lived in poverty when they returned to St Petersburg (now named Petrograd) in 1921. </p>
<p>The Russian jackboot she escaped was at least as violent as that of the Nazis’ – as Simone Weil too argues in her 1933 discussion about “the structural similarity between newly fascist Germany and Stalin’s Soviet Union”.</p>
<p>Rand made it to the United States in 1926, and began a career as a thinker and writer who named her philosophical position “<a href="https://www.britannica.com/topic/objectivism-philosophy">objectivism</a>”. Where Weil aimed to change the whole world through divine engagement, and Beauvoir perceived freedom as the freedom to act within a community, <a href="https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1002/9781118324950.ch1">Rand insisted on</a>:</p>
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<p>the concept of man as a heroic being, with his own happiness as the moral purpose of his life, with productive achievement as his noblest activity, and reason as his only absolute.</p>
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<p>For “man”, read “Rand”. Her most famous character, the architect Howard Roark, the protagonist of <a href="https://www.penguin.com.au/books/the-fountainhead-9780141188621">The Fountainhead</a>, was after all based on herself. Roark, whose real-life admirers include Donald Trump, was a mouthpiece for objectivism: for reason, for facts, but never for compassion or empathy. </p>
<p>Like an early <a href="https://theconversation.com/the-death-of-margaret-thatcher-and-the-legacy-of-thatcherism-13324">Margaret Thatcher</a>, Rand built an entire worldview based on there being no society – only self-focused, self-seeking individuals, capable of determining who and what they are, in perfect freedom.</p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/atlas-shrugged-ayn-rands-hero-burns-the-world-down-when-he-doesnt-get-his-way-her-fans-run-the-world-should-we-worry-192510">Atlas Shrugged: Ayn Rand's hero burns the world down when he doesn't get his way. Her fans run the world – should we worry?</a>
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<p>Hannah Arendt, with her mother, had fled Germany in 1933 after they were arrested and interrogated by the Gestapo. For some years, she lived as an exile in France, later escaping to the United States. </p>
<p>Her initial writings explored the uncertainty of freedom in a world where events can strip the individual of identity, of nationality, of freedom – and even of life. </p>
<p>Her perspectives differ markedly from both existentialism and objectivism: Eilenberger observes that, for Arendt, “self-creation is always contingent on social and cultural conditions, from which no individual can fully escape”. It is, she argued poignantly, political power, not self-determination, that sets the limits of our being. </p>
<p>In her case, this was the power of the Nazi machine, which destroyed so many members of her community – and which she had so narrowly escaped. Her philosophical concerns were, therefore, far from either individual self-realisation or self-abnegation. </p>
<p>Rather, she was concerned with what an individual’s responsibility might be in the face of overwhelming social, political and economic realities. </p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/the-book-that-changed-me-hannah-arendts-eichmann-in-jerusalem-and-the-problem-of-terrifying-moral-complacency-187600">The book that changed me: Hannah Arendt's Eichmann in Jerusalem and the problem of terrifying moral complacency</a>
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<h2>‘The salvation of philosophy’</h2>
<p>These, in brief, are the four philosophers who galvanised “the salvation of philosophy”. The lines and turns of their thinking were unpacked and reframed through much of what was going on in the salons of their twenties, or the writings of their thirties. </p>
<p>They were deeply connected, through reading, through shared intellectual concerns, and in some cases through personal relationships, with the great philosophers who preceded them – all the way back to <a href="https://theconversation.com/guide-to-the-classics-platos-republic-127724">Plato</a> in the fourth century BCE – and with their contemporaries. </p>
<p>Simone de Beauvoir, for example, was intimately connected to Jean-Paul Sartre in life and work. <a href="https://theconversation.com/wittgenstein-tried-to-solve-all-the-problems-of-philosophy-in-his-tractatus-logico-philosophicus-but-he-didnt-quite-succeed-181719">Ludwig Wittgenstein</a>’s ethical and intellectual struggles with religion closely parallel Weil’s own (though there is little evidence they knew each other). <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/books/2014/aug/07/walter-benjamin-critical-life-howard-eiland-michael-w-jennings-review">Walter Benjamin</a> was Arendt’s friend throughout their period of exile (and later was the subject of her writings). </p>
<p><a href="https://theconversation.com/heideggers-notebooks-reveal-an-early-blindness-to-the-nazis-reality-24760">Martin Heidegger</a> was the most intertwined with these philosophers. His writings influenced both Weil’s and Beauvoir’s work, particularly into the nature of being, and of human consciousness. </p>
<p>He had also been Arendt’s teacher (and lover) at university; and though they were on opposite sides of the political divide – Heidegger became a Nazi in 1933, the same year Arendt was arrested by the Gestapo – Arendt reconnected with him in 1949, and remained his friend. </p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/heidegger-in-ruins-grappling-with-an-anti-semitic-philosopher-and-his-troubling-rebirth-today-200826">Heidegger in ruins? Grappling with an anti-semitic philosopher and his troubling rebirth today</a>
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<h2>‘Otherness’: danger or obligation?</h2>
<p>The four women are complex characters, and not always likeable, being neither straightforward, nor straightforwardly admirable. Beauvoir, for example, declined to join a 1934 general workers’ strike on the grounds she was not part of society. She wrote: “The existence of Otherness remained a danger to me.” In fact, “Otherness” was such a danger that at this point, she claimed to identify with no one but Sartre. </p>
<p>Interestingly though, she records a sharp criticism offered her by Simone Weil in a discussion they had about care of the Other, and what matters in the world. For Weil, the most important thing is to “feed all the starving people of the earth”. For Beauvoir, what matters is: </p>
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<p>not to make men happy, but to find the reason for their existence. [Weil] looked me up and down: “It’s easy to see you’ve never been hungry”, she snapped. Our relations ended right there […]</p>
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<p>Fair point. Or maybe not all that fair, since by the mid-1930s, Beauvoir was less inclined to consider the world a universe only of Beauvoir-plus-Sartre. Instead, she was beginning to take a more other-oriented, and more sensibly pragmatic, stance.</p>
<p>Perhaps this was motivated by the fact the Beauvoir-plus-Sartre unit had become a polyamorous group, incorporating a worryingly young group of people who participated in their sexual and intellectual lives. The philosophers’ ease with this complicated sexual engagement, which they characterised as “family”, did not meet social norms. </p>
<p>Beauvoir was the subject of a year-long investigation, following complaints by the mother of one of the young people that she seduced her students and then passed them on to Sartre. This crime of “incitement to debauchery” was not proven, for lack of evidence. At the same time, Sartre was sulking about his unsatisfying professional life, and insatiably sexually engaging with (it seems) pretty well anyone who entered his orbit. </p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/sex-lies-and-hegel-did-the-intimate-lives-of-philosophers-shape-their-ideas-176570">Sex, lies and Hegel: did the intimate lives of philosophers shape their ideas?</a>
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<h2>Simone Weil and ‘the common people’</h2>
<p>I would imagine such experiences exposed Beauvoir to the limitations of both her philosophy and her capabilities. Certainly, such an awareness seems present in her explanation of why she and Sartre declined to join so many of their circle in travelling to Spain to serve in the war against Franco: that they were more likely to be “a nuisance rather than a help”. </p>
<p>In evidence of this, she pointed out that Weil had gone to Spain to serve in the military, but when the infantry sensibly refused to arm her, Weil instead worked in the kitchens. (Her war ended when she stepped into a pot of boiling oil and was sent back to France to recover.)</p>
<p>Weil’s passion for others often made her “a nuisance rather than a help”. She identified strongly with the concept, at least, of “the common people”, but usually got things wrong. Despite her deeply fragile health, she took a sabbatical from her job as a philosophy teacher to work in a metals factory. This, she thought, would be “real life”. Eilenberger gently teases this aspiration, but at the same time he notes her action:</p>
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<p>stands in a respectable tradition of philosophical experiments whose declared objective was to turn one’s back on a presumably alienated world […] Like the Buddha fleeing the temple, or Diogenes in his barrel, or of course Thoreau building his hut on Walden Pond. </p>
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<p>It was not an obviously useful experiment. Weil was a hopeless factory worker, causing herself injury, messing up the production line, and worsening her always-frail physical health. She was a hopeless social activist too. After her failure to solve the problems of the <a href="https://www.britannica.com/event/Spanish-Civil-War">Spanish Civil War</a>, and as France edged ever closer to war with Germany, she began developing suites of well-argued and utterly impractical solutions, all of which were rejected. </p>
<p>Arendt seems to have had a much stronger practical streak than did Weil, and a much clearer sense both of the complexities of being a human among other humans, and of the limitations on the fantasies of freedom, than either Beauvoir or Rand. </p>
<p>While she was still living as a refugee in France, she was developing an understanding of what it is to be a pariah: considering how to preserve the only freedom pariahs have – the capacity to think for themselves. She was also <a href="https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/augustine/#Love">wondering about what love means</a>.</p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/friday-essay-rai-gaita-and-the-moral-power-of-conversation-217670">Friday essay: Rai Gaita and the moral power of conversation</a>
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<h2>Foundations of 20th-century thought</h2>
<p>Reading through this decade, and through the thinking that propelled the four women then, I had to keep reminding myself how dire their living conditions were. </p>
<p>For the three Europeans, the looming dread of war and the nailing down of any freedom or opportunity framed their lives. Ayn Rand may have been far from Hitler’s reach, but she was unable to free her parents from the Great Terror of Stalinist Russia, she was having only uncertain success in her writing, and she lived with an unsatisfying husband. </p>
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<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/561470/original/file-20231123-29-gl43ar.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/561470/original/file-20231123-29-gl43ar.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/561470/original/file-20231123-29-gl43ar.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=923&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/561470/original/file-20231123-29-gl43ar.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=923&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/561470/original/file-20231123-29-gl43ar.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=923&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/561470/original/file-20231123-29-gl43ar.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1159&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/561470/original/file-20231123-29-gl43ar.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1159&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/561470/original/file-20231123-29-gl43ar.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1159&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
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<p>Throughout all this, the Europeans at least sharpened and nuanced their understanding of what it is to be human, the point of being alive, what freedom means, and where our responsibilities lie. In doing so, they laid down some of the intellectual and ethical foundations that have inflected much of the 20th century, and into our time. (Ayn Rand’s writings, on the other hand, <a href="https://theconversation.com/who-is-john-galt-ayn-rand-libertarians-and-the-gop-40033">provided a textbook for the US Tea Party</a> – efficacious work, no doubt, but not work I can applaud.)</p>
<p>By the end of the book, I found I had changed my mind about the four women – primarily in the form of a significantly elevated appreciation for Simone de Beauvoir and an enhanced sympathy for Simone Weil. (I retained my confirmed enthusiasm for Arendt, and my equally confirmed disdain for Rand.) </p>
<p>I also discovered a substantial admiration for the skill of the author and his translator. The clarity of voice, the respect paid to readers and to the four main subjects, and the little glimpses of humour (and larger glimpses of empathy) have left me a fan of this work. </p>
<p>Readers who are not fans of philosophy shouldn’t fear the book will tangle them in the weeds of impenetrable lines of thought: its philosophy is made highly accessible. And the human stories, with all their tragedies, irritations and delights, are luminously and empathically crafted.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/213895/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Jen Webb has receive funding from the Australian Research Council.</span></em></p>A new book follows four women philosophers through ten of the worst years in the 20th century, spanning 1933, the year Hitler was appointed Chancellor of Germany, to the thick of the second world war.Jen Webb, Dean, Graduate Research, University of CanberraLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/2043642023-08-21T20:17:35Z2023-08-21T20:17:35ZWhat makes a good life? Existentialists believed we should embrace freedom and authenticity<p>How do we live good, fulfilling lives?</p>
<p>Aristotle first took on this question in his <a href="https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/aristotle-ethics/">Nicomachean Ethics</a> – arguably the first time anyone in Western intellectual history had focused on the subject as a standalone question. </p>
<p>He formulated a teleological response to the question of how we ought to live. Aristotle proposed, in other words, an answer grounded in an investigation of our purpose or ends (<em>telos</em>) as a species. </p>
<p>Our purpose, he argued, can be uncovered through a study of our essence – the fundamental features of what it means to be human. </p>
<h2>Ends and essences</h2>
<p>“Every skill and every inquiry, and similarly every action and rational choice, is thought to aim at some good;” Aristotle states, “and so the good has been aptly described as that at which everything aims.”</p>
<p>To understand what is good, and therefore what one must do to achieve the good, we must first understand what kinds of things we are. This will allow us to determine what a good or a bad function actually is. </p>
<p>For Aristotle, this is a generally applicable truth. Take a knife, for example. We must first understand what a knife is in order to determine what would constitute its proper function. The essence of a knife is that it cuts; that is its purpose. We can thus make the claim that a blunt knife is a bad knife – if it does not cut well, it is failing in an important sense to properly fulfil its function. This is how essence relates to function, and how fulfilling that function entails a kind of goodness for the thing in question.</p>
<p>Of course, determining the function of a knife or a hammer is much easier than determining the function of <em>Homo sapiens</em>, and therefore what good, fulfilling lives might involve for us as a species. </p>
<p>Aristotle argues that our function must be more than growth, nutrition and reproduction, as plants are also capable of this. Our function must also be more than perception, as non-human animals are capable of this. He thus proposes that our essence – what makes us unique – is that humans are capable of reasoning. </p>
<p>What a good, flourishing human life involves, therefore, is “some kind of practical life of that part that has reason”. This is the starting point of Aristotle’s ethics. </p>
<p>We must learn to reason well and develop practical wisdom and, in applying this reason to our decisions and judgements, we must learn to find the right balance between the excess and deficiency of virtue. </p>
<p>It is only by living a life of “virtuous activity in accordance with reason”, a life in which we flourish and fulfil the functions that flow from a deep understanding of and appreciation for what defines us, that we can achieve <em>eudaimonia</em> – the highest human good.</p>
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<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/543630/original/file-20230821-29-3qny0v.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=5%2C0%2C3988%2C3000&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/543630/original/file-20230821-29-3qny0v.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=5%2C0%2C3988%2C3000&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/543630/original/file-20230821-29-3qny0v.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/543630/original/file-20230821-29-3qny0v.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/543630/original/file-20230821-29-3qny0v.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/543630/original/file-20230821-29-3qny0v.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/543630/original/file-20230821-29-3qny0v.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/543630/original/file-20230821-29-3qny0v.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
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<span class="caption">School of Athens – Raphael (1509).</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Public domain</span></span>
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<a href="https://theconversation.com/friday-essay-how-philosophy-can-help-us-become-better-friends-200063">Friday essay: how philosophy can help us become better friends</a>
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<h2>Existence precedes essence</h2>
<p>Aristotle’s answer was so influential that it shaped the development of Western values for millennia. Thanks to philosophers and theologians such as <a href="https://www.britannica.com/biography/Saint-Thomas-Aquinas">Thomas Aquinas</a>, his enduring influence can be traced through the medieval period to the Renaissance and on to the Enlightenment.</p>
<p>During the Enlightenment, the dominant philosophical and religious traditions, which included Aristotle’s work, were reexamined in light of new Western principles of thought. </p>
<p>Beginning in the 18th century, the Enlightenment era saw the birth of modern science, and with it the adoption of the principle <em>nullius in verba</em> – literally, “take nobody’s word for it” – which became the motto of the <a href="https://royalsociety.org/about-us/history/">Royal Society</a>. There was a corresponding proliferation of secular approaches to understanding the nature of reality and, by extension, the way we ought to live our lives. </p>
<p>One of the most influential of these secular philosophies was existentialism. In the 20th century, <a href="https://www.britannica.com/biography/Jean-Paul-Sartre">Jean-Paul Sartre</a>, a key figure in existentialism, took up the challenge of thinking about the meaning of life without recourse to theology. Sartre argued that Aristotle, and those who followed in Aristotle’s footsteps, had it all back-to-front.</p>
<figure class="align-right zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/538214/original/file-20230719-16-2kml9r.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/538214/original/file-20230719-16-2kml9r.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/538214/original/file-20230719-16-2kml9r.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=737&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/538214/original/file-20230719-16-2kml9r.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=737&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/538214/original/file-20230719-16-2kml9r.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=737&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/538214/original/file-20230719-16-2kml9r.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=926&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/538214/original/file-20230719-16-2kml9r.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=926&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/538214/original/file-20230719-16-2kml9r.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=926&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Jean Paul Sartre (1967)</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Wikimedia Commons</span>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/">CC BY-SA</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Existentialists see us as going about our lives making seemingly endless choices. We choose what we wear, what we say, what careers we follow, what we believe. All of these choices make up who we are. Sartre summed up this principle in the formula “existence precedes essence”.</p>
<p>The existentialists teach us that we are completely free to invent ourselves, and therefore completely responsible for the identities we choose to adopt. “The first effect of existentialism,” Sartre wrote in his 1946 essay <a href="https://www.marxists.org/reference/archive/sartre/works/exist/sartre.htm">Existentialism is a Humanism</a>, “is that it puts every man in possession of himself as he is, and places the entire responsibility for his existence squarely upon his own shoulders.”</p>
<p>Crucial to living an authentic life, the existentialists would say, is recognising that we desire freedom above everything else. They maintain we ought never to deny the fact we are fundamentally free. But they also acknowledge we have so much choice about what we can be and what we can do that it is a source of anguish. This anguish is a felt sense of our profound responsibility. </p>
<p>The existentialists shed light on an important phenomenon: we all convince ourselves, at some point and to some extent, that we are “bound by external circumstances” in order to escape the anguish of our inescapable freedom. Believing we possess a predefined essence is one such external circumstance. </p>
<p>But the existentialists provide a range of other psychologically revealing examples. Sartre tells a story of watching a waiter in a cafe in Paris. He observes that the waiter moves a little too precisely, a little too quickly, and seems a little too eager to impress. Sartre believes the waiter’s exaggeration of waiter-hood is an act – that the waiter is deceiving himself into being a waiter. </p>
<p>In doing so, argues Sartre, the waiter denies his authentic self. He has opted instead to assume the identity of something other than a free and autonomous being. His act reveals he is denying his own freedom, and ultimately his own humanity. Sartre calls this condition “bad faith”. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/finding-your-essential-self-the-ancient-philosophy-of-zhuangzi-explained-196215">Finding your essential self: the ancient philosophy of Zhuangzi explained</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>An authentic life</h2>
<figure class="align-right zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/538213/original/file-20230719-25-pr58hc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/538213/original/file-20230719-25-pr58hc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/538213/original/file-20230719-25-pr58hc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=819&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/538213/original/file-20230719-25-pr58hc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=819&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/538213/original/file-20230719-25-pr58hc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=819&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/538213/original/file-20230719-25-pr58hc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1029&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/538213/original/file-20230719-25-pr58hc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1029&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/538213/original/file-20230719-25-pr58hc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1029&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
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<span class="caption">Michel de Montaigne – artist unknown c.1570.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Wikimedia Commons</span></span>
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</figure>
<p>Contrary to Aristotle’s conception of <em>eudaimonia</em>, the existentialists regard acting authentically as the highest good. This means never acting in such a way that denies we are free. When we make a choice, that choice must be fully ours. We have no essence; we are nothing but what we make for ourselves.</p>
<p>One day, Sartre was visited by a pupil, who sought his advice about whether he should join the French forces and avenge his brother’s death, or stay at home and provide vital support for his mother. Sartre believed the history of moral philosophy was of no help in this situation. “You are free, therefore choose,” he replied to the pupil – “that is to say, invent”. The only choice the pupil could make was one that was authentically his own.</p>
<p>We all have feelings and questions about the meaning and purpose of our lives, and it is not as simple as picking a side between the Aristotelians, the existentialists, or any of the other moral traditions. In his essay, <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/3600/3600-h/3600-h.htm#link2HCH0019">That to Study Philosophy is to Learn to Die</a> (1580), Michel de Montaigne finds what is perhaps an ideal middle ground. He proposes “the premeditation of death is the premeditation of liberty” and that “he who has learnt to die has forgot what it is to be a slave”. </p>
<p>In his typical style of jest, Montaigne concludes: “I want death to take me planting cabbages, but without any careful thought of him, and much less of my garden’s not being finished.”</p>
<p>Perhaps Aristotle and the existentialists could agree that it is just in thinking about these matters – purposes, freedom, authenticity, mortality – that we overcome the silence of never understanding ourselves. To study philosophy is, in this sense, to learn how to live.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/204364/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Oscar Davis does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Jean-Paul Sartre broke with Aristotle’s essentialism, but both philosophers would agree that to philosophise is to learn how to live.Oscar Davis, Indigenous Fellow - Assistant Professor in Philosophy and History, Bond UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1933512022-11-09T17:32:00Z2022-11-09T17:32:00ZPhilosophy can help us deal with failures that seem insurmountable<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/493266/original/file-20221103-14-ezd1ax.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=0%2C9%2C6250%2C2956&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-vector/sad-girl-crowd-flat-vector-illustration-1550702165">GoodStudio/Shutterstock</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>Philosophically speaking, some kinds of failure are more interesting than others. Failing to make a meeting on time or not being able to get out of bed without hitting snooze at least once on your alarm would fall in the “less interesting” camp. </p>
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<p><em>You can listen to more articles from The Conversation, narrated by Noa, <a href="https://theconversation.com/us/topics/audio-narrated-99682">here</a>.</em></p>
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<p>However, there is a different class of failures – those that may deeply affect our understanding of ourselves (known as our <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/00380237.1976.10570944">self-conception</a>). Examples of these failures might be failing in your ambition to be a successful writer or musician, failing at your university degree, or your marriage ending. I’m going to call these “existential failures” here.</p>
<p>This kind of failure often comes with a cluster of strong negative emotions. When we fail in this way we might find ourselves feeling not just disappointed, but in some sense lacking worth or value. And when the failure is significant enough it could be accompanied by a <a href="https://link.springer.com/article/10.1007/s11097-011-9215-1">loss of hope</a>. This kind of failure plausibly involves a form of <a href="https://www.routledge.com/Philosophy-of-Suffering-Metaphysics-Value-and-Normativity/Bain-Brady-Corns/p/book/9780815361787">psychological suffering</a>. </p>
<h2>Telling success stories</h2>
<p>What’s more, existential failure may be resistant to a culturally predominant <a href="https://journal.sjdm.org/21/210225/jdm210225.pdf">narrative surrounding failure</a>: that failure is a <a href="https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/failure-found-to-be-an-essential-prerequisite-for-success/">necessary ingredient</a> of success. </p>
<hr>
<figure class="align-right ">
<img alt="Fail Better" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/492275/original/file-20221028-40947-7fl4wu.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/492275/original/file-20221028-40947-7fl4wu.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=600&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/492275/original/file-20221028-40947-7fl4wu.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=600&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/492275/original/file-20221028-40947-7fl4wu.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=600&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/492275/original/file-20221028-40947-7fl4wu.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=754&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/492275/original/file-20221028-40947-7fl4wu.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=754&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/492275/original/file-20221028-40947-7fl4wu.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=754&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
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<p><em><a href="https://theconversation.com/uk/topics/fail-better-129121?utm_source=TCUK&utm_medium=linkback&utm_campaign=UK+YP2022+Fail+Better&utm_content=InArticleTop">This article is part of Fail Better</a>, a series for those of us in our 20s and 30s about navigating the moments when things aren’t quite going as planned. Many of us are tuned into the highlight reel of social media, where our peers share their successes in relationships, careers and family. When you feel like you’re not measuring up, the pieces in this special <a href="https://theconversation.com/uk/topics/quarter-life-117947?utm_source=TCUK&utm_medium=linkback&utm_campaign=UK+YP2022+Fail+Better&utm_content=InArticleTop">Quarter Life</a> series will help you learn how to cope with, and even grow from, failure.</em></p>
<hr>
<p>There’s no doubt that some kinds of failure serve a purpose. For example, you will get better and can become successful at public speaking by, to various degrees, failing and then attempting to do better. The acquisition of a range of capacities and skills, both practical and cognitive, is arguably dependent on this process of failure. </p>
<p>These <a href="https://www.forbes.com/sites/davidshaywitz/2017/06/27/beware-of-tidy-success-narratives-in-pharma-and-in-life/?sh=3e5703cd32a7">narratives of success</a> provide a context within which to give failing – and some of the negative emotions associated with it – meaning and value. Notably, these success narratives are not just invoked when we finally reach success, such as nailing a presentation or landing a dream job after a series of terrible interviews. They are also used during the process of repeated failure. People are told to “stick at it” despite failing, given the promise of future success. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="Illustration of man leaping from liferafts labelled failure to the mainland of success" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/493048/original/file-20221102-28436-ohdu47.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/493048/original/file-20221102-28436-ohdu47.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/493048/original/file-20221102-28436-ohdu47.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/493048/original/file-20221102-28436-ohdu47.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/493048/original/file-20221102-28436-ohdu47.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/493048/original/file-20221102-28436-ohdu47.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/493048/original/file-20221102-28436-ohdu47.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Failure is often presented as part of a journey to success.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-vector/fail-success-using-failure-be-lesson-1929024890">eamesBot/Shutterstock</a></span>
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<p>In the case of existential failure, though, interpreting it as part of a path to success may not be possible – and to do so might run the risk of <a href="https://press.princeton.edu/books/paperback/9780691057453/self-deception-unmasked">self-deception</a>.</p>
<p>You might have always dreamed of becoming an artist. This career is intimately intertwined with your sense of self: your sense of who you are, what you do, and what you value. But if looming financial ruin forces you to give up on this dream, there simply may be no plausible success narrative available to you. Put bluntly: sometimes, a failure really is a failure.</p>
<p>Nevertheless, you might attempt to offer yourself (or take up from others) a success narrative about future possibilities. This might include cliches about “learning from failing”. </p>
<p>The reason we reach for these reassurances even when facing significant failure – even when they seem at best highly speculative, at worst self-deceptive and false – is because of the high degree of psychological suffering we are facing. As German philosopher <a href="https://www.cambridge.org/highereducation/books/nietzsche-on-the-genealogy-of-morality-and-other-writings/58F7463D69D77580CA8CB1BBBD1D6309#overview">Friedrich Nietzsche said</a>: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>Man … does not deny suffering as such; he wills it, he even seeks it out, provided he is shown a meaning for it, a purpose of suffering … any meaning at all is better than no meaning at all. </p>
</blockquote>
<p>Success narratives are psychologically comforting. They give our failings the <a href="https://brill.com/view/journals/jmp/15/5/article-p545_545.xml?rskey=Zus6uu&result=9">meaning and purpose</a> they otherwise lack. But when failure is profound they may feel empty and trite. What’s more, telling ourselves these narratives may mean we refuse to see the negative effects of our failures on ourselves and others – potentially leading to even worse outcomes.</p>
<h2>Accepting failure</h2>
<p>The alternative would be living with failure as failure. This means a sober recognition of the relevant existential failing for what it is and what it affects. Your hypothetical failure to become an artist, for instance, is a failure to achieve something you took to be of high value, and this is a significant loss. It also requires a <a href="https://www.cambridge.org/core/books/self-to-self/114EAD8F11A028B88F12EDA2D019A988">revision of your self-conception</a> – a form of <a href="https://www.jstor.org/stable/10.5325/jnietstud.47.3.0323">injury to the self</a>.</p>
<p>By managing to resist the temptation to seek a comforting success narrative, you stand to achieve a form of what a group of philosophers known as the existentialists <a href="https://philosophynow.org/issues/53/Sartres_Being_and_Nothingness_The_Bible_of_Existentialism">called “authenticity”</a>. </p>
<p>This is a kind of honesty or truthfulness with ourselves and our situation. In this case, such honesty would mean seeing your existential failures with clear eyes, something which requires psychological strength and courage. </p>
<p>Aside from the fact that truthfulness and psychological strength are virtues we should seek to cultivate in ourselves, seeing such existential failures clearly can lead us to reflect on what in our lives has the most value to us. Holding on to success narratives, which always seek to give meaning to failings and failure, make it difficult to engage fully with the important question of what we should value and why. </p>
<p>What’s more, this authenticity can change how we respond to others experiencing existential failure. Rather than glossing over the depth of what they are experiencing by promising that they will learn from their failures, we may be able to genuinely recognise their loss and try to be properly sensitive to their psychological suffering. This kind of authentic empathy could form the basis of a more honest and meaningful conversation. </p>
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<p><em><strong><a href="https://theconversation.com/uk/topics/quarter-life-117947?utm_source=TCUK&utm_medium=linkback&utm_campaign=UK+YP2022+Fail+Better&utm_content=InArticleTop">Quarter Life</a></strong> is a series about issues affecting those of us in our 20s and 30s.</em></p>
<hr><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/193351/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Jonathan Mitchell does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>What can you do when you feel like a failure for giving up on a dream?Jonathan Mitchell, Lecturer in Philosophy, Cardiff UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1877262022-08-18T19:58:22Z2022-08-18T19:58:22ZStop dissing pessimism — it’s part of being human<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/479426/original/file-20220816-10934-oq2vva.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=12%2C1021%2C6582%2C4293&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Philosophical pessimism isn't all doom and gloom: it's about explaining and confronting the origins, prevalence and the ubiquity of suffering.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">(Shutterstock)</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>In today’s society, being happy and having an optimistic attitude are social expectations that weigh heavily on how we live and the choices we make. </p>
<p>Some psychologists have pointed out how happiness has evolved into an <a href="https://www.psychologytoday.com/ca/blog/you-are-not-meant-be-happy/202107/the-happiness-myth">industry</a>. In turn, this has created what I call a <em>happiness imperative</em>, the social expectation that we should all aspire to happiness. </p>
<p>But this can be an obstacle to happiness. This is why, as a researcher in philosophical pessimism, I argue that if we actually want to live better lives, <a href="https://gradcastradio.podbean.com/e/383-i-m-not-a-pessimist-i-m-philosophical/">pessimism is the philosophical system</a> that can help us achieve it. </p>
<p>While pessimism in the psychological sense is a <a href="https://www.verywellmind.com/is-it-safer-to-be-a-pessimist-3144874">tendency to focus on bad outcomes</a>, philosophical pessimism isn’t fundamentally about outcomes. Rather, it’s a system that purports to explain the origins, prevalence and ubiquity of suffering. </p>
<p>Even if I adopt a cheerful and positive attitude towards life (thereby <em>not</em> making me a psychological pessimist) I can still be a philosophical pessimist because I can continue to believe that existence is <em>generally</em> filled with suffering.</p>
<h2>All about angst?</h2>
<p>French philosopher <a href="https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/sartre/">Jean-Paul Sartre</a> is sometimes seen as a gloomy philosopher who deals with existential angst, dread and generally dark, depressive topics. He’s also been <a href="https://thewire.in/books/the-outrageous-optimism-of-jean-paul-sartre">associated with pessimism</a>, but this is largely due to misunderstandings of his work.</p>
<figure class="align-right zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/479432/original/file-20220816-16-gkgj0o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="Black and white photo of a man in a study with pipe." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/479432/original/file-20220816-16-gkgj0o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/479432/original/file-20220816-16-gkgj0o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=755&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/479432/original/file-20220816-16-gkgj0o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=755&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/479432/original/file-20220816-16-gkgj0o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=755&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/479432/original/file-20220816-16-gkgj0o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=949&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/479432/original/file-20220816-16-gkgj0o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=949&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/479432/original/file-20220816-16-gkgj0o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=949&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">French author and philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre, seen here in his Paris study in 1948, wanted people to assume responsibility for the lives they create.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">(AP Photo)</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>In 1945 Sartre wanted to dispel these mistaken impressions. In a <a href="https://philosophynow.org/issues/15/A_students_guide_to_Jean-Paul_Sartres_Existentialism_and_Humanism">public lecture called <em>Existentialism is a Humanism</em></a>, he argued that existentialism, properly understood, is a philosophy about freedom and assuming responsibility for our choices and for the lives we create. We are free — <a href="https://philosophynow.org/issues/53/Sartres_Being_and_Nothingness_The_Bible_of_Existentialism">or in existentialist terms, we are condemned to be free</a>. </p>
<p>Sartre believed we have no essence, and therefore must create and build one for ourselves. So while all this can certainly cause feelings of angst and despair in some, this needn’t be the case. </p>
<h2>Compassion for living beings</h2>
<p>And as in the case of existentialism, despair and angst are not necessarily defining aspects of <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/en/book/show/28192377-weltschmerz">philosophical pessimism</a>. </p>
<p>Pessimism has a long history in philosophy, dating back to the ancient Greeks. An early myth tells us that <a href="https://www.britannica.com/topic/Midas-Greek-mythology">the satyr Silenus</a> <a href="http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=urn:cts:greekLit:tlg0007.tlg076.perseus-eng1:27">revealed to King Midas</a> that the greatest thing any human could hope for was to never have been born and that the second best thing was an early death. </p>
<p>But the German 19th-century philosopher <a href="https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/schopenhauer/">Arthur Schopenhauer</a> is considered by philosophers to be the first modern western writer who treated pessimism systematically in his work. </p>
<p>Schopenhauer’s philosophical pessimism is motivated by compassion and concern for all humans — though to be precise, this <a href="https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-62947-6_14">compassion extends to all living beings, not just humans</a>. This is one of the important differences with existentialism. </p>
<h2>Condemnation of existence</h2>
<p>In Schopenhauer’s pessimism, we find a clear condemnation of existence. As he put it, “<a href="https://www.cambridge.org/core/books/abs/schopenhauer-parerga-and-paralipomena/parerga-and-paralipomena-volume-2/A17236D62777A545FE0C1641A63F441F">work, worry, toil and distress are indeed the lot of almost all human beings</a> their whole life through,” and “one can also conceive of our life as a uselessly disturbing episode in the blissful calm of nothingness.” </p>
<figure class="align-right ">
<img alt="Oil painting of a man." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/479431/original/file-20220816-11206-nioe5y.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/479431/original/file-20220816-11206-nioe5y.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=767&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/479431/original/file-20220816-11206-nioe5y.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=767&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/479431/original/file-20220816-11206-nioe5y.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=767&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/479431/original/file-20220816-11206-nioe5y.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=964&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/479431/original/file-20220816-11206-nioe5y.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=964&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/479431/original/file-20220816-11206-nioe5y.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=964&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Portrait of Schopenhauer, circa 1815.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Arthur_Schopenhauer_Portrait_by_Ludwig_Sigismund_Ruhl_1815.jpeg">(Wikipedia)</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>And in case he is not clear enough on his condemnation of existence, he also says “the world is simply hell, and human beings are on the one hand its tortured souls and on the other hand its devils.” </p>
<p>As a consequence, for Schopenhauer, nonexistence is preferable to existence. This means that given the option of existing or not existing, not coming to be is the best choice. In this he echoes Silenus, but — and this is important — once we are here, the best we can do is adopt a life attitude that keeps us away from desires and wants. It is in our interest to stop pursuing <em>things</em>, including happiness. </p>
<h2>Not about destroying life</h2>
<p>In no case would he, or any other pessimist philosopher, advocate anything like <a href="https://theconversation.com/solve-suffering-by-blowing-up-the-universe-the-dubious-philosophy-of-human-extinction-149331">crazy omnicide</a> — actively and directly taking steps to destroy all life — as some mistakenly believe.</p>
<p>Ultimately, the pessimism of Schopenhauer depends entirely on his metaphysical views about the nature of existence itself — <a href="https://philosophynow.org/issues/86/Schopenhauer">the essence of which is what he called <em>will</em></a>. </p>
<p>For our purposes, it’s enough if we understand <em>will</em> as a sort of <em>force</em> that underlies, conditions and motivates everything that exists. As such, everything that is, exists to want endlessly — and never attain any durable satisfaction. </p>
<h2>The bright side</h2>
<p>Given that the world we live in forces us to deal with pandemics, economic problems, wars and climate change it can seem overwhelming that we are supposed to be happy. It’s unrealistic to think we should always look at the bright side of events. </p>
<figure class="align-left zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/479433/original/file-20220816-11082-5ffk8h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="A sunny sky." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/479433/original/file-20220816-11082-5ffk8h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/479433/original/file-20220816-11082-5ffk8h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=300&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/479433/original/file-20220816-11082-5ffk8h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=300&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/479433/original/file-20220816-11082-5ffk8h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=300&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/479433/original/file-20220816-11082-5ffk8h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=377&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/479433/original/file-20220816-11082-5ffk8h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=377&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/479433/original/file-20220816-11082-5ffk8h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=377&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">It’s unrealistic to think we should always look at the bright side.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">(Shutterstock)</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>And even if we choose to do so, it is still the case that, according to pessimism, we exist to want and desire endlessly. In light of this, the <em>happiness imperative</em> comes into conflict with the essence of existence (Schopenhauer’s <em>will</em>) because satisfaction isn’t possible. The expectation to be happy therefore becomes a struggle against the very nature of life.</p>
<p>This is why when society expects us to be happy, and blames us if we are not, <a href="https://www.forbes.com/sites/juliawuench/2021/11/01/toxic-positivity-in-the-workplace/?sh=f2a511d1e6f8">positivity becomes toxic</a>.</p>
<p>If we find ourselves unable to live up to the <em>happiness imperative</em>, we can feel inadequate and like failures. </p>
<p>Pessimism can offer philosophical tools to better understand our place within existence. It can help us come to terms with the idea that refusing to relentlessly pursue happiness is perhaps the most reasonable attitude.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/187726/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Ignacio L. Moya does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Pessimism, as explored by the philosopher Schopenhauer, offers tools to come to terms with the idea that refusing to relentlessly pursue happiness is perhaps the most reasonable attitude.Ignacio L. Moya, PhD candidate, Philosophy, Western UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1715572021-11-23T13:31:11Z2021-11-23T13:31:11ZThe lessons ‘Moby-Dick’ has for a warming world of rising waters<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/432989/original/file-20211121-17-6nslk2.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=13%2C27%2C1002%2C697&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">'Moby-Dick' inspired the Warner Brothers film starring Gregory Peck as Captain Ahab – and perhaps can inspire readers today amid the climate crisis. </span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.gettyimages.com/detail/news-photo/the-cast-and-crew-of-the-warner-brothers-film-moby-dick-on-news-photo/2669615?adppopup=true">Fox Photos/Hulton Archive via Getty Images</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>As <a href="https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/296307/the-humboldt-current-by-aaron-sachs/">an environmental historian</a> and <a href="https://history.cornell.edu/aaron-sachs">scholar of the 19th century</a>, I spend a lot of time thinking about how the past can help us confront our current crises – especially climate change.</p>
<p>And there’s a lot of help to be found in the 1800s, from <a href="https://theconversation.com/thoreaus-great-insight-for-the-anthropocene-wildness-is-an-attitude-not-a-place-113146">the appreciation of wildness</a> in Henry David Thoreau’s famous “Walden,” to the rise of ecology, the science of interdependence. “We may all be netted together,” Charles Darwin scribbled <a href="http://darwin-online.org.uk/converted/published/1960_Notebooks_F1574a.html">in his notebook</a>.</p>
<p>But my nomination for the most helpful climate manual ever written might be a surprise: “<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/2701/2701-h/2701-h.htm#link2HCH0078">Moby-Dick</a>.”</p>
<p>Herman Melville’s epic novel about life aboard a wayward whaling ship, published 170 years ago this month, does not have a reputation for being particularly pragmatic, unless you’re looking for tips on swabbing the decks or hunting creatures of the deep. And no, I’m not suggesting
that we go back to <a href="https://www.britannica.com/story/how-did-the-sperm-whale-get-its-name">burning sperm oil</a>. </p>
<p>What makes “Moby-Dick” especially relevant right now is that it offers <a href="https://theconversation.com/what-is-solidarity-during-coronavirus-and-always-its-more-than-were-all-in-this-together-135002">a spur to solidarity</a> and perseverance. Those are qualities societies may need to stock up on as we face the overwhelming threat of climate change. The novel has no straightforward moral, but it does remind readers that we can at least buoy each other up, even as the water swirls around us. </p>
<h2>Existentialists at sea</h2>
<p>Climate change touches on time scales and planetary systems that humans <a href="https://www.brookings.edu/blog/planetpolicy/2017/09/18/why-the-wiring-of-our-brains-makes-it-hard-to-stop-climate-change/">aren’t wired to fathom</a>. But at the same time, it can be seen as just another challenge we’ve brought upon ourselves through societal failings. </p>
<p>Perhaps it’s more helpful, then, to think about climate change not as a brand-new “existential threat,” but as the kind of age-old crisis that is tailor-made for existentialism – <a href="https://jhupbooks.press.jhu.edu/title/existential-america">a philosophy</a>, as the scholar Walter Kaufmann put it, that is all about “dread, despair, death, and dauntlessness.” The basic idea is to recognize how treacherous and unknowable your path is, and then to continue on anyway.</p>
<p>“Moby-Dick” is clearly an existentialist text, though it was published almost a century before the term was coined. One of the founders of modern existentialism, Nobel Prize winner <a href="https://theconversation.com/guide-to-the-classics-albert-camus-the-plague-134244">Albert Camus</a>, explicitly <a href="https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/23457/lyrical-and-critical-essays-by-albert-camus-translated-by-ellen-conroy-kennedy/">acknowledged Melville</a> as an intellectual forebear. And two of the main characters in “Moby-Dick” are near-perfect existentialists: the narrator, Ishmael, and his friend, Queequeg, a harpooner from the fictional isle of Kokovoko.</p>
<p>From the beginning of his tale, Ishmael makes clear his obsession with the horror of the human condition. He’s bitterly depressed, angry, even suicidal: “it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul,” he says on page one, and he finds himself “pausing before coffin warehouses.” He hates the way modern New Yorkers seem to spend their days “tied to counters, nailed to benches, clinched to desks.” All he can think to do is go to sea. </p>
<p>Of course, it’s not long before he has a near-death experience on the open water. He and a few crewmates get chucked out of their small boat in the midst of a squall after failing to nab the whale they were after. Queequeg signals with their one faint lantern, “hopelessly holding up hope in the midst of despair.” </p>
<p>Immediately after they’re saved, Ishmael interviews the most experienced of the crew and, confirming that this sort of thing happens all the time, goes below decks to “make a rough draft of my will,” with Queequeg as his witness. The “whole universe” seems like “a vast practical joke” at his expense, but he finds himself able to smile at the absurdity: “Now then, thought I, unconsciously rolling up the sleeves of my frock, here goes for a cool, collected dive at death and destruction.” </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="A black and white illustration depicts a whale attacking men in a small boat." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/433171/original/file-20211122-27-14p0f8y.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/433171/original/file-20211122-27-14p0f8y.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=345&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/433171/original/file-20211122-27-14p0f8y.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=345&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/433171/original/file-20211122-27-14p0f8y.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=345&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/433171/original/file-20211122-27-14p0f8y.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=434&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/433171/original/file-20211122-27-14p0f8y.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=434&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/433171/original/file-20211122-27-14p0f8y.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=434&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Whaling was rife with danger for whales and whalers alike.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://archive.org/details/incidentsofwhali00olmsrich">From 'Incidents of a Whaling Voyage,' by Francis Allyn Olmsted.</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<h2>No man an island</h2>
<p>Again and again, “Moby-Dick” forces readers to confront despair. But that doesn’t make it a grim read, or a paralyzing one – in part because Melville himself is such an engaging companion, and much of the book imparts a powerful sense of fellowship.</p>
<p>Literary critic <a href="https://www.amherst.edu/people/facstaff/gsanborn">Geoffrey Sanborn</a> <a href="https://www.cambridge.org/core/books/value-of-herman-melville/7C7DF7A67F6D55D5917C6F95E768F382#:%7E:text=Book%20description,means%20of%20enriching%20our%20experiences">writes that</a> Melville meant for “Moby-Dick” “to make your mind a more interesting and enjoyable place.”</p>
<p>“It’s about the effort,” he writes, “… to feel, in the deepest recesses of your consciousness, at least temporarily unalone.”</p>
<p>When Ishmael stops by the Whaleman’s Chapel before his fateful journey, “each silent worshipper seemed purposely sitting apart from the other, as if each silent grief were insular and incommunicable.” But once aboard his ship, he finds all the crew members suddenly “welded into oneness,” thanks to their shared sense of purpose and their awareness of the dangers ahead. And he sees the same kind of unity in “extensive herds” of sperm whales, as though “numerous nations of them had sworn solemn league and covenant for mutual assistance and protection.” </p>
<p>That’s the sense of interconnectedness human nations need today. When I picked up “Moby-Dick” earlier this month, I almost immediately thought of the climate change negotiations in Glasgow – and Queequeg’s small island home. I could easily imagine the harpooner as an eloquent representative of a nation in danger of being swallowed up by rising waters. </p>
<p>“It’s a mutual, joint-stock world, in all meridians,” Ishmael imagines Queequeg saying at one point in the novel. “We cannibals must help these Christians.” That’s a startling line, emphasizing Melville’s suggestion that Queequeg, whom many characters dismiss as a “heathen,” is actually the most ethical character in the book.</p>
<p>But in Glasgow, it seems, wealthy nations’ recognition of the need for mutual aid <a href="https://www.cfr.org/in-brief/cop26-climate-outcomes-successes-failures-glasgow">fell short</a>. Though their <a href="https://theconversation.com/inequality-and-climate-change-the-rich-must-step-up-119074">disproportionate greenhouse gas emissions</a> are largely to blame for poorer countries’ disproportionate suffering, their funding for developing nations to weather the storm is far below what’s needed – and eventually, that may come back to bite everyone. </p>
<p>Queequeg’s interdependent relationship with Ishmael is at the very center of “Moby-Dick.” Their fates are interwoven; Queequeg is Ishmael’s “inseparable twin brother.” In one scene, the harpooner dangles over the water, attached by a cord to Ishmael, so that “should poor Queequeg sink to rise no more,” our narrator would go tumbling into the sea as well. </p>
<p>At the end of the novel, all the whalemen except Ishmael sink to rise no more. The narrator is saved by a coffin Queequeg had carved for himself, then given to the First Mate to replace a lost lifebuoy. Much about “Moby-Dick” will always remain murky, but this symbolism is clear: To ponder death and prepare for the worst are age-old survival strategies.</p>
<p>Queequeg’s culture led him to confront the hardest realities of life. As Ishmael notes admiringly, the harpooner had “no civilized hypocrisies and bland deceits,” no tendency toward denial. He had thoroughly enjoyed carving his coffin, and when he lay down in it to check the fit, while suffering from a life-threatening fever, he had shown a perfectly “composed countenance.” “It will do,” he murmured; “it is easy.” </p>
<p>Queequeg’s existentialist determination in the face of dread, his willingness to sacrifice, his caring forethought, made all the difference. And maybe that could be an inspiration. The key to addressing climate change won’t be some abstract injunction to save the planet; it will be about acknowledging interdependence and commonality and accepting responsibility. It will be about returning Queequeg’s favor.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/171557/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Aaron Sachs does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Melville’s epic novel about life aboard a wayward whaling ship holds lessons for the climate crisis today.Aaron Sachs, Professor of History and American Studies, Cornell UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1366612020-05-21T19:59:44Z2020-05-21T19:59:44ZWhy ‘The Scream’ has gone viral again<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/336550/original/file-20200520-152288-mkivz7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=23%2C339%2C1513%2C1064&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">'The Scream,' by Edvard Munch, hand-coloured lithograph version from 1895. </span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://foto.munchmuseet.no/fotoweb/archives/5018-Grafikk/Arkiv/G0193-03_20160329.tif.info#?c=%2Ffotoweb%2Farchives%2F5018-Grafikk%2F%3Fq%3Dscream">(Munchmuseet)</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/">CC BY</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>Few works of art are as iconic as <em>The Scream</em>, by the Norwegian artist Edvard Munch (1863–1944). The combination of an open mouth, eyes wide open and two hands raised to cheeks has become a near-universal signifier of shock and existential fear, helped along by 1990s movie franchises such as <a href="https://www.imdb.com/list/ls020641921/"><em>Scream</em></a> and <a href="https://www.imdb.com/find?q=home+alone&ref_=nv_sr_sm"><em>Home Alone</em></a>. Not to mention the scream emoji 😱.</p>
<p>In these “coronatimes,” <em>The Scream</em> has taken on new significance, summoned once again to represent our anxieties of illness and death, of economic recession and of societal collapse. </p>
<p>Versions of <em>The Scream</em> have proliferated online. There are <em>Screams</em> with <a href="https://theweek.com/cartoons/893327/editorial-cartoon-world-coronavirus-scream-global-fear">face masks</a> or even <a href="https://www.sandiegouniontribune.com/opinion/steve-breen/story/2020-03-05/experts-caution-against-coronavirus-panic">as face masks</a>. There are <em>Screams</em> <a href="https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2020/03/30/some-coronavirus-guidelines">anxious about handwashing and face touching</a>, and <em>Screams</em> with eyes <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/B9CHXeboxfy/">drawn in the now recognizable shape of the coronavirus</a>. Screaming figures are <a href="https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-8093649/PAUL-THOMAS-coronavirus-screen.html">fleeing cities and financial institutions</a>. They are <a href="https://www.cartoonmovement.com/cartoon/64950">hoarding toilet paper and hand sanitizer</a>.</p>
<h2>Poignant images</h2>
<p>Most of these coronavirus <em>Scream</em> images tap into our collective fears and transform them through humour. But there are more poignant images as well. Consider a <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/B92q-eTlEQJ/">“social distancing” <em>Scream</em></a> created by Hrag Vartanian, editor-in-chief of the art site Hyperallergic. </p>
<p><a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/arts-entertainment/2020/04/11/art-memes-hopper-scream-last-supper-purell-earring/">Vartanian digitally altered the image</a> so that only a single lone individual remains in the background. </p>
<p><div data-react-class="InstagramEmbed" data-react-props="{"url":"https://www.instagram.com/p/B92q-eTlEQJ","accessToken":"127105130696839|b4b75090c9688d81dfd245afe6052f20"}"></div></p>
<p>Vartanian said: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>“I wanted to create something jarring that reminds us to look at familiar things in new ways, just like we’re doing with our lives in the era of social distancing.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>And then there’s <em>2020 Plague Expulsion Rite</em>, a photo collage by Shenzhen-based photographer Wu Guoyong. After collaborating with Luo Dawei, who runs the photo platform Fengmian, to curate a series of <a href="https://supchina.com/2020/02/14/one-thousand-families-intimate-portraits-of-chinese-lives-during-coronavirus">family portraits of Chinese New Year in quarantine</a>, Wu gathered together 3,500 images of lockdown to <a href="https://www.scmp.com/magazines/post-magazine/long-reads/article/3078425/chinese-artists-locked-down-coronavirus-got">create a collective <em>Scream</em></a>.</p>
<p><div data-react-class="Tweet" data-react-props="{"tweetId":"1246704763443515392"}"></div></p>
<p><em>2020 Plague Expulsion Rite</em> poses profound questions: if we are all screaming, and if we imagine everyone else screaming, is it possible to feel less alone? And if we are all screaming together, how else might we act collectively in these times?</p>
<h2>‘Quaking with angst’</h2>
<figure class="align-right ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/335548/original/file-20200517-138634-1ooz2ie.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/335548/original/file-20200517-138634-1ooz2ie.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=799&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/335548/original/file-20200517-138634-1ooz2ie.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=799&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/335548/original/file-20200517-138634-1ooz2ie.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=799&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/335548/original/file-20200517-138634-1ooz2ie.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1004&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/335548/original/file-20200517-138634-1ooz2ie.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1004&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/335548/original/file-20200517-138634-1ooz2ie.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1004&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Edvard Munch’s ‘The Scream’ pastel version, 1895.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">(Wikimedia)</span>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/">CC BY</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>After numerous sketches and some false starts, Munch completed a first version of <a href="https://www.nasjonalmuseet.no/en/collection/object/NG.M.00939"><em>The Scream</em></a> in 1893 while living in Berlin, where his avant-garde circle <a href="https://books.google.ca/books?id=Sx4PAQAAMAAJ&pg=PA1&dq=Das+Werk+Des+Edvard+Munch+(1894)+Stanislaw&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwj5vYetmcXpAhVvhuAKHZUKA5EQ6AEIJzAA#v=onepage&q=Das%20Werk%20Des%20Edvard%20Munch%20(1894)%20Stanislaw&f=false">enthusiastically received</a> it as an embodiment of modern angst bordering on mental illness. </p>
<p>Carefully conceived for maximum emotional effect, Munch intended the work to be a powerful image that would represent an intense emotional experience that he had while walking along a fjord in his native Norway. He also tried to put that experience <a href="https://emunch.no/TRANS_HYBRIDMM_T2760.xhtml">into words</a>:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>“I was walking along the road with two friends — the sun was setting — I felt a wave of sadness — the sky suddenly turned blood-red. I stopped, leaned against the fence tired to death … My friends walked on — stood there quaking with angst — and I felt as though a vast, endless scream passed through nature.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Munch created three more versions of <em>The Scream</em>, a <a href="https://www.moma.org/collection/works/60075">lithograph</a> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:The_Scream_Pastel.jpg">and a pastel</a> in 1895, and another <a href="https://munch.emuseum.com/en/objects/3313/skrik?ctx=cfc11208-c117-480f-bc3d-c09e18f20f2e&idx=1">painting</a>, probably in 1910. </p>
<p><em>The Scream</em> has a dramatic history. The 1893 version was <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/theguardian/2012/may/09/archive-edvard-munch-scream-recovered">stolen and then recovered</a> in 1994. Ten years later, the 1910 version was also stolen and recovered, albeit <a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/entertainment/7416462.stm">damaged</a>. In 2012, the pastel version <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2012/05/03/arts/design/the-scream-sells-for-nearly-120-million-at-sothebys-auction.html">was auctioned</a> for the record sum of nearly US$120 million. Now, as reported by the <em>Guardian</em>, conservators recommend that the 1910 painting <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2020/may/18/human-breath-taking-its-toll-on-munch-the-scream-say-scientists-1910-damaging-humidity-paint">practise its own physical distancing to avoid further damage</a> from human breath. </p>
<h2>Staring, open-mouthed figures</h2>
<figure class="align-right zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/336555/original/file-20200520-152284-wm3awx.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/336555/original/file-20200520-152284-wm3awx.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/336555/original/file-20200520-152284-wm3awx.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=901&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/336555/original/file-20200520-152284-wm3awx.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=901&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/336555/original/file-20200520-152284-wm3awx.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=901&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/336555/original/file-20200520-152284-wm3awx.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1133&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/336555/original/file-20200520-152284-wm3awx.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1133&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/336555/original/file-20200520-152284-wm3awx.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1133&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Detail from drawing captioned ‘Influenca’ (Influenza), about 1890, by Edvard Munch.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">(The Munch Museum)</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Throughout his long career, Munch <a href="http://www.munch-raisonne.com/">often represented</a> the despair and fear provoked by deadly diseases not yet well understood by modern medicine, including tuberculosis, syphilis and influenza. A staring, open-mouthed figure, often alienated from its body, recurred in those representations.</p>
<p>Before <em>The Scream</em>, Munch produced a <a href="https://munch.emuseum.com/en/objects/34310/a-mannsportrett-b-mann-staende-foran-speil?ctx=b59636c0-e4fa-4a43-b421-a93e8c20ec00&idx=0">drawing</a> in one of his early sketchbooks, probably a self-portrait, and captioned it “Influenca.” A figure doubled, frightened and frightening, looks back at us from a mirror. His eyes are wide open and his tongue is sticking out. Perhaps he is saying “aaahhh” and waiting for a diagnosis. </p>
<p>Munch suffered from lung and bronchial problems throughout <a href="https://www.munchmuseet.no/en/edvard-munch/">his life</a>, possibly related to the tuberculosis that killed his mother and sister when he was a child. In 1919, he was one of <a href="https://news.artnet.com/art-world/spanish-flu-art-1836843">the few artists to respond to the worldwide flu pandemic</a>. In a large self-portrait simply titled <a href="https://www.nasjonalmuseet.no/en/collection/object/NG.M.01867"><em>Spanish Flu</em></a>, the artist turns his head to the viewer, eyes strangely vacant, and opens his mouth to … what? Speak? Cough? Gasp for breath? Scream? </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/335545/original/file-20200517-138629-19ppz5v.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/335545/original/file-20200517-138629-19ppz5v.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=600&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/335545/original/file-20200517-138629-19ppz5v.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=600&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/335545/original/file-20200517-138629-19ppz5v.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=600&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/335545/original/file-20200517-138629-19ppz5v.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=754&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/335545/original/file-20200517-138629-19ppz5v.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=754&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/335545/original/file-20200517-138629-19ppz5v.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=754&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Self-Portrait with the Spanish Flu, by Edvard Munch.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">(National Museum of Art, Architecture and Design, Oslo, The Fine Art Collections)</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<h2>Rise in cult status</h2>
<p><em>The Scream</em> gained its cult status only after the artist’s death in 1944.</p>
<figure class="align-right ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/335558/original/file-20200517-138629-5uzke6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/335558/original/file-20200517-138629-5uzke6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=791&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/335558/original/file-20200517-138629-5uzke6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=791&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/335558/original/file-20200517-138629-5uzke6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=791&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/335558/original/file-20200517-138629-5uzke6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=993&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/335558/original/file-20200517-138629-5uzke6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=993&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/335558/original/file-20200517-138629-5uzke6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=993&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">‘Time’ magazine cover, March 31, 1961.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">(Time magazine)</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>While the full story of its emergence into popular culture remains to be told, key early moments are probably a <a href="http://content.time.com/time/magazine/0,9263,7601610331,00.html"><em>Time</em> magazine cover from 1961</a> with the banner “Guilt & Anxiety,” and a <a href="https://books.google.ca/books/about/Edvard_Munch_The_Scream.html?id=qx4NAQAAIAAJ&redir_esc=y">1973 book</a> by Reinhold Heller about Munch’s iconic painting.</p>
<p>In recent years, <em>The Scream</em> has been used to raise awareness of <a href="http://www.thescreamfromnature.com/index.php/the-project/">climate change</a>, to <a href="https://www.standard.co.uk/go/london/arts/the-standard-the-scream-cartoon-bought-by-the-british-museum-a4111716.html">critique</a> and <a href="https://www.alamy.com/20th-june-2018-london-uk-brexit-flags-cakes-and-pork-pies-on-display-outside-the-house-of-commons-credit-ian-davidsonalamy-live-news-image209047000.html">protest</a> Brexit as well as the presidency of <a href="https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/peter-brookes-zls57tm5d">Donald Trump</a> in the United States.</p>
<p>Anxiety about nuclear proliferation also speaks through <em>The Scream</em>. In 2009, graphic designer Małgorzata Będowska transformed the instantly recognizable nuclear hazard sign into an iconic mashup for the poster <em>Nuclear Emergency</em>. The striking design has since become <a href="https://www.behance.net/gallery/5484057/The-Scream-social-poster">commonplace at anti-nuclear events</a>. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/335543/original/file-20200517-138606-qbxhbl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/335543/original/file-20200517-138606-qbxhbl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=414&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/335543/original/file-20200517-138606-qbxhbl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=414&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/335543/original/file-20200517-138606-qbxhbl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=414&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/335543/original/file-20200517-138606-qbxhbl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=520&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/335543/original/file-20200517-138606-qbxhbl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=520&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/335543/original/file-20200517-138606-qbxhbl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=520&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Protesters carry a banner bearing Małgorzata Będowska’s Munch-inspired nuclear symbol mashup during an anti-nuclear demonstration in Taipei, Taiwan, in March 2015.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">(AP Photo/Chiang Ying-ying)</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<h2>A common visual language</h2>
<p>We might turn to the arts to soothe ourselves in times of crisis and stress. But in those same times, <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2020/04/08/t-magazine/art-coronavirus.html">history has shown</a> that art can help us to express or deal with <a href="https://www.dukeupress.edu/hold-it-against-me">difficult emotions</a>, including those stemming from our experiences of illness. </p>
<p>The internet-enabled global circulation of <em>The Scream</em> is intensifying in an age of political instability and a pandemic enabled by globalization. The increasing virality of <em>The Scream</em> demonstrates the ongoing need for a common visual language to communicate and to cope with what many fear the most: the shared vulnerability of having a body that might become ill, suffer and die.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/136661/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Allison Morehead has received funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada, the City of Oslo, and the Munch Museum. </span></em></p>Artist Edvard Munch depicted despair provoked by disease in turn-of-the-century works. In these coronavirus times, his iconic image speaks to our anxieties about illness and societal collapse.Allison Morehead, Associate Professor of Art History and in the Graduate Program in Cultural Studies, Queen's University, OntarioLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1346512020-03-29T19:08:57Z2020-03-29T19:08:57ZThinking like a Buddhist about coronavirus can calm the mind and help us focus<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/323172/original/file-20200326-168894-1d2vhpm.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=31%2C71%2C5252%2C3427&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1476725974034-6788d424c132?ixlib=rb-1.2.1&auto=format&fit=crop&w=751&q=80">Sabine Schulte/Unsplash</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/">CC BY</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>The coronavirus pandemic is challenging our health, work, family, food and fun. It’s also disturbing our peace of mind and forcing us to question our own existence. </p>
<p>We are each asking our own existential questions: Why is this happening to me? Why can’t I go on with my usual life? Who created the problem and why? </p>
<p>While scientists are working hard to find medical solutions, concepts from Buddhism can provide us with some solace for our overburdened minds. The Buddha’s answer would be to focus solely on the existential facts, aiming first for understanding and then to adopt a pragmatic meditation practice.</p>
<h2>A troubling disciple</h2>
<p>Consider the case of <a href="https://books.google.com.au/books?id=Ibr7AQAAQBAJ&pg=PT167&lpg=PT167&dq=M%C4%81lunkyaputta++buddha&source=bl&ots=zN_Hb0rFaV&sig=ACfU3U00yWKNnaynmkctQZnMraOu0KttmA&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjW3aOwmrfoAhUpyzgGHZ4iDiwQ6AEwCHoECAkQAQ#v=onepage&q=M%C4%81lunkyaputta%20%20buddha&f=false">Mālunkyaputta</a>, a disciple who kept troubling the Buddha some 2,500 years ago in ancient India. Mālunkyaputta prompted him to answer a series of complex questions. </p>
<p>One particular day, he walked up to the Buddha and insisted he needed to be given the answers. </p>
<p>The Buddha responded with an anecdote of a man wounded with a poisonous arrow coming to see a physician for medication. The man insisted that he would not let the arrow be taken out until he knew who shot him and how. The Buddha said by the time all the answers had been given the man would be dead. </p>
<p>The Buddha defined this teaching as eschewing answers to philosophical questions and dealing only with the <a href="https://www.jstor.org/stable/1398828">existential facts</a>: “there is birth […] ageing […] dying […] grief, sorrow, suffering, lamentation, and despair” and their “suppression […] here and now”. </p>
<p>What this means for us is that although it is natural to have such questions, worrying about the answers may only bring more suffering. We would be wiser to work to reduce our own suffering and that of others.</p>
<h2>Three marks of existence</h2>
<p>What remains in this core Buddhism is the pure existentialism of dispassionate detachment from the space-time world that results in <a href="https://www.budsas.org/ebud/whatbudbeliev/102.htm"><em>nirvana</em></a>. This state is defined simply as the absence of greed, hatred, and delusion.</p>
<p>Buddhism teaches us the coronavirus is causing us to experience some heightened forms of the <a href="https://encyclopediaofbuddhism.org/wiki/Three_marks_of_existence">three marks of our existence</a> (<em>tilakkhaṇa</em>). They are the impermanence (<em>aniccā</em>), the un-satisfactoriness or suffering (<em>duḥkha</em>) and the non-self (<em>anatta</em>).</p>
<p>The pandemic’s sudden encroachment on our society, causing death and misery, reminds us of that impermanence. It shows us the inevitable nature of our own death and the associated suffering, leading us to do some soul-searching.</p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/eytfr21V5Ok?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
<figcaption><span class="caption">Buddhism is practised by 535 million people around the world, between 8% and 10% of the world’s total population.</span></figcaption>
</figure>
<h2>The little things</h2>
<p>Buddhism teaches meditation practices with deep introspection. These are designed to make us mindful of nature and help relieve us from sufferings, as described in several Buddhist <a href="https://www.accesstoinsight.org/index-sutta.html"><em>suttas</em></a> – the records that hold the Buddha’s original utterings.</p>
<p>The process involves loosening our grasp – those things we cling to that are governed by our desires – on both tangible and intangible things in life by realising their true nature – relating them back to three <em>tilakkhaṇa</em>. Meditation invites us to be happy with the simplest and most basic things in life. </p>
<p>The meditation steps taught in the suttas can guide our mind, calm our body and help our senses find peace and delight. It is hoped that meditation bring about our inherent yet dormant happiness without relying on our body or our dispositions, which are impermanent.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/323174/original/file-20200326-168876-o7l4bi.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/323174/original/file-20200326-168876-o7l4bi.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/323174/original/file-20200326-168876-o7l4bi.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/323174/original/file-20200326-168876-o7l4bi.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/323174/original/file-20200326-168876-o7l4bi.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/323174/original/file-20200326-168876-o7l4bi.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/323174/original/file-20200326-168876-o7l4bi.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/323174/original/file-20200326-168876-o7l4bi.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Mindfulness and meditation can focus the mind on small joys.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1510034141778-a4d065653d92?ixlib=rb-1.2.1&ixid=eyJhcHBfaWQiOjEyMDd9&auto=format&fit=crop&w=750&q=80">Samuel Austin/Unsplash</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/">CC BY</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<h2>The big picture</h2>
<p>While these deliberations, because of their psychological effect, can bring in peace, happiness and even <a href="https://greatergood.berkeley.edu/article/item/five_ways_mindfulness_meditation_is_good_for_your_health">health benefits</a> to the individual, there are other benefits. </p>
<p>Firstly, such mindful practice can help us get on with our <a href="http://faculty.washington.edu/wobbrock/pubs/gi-12.02.pdf">day-to-day life</a> in a more disciplined and safer manner, which as we can see is extremely valuable in a crisis situation such as today. </p>
<p>Meditation might help us not to panic (or panic buy), to be <a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/31318929">conscious of our own behaviour</a> so that we will be careful even with what we touch, or not touch (including <a href="https://theconversation.com/how-to-stop-touching-your-face-to-minimize-spread-of-coronavirus-and-other-germs-133683">our face</a>). It would help us to be conscious of <a href="https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/urban-survival/202003/5-relaxing-mindful-ways-handwash-during-covid-19">cleaning our hands</a> regularly and mindful of others around us so that we are careful about any chances of passing on germs.</p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/LrH_mdJNvog?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
<figcaption><span class="caption">The simple act of washing hands can become an act of meditation.</span></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Many believe meditation <a href="https://theconversation.com/the-portal-review-can-meditation-change-the-world-123513">can help the rest of the world</a> as well, because of the thoughtfulness it creates. The pandemic can affect rich and poor (although there are also concerns it may <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2020/03/15/world/europe/coronavirus-inequality.html">increase inequity</a>). Our meditation practices can help us evaluate the impermanence, decay and inevitable death of our existence, against any privileges we may have. Meditation can direct us to consider the possibility of living a happy life by meeting basic needs alone. For some, this can make us reevaluate what we see as our misfortunes.</p>
<p>Buddhism may be seen as yet another of the <a href="https://www.theregister.co.uk/2006/10/06/the_odd_body_religion/">world’s religions</a>, with its own rituals around praying to deities and sending away demons. But the Buddha can also be seen as simply an insightful thinker and teacher. He proposed a natural outlook, providing solutions that do not appeal to any supernatural force. </p>
<p>Coupled with the psychological solutions and health benefits meditation can bring, we may find it is possible to adopt Buddhist concepts into a framework for contemplation – one geared for salvation from our current crisis.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/134651/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Nishanathe Dahanayake is affiliated with the Darebin Ethnic Communities Council (DECC) Steering Committee and People for Human Rights and Equality (PHRE).</span></em></p>Concepts from Buddhism can provide us with some solace during this pandemic. By thinking like a Buddhist we can focus on existential facts, aiming to understand them and to practise meditation.Nishanathe Dahanayake, PhD Candidate, Philosophy, University of New EnglandLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1274922019-11-25T16:16:00Z2019-11-25T16:16:00Z‘The Good Place:’ Ethics comedy asks if there’s a second chance at life<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/303057/original/file-20191122-113018-1ew5okm.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=0%2C0%2C1931%2C1076&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Centuries after Dante, it’s surprising to find the afterlife back, and winning awards as a successful series.
Here, from left to right, actors Kristen Bell, William Jackson Harper, and Ted Danson.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">(NBC)</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>In northern climates, November is bleak. Trees stripped of leaves stand bare against grey skies; the Hanukkah and advent candles that will light up the dark and cold are almost, but not quite, here. </p>
<p>It’s fitting that some Christians historically call November the <a href="https://www.ncronline.org/news/opinion/let-dead-have-november">Month of the Dead</a>. The ancient festival of All Saints falls on Nov. 1 and All Souls on Nov. 2. </p>
<figure class="align-right ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/303047/original/file-20191121-113022-1gbn723.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/303047/original/file-20191121-113022-1gbn723.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/303047/original/file-20191121-113022-1gbn723.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/303047/original/file-20191121-113022-1gbn723.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/303047/original/file-20191121-113022-1gbn723.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/303047/original/file-20191121-113022-1gbn723.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/303047/original/file-20191121-113022-1gbn723.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">A ‘Book of the Dead,’ in St. John’s Lutheran Church, Montréal.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">(Matthew Robert Anderson)</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>In some churches, special books for writing the names of deceased loved ones are kept open for the month. Catholics in particular pray for those <a href="https://www.americamagazine.org/faith/2019/11/01/meditation-all-souls-day-how-has-love-others-changed-your-life">souls in transition from death</a> to their “final reward,” a period referred to in past times <a href="https://www.britannica.com/topic/purgatory-Roman-Catholicism">as purgatory</a>.</p>
<p>The doctrine of purgatory has deep roots in early Christian literature — even though, as University of Utah history professor Isabel Moreira writes, “<a href="https://www.oxfordscholarship.com/view/10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199736041.001.0001/acprof-9780199736041">the scraps of textual ‘evidence’ that undergird the notion fall … drastically short of the concepts they spawned</a>.” </p>
<h2>Frozen yogurt in the afterlife</h2>
<p>The seventh and eighth centuries saw the growth of teaching about an intermediate place where souls undergo purification and purgation. Moreira asks: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>“Why was there suddenly so much interest … in extending a biblical metaphor of spiritual cleansing into a place or stage in the afterlife with defined dimensions, geography, time and inhabitants?”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>And frozen yogurt shops, if your doctrine runs to NBC. Enter Eleanor, Tahani, Chidi and Jason. The four are characters in <em>The Good Place</em>, a satirical comedy about an afterlife that’s best described as a mash-up of historic Christian notions of purgatory and French existentialist philosopher <a href="https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/sartre/">Jean-Paul Sartre’s</a> play <em><a href="https://www.the-american-interest.com/2019/10/19/the-staying-power-of-sartres-no-exit/">No Exit</a></em>.</p>
<p><em>The Good Place</em> reinforces the ancient hope for a second (or sometimes, 800th) chance, while testing the characters against the kinds of increasingly tricky ethical dilemmas taught in ethics courses. </p>
<h2>The trolley problem</h2>
<p>The series reveals sophisticated research. The writers <a href="https://qz.com/quartzy/1421632/the-philosophy-in-the-good-place-is-vetted-by-a-real-philosopher/">hired a philosopher</a>, and the episode “The Trolley Problem” not only encapsulates a classic ethical conundrum, it also won a Hugo Award. </p>
<p>The <a href="https://theconversation.com/the-trolley-dilemma-would-you-kill-one-person-to-save-five-57111">trolley problem</a> asks whether it’s justified to kill one person to save five lives. Imagine being at the controls of a runaway trolley speeding toward five workers unaware of their impending doom. If you could pull a lever to divert the trolley down a different track, resulting in the death of only one previously unthreatened worker, should you? </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/303050/original/file-20191121-112971-q97dlw.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/303050/original/file-20191121-112971-q97dlw.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/303050/original/file-20191121-112971-q97dlw.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/303050/original/file-20191121-112971-q97dlw.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/303050/original/file-20191121-112971-q97dlw.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/303050/original/file-20191121-112971-q97dlw.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/303050/original/file-20191121-112971-q97dlw.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Would you pull the lever? Image from ‘The Trolley Problem’ episode.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">(NBC)</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The conundrum presents the classical tension between <a href="https://ethics.org.au/ethics-explainer-deontology/">deontologists</a>, who say it is never good to kill a person, and <a href="https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/utilitarianism-history/">utilitarians</a>, who say it is better to sacrifice one life to save five.</p>
<h2>The newly dead and their flaws</h2>
<p>Two non-humans preside over <em>The Good Place</em>: Michael (Ted Danson), the omniscient architect, and Janet (Darcy Beth Cardon), an endearingly cheery and powerful database who can answer any question and provide the humans with whatever they want. </p>
<p>The four recently deceased humans embody archetypal flaws. Eleanor (Kristen Bell) self-describes as “white trash.” She is smart and selfish, focused on getting what she wants. Chidi (William Jackson Harper) is an obsessive-compulsive moral philosopher who teaches ethics but is incapable of making a decision. Tahani (Jameela Jamil) is a rich and beautiful socialite obsessed with status and the opinions of others. Jason (Manuel Luis Jacinto) is a simple-minded man-child and petty crook whose solution to any complex problem in life was to throw Molotov cocktails and run. </p>
<p>While producer Michael Schur (who was also behind the American version of <em>The Office</em>) cast racially diverse actors — Eleanor is portrayed as a white American, Chidi as Nigerian-born and Senegalese-raised, Tahani as a British South-Asian and Jason as a Filipino-American (the actor is actually Canadian) – the setting of <em>The Good Place</em> is flatly middle-American. An International House of Pancakes serves in season three as one of the dimensional gateways.</p>
<h2>No easy answers</h2>
<p>Far more nuanced are the <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/tv-and-radio/2018/jan/30/the-good-place-how-a-sitcom-made-philosophy-seem-cool">philosophical questions</a> that plague the four humans in <em>The Good Place</em>: Do I always have to <a href="https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/ethics-deontological/">tell the truth?</a> Is it OK to <a href="https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/consequentialism/">ignore present action for future gain?</a> What if I <a href="https://www.iep.utm.edu/lonergan/#SH6b">participate in evil unknowingly — if so, am I to blame for the outcome?</a> Is it possible for an action to be both good and evil at the same time? If so, <a href="https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/double-effect/">how does one decide?</a> Should I <a href="https://www.iep.utm.edu/virtue/">sacrifice myself for others?</a></p>
<p>Even those only casually predisposed to reflecting on our actions might be surprised to see themselves in some of these scenes. But <em>The Good Place</em> presents no easy answers. </p>
<p>Our classes on theology in film focus on what it means to be human in relationship to the transcendent — what’s called “<a href="https://www.fortresspress.com/product/body-parts-theological-anthropology">theological anthropology</a>.” Here, the statement by Janet’s character rings true: “The more human I become, the less things make sense.” </p>
<p>Eleanor’s teary words in one of a recent show rephrase the ancient philosophical question of suffering: “What’s the point of love if it’s just going to disappear? There has to be meaning … Otherwise the universe is just made of pain.”</p>
<p>As the series emphasizes, goodness is not straightforward. What is striking is that in the characters’ attempts to “be good” and “do good,” they are transformed. <em>The Good Place</em> is really about how to live “the good life.” Together, the four do change and grow. They get their second — and 800th — chance. Not only that, they <a href="https://theconversation.com/how-the-dead-danced-with-the-living-in-medieval-society-85881">transform the lives of others</a>.</p>
<p>For all its fart jokes and sight gags, <em>The Good Place</em> belongs to a venerable philosophical and theological tradition. Works such as Hieronymus Bosch’s late Middle Ages painting <a href="https://www.museodelprado.es/en/the-collection/art-work/the-garden-of-earthly-delights-triptych/02388242-6d6a-4e9e-a992-e1311eab3609"><em>The Garden of Earthly Delights</em></a> show how artists have always had an easier time — and more fun — portraying hell than heaven. </p>
<h2>Is purgatory back?</h2>
<p>While the doctrine of purgatory no longer occupies such intense interest among most Christians, apparently the place has had a makeover. </p>
<p>Centuries after Dante (<a href="https://www.esquire.com/entertainment/tv/a26037487/the-good-place-season-3-finale-theories/">referenced</a> in the <em>The Good Place</em> season three finale), it’s surprising to find the afterlife back, and winning awards as a successful series. </p>
<p>NBC has breathed new life into a question some have wrestled with every November since ancient times: whether there’s hope for the less-than-perfect, that is, for all of us.</p>
<p>[ <em><a href="https://theconversation.com/ca/newsletters?utm_source=TCCA&utm_medium=inline-link&utm_campaign=newsletter-text&utm_content=expertise">Expertise in your inbox. Sign up for The Conversation’s newsletter and get a digest of academic takes on today’s news, every day.</a></em> ]</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/127492/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Matthew Robert Anderson receives funding from CUPFA, the Concordia University Part-Time Faculty Association</span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Christine Jamieson does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>For all its fart jokes and sight gags, ‘The Good Place’ belongs to a venerable philosophical and theological tradition.Matthew Robert Anderson, Affiliate Professor, Theological Studies, Loyola College for Diversity & Sustainability; Honorary Research Fellow, University of Nottingham UK, Concordia UniversityChristine Jamieson, Associate Professor, Theological Studies, Concordia UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1108662019-02-06T11:43:31Z2019-02-06T11:43:31Z3 philosophers set up a booth on a street corner – here’s what people asked<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/257265/original/file-20190205-86202-19tymqj.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Greek philosopher Socrates.</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/close-greatest-philosophers-socrates-reflects-on-781224403?src=QKUIfzii67kqmLfQintuLQ-1-8">Nice_Media_PRO/Shutterstock.com</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>The life choices that had led me to be sitting in a booth underneath a banner that read “Ask a Philosopher” – at the entrance to the New York City subway at 57th and 8th – were perhaps random but inevitable. </p>
<p>I’d been a <a href="https://scholar.google.com/citations?user=-Dosh_kAAAAJ&hl=en">“public philosopher”</a> for 15 years, so I readily agreed to join my colleague <a href="http://ianolasov.com/">Ian Olasov</a> when he asked for volunteers to join him at the “Ask a Philosopher” booth. This was part of the latest public outreach effort by the <a href="https://www.apaonline.org/">American Philosophical Association</a>, which was having its annual January meeting up the street.</p>
<p>I’d taught before – even given speeches – but this seemed weird. Would anyone stop? Would they give us a hard time?</p>
<p>I sat between Ian and a splendid woman who taught philosophy in the city, thinking that even if we spent the whole time talking to one another, it would be an hour well spent.</p>
<p>Then someone stopped.</p>
<p>At first glance, it was hard to tell if she was a penniless nomad or an emeritus professor, but then she took off her hat and psychedelic scarf and came over to the desk and announced, “I’ve got a question. I’m in my late 60s. I’ve just had life threatening surgery, but I got through it.” </p>
<p>She showed us the jagged scar on her neck. “I don’t know what to do with the rest of my life,” she said. “I’ve got a master’s degree. I’m happily retired and divorced. But I don’t want to waste any more time. Can you help?”</p>
<p>Wow. One by one, we all asked her to elaborate on her situation and offered tidbits of advice, centering on the idea that only she could decide what gave her life meaning. I suggested that she might reach out to others who were also searching, then she settled in for a longer discussion with Ian. </p>
<p>And then it happened: A crowd gathered.</p>
<p>At first I thought they were there to eavesdrop, but as it turned out they had their own existential concerns. A group of teenagers engaged the philosopher on my right. One young woman, who turned out to be a sophomore in college, stepped away from the group with a serious concern. “Why can’t I be happier in my life? I’m only 20. I should be as happy as I’m ever going to be right now, but I’m not. Is this it?” </p>
<p>It was my turn. “Research has shown that what makes us happy <a href="https://www.randomhouse.com/kvpa/gilbert/excerpts3.html">is achieving small goals</a> one after the other,” I said. “If you win the lottery, within six months you’ll probably be back to your baseline of happiness. Same if you got into an accident. You can’t just achieve happiness and stay there, you have to pursue it.”</p>
<p>“So I’m stuck?” she said.</p>
<p>“No…” I explained. “Your role in this is huge. You’ve got to choose the things that make you happy one by one. That’s been shown from <a href="https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/aristotle-ethics/">Aristotle</a> all the way down to <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1177/0146167212436400">cutting-edge psychological research</a>. Happiness is a journey, not a destination.”</p>
<p>She brightened a bit, while her friends were still puzzling over whether color was a primary or secondary property. They thanked us and moved on.</p>
<p>Suddenly, the older woman who had stopped by initially seemed satisfied with what Ian had told her, and said that she had to be on her way as well.</p>
<p>Again it was quiet. Some who passed by were pointing and smiling. A few took pictures. It must have looked odd to see three philosophers sitting in a row with “Ask a Philosopher” over our heads, amidst the bagel carts and jewelry stalls.</p>
<p>During the quiet I reflected for a moment on what had just happened. A group of strangers had descended upon us not to make fun, but because they were carrying around some real philosophical baggage that had long gone unanswered. If you’re in a spiritual crisis, you go to your minister or rabbi. If you have psychological concerns, you might seek out a therapist. But what to do if you don’t quite know where you fit into this world and you’re tired of carrying that burden alone? </p>
<p>And then I spotted her … an interlocutor who would be my toughest questioner of the day. She was about 6 years old and clutched her mother’s hand as she craned her neck to stare at us. Her mother stopped, but the girl hesitated. “It’s OK,” I offered. “Do you have a philosophical question?” The girl smiled at her mother, then let go of her hand to walk over to the booth. She looked me dead in the eye and said: “How do I know I’m real?”</p>
<p>Suddenly I was back in graduate school. Should I talk about the French philosopher <a href="https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/descartes/">Rene Descartes</a>, who famously used the assertion of skepticism itself as proof of our existence, with the phrase “I think, therefore I am?” Or, mention English philosopher <a href="https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/moore/">G.E. Moore</a> and his famous “here is one hand, here is the other,” as proof of the existence of the external world? </p>
<p>Or, make a reference to the movie “<a href="https://scienceblogs.com/neurophilosophy/2007/08/04/the-philosophy-of-the-matrix">The Matrix</a>,” which I assumed, given her age, she wouldn’t have seen? But then the answer came to me. I remembered that the most important part of philosophy was feeding our sense of wonder. “Close your eyes,” I said. She did. “Well, did you disappear?” She smiled and shook her head, then opened her eyes. “Congratulations, you’re real.”</p>
<p>She grinned broadly and walked over to her mother, who looked back at us and smiled. My colleagues patted me on the shoulder and I realized that my time was up. Back to the conference to face some easier questions on topics like “Academic Philosophy and its Responsibilities in a Post-Truth World.”</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/110866/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Lee McIntyre is a member of the American Philosophical Association. </span></em></p>Three philosophers put up a booth at the entrance to a New York City subway, so people could come to them with questions. They got hit with some real zingers.Lee McIntyre, Research Fellow Center for Philosophy and History of Science, Boston UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1086492019-01-07T21:56:36Z2019-01-07T21:56:36ZExistentialism: A guiding philosophy for tackling climate change in cities?<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/252734/original/file-20190107-32148-1p1yo04.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">When it comes to urban planning, the question is not so much how to physically plan our cities differently. Rather, the question is how to convince both the public and our politicians to implement change. </span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Patrick Tomasso /Unsplash</span></span></figcaption></figure><p><a href="https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2018/08/01/magazine/climate-change-losing-earth.html">The evidence of human-induced climate change is clear</a>. At minimum, climate change will cost us dearly due to the economic impacts and lives lost from the increased frequency and severity of extreme weather events. At worst, it presents an existential threat. </p>
<p>Living in North American cities often means heavy reliance on the automobile. Many planners have been calling for <a href="https://www.mdpi.com/2071-1050/9/12/2326">changes to how we develop our cities</a>. They hope to reduce automobile use and its environmental burdens, especially carbon emissions that are a factor behind climate change. </p>
<p>When it comes to urban planning, the question is not so much how to physically plan our cities and <a href="https://www.amazon.ca/Still-Detached-Subdivided-Suburban-21st-Century/dp/3868594574/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1544728258&sr=8-1&keywords=still+detached+and+subdivided">suburbs</a> differently. There are many well thought-out <a href="https://www.nrdc.org/sites/default/files/cit_07092401a.pdf">planning tools and techniques</a>. Rather, the question is how to convince both the public and our politicians to implement change. </p>
<p>Planners and politicians have pitched public transit and cycling infrastructure projects as a matter of increasing choice to a weary public still largely dependent on cars. We built our cities around the car. So it would only seem fair that we should now make provisions for those that choose alternate ways of getting around.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/252736/original/file-20190107-32130-xikdoz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/252736/original/file-20190107-32130-xikdoz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=471&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/252736/original/file-20190107-32130-xikdoz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=471&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/252736/original/file-20190107-32130-xikdoz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=471&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/252736/original/file-20190107-32130-xikdoz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=592&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/252736/original/file-20190107-32130-xikdoz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=592&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/252736/original/file-20190107-32130-xikdoz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=592&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">A view of the city of Toronto.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Patrick Tomasso/Unsplash</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>But how can we expect broad reductions in car use from the approach of pitching expanding choices to the public, when clearly, our consumption behaviour needs to be changed and limited?</p>
<p>An unexpected resurgent philosophical movement, existentialism may provide some assistance. This philosophy emphasizes the dynamic between individual choice and collective impacts. </p>
<p>These choices are at the core of public policies of all sorts. To counter the damage of carbon emissions, we need to change the guiding philosophy behind approaches to address climate change in cities. </p>
<h2>The failure of market-driven individual choice</h2>
<p>Like most aspects of our lives, planning is shaped by philosophies of how we think the world works, or ought to work. It is perhaps not surprising then that the rhetoric of increasing choice has become more prevalent in recent years. </p>
<p>After all, we live in an age that values individualism and where market-driven views of the world have become more dominant. People are increasingly depicted as consumers, as opposed to residents or citizens, and increasing consumption choices is seen as inherently beneficial. </p>
<p>Unfortunately, pitching alternatives to the car as a means to increase our choices will likely undermine the success of carbon emission reduction initiatives. Public transit and bike lanes are often implemented to help attract new residents with pre-existing preferences for these transport modes into previously declining or otherwise struggling neighbourhoods. </p>
<p>This shift contributes to what has become called “green gentrification.” That is the displacement of people with lower incomes to more car-oriented suburbs due to the growing demand for housing in areas with alternative transportation infrastructures. </p>
<p>The possibility of broad reductions in emissions is limited not only because of the displacement of communities but also because <a href="https://www.cogitatiopress.com/urbanplanning/article/view/1645">these new projects do not serve</a> the large share of the population currently living in low-density suburbs. Anyone may “choose” not to participate in reducing their emissions. A change in the way we view choice may help, and this is where existentialism may hold some potential. </p>
<h2>A collective conscience</h2>
<p>Existentialism is a philosophy that became popular in the 1940s, emphasizing individual freedoms in the face of Fascism. The root of existentialism as a philosophy is often attributed to the ideas of Husserl, Jaspers and Heidegger. The philosophy became more explicitly defined through the works of Kierkegaard, Nietzsche and in particular Jean-Paul Sartre. </p>
<p>Existentialists are often seen as highly pragmatic, which makes it an appealing philosophy for an applied discipline such as planning. Existentialism focuses on questions about the ways we experience life. Individual freedom and the ability to question are two fundamental existentialist axioms. Our existence is determined, from an existentialist view, mainly by our actions, although it does also acknowledge constraints we cannot control.</p>
<figure class="align-left ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/252735/original/file-20190107-32133-1ljskju.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/252735/original/file-20190107-32133-1ljskju.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=907&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/252735/original/file-20190107-32133-1ljskju.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=907&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/252735/original/file-20190107-32133-1ljskju.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=907&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/252735/original/file-20190107-32133-1ljskju.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1140&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/252735/original/file-20190107-32133-1ljskju.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1140&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/252735/original/file-20190107-32133-1ljskju.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1140&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">At The Existentialist Café.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.otherpress.com/books/at-the-existentialist-cafe/">Other Press</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Existentialist philosophy has seen a bit of revival in recent years. For instance, the immense success of Sarah Bakewell’s book, <a href="https://www.otherpress.com/books/at-the-existentialist-cafe/"><em>At The Existentialist Café</em></a>, named one of the Top 10 books of 2016 by <em>the New York Times</em>, suggests a renewed appetite for existentialist ideas. One reason for the revival may be the congruence between existentialist ideas about individual freedoms and our growing individualistic society.</p>
<p>But, importantly, existentialism also includes a collective conscience. <a href="https://yalebooks.yale.edu/book/9780300115468/existentialism-humanism">As Sartre noted</a>: “Am I really a man who is entitled to act in such a way that the entire human race should be measuring itself by my actions?” </p>
<p>In other words, the philosophy argues that individual freedoms cannot be preserved if all individuals are completely free to choose their actions. The reference point for making decisions then becomes the impact our individual actions would have on society as a whole if everyone else modelled their actions after ours. </p>
<h2>Reduce your carbon emissions now</h2>
<p>If existentialism is making a comeback, it may provide precisely the philosophical fodder planners, and other policymakers, need to help the public understand why solving collective problems, such as climate change, may require restricting some choices and not only creating new ones. </p>
<p>If everyone continues to drive carbon-emitting cars, current and future generations will face severe restrictions on their own choices because of the impacts of climate change.</p>
<p>In an increasingly individualistic society, a philosophy that helps us validate our personal freedoms all the while emphasizing our collective responsibilities holds great potential to provide meaning to a large number of people. </p>
<p>The evidence is abundant. We can still reduce some of the effects of climate change by collectively agreeing to reduce carbon emissions now. But the rhetoric of expanding choice is not going to get us there.</p>
<p>Existentialism may provide a new(ish) underlying philosophical justification for why people should care about the collective in an age of growing individualism.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/108649/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Markus Moos receives research funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada. He is a Registered Professional Planner in Ontario. </span></em></p>City planners and politicians have pitched carbon emission reduction as an individual choice but this leads to green gentrification and fails to make broad changes. We need a new guiding philosophy.Markus Moos, Associate professor, University of WaterlooLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/736332017-03-03T13:51:28Z2017-03-03T13:51:28ZA bit of existentialism for what ails you<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/159196/original/image-20170302-14714-flq9vy.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/download/confirm/436893262?src=OfAi0ONxWvbU8llDIW0guQ-1-0&size=medium_jpg">Petr Kovalenkov/Shutterstock.com</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>Forget about mindfulness and clean eating – at a time when we appear to be experiencing rising levels of anxiety, narcissism and unhappiness, existentialism may be the philosophy to adopt to improve your mental well-being. </p>
<p>Existentialist philosophy <a href="http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0160738305001246">explores what it means</a> to be human, what it means to be happy and what it means to be oneself. Regarding these, French philosophers <a href="http://www.nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/literature/laureates/1964/sartre-bio.html">Jean-Paul Sartre</a> and <a href="http://www.biography.com/people/simone-de-beauvoir-9269063#synopsis">Simone de Beauvoir</a> tried to articulate how to live a life of “good faith”. This involves accepting responsibility for one’s own actions and facing up to difficult questions in order to fully realise oneself. </p>
<p>Existentialism supposes three interrelated components:</p>
<ol>
<li> Existential anxiety: life is hard and finite, chaotic and meaningless. Awareness of this is distressing. </li>
<li> Existential avoidance: people try to distract themselves from the pain of these in routines, activities, social belonging and ego building. </li>
<li> Existential authenticity allows people to face up to these painful realisations, accept responsibility for their own actions and work towards self-actualisation (when a person achieves their maximum potential).</li>
</ol>
<p>Ideally these three states should be in balance. We need to face difficult questions, but nobody wants to spend all day thinking about death. Distractions help to keep us content, however, they can be time-consuming and self-indulgent. Searching for self-actualisation can be stimulating and rewarding, but it is also tiring. </p>
<p>The question to ask is, do we have the balance right? </p>
<p>Although valuable as a coping mechanism, we can only temporarily disguise or run away from existential anxiety. <a href="http://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/jasp.12059/full">Plastic surgery</a> has for instance been described as a very literal form of existential avoidance. But of course ageing and mortality can only be denied by Botox for so long. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/159173/original/image-20170302-14695-1xnyjg5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/159173/original/image-20170302-14695-1xnyjg5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=502&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/159173/original/image-20170302-14695-1xnyjg5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=502&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/159173/original/image-20170302-14695-1xnyjg5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=502&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/159173/original/image-20170302-14695-1xnyjg5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=630&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/159173/original/image-20170302-14695-1xnyjg5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=630&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/159173/original/image-20170302-14695-1xnyjg5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=630&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Literally avoiding existence.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/download/confirm/404343922?src=-eajP1ylM3uvlBc3np9VCw-1-26&size=medium_jpg">Dragon Images/Shutterstock.com</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>What’s more, avoidance routines are said to be <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Being-Time-Martin-Heidegger/dp/0631197702">conformist, stifling and leading to a loss of the real self</a>. We indulge in distractions and put off unpleasant but important decisions. We devolve our responsibilities to others – and our choices and their consequences become theirs. We change ourselves so that we fit in with peer groups and in doing so lose our essence. We become self-centred and reduce the ability to connect with other people. All those people with too much Botox do start to <a href="http://www.shape.com/celebrities/celebrity-photos/botox-hollywoods-most-frozen-faces">look the same</a>. </p>
<h2>Put away the comforting distractions</h2>
<p>Social media may be an example of existential avoidance: it is distracting, becomes routine, and facilitates peer group memberships. While there are many positives about online networking, research has shown <a href="https://www.researchgate.net/profile/Jesse_Fox3/publication/272381254_The_Dark_Triad_and_trait_self-objectification_as_predictors_of_men's_use_and_self-presentation_behaviors_on_social_networking_sites/links/55eb532408aeb651626775e1.pdf">a darker side</a> as social media potentially becomes addictive and overly time consuming, competitive or narcissistic. Gradually we become more focused on attractively filtering and framing life events to fit in with and stand out against others on Facebook, than actually living and processing those life events. </p>
<p>Increases in various mental health issues, such as depression, have been tentatively <a href="https://www.researchgate.net/profile/Mark_Carrier/publication/235991153_Is_Facebook_creating_''iDisorders''_The_link_between_clinical_symptoms_of_psychiatric_disorders_and_technology_use_attitudes_and_anxiety/links/564f949008aeafc2aab3eb62.pdf">linked to this over-use of social media</a>. An existentialist perspective on this would be that a pleasurable distraction can have too many negative consequences. </p>
<p>It is therefore important sometimes to step outside of the comforting distractions of our everyday routines, favoured activities, social roles or thinking about the self. Existential authenticity is described as a kind of <a href="http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/doi/abs/10.1086/290847?journalCode=et">honesty or courage</a>. The authentic person faces something which the inauthentic person is afraid to face. Existentialism urges us to be true to ourselves. This means shedding culturally accepted values, dissipating the deceptive consolations of today’s concerns, and pursuing inner realisation of one’s own independent destiny. </p>
<p><a href="http://www.stonewall.org.uk/help-advice/coming-out-0?gclid=CjwKEAiAuc_FBRD7_JCM3NSY92wSJABbVoxByOcH_4Q5sEQBaQzltvkeO_3i-XSx8rZZtwW0rGFmkxoCrqrw_wcB">Coming out</a> for example, is for many gay people a difficult and even dangerous thing. It takes honesty to articulate to oneself, and then bravery to communicate with others, who one is. This is particularly the case when that might not be positively accepted by surrounding social groups or cultural norms. But it is only by doing so that one can then be free to fulfil one’s potential. </p>
<p>There is no set path for reaching existential authenticity or guarantee of emerging self-actualised. Existentialism stresses trying to sometimes question and step beyond the familiar – being honest about the painful realities of life and taking responsibility for our actions rather than letting others decide for us. </p>
<p>It is <a href="http://citeseerx.ist.psu.edu/viewdoc/download?doi=10.1.1.470.7142&rep=rep1&type=pdf">through these actions</a> that we might increase our opportunities for personal growth, making meaningful connections with others, challenging and extending ourselves. And, in turn, may increase our chances of finding meaning, belonging and happiness.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/73633/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Brendan Canavan does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>In these narcissistic and anxious times, existentialism has a lot to offer.Brendan Canavan, Senior Lecturer in Marketing, University of HuddersfieldLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/625842016-09-02T01:31:56Z2016-09-02T01:31:56ZBelieving in free will makes you feel more like your true self<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/136002/original/image-20160830-28235-1xkam7s.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Believing in free will makes us feel more like ourselves.</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="http://www.shutterstock.com/pic-286490927/stock-photo-young-confident-businessman-portrait-walking-in-brooklyn-dumbo-park-with-manhattan-bridge-in-the-background-new-york-city.html?src=QmnL-hMoR2blqq8pu8GQ8A-1-7">Man walking via www.shutterstock.com.</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>Do we have free will? This is a question that scholars have debated for centuries and will probably continue to debate for centuries to come. </p>
<p>This isn’t a question I can answer, but what I am interested in is “what happens if we do (or do not) believe in free will?” In other words, does believing in free will matter in your daily life?</p>
<p>My colleagues and I at the <a href="http://existentialpsych.tamu.edu/">Existential Psychology Lab</a> at Texas A&M University study the psychological outcomes of belief in free will. While contemplating my next research project, I realized at some point in our lives, we all want to understand who we are – it’s human nature. So, we decided to explore how believing in free will influences our sense of self and identity. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/136001/original/image-20160830-28260-1nizb82.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/136001/original/image-20160830-28260-1nizb82.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=427&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/136001/original/image-20160830-28260-1nizb82.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=427&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/136001/original/image-20160830-28260-1nizb82.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=427&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/136001/original/image-20160830-28260-1nizb82.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=537&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/136001/original/image-20160830-28260-1nizb82.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=537&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/136001/original/image-20160830-28260-1nizb82.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=537&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">One way or another?</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="http://www.shutterstock.com/pic-298294610/stock-photo-top-view-of-businessman-legs-choosing-his-way.html?src=ikL-7HT18gjeRkJEHlcU2g-1-78">Feet image via www.shutterstock.com.</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<h2>What is free will?</h2>
<p>Free will is generally understood as the ability to freely choose our own actions and determine our own outcomes. For example, when you wake up in the morning, do you hit snooze? Do you put on your workout gear and go for a run? Do you grab a hot cup of coffee? While those are simple examples, if you believe in free will, you believe there are a limitless number of actions you can engage in when you wake up in the morning, and they are all within your control.</p>
<p>Believing in free will helps people exert control over their actions. This is particularly important in helping people make better decisions and behave more virtuously. </p>
<p>For instance, research has found that promoting the idea that a person doesn’t have free will makes <a href="http://dx.doi.org/10.1111/j.1467-9280.2008.02045.x">people become more dishonest</a>, <a href="http://dx.doi.org/10.1177/0146167208327217">behave aggressively</a> and even <a href="http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0022103112001825">conform to others’ thoughts and opinions</a>. And how can we hold people morally responsible for their actions if we don’t believe they have the free will to act any differently? Belief in free will allows us to <a href="http://dx.doi.org/10.1037/a0035880">punish</a> people for their immoral behaviors. </p>
<p>So, not only is there a value to believing in free will, but those beliefs have profound effects on our thoughts and behaviors. It stands to reason that believing in free will influences how we perceive ourselves.</p>
<p>You might be thinking, “Of course believing in free will influences how I feel about myself.” Even though this seems obvious, surprisingly little research has examined this question. So, I conducted <a href="http://spp.sagepub.com/content/early/2016/06/10/1948550616653810.abstract">two studies</a> to suss out more about how believing in free will makes us feel.</p>
<h2>What believing in free will makes us feel about ourselves</h2>
<p>In the first study, I recruited 304 participants from Amazon Mechanical Turk and randomly assigned them to write about either personal experiences reflecting a high belief in free will, like changing career paths or resisting drugs or alcohol, or experiences reflecting a low belief in free will, such as growing up in poverty or working under an authoritative boss. Then, they were all asked to evaluate their sense of self.</p>
<p>Participants who wrote about experiences reflecting low belief in free will reported feeling less “in touch” with their true selves. In other words, they felt like they did not know themselves as well as the participants who wrote about experiences reflecting high belief in free will. </p>
<p>Then, I conducted a follow-up study testing one’s sense of authenticity, the feeling that one is behaving according to their own beliefs, desires and values. </p>
<p>I recruited another group of participants from Amazon Mechnical Turk, and like the first experiment, randomly assigned them to write about personal experiences demonstrating high belief in free will or low belief in free will. Then, they all completed a decision-making task where they had to make a series of choices about whether to donate money to charity or to keep the money for themselves.</p>
<p>Afterwards, participants were asked how authentic they felt while making their decisions. Participants in the low free will group reported feeling less authentic than participants in the high free will group.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/136003/original/image-20160830-28235-dh13yf.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/136003/original/image-20160830-28235-dh13yf.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/136003/original/image-20160830-28235-dh13yf.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/136003/original/image-20160830-28235-dh13yf.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/136003/original/image-20160830-28235-dh13yf.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/136003/original/image-20160830-28235-dh13yf.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/136003/original/image-20160830-28235-dh13yf.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Up and at it.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="http://www.shutterstock.com/pic-385057642/stock-photo-young-fitness-woman-runner-athlete-running-at-road.html?src=SKGeVTRQhu2ZVFi62fKcVw-1-1">Female runner image via www.shutterstock.com.</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<h2>So, what does this all mean?</h2>
<p>Ultimately, when people feel they have little control over their actions and outcomes in life, they feel more distant from their true, authentic selves. They are less in touch with who they are and do not believe their actions reflect their core beliefs and values. </p>
<p>We believe this is because belief in free will is linked to feelings of agency, the sense that we are the authors of our actions and are actively engaged with the world. As you can imagine, this sense of agency is an important part of a person’s identity.</p>
<p>The importance of feeling like you are in charge of your life applies to significant actions like moving or getting a new job or pondering the big questions in life. But it also applies to the minor decisions we make throughout the day.</p>
<p>Here’s one simple, though relatable, decision I am faced with every morning. When I wake up in the morning and decide to put on my workout gear and go for a run instead of hitting snooze, I might feel like I am the primary decision-maker for this morning routine. Additionally, I am most likely acting on the part of me that values physical health. </p>
<p>But what if I wake up, and I feel like I can’t exercise because I have to go to work or some other external factor is making it difficult to go? I might feel as if someone or something else is controlling my behavior, and perhaps, less like my true self. </p>
<p>So, do you have free will? Do any of us? Remember, the question isn’t whether it exists or not, but whether you believe it does.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/62584/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Elizabeth Seto does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>If you believe that you are in charge of your life and your actions, does that mean you also feel more like yourself?Elizabeth Seto, Ph.D. Candidate in Social and Personality Psychology, Texas A&M UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/620732016-07-08T15:17:19Z2016-07-08T15:17:19ZBrexistentialism: Britain, the drop out nation in crisis, meets Jean-Paul Sartre<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/129871/original/image-20160708-24101-1g7katl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Alone, destination unknown.</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/cdevers/4602804480/in/photolist-81JzpW-nRYyNo-h7RAYR-J8og5o-h7T5Nz-5fABJZ-h7RTTG-5H97Jo-RecwG-81GSQw-mXXxZg-5H4QBT-5H4RXi-8MCUGP-vVLxB-6gRf4i-h7STzH-JKURh-c3WDK-azz8tP-h7RVfE-c3WCG-6UKAXh-a5aL9o-48srZG-smcGr6-81JzLb-9Qnzf5-nKiL3P-8367w1-5Axiq4-tEsAP-9VmvZ2-3UN759-9m2bfs-7BLdBR-c3WBt-qFKgNG-hXhuko-bA9RcQ-azz8Ac-pyV3u5-oe9aJ-kp1gCg-8Gw5pX-3me988-o8AfE-eQdqHk-c2neRy-dsitDT">Chris Devers</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/">CC BY-NC-ND</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>The greatest philosophical one-liner of the 20th century – or anti-EU theme tune? “Hell is other people” began life as a snappy soundbite in Jean-Paul Sartre’s <a href="https://archive.org/stream/NoExit/NoExit_djvu.txt">Huis Clos</a>, a short, harsh, brilliant meditation of a play, written in the midst of World War II. It may actually have been delivered first, in rehearsal, by Sartre’s friend and antagonist Albert Camus. Huis Clos is a difficult title to translate – the norm used to be: “No Exit”, stressing some notion of inescapable interdependence. I guess, in the current fissionary climate, it could be rewritten as “Brexit”, or possibly <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2016/jul/01/uk-brexit-brexistential-vote-leave-eu-britain">“Brexistentialism”</a>.</p>
<p>I have to ask the unpleasant question of this nation: are we being xenophobic? I am fairly sure Sartre would reply, in his confrontational way: we are not being anywhere near xenophobic enough. Yet. We are not following the Brexistentialist argument where it leads. We have to understand and assume responsibility for the consequences of our own attitudes.</p>
<p>Shortly after the <a href="https://theconversation.com/uk/eu-referendum-2016">referendum result</a>, I received a message from a young Danish friend: “So you don’t like us any more”, she said. I replied: “We’re not prejudiced. We don’t like anyone”. I was proposing, in other words, an even-handed hostility, an all-round, egalitarian phobia of the other. But I was probably, in the Sartre view of the world, being prematurely utopian, I admit. I suspect that we are still being overly selective in our resentments and revulsion.</p>
<p>Existentialism is usually thought of as a form of radical individualism. There is no “society” in Sartre. Everyone is Shane or <a href="https://theconversation.com/the-man-with-no-plot-how-i-watched-lee-child-write-a-jack-reacher-novel-51220">Jack Reacher</a> or Lisbeth Salander. Your closest relationship is with your horse or folding toothbrush or computer. In <a href="http://pvspade.com/Sartre/pdf/sartre1.pdf">Being and Nothingness</a>, the longer essay Sartre wrote alongside Huis Clos, he makes clear that the core of the self (not that it has a core) is its nexus with other people. </p>
<p>How do I define myself, sitting in this West Village cafe in New York right now? Like so many philosophical answers, it is obvious and yet far-reaching in its implications. I am not this keyboard that I have under my fingers, I am not this cup of black coffee, I am not this woman in sunglasses who is sitting opposite me. I am defined, in short, by a series of negations.</p>
<h2>Staring at the void (and seeing nothing)</h2>
<p>Anecdotal allegory: I was once at a conference in Geneva where one of the speakers dropped out through illness. I offered to step in to fill the breach. Thank you, replied my good friend Philippe who was overseeing the conference, <em>“Mais on ne peut pas remplir un trou par un vide”</em>. Loosely translated: “You can’t fill a hole with a void”. Funny how certain lines stick in the mind (this was 25 years ago). But, to come to the point (not that there is a point in the entire universe), this is exactly what Sartre proposes we are doing every second of every day: I am a void which I am attempting to fill up with a series of negations. Popeye, on this basis: “I am what I am and that’s all what I am” – is clearly guilty of “bad faith” or delusion. And even he needs a tin of spinach to fully inflate.</p>
<p>Perhaps it was not so surprising in Occupied France in the 1940s that Sartre would conclude that, in our relations with others, we really only have two fundamental options: sadism and masochism. Or (situation normal) some combination of both. There is no third way. As true today as it was then. Which explains why, all too often in the current debates, we refer back to World War II (say, for example, Cameron being accused of “appeasement”), as if we were all retired Spitfire pilots (the “Few” have multiplied to become the many).</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/129737/original/image-20160707-30680-1q8jmrp.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/129737/original/image-20160707-30680-1q8jmrp.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=437&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/129737/original/image-20160707-30680-1q8jmrp.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=437&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/129737/original/image-20160707-30680-1q8jmrp.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=437&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/129737/original/image-20160707-30680-1q8jmrp.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=549&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/129737/original/image-20160707-30680-1q8jmrp.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=549&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/129737/original/image-20160707-30680-1q8jmrp.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=549&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Groucho wasn’t much of a joiner, either.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">MGM/Ted Allan</span>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/">CC BY</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Of course the theory omits the crucial question of the collective. Sartre resorted to Marx (Karl) for the answer. But Marx (Groucho) had already defined the problem: “I don’t want to belong to any club that would have me for a member.” Sartre wanted to abolish clubs entirely. He dreamed of a system of evenly distributed particles floating free in the meaningless void. A beautiful concept for sure. Perhaps, ultimately, a form of nostalgia. But, rather like particles in the early universe, we have an irresistible tendency to agglomerate, to clump together. Our particular local clump, or club, can only define itself by opposition to other clubs.</p>
<p>The great French utopian philosopher, <a href="https://www.britannica.com/biography/Charles-Fourier">Charles Fourier</a> (who provided Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir with the notion of the “pivotal” or significant other) analysed humans in terms of their passions – which he equated with Newtonian gravity, causing us to band together. But the “butterfly” passion also causes us to fly apart and split up.</p>
<h2>Freedom’s just another word</h2>
<p>We are “condemned to be free” in the sense that all our clubs are strictly provisional (except, in my own case, West Ham United). I am aligning myself with one really quite powerful club even by virtue of writing this article: it is in English, so I am implicitly asserting some measure of competence in English and association with other English speakers. </p>
<p>I try not to get too excited by this sense of belonging, however, because I know that English itself splits into a multiplicity of idiolects. In fact, having in the course of drifting around acquired a fairly strange accent, I no longer know where I belong, geographically or socially.</p>
<p>Neither does anyone else. Unless, of course, they are guilty of bad faith.</p>
<p>We (and I am conscious when I write the word of how fictional, how hypothetical, how mythic it is) have chosen (mythically speaking) the path of “anomie” or singularity, to be governed by no rule. “<a href="http://www.faculty.rsu.edu/users/f/felwell/www/Theorists/Essays/Durkheim1.htm">Romantic anomie</a>” was the sociologist Emile Durkheim’s phrase, in his analysis of the causes of suicide (the first philosophical question, as Camus called it).</p>
<p>Whole countries can have an existential crisis, not just lonely, drifting outsiders. We can be a drop-out too. Driven by a sense of the nausea of existence itself. But equally it will not be too surprising if this drop-out mentality catches on. And “we” just ceases to exist. Maybe it already died. I already feel a certain nostalgia for Brexistentialism.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/62073/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Andy Martin does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Just what on earth is going on in Britain? A researcher of French philosophers called upon some ‘friends’ to think it through.Andy Martin, Lecturer, Department of French, University of CambridgeLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/487552015-10-16T00:38:35Z2015-10-16T00:38:35ZOn eternal life: why an anti-ageing pill might sour the pleasures of existence<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/98350/original/image-20151014-876-hcer97.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Would finding the fountain of youth really be such a great thing?</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quatar/8720503800/in/photolist-ehARXN-6sv9iT-4RgEXC-dgXi32-2ydon8-a5kcXL-Hms1i-JTMZD-9zZ4zM-79cqMv-gh7kVg-gh6Yim-85gy6c-6hXbhj-dSJ9i4-6njXHm-bUf3vL-6nfPSB-eGNMBP-3xaMKg-9UvB6B-4F5V8g-gh6C5U-diJNHv-4F5Vmt-7K56j6-gh6TJa-gh6SN2-tFRnhX-fgZFNH-aLGLWp-faYCmE-6tnQeM-cD3QR3-nEqb7R-84qfbs-6gMtku-4MsGno-6sDobz-7RtQcF-NsN6h-5b4on2-6iaHAJ-K3hs8-7QLXv4-7QQeFb-9Fo3bx-7QQfqA-7BqUfC-7Vkat8">Nicola Sapiens De Mitri/Flickr</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/">CC BY</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>Centuries ago, Spanish explorer Ponce de Leon searched for the Fountain of Youth, a spring that restores youth to whoever drinks from, or bathes in it. Today, some scientists are keeping the dream alive.</p>
<p>These thinkers believe genetic engineering, or the discovery of anti-ageing drugs, could extend human life far beyond its natural course. </p>
<p>Indeed, Australian geneticist David Sinclair believes such a pill could be as close as <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/7.30/content/2014/s4014272.htm">ten years away</a>. Cambridge researcher <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/science/2015/jan/11/-sp-live-forever-extend-life-calico-google-longevity">Aubrey de Grey thinks</a> there is no reason humans cannot live for at least 1,000 years.</p>
<p>It’s certainly an enticing prospect, which has investors jumping on board. In 2013, <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/science/2015/jan/11/-sp-live-forever-extend-life-calico-google-longevity">Google started Calico</a>, short for the California Life Company. Employing scientists from the fields of medicine, genetics, drug development and molecular biology, <a href="http://www.calicolabs.com">Calico’s aim is to</a> “devise interventions that slow ageing and counteract age-related diseases”. </p>
<p>Those who fear death and want to live as long as possible would welcome this kind of research. But many philosophers and ethicists are sceptical about the implications of longer lifespans, both for the individual and society. Their doubts recall the old saying: be careful what you wish for.</p>
<h2>Individual discontents</h2>
<p>For some, the idea of living longer is a no-brainer. <a href="http://www.livescience.com/10465-ethical-dilemmas-immortality.html">According to bioethicist John Harris</a>, the commitment to extending life indefinitely is justified by the same reasoning that commits us to saving lives. He believes scientists have a moral obligation to do so. </p>
<p>But Leon Kass, a former US presidential advisor on bioethics, takes the concept of eternal life deeper than simply “life is good and death is bad”. He asks whether, if the human lifespan were increased, its pleasures would also increase proportionally.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Would professional tennis players really enjoy playing 25% more games of tennis? Would the Don Juans of our world feel better for having seduced 1,250 women rather than 1,000?</p>
</blockquote>
<p>He wonders if life would <a href="http://faculty.utpa.edu/jmmartinez/general/genbiocloning.pdf">be as serious</a> or meaningful without mortality’s limit. Kass believes an end point encourages us to make the most of our time, to live it passionately and struggle to achieve our goals in the short time that we have. In other words, “mortality makes life matter”.</p>
<p>Philosopher Larry Temkin is similarly concerned about whether anything would strike him as new, exciting or bewitching if he lived forever. He echoes <a href="http://www.cappe.edu.au/media/docs/TemkinExtendingLifespans.pdf">a worry many philosophers have</a> about the prospect of immortality: all activities and experiences that make our lives interesting would become boring and meaningless after thousands of repetitions.</p>
<h2>Loss of self</h2>
<p>Temkin expresses <a href="http://www.cappe.edu.au/media/docs/TemkinExtendingLifespans.pdf">another philosophical worry</a> about a vastly extended human life. Our ability to remember is probably limited. As we age we tend to forget many things that happened earlier in our lives. Perhaps people who live for 1,000 years or more will forget altogether what happened in the earlier parts of their existence. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/98576/original/image-20151015-30707-rmr222.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/98576/original/image-20151015-30707-rmr222.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/98576/original/image-20151015-30707-rmr222.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/98576/original/image-20151015-30707-rmr222.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/98576/original/image-20151015-30707-rmr222.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/98576/original/image-20151015-30707-rmr222.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/98576/original/image-20151015-30707-rmr222.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">As we age, we tend to forget many things from our earlier life.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/portier/3969225787/in/photolist-73Kjxn-8RjXUy-BirMH-7GvnBw-8f5seR-6dgu39-hHWij-dPLpCG-dXo477-7LxZxW-7MpxBH-4QUPVq-7BGmyS-6XC9s5-fQXwBq-71DGAb-uDUSGN-pxXNqp-6uhura-bQacm6-nHTtX-iPFZcJ-avX6xh-7zAqJA-581U3T-9GXG7v-3efDCx-mfEZiH-a5WcCj-8TgVJq-ZWQuz-jt3Cqw-5GB7bn-r9bwNR-8ocjm4-46j3WW-8J3RR2-kS58D-6hwoZY-2H3Uvf-yUXUZA-9Q9yv2-95m8AC-dNW7J1-8NbpsP-7vNvqK-rsmuM3-c1Unry-e89eR-6k3h9f">Daniel/Flickr</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/">CC BY</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Even if their early lives were on record, they might have a hard time recognising these recorded experiences as belonging to them. Temkin says were he to live long enough, he might become so distanced from his first set of children that he would no longer care for, or even remember, them. </p>
<p>Echoing this, philosopher Bernard Williams <a href="http://stoa.org.uk/topics/death/the-makropulos-case-reflections-on-the-tedium-of-immortality-bernard-williams.pdf">thinks an extended life</a> would be destructive of identity. As memories are lost and people change their characters and interests during the course of a very long life, they would lose contact with the person they used to be. </p>
<p>Williams thinks attempting to prolong our existence is self-defeating. The self that we want to preserve would, after a time, no longer exist.</p>
<p>But defenders of anti-ageing research, such as Harris, <a href="http://www.livescience.com/10465-ethical-dilemmas-immortality.html">think long-living people</a> would adjust to their new condition and find new ways of valuing and enjoying life. </p>
<p>Even so, social and ethical concerns raised by critics of longevity are not so easy to set aside.</p>
<h2>Social discontents</h2>
<p>Many <a href="http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2652797/">critics fear</a> life-prolonging treatments aren’t likely to be available to everyone. Wealthy people, including powerful autocrats in poor countries, will be able to afford them. The poor will not.</p>
<p>The prospect of a 1,000-year-reign for the likes of Kim Jong Un, North Korea’s leader, is not appealing.</p>
<p>But let’s say most people would be able to extend their lives. If they continued to have children, then the world would be even more overpopulated than today. And the prospects for younger people won’t be bright if older people, with their wealth of experience, continue to fill available jobs and retain their hold on power.</p>
<p>If children are to flower, says Kass, then we must go to seed. The flourishing of the young is important not only for their own sake. Young people are often the source of innovation and social progress.</p>
<p><a href="http://www.livescience.com/10465-ethical-dilemmas-immortality.html">Harris thinks</a> if we were to overpopulate like this, some form of “generational cleansing” might be necessary. This would mean authorities deciding the length reasonable for a generation to live and ensuring individuals died once they reached the end of their term. Once they have had a “fair go”, the old should be prepared to leave the world to the young.</p>
<p>It would be ironic, however, if a cure for death meant that people had to be forced to die.</p>
<p>But the issues described above are unlikely to be a deterrent. If we truly get a chance to sip from the Fountain of Youth, many are likely to take it. </p>
<p>Just in case the possibility comes about, <a href="http://www.cappe.edu.au/media/docs/TemkinExtendingLifespans.pdf">Temkin thinks</a> now is a good time to reflect on why life is valuable. “If your life isn’t meaningful at 70 years, it’s not going to be meaningful just because it’s a lot longer,” he says.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/48755/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Janna Thompson does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Some scientists claim a pill that would have us living healthier lives for longer is less than a generation away. But many philosophers argue extended life may not be as good as it sounds.Janna Thompson, Professor of Philosophy, La Trobe UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/437762015-07-08T01:31:11Z2015-07-08T01:31:11ZHappy? Consider how giving builds a life of meaning<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/86475/original/image-20150626-16889-uoa29k.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Giving, or contributing, beyond ourselves is one of the strongest predictors of happiness and health.</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="http://www.shutterstock.com/pic-247744987/stock-photo-two-identical-banners-one-with-and-one-without-a-word-cloud-about-charity-on-a-rustic-dark.html?src=2pP4wGv-Sd7huOWCeBivXQ-1-1">Shutterstock/Nikki Zalewski</a></span></figcaption></figure><p><em>This article is part of a series, <a href="https://theconversation.com/au/topics/on-happiness">On Happiness</a>, examining what it means and how it might be achieved in the 21st century.</em></p>
<hr>
<p>In The Conversation’s series <a href="https://theconversation.com/au/topics/on-happiness">On Happiness</a>, it has been pointed out that the <a href="https://theconversation.com/is-a-cult-of-happiness-leading-us-to-lose-sight-of-life-42820">pursuit of happiness</a> for its own sake might be a <a href="https://theconversation.com/the-lies-of-happiness-living-with-affluenza-but-without-fulfilment-42886">futile</a> and even <a href="https://theconversation.com/can-we-love-happiness-or-do-we-then-risk-more-sadness-42898">counterproductive</a> enterprise. It has also been pointed out that happiness, however important to us, is merely a beneficial side-effect of a <a href="http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/11148302">eudaimonic approach</a> to <a href="https://theconversation.com/inside-out-shows-well-being-isnt-just-about-chasing-happiness-43629">pursuing a life of meaning</a>. I agree very much with these views.</p>
<p>But what exactly does it mean to have meaning in our lives? <a href="http://www.positivepsychology.org/">Positive psychology</a> (with its focus on generating positive emotions) and <a href="http://www.britannica.com/topic/existentialism">existentialism</a> (with its focus on philosophically reconciling ourselves to the tragedies of life) provide useful counterpoints for exploring the spectrum of happy and sorrowful emotions in which we humans search for meaning and self-actualisation. These counterpoints provide the creative tension for many articles on happiness in general. </p>
<p>But in what ways, exactly, can “meaning” possibly provide a bridge between these two opposites in our lives — our sadness and our happiness, our joys and our sorrows?</p>
<h2>Connecting the ‘dots’</h2>
<p>As I argue <a href="http://link.springer.com/chapter/10.1007%2F978-1-4939-0308-5_6">here</a>, if one connects the dots from the findings in various fields of happiness and well-being research, it turns out that there seems to be one common denominator for what people, across cultures, races and religions, report as giving them meaningful happiness: it is that of being something for others. </p>
<p>What is meaningful to us, of course, can be very individual, subjective and culture-specific. What most definitions share is an element of feeling interconnected with someone or something other than oneself and, as importantly, feeling that one is able to contribute to those connections. This may be contributing to one’s family, friends, the community, the environment or a cause. </p>
<p>What we humans describe as meaningful in our lives most often contains an element of having the opportunity to give of ourselves to someone, or something, beyond ourselves. <a href="http://unlimitedloveinstitute.org/wp-content/uploads/2013/10/ITS-GOOD-TO-BE-GOOD-2014-Biennial-Scientific-Report-On-Health-Happiness-Longevity-And-Helping-Others.pdf">Research</a> shows that giving, or contributing, beyond ourselves is one of the strongest predictors of increasing our happiness and health. </p>
<p>Personal pleasure is not to be dismissed, but having meaningful giving in our lives accounts for the highest levels of happiness and health. When we give to others, we have higher and more meaningful levels of happiness. We also are more resilient in the face of adversity and we recuperate more quickly from traumatic events.</p>
<h2>To be or not to be – that is not the question</h2>
<p>Realising that giving, or contributing to others, provides us with sustainable and genuine happiness, we also realise that, apart from a few profound thinkers throughout history (for example, <a href="http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/socrates/">Socrates</a> and <a href="http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/aristotle/">Aristotle</a>), this very simple, yet powerful insight often seems to have been a “missing link” in many attempts to answer some of our most profound questions, such as, “what is the meaning of existence?”, “what is the meaning of life?”, “what is a good life?” etc.</p>
<figure class="align-right ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/86476/original/image-20150626-16889-1rekit9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/86476/original/image-20150626-16889-1rekit9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=865&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/86476/original/image-20150626-16889-1rekit9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=865&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/86476/original/image-20150626-16889-1rekit9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=865&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/86476/original/image-20150626-16889-1rekit9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1087&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/86476/original/image-20150626-16889-1rekit9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1087&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/86476/original/image-20150626-16889-1rekit9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1087&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Some existential thinkers seek answers through faith.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="http://www.shutterstock.com/pic-262789442/stock-photo-silhouette-of-woman-praying.html?src=G7sEbNUvu4qjm28Wtc-XmA-1-6">Shutterstock/CHOATphotographer</a></span>
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<p>For example, inherited largely from <a href="http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/kierkegaard/">Søren Kierkegaard</a> and <a href="http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/nietzsche/">Friedrich Nietzsche</a> respectively, existentialists have often argued that either religious faith or self-determined goals are the means by which we achieve meaning in our lives. </p>
<p>When it comes to creating individual and collective well-being, however, both positions, in and of themselves, ultimately depend on an underlying philosophy of “being good to each other”. Only when this dimension is applied do the other two seem able to reach their full potential – from a humanistic perspective, at least. </p>
<p>“Faith” and “self-determined goals” can easily be fundamentalist or self-serving, unless they are situated in a genuine social concern for the whole. In other words, to be religious or not (faith element), or to create your own story of your life or not (self-determined goals element), are not the most central question we can ask if what we want is healthier, happier and more meaningful lives. To give or not to give – that seems to be the question.</p>
<p>Positive psychology often (but not always) focuses on creating positive emotions. Existentialism tends to deal with the things that make us unhappy in life (grief, guilt, tragedy), trying to reconcile these with the feeling that life is still worth living. </p>
<p>Both positions are important in order to examine the spectrum of human emotions and living. Yet, beyond being “happy” or “sad”, it seems, is to give. Only through being generous to one another, it seems, will we achieve our full human potential for individual and collective well-being.</p>
<h2>The need for a (new) philosophy and science of giving</h2>
<p>Giving might forge a relationship between the authenticity that existentialists have often advocated as the means to acquire meaning in life, and the moral and rational thinking that they often have denounced in the process. </p>
<p>That is, if giving, or genuine social concern – whatever we call it – is the most valuable dimension with which we measure meaning in our lives, we suddenly realise that rationality or any moral constructs, in themselves, have insufficient explanatory power when it comes to understanding meaningful and happy living. </p>
<p>As noted, moral ideologies, unless grounded in a social concern for all, can be detrimental to individual and collective well-being. Likewise, “rationality” can be very cruel without a truly human dimension, as seen in the very “efficient” German machine that created the second world war.</p>
<figure class="align-left zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/86480/original/image-20150626-16881-18up25m.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/86480/original/image-20150626-16881-18up25m.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/86480/original/image-20150626-16881-18up25m.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=711&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/86480/original/image-20150626-16881-18up25m.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=711&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/86480/original/image-20150626-16881-18up25m.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=711&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/86480/original/image-20150626-16881-18up25m.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=894&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/86480/original/image-20150626-16881-18up25m.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=894&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/86480/original/image-20150626-16881-18up25m.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=894&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Genuine concern for others may go to the essence of being human.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="http://www.shutterstock.com/pic-113771614/stock-photo-close-up-of-a-mother-hugging-her-children.html?src=xfcAkNLguQEGQupJMFtJdA-1-17">Shutterstock/Imagedb.com</a></span>
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</figure>
<p>Being human in the truest sense of the word – that is, showing genuine social concern for all – might therefore be the most authentic “essence” of our being. That stands in contrast to being anything we “choose to be”, which is the other measure of meaning sometimes applied by existentialists (and pop culture). </p>
<p>Conversely, in this line of thinking, the link between existential absurdity (I choose to be a horse) and irrational and <em>un</em>-human-like behaviour also becomes stronger. If generosity and not man, as <a href="http://www.ancient.eu/protagoras/">Protagoras</a> would have it, is a truer “measure of all things”, it certainly challenges us to research and investigate generosity in a much more collective and scientific way than has so far been the case - <em>and</em> to apply a service-minded understanding to our most pressing issues (such as some are trying to do in the field of <a href="http://www.timjackson.org.uk/">economy</a> and <a href="https://theconversation.com/if-everyone-lived-in-an-ecovillage-the-earth-would-still-be-in-trouble-43905?utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=The+Weekend+Conversation+-+3020&utm_content=The+Weekend+Conversation+-+3020+CID_e92a8a0e9176c8150b84fe98ec5a9da2&utm_source=campaign_monitor&utm_term=If%20everyone%20lived%20in%20an%20ecovillage%20the%20Earth%20would%20still%20be%20in%20trouble">environmental sustainability</a>.</p>
<p>One thing is certain: situating altruism and generous behaviour in evidence-based theory and practice, rather than solely in ideology and religion, seems perfectly suited to forming neutral ground on which different ideologies and religions could find shared purpose and productive co-existence. </p>
<p>A philosophy of giving could become an important bridge builder not only between positive psychology and existentialism (“happy” or “sad”), but also between extremist views, still so present in our world today.</p>
<hr>
<p><em>This article is based on an essay in the collection <a href="http://www.springer.com/us/book/9781493903078">Meaning in Positive and Existential Psychology</a>, and was kindly co-edited by Jennifer Ma, PhD candidate, National Institute for Mental Health Research, Australian National University.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/43776/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Thomas William Nielsen does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>A philosophy based on giving of ourselves to others may help us live more meaningful and fulfilling lives, while helping to bridge the extremes of our emotions and beliefs.Thomas William Nielsen, Associate Professor, University of CanberraLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/205732013-11-29T15:06:48Z2013-11-29T15:06:48ZThe US vs Sartre: what the hell is Existentialism anyway?<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/35906/original/ps88vkr9-1385118554.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=2%2C0%2C618%2C239&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Sartre, Hoover and Camus.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Wikimedia Commons</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>On 7 February 1946 we find J Edgar Hoover, director of the FBI, writing a letter to “Special Agent in Charge” at the New York field office, to draw his attention to one ALBERT CANUS, who is “reportedly the New York correspondent of ‘Combat’.” </p>
<p>Hoover complains, “This individual has been filing inaccurate reports which are unfavorable to the public interest of this country”. He gives orders for the New York field division to “conduct a preliminary investigation to ascertain his background, activities and affiliations in this country.” </p>
<p>One of Hoover’s agents finally has the guts to correct the chief and tell him that “the subject’s true name is ALBERT CAMUS, not ALBERT CANUS”, but diplomatically hypothesised that “Canus” was an alias he had cunningly adopted.</p>
<p>The year before, the New York team had already sprung into action to keep an eye on the activities of visiting French existentialist Jean-Paul Sartre. It was a time when everyone was potentially a Communist, but especially ex-resistance French philosophers. So it was the Untouchables in pursuit of the unintelligible. </p>
<p>The surprising outcome revealed by the FBI’s own files is that the G-men subtly morph into E-men, not just keeping philosophers under surveillance but pursuing their own philosophical investigations.</p>
<h2>Nausea in New York</h2>
<p>Sartre and his fellow journalists were actually invited by the Office of War Information, with a view to <a href="http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/07/14/sartre-and-camus-in-new-york/?_r=0">disseminating positive propaganda messages</a> about the American war effort in 1945. Sartre’s main champion was under-secretary of state, Archibald Macleish, now best-known as the author of the <a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poem/6371">classic formulation of the modernist aesthetic</a>: “A poem should not mean/But be”. The author of Nausea and Being and Nothingness duly delivered a classically existentialist article about how he was suffering from “<a href="http://www.cmbellerive.com/2012/07/20/le-mal-de-new-york/">le mal de New York</a>” – New York sickness or Nausea in New York.</p>
<p>Sartre was interpreted as a slippery customer capable of evading surveillance. One agent, who is supposed to be keeping a tail on him, followed him to <a href="http://www.cityofschenectady.com/">Shenectady</a>, where Sartre was supposed to be singing the praises of the General Electric plant. But he ducked out and hopped on a train “on the afternoon of March 1, apparently bound for New York City”. In other words, the hapless agent – Special Agent Richard L Levy –- lost him. We don’t know if perhaps he just wasn’t all that keen on Schenectady, and preferred the pleasures of the big city, where he had a girlfriend, which Special Agent Levy also did not know about.</p>
<h2>Outsider in the Big Apple</h2>
<p>On March 25 1946, Albert Camus disembarked the SS Oregon at Pier 86, New York, where he was duly stopped and searched in line with Hoover’s stop notice. Despite which he proceeded to fall in love with New York and in New York, finding a girlfriend from Vogue magazine, Patricia Blake, who, noticing his extreme interest in death, bought him copies of Casket and <a href="http://www.ebay.com/itm/VTG-MAY-1932-The-Sunnyside-MAGAZINE-funeral-undertaker-casket-hearse-embalming-/321234434939">Sunnyside</a>, the undertakers’ monthlies.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/35904/original/pxztmpy6-1385117904.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/35904/original/pxztmpy6-1385117904.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/35904/original/pxztmpy6-1385117904.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=780&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/35904/original/pxztmpy6-1385117904.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=780&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/35904/original/pxztmpy6-1385117904.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=780&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/35904/original/pxztmpy6-1385117904.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=981&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/35904/original/pxztmpy6-1385117904.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=981&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/35904/original/pxztmpy6-1385117904.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=981&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
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<span class="caption">Will the real Albert Canus please stand up?</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Andy Martin</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Camus was being hosted by <a href="http://www.columbia.edu/cu/lweb/archival/collections/ldpd_4079174/">Justin O’Brien</a>, professor of French literature at Columbia University. Like Archibald Mackenzie, O’Brien was also a member of the proto-CIA, the Office of Strategic Services. A celebrated translator of the journals of André Gide, he was also chief of the French desk at the OSS, concerned with “establishing intelligence networks behind German lines in France”.</p>
<p>The precursors of the CIA, Mackenzie and O’Brien, clearly had an aesthetic or philosophical sensibility. The FBI agents, having stolen papers from the French philosophers, were incapable of reading the original (“[it’s] all in French”, they complain) and had to draft in translators. But there is a curious rapprochement between wandering Existentialists and the agents. Communism doesn’t really make sense to the FBI. Why? Because nothing does.</p>
<p>I am indebted for this thought mainly to agent James E Tierney, of the New York field office, who in response to continued pestering from Hoover – what the hell is Existentialism anyway? – came up with several pages. He is the very archetype of the philosophical detective: a G-man poring over the pages of The Myth of Sisyphus. Here he is on Camus: “This philosophy recommends living with the absurd, enjoying life all the more fully because it has no meaning.”</p>
<p>Philosophically speaking, the FBI agents stake a claim as neo-Existentialists in the classic early Sartrian mould, or crypto-Absurdists. They, like the early Archibald Mackenzie, take the view that people, not just poetry, should not mean, but be. They certainly subscribe to the “hell is other people” school of thought. And they are anti-narrativists or, as agent Tierney would say, “painfully lucid in the face of life’s irrationality”.</p>
<p>The FBI echos Sartre’s classic modernist critique of narrative in Nausea. Narrative is teleological – it has a purpose – whereas life is anti-telos. The CIA believe in narratives, whereas Hoover’s FBI are quintessential Existentialists in refuting narrative. They would rather have contingency and chaos than telos. The FBI find Camus fundamentally their kind of guy: the Camus of the Absurd and the Outsider, according to which the individual will never really make sense of the world, nor hook up, in any kind of meaningful, long-term way, with others.</p>
<h2>Losing the plot</h2>
<p>We are apt to think of the FBI as the great conspiracy theorists, but the reality is more nuanced: they don’t really want to believe in plots. Was the assassination of JFK a conspiracy? The FBI won’t have it. Later on in their files, we find them, in their typically Existentialist way, intent on the Oswald lone-wolf story – or non-story. Naturally, when it comes to 9/11, it is understandable that the FBI really were not conspiratorial enough in their thinking. It’s not that they have lost the plot, they just don’t want to know about plots. They are plot-sceptics.</p>
<p>Narrative, philosophy, and espionage share a common genesis: they arise out of a lack of information. What happened, for example, to the elusive Albert Canus, the original cause of Hoover’s anxiety attack? One agent, James M Underhill, desperate to find someone actually called “Canus”, finally tracked him down on 18 March 1946. Canus, the agent reports, was in fact apprehended by Border Patrol in New Orleans, living at 1622 Jackson Avenue. </p>
<p>He “claimed” to be a “messboy” on the SS Mount Everest, which docked in New Orleans in 24 April 1943. The ship sailed away again on 3 May and he didn’t. Immigration officers were planning to put him on another ship but, says Underhill, existentially unconcerned with the telos: “the file does not show the final disposition”.</p>
<p><em>This is an edited version of an essay first published in <a href="http://www.prospectmagazine.co.uk/art-books/camus-sartre-fbi-hoover/#.UpirE8Txqvw">Prospect Magazine</a> based on a lecture given earlier this year at the <a href="http://news.columbia.edu/maison100">Maison française, Columbia University</a>, New York, as part of its centenary celebrations.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/20573/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Andy Martin does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>On 7 February 1946 we find J Edgar Hoover, director of the FBI, writing a letter to “Special Agent in Charge” at the New York field office, to draw his attention to one ALBERT CANUS, who is “reportedly…Andy Martin, Lecturer, Department of French, University of CambridgeLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/195022013-10-25T13:39:00Z2013-10-25T13:39:00ZBecksistentialism: because man is a goal-seeking animal<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/33812/original/sc9wkj2p-1382703746.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Man and superman.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Wikimedia Commons</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>A student came up to me after class the other day and said, “So what is this ‘Becksistentialism’ all about then?” I want to begin to answer that question by defining the negative: Sir Alex Ferguson is not a Becksistentialist.</p>
<p>Consider what he has been saying about Becks in the wake of his <a href="http://www.independent.co.uk/sport/football/news-and-comment/sir-alex-fergusons-autobiography-david-beckham-thought-he-was-bigger-than-me-and-manager-blames-victorias-influence-for-their-falling-out-8896997.html">new (or revised) autobiography</a>: “David was the only player I managed who chose to be famous, who made it his mission to be known outside the game.” He has a whole variety of complaints, including, notably, that Beckham refused to take his beanie hat off at a dinner. And of course he has a go at just about everyone else too (for example, Roy Keane). But I want to zero in on his comments about Beckham, because they help us to understand not just the enigma that is Beckham but our own experience as human beings.</p>
<p>“He could have been a Manchester United legend.” But Beckham – just as he refuses to take the beanie hat off – revolts against the Ferguson vision. Ferguson wants him to become a god. Not just a footballer. But The Footballer. A living legend. But, of course, at the same time subordinate to Man U. So it is in part a power move – <em>Fergie rules</em>. </p>
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<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/33807/original/w2ns7tts-1382697947.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/33807/original/w2ns7tts-1382697947.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/33807/original/w2ns7tts-1382697947.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=863&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/33807/original/w2ns7tts-1382697947.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=863&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/33807/original/w2ns7tts-1382697947.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=863&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/33807/original/w2ns7tts-1382697947.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1085&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/33807/original/w2ns7tts-1382697947.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1085&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/33807/original/w2ns7tts-1382697947.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1085&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
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<span class="caption">Becks: morally deregulated.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Yui Mok/PA Wire</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>But the Becksistentialist naturally refutes this simplistic and tyrannical thinking. I want to argue that Beckham – for all his visibility and connectedness - is in fact the great Outsider figure de nos jours. A rebel. And a champion of self-liberation. The beanie at the dinner table to me represents what <a href="http://criminology.fsu.edu/crimtheory/week8.htm">Emile Durkheim calls “anomie”</a> – the state of “normlessness” in which we float free from the rules of society.</p>
<p>It is not the case that David Beckham became an existentialist the day he joined Paris Saint-Germain at the beginning of this year. He was already an existentialist. It was in Paris that he became more self-aware. The existentialist is born out of crisis. Everyone has crises. Beckham’s tend to be a bit more visible and therefore susceptible to analysis. I happened to witness his primal crisis at close quarters.</p>
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<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ur5fGSBsfq8?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
<figcaption><span class="caption">‘One surprise is the inclusion of Archimedes’</span></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The red card in the 1998 World Cup in France – Le Mondial – when he was sent off for retaliation. England v Argentina. Beckham had been benched for the first two games by Glenn Hoddle, who suspected him of being distracted by (the then) Posh Spice and too much show-business. Like Ferguson, Hoddle is an essentialist who <a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/sport/football/270194.stm">believes in the soul and karma</a>: and thinks that Beckham has to be pure Footballer and nothing else and is duly punished for not being it. </p>
<p>And so we come to St Etienne and Argentina (a match also notable also for the miraculous Michael Owen solo goal). The two teams are level at 2-2. Then, a minute into the second half (I was just sitting down with a drink in my hand), Diego Simeone clatters into Beckham. And the foot famously goes up. And the red card comes out. But was it “intentional” or wasn’t it?</p>
<h2>To be is to do</h2>
<p><a href="http://www.theguardian.com/books/2012/jun/24/boxer-goalkeeper-sartre-camus-martin-review">Jean-Paul Sartre</a> would say: of course that kick is intentional; there is no unconscious, everything we do is intentional, deliberate, voluntary. Including falling in love and jealousy. There is no such thing as a “crime passionnel” or “I couldn’t help myself, your honour”. Does Beckham take the easy way out? There is a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eKA_jKdoSVQ">fascinating interview conducted by Zinedine Zidane</a> (asking the questions in French) in which Beckham offers a classic Becksistentialist commentary.</p>
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<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Red card: being followed by nothingness.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">PA Archive</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Of course, he argues, he could have <em>not</em> kicked Simeone. And perhaps England could then have gone on to win the World Cup as well. But he accepts and asserts responsibility for it. I am the author of my acts, says Beckham. I am what I do. (The French subtitles have: <em>je ne regrette rien</em>). He is in some paradoxical way proud of his mistakes. In other words, Beckham appears to be arguing – you have to act as if it were intentional – and the deed becomes part of your narrative.</p>
<p>As a result of this sending off, the great rule-breaker, Becks the rebel becomes Public Enemy no 1 for a spell. When he gets back to England he finds that he is held responsible for the World Cup exit. It is all his fault. The question he asks himself is – does everyone hate me? Am I the Bad Guy in all this. And he says, Yes, I am. He claims authorship. Go on, hate me.</p>
<h2>Football, without question</h2>
<p>His answer reminds me of <a href="http://www.glasgowreview.co.uk/articles/jeangenet.htm">Jean Genet</a>, the great writer and thief and <em>inverti</em> (or “queer” in French street slang). I chose to be a criminal. I am not going to ascribe responsibility to some faceless impersonal forces – genetic fate or determinism or social deprivation. You have to act as if it were intentional.</p>
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<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/33805/original/zxgxbcjh-1382697370.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/33805/original/zxgxbcjh-1382697370.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/33805/original/zxgxbcjh-1382697370.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=879&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/33805/original/zxgxbcjh-1382697370.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=879&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/33805/original/zxgxbcjh-1382697370.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=879&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/33805/original/zxgxbcjh-1382697370.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1104&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/33805/original/zxgxbcjh-1382697370.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1104&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/33805/original/zxgxbcjh-1382697370.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1104&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">‘Death and life have determined appointments. Riches and honour depend.
upon heaven’</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Hobochi Chen</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>But of course Beckham is not a pre-eminently verbal philosopher. A lot of his thinking is expressed through the medium of the tattoo (Confucius) and the haircut (inconstant). I see his career overall as in some ways like <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/books/2011/jul/01/candide-voltaire-rereading-julian-barnes">Voltaire’s Candide</a> – a critique of naïve optimism. The relationship of individual player to the team raises the ghost of the Sartre’s “group-in-fusion”. But maybe the final question to be asked is: “Whither Becks?” His fundamental Becksistential statement, “I am not what I am and am what I am not” suggests a career not just as “ambassador” but also as spy. Perhaps <a href="http://www.thesun.co.uk/sol/homepage/showbiz/4982736/victoria-beckham-david-beckham-should-be-next-james-bond.html">Victoria Beckham’s suggestion</a> that he would make a good James Bond is not so far off the mark.</p>
<p><em>Andy Martin is delivering a talk <a href="http://www.cam.ac.uk/festival-of-ideas/events-and-booking/becksistentialism">on Becksistentialism</a> as part of the Cambridge Festival of Ideas, October 26, 11.30am-1pm, West Road, Cambridge.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/19502/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Andy Martin does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>A student came up to me after class the other day and said, “So what is this ‘Becksistentialism’ all about then?” I want to begin to answer that question by defining the negative: Sir Alex Ferguson is…Andy Martin, Lecturer, Department of French, University of CambridgeLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.