– 110 years after birth –
Albert Camus (Nov. 7, 1913 – Jan. 4, 1960), well-known French novelist, playwright and philosopher, representative of existentialism, born in Dréan, Algeria, laureate of the Nobel Prize for literature, left posterity, in addition to fiction, numerous essays and dissertations on philosophical topics.
The author of the famous novels “The Plague” and “Străinul” has also remained in history through works in which he approaches completely different themes.
In his writings, Camus states, more than once, that in his opinion there is no life beyond death or spirit embodied in matter, life being reduced to a given period, which we must live and take as such. (Supreme irony of fate, the great French writer died young, at only 47 years old, and not even because of the tuberculosis he suffered from, but because of a stupid car accident, which occurred when he was returning from vacation).
To this limited existence, as he saw it, he adds an extra touch of absurdity: during life, suffering is inevitable, sometimes atrocious, diseases, material shortages, loss of relatives, loved ones, wars and others can make the life of a man a real nightmare. And then, if we find ourselves in permanent contradiction with our own existence, so that in the end we are nothing but remains buried under the cross in the cemetery, what is the meaning of life?
Camus treats this theme in an elevated way, referring to numerous studies and philosophical works, but also to mythology, which he completes with his own opinions or convictions. However, subject to the same fatal limitation that he imposes and which he reproaches either with existence or with a God about whom we do not know for sure if he exists, but in the event that he does exist he could be “accused” of patronizing a humanity guided by absurd rules, he can’t give a definite answer either. He sees everything as a huge farce, a farce whose actors are, however, all the inhabitants of the planet, with their loves, pains, sufferings and aspirations.
Can there be any quote more eloquent for his mentality and, equally, his drama than the one from “Absurd Walls”? “The gap between the certainty I have that I exist and the content I try to give to this certainty will never be filled. I will forever be a stranger to myself.”
Photo: Benoît Prieur, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons
We know we exist, but we don’t know why. We know what we do, but we don’t really know who we are. We are strangers to ourselves, because life is a stranger to us, and when we learn the great secret, we go to the grave. (As I mentioned above, it happened, prematurely, even to him!!!).
Camus sees in art a great escape, a sublime response of the ephemeris that is man to the limitation and absurdity of life, saying that ”If the world were intelligible, art would not exist.” and by this he joins the vision of many artists, who, perhaps, did not express this thesis so clearly and beautifully.
And, indeed, if we do not believe in the validity of Buddhist philosophy, in karma (The impersonal force that weighs all the deeds, good and bad, that any being undertakes in the course of life, and at the same time, the implacable force that determines, within the cycle transmission of souls, the quality of the next life), dharma (cosmic law and order) and samsara (the endless cycle of successive lives, of reincarnations), life can appear to us to be something completely absurd. If you die as a result of a cataclysm, you will never get to know the answer to the truths that bother you. If you spend your whole life in a wheelchair, you will never know what mountain landscapes really look like or what love is. If you lose someone you love, you will never see them again. (Personally, I believe in Buddhist philosophy, but even this, like other beliefs that have appeared over the centuries, cannot be demonstrated with irrefutable arguments).
Camus was not shy to affirm his creed, of a unique and often absurd existence, but he always contrasted it with the greatness of man, his lust for life, his ability to strive towards the perfection of the gods, and thus he was not a nihilist in the true sense of the word.
He was, in my opinion, a rebel and a dreamer. A man who refuses sentences, even if he knows that he will die tomorrow. A genius who rises from the dust to look at the Sky.
The following saying could very well have been his epitaph: ”We always end up having the face of our truths”.
