The Myth of Sisyphus, Decades Later

I think it was probably 20 or more years ago when I first picked up Camus’ book. I was thinking vaguely of something about a ‘myth’ or ‘mythology’. Or maybe I was drawn to the bold first sentence: There is but one truly serious philosophical problem, and that is suicide.

But it didn’t mean as I thought it would. I thought he would draw a logical conclusion on whether it was reasonable to commit suicide. In a sense, he did.

His logic is: the world is indeed absurd. It is the friction between the human desire for meaning of their existence and effort, versus the ultimate meaninglessness of everything. We eat, but we know we’ll feel hungry again. Then why eat? The “why” is the absurd. Camus says the absurd lies in the friction between humanity and the world - our need to eat versus the fact that we’ll get hungry again.

He says, therefore, that suicide is a ‘leap’ because it eliminates one of the terms that the absurd relies on. It is a crude way to dissolve the absurd. What is left is to continue wrestling with the absurd and not fall for any escape that would kill it.

To me, however, it didn’t make much sense. It basically says: I decided to live as much as I could while being aware of that all of this is meaningless. Why does it sound like yet another excuse to keep living? Honest, but an excuse nonetheless.

It was similar to what I felt 20 years ago, though I couldn’t have articulated it then. And now, with decades between, I guess this is the best I could get from anywhere. The irrefutable, universal reason to live - or to die, in equal measure - can’t exist. All there exist are varying degrees of illusions and excuses. There could be personal reasons - ‘escapes’ as Camus would call them - but I would be mad if they tried to force it on me. You could believe in an afterlife, or the greater good, but that would only make your life livable (plus some affected by yours), not mine. Therefore, I’m picking the excuse that feels least pretentious to me.

If all these feels deeply personal and individualistic, I think that is inherent about Camus’ philosophy. That’s another thing I’ve struggled with this time. He treats as if every human being can exist without social context. But can a worker’s indifference to his absurd condition in society truly be the same as that of the owner of an international company with tens of thousands of employees? Camus specifically mentioned it wasn’t about morality, but in a world where ‘fate is something to be settled among humans’, shouldn’t one consider the social context one is standing upon? Or am I mixing things in completely two different domains?

While reading the book, I remembered something from a computer game that articulated Camus’ argue better than he ever did for me. In it, one character tells the story of a fisherman who lived a solitary life after losing everything - his family, his people. This character thinks the fisherman has given up. But another character argues that the fisherman is fighting back - at life, at the world.

“But he went on living. He lost everyone, but he still got up every morning. He made a life, even if it was alone. That’s the world. Everything you build, it tears down. Everything you’ve got, it takes. And it’s gone forever. The only choices you get are to lie down and die or keep going. He kept going. That’s as close to beating the world as anyone gets.” —Varric (Dragon Age: Inquisition, from the dialogue between Varric and Solas)

The conclusion - keep going knowing everything will be gone forever - is basically the same as Camus’. I’m not sure how much the fisherman in the story contemplated his condition while keeping going, he wouldn’t be entirely oblivious. Just like Sisyphus returning from the mountaintop to his rock, there would have been moments where he would go to sleep knowing the same lone days would follow - no return of his beloved family, friends, or his people.

The funny thing is, when the same thought is presented this way, I didn’t feel like they were making excuses. In fact, I was drawn to it. What could be the factor? A rigid book vs. interactive media? Or did the strict philosophical narrative raise my defenses while the storytelling did the opposite? This is something I don’t know much about. Perhaps I should learn more about the importance of media and presentation.

After 20 years’ gap, there was one particular section that resonated with me this time. It was the part about absurd creation.

I have been dabbling in fan fiction over the past couple of years without so much as wide readership. On average, they feature hundreds of hits with tens of kudos at most. Getting attention wasn’t the sole reason why I started dabbling, but it isn’t exactly heartening. Whenever I start a new story, I can’t help but think what I will get when I share it. The effort I took to improve the prose and what little skill I gained from it doesn’t help my daily job. And since it’s secondary creation, its originality is debatable. Even if it was original work, would it mean much different?

Yet, I cut hours of sleep to think and express clearly what would have happened in that small imaginary world. Check grammar, consulting dictionaries and thesauruses for proper words.

All that ‘for nothing.’

I don’t even make a living out of it. But I’ve been keeping at it. Without reason other than just my impulse.

Just like this post.