What does the great French philosopher Albert Camus have to say to us about philosophical suicide?

Before we begin, perhaps a bit of background on me is important. I’m a philosopher of language and morality, originally. But when I went to grad school, I took a class in cognitive neuroscience that opened a few doors for me. I worked in labs, read science books, etc. And oh, could I bore you with the details. My most recent “real jobs” have included research and teaching college and starting startups up, but there’s a thread of a goal here for me: I’m passionate about solving hard problems and understanding the world around me. Oddly, I’m doing both right now, as I write this short essay.

In the past, my main squeeze in philosophy has always been Aristotle — his work is simple and elegant, but incredibly powerful. In the Aristotelian view of human behavior, we train ourselves to do certain things so that we develop the right character. Once we’ve accomplished our goals, we can engage in this activity of happiness and simply just enjoy life.

As part of the Existentialist Book Club, I recently began to get involved with the philosophy of Albert Camus, who says something entirely different about happiness. Namely, that it is inevitable. Is it time to start picking sides, or is there some way to reconcile Camus’ view with that put forward by Aristotle 2500 years ago?

Philosophical Suicide

Soren Kierkegaard, a Christian existentialist philosopher from 19th century Denmark, wrote often of colorful objects such as masks, and intriguing if scary philosophical concepts such as the leap of faith. For Camus, the leap of faith is clearly the antecedent of the concept of philosophical suicide.

In Kierkegaard, who wrote after Kant and understood the Kantian critique of reason; i.e., it is possible to argue both sides of a given issue to fruition (these are the antinomies, see the Critique of Pure Reason) in a valid and sound way, but not resolve the question at stake. Questions such as the existence of god seem to demand a sort of pre-eminent importance in our eyes as thinkers and as readers, but nonetheless never reach a satisfactory resolution. What are we to do?

Kierkegaard’s suggestion is to choose a side and jump. As a Christian, the side he believes most will naturally pick is the side of belief. And this viewpoint, though meta-rational, is not fundamentally irrational.. After all, life must be lived! We must make a choice at some point, and if reason does not provide us with the groundwork for said choice, we must do so via other means.

This is the meaning of Camus’ difficult phrasing during the few references to philosophical suicide, a point he explicitly states that he is not interested in: “I am taking the liberty at this point of calling the existential attitude philosophical suicide. But this does not imply a judgment. It is a convenient way of indicating the movement by which a thought negates itself and tends to transcend itself in its very negation.” Later, when we find out that Camus is not interested in philosophical suicide, we must decide why it should be so, and the general gist of what I see in the text is that philosophical suicide’s negation is a way out of the challenge for Camus. He is disinterested because he does not believe that escape is a reasonable goal, here.

What is Existentialism for Camus?

What does Camus mean, when he uses the term “existential philosophy?” The term has its roots in the word “existence,” and the general gist of it in its philosophical usage is that humans don’t merely think — they exist in terms of emotions, actions, practices. So why should Philosophy be focused narrowly around thinking, when that mode of being is not the sum total of human existence? We’re leaving a lot on the table, so to speak, if we take that fork in the road.

The virtues of existentialism are inescapable for Camus, but he chooses nonetheless to attempt to improve upon them by taking the question of man’s existence one step further and asking about its value.

There is none, he discovers! What is to be done about this vacuum? We must face it with courage, work it into our philosophy. Only then can man’s treatment of his own existence via philosophy reach the height of its potential.

The Purpose of Philosophy in Camus’ Writings

By discarding any notion that meaning can be implanted into the human web of meaning by god or anything else, Camus takes a radical turn toward the complete appreciation of the human condition. In fact, he goes so far as to celebrate Don Juan as a hero and to incorporate defenses of such notable characters as Kirilov and Stavrogin from Dostoevsky’s novels into his questions regarding suicide and human existence.

The purpose of philosophy is to allow these sorts of people to apprehend their own existence in a way that is no longer rooted in their own being. They reach above themselves, which allows Kirilov in particular to “become god” — a heroic act, though none of us is likely to follow! By embracing the absurdity of existence, then, it becomes possible to flippantly and happily deal with even the most difficult problems in life and to, when necessary, assume responsibility for ending it as well as for living it.

Happiness, for Camus, is another very interesting question. Soon, I will write about it and treat with it in more detail, but for now it is enough to suggest that happiness is inevitable. We must, to quote the most popular fragment of the work, imagine Sisyphus happy — not because he has ended up in heaven, but because it is human nature to find meaning and even happiness itself in the minutiae of the day to day existence we each live. If even the toil of Sisyphus can lead to happiness, Camus has reasoned, then what good is the philosophical suicide of Kierkegaard?

Camus doesn’t seem to have any moral qualms about suicide, beyond his comprehension of its meaninglessness. Ultimately, all of these characters are human beings who live and die by their own hand, as it were. In this, they’re all essentially heroes, for Camus. What this does to morality as such is perhaps a question for another essay, but for now it is sufficient to say that the question of philosophical suicide has been laid to rest. We are responsible for our own destiny, as it were, and there is no need to take a leap of faith.