Author: L. Silas Sterling

  • The Transmutation of Temperance: Ancient Stoicism vs. The Modern Manual

    To the contemporary reader, Stoicism is often presented as a cognitive armor—a “resilience training” for the entrepreneur or a method of emotional regulation for the high-performer. However, a journey through the history of the Stoa reveals that Stoicism began not as a productivity hack, but as a totalizing metaphysical commitment. The transition from the ancient Prohairesis (moral choice) to the modern “Life Hack” represents a fundamental shift from seeking a transformation of the soul to seeking a refinement of functional efficiency. To understand this bifurcation, we must look past the pithy quotes of social media and into the rigorous, often uncomfortable, objective roots of the Hellenistic mind.

    The Ancient Horizon: The Sovereignty of Virtue

    In the Hellenistic period, Stoicism was an all-encompassing “way of life” (techne biou). As the philosopher Pierre Hadot explores in his studies of ancient spiritual exercises, the Stoic was not merely trying to “keep calm” under pressure; they were attempting to align their individual reason with the Logos—the rational, divine spark that permeated the cosmos.

    The Physics of Providence

    For the ancients—from the slave Epictetus to the Emperor Marcus Aurelius—ethics could not be separated from physics. They believed the universe was a rational organism, a living entity governed by a divine intelligence. To live “according to nature” meant accepting every external event—whether a promotion or the destruction of one’s home—as a necessary part of a grand, providential design.

    This was the objective basis for Amor Fati (the love of fate). One did not merely tolerate misfortune; one embraced it as a vital thread in the universal tapestry. In this view, complaining about the weather or a political loss was seen as a logical error—an act of friction against the rationality of the universe itself. The ancient Stoic didn’t just want to “deal” with the world; they sought to recognize the mathematical necessity of its movements.

    Virtue as the Only Good

    The ancient Stoa held a radical, almost alien position: Virtue (Arete) is the sole good. Everything else—wealth, health, reputation, and even the lives of loved ones—fell into the category of Adiaphora, or “indifferents.” While some were “preferred” (it is objectively better to be healthy than sick), they contributed nothing to a person’s ultimate flourishing.

    The goal was Eudaimonia, a state of flourishing that remained untouched even if one were being tortured, provided their moral character remained intact. This created a psychological “invincibility” that is rarely captured in modern adaptations. The ancient Stoic wasn’t trying to feel better; they were trying to maintain moral integrity regardless of the sensory experience.

    The Marketplace of Peace: The Competitors

    It is a mistake to think the Stoics held a monopoly on tranquility. The Hellenistic world was a battlefield of “Schools of Life,” each promising a version of peace, yet defining it through vastly different mechanical lenses. To choose the Stoa was to reject two other primary promises of the age.

    The Epicurean Promise: Ataraxia through Absence

    If the Stoic found peace in Virtue, the Epicurean found it in the removal of pain (Ataraxia). For Epicurus, the greatest disturbances to the human soul were the fear of the gods and the fear of death. His “cure” was a materialistic physics: the world is merely atoms and void. The gods do not care about you, and death is simply the end of sensation.

    • The Stoic Peace: Required active engagement with duty and the cosmic Logos.
    • The Epicurean Peace: Required a quiet withdrawal from public life (“Live unnoticed”) and the careful management of simple pleasures to avoid the “hangover” of overindulgence.

    The Skeptic Promise: Epoche through Stalemate

    The Skeptic offered a third path to peace. They argued that the very act of deciding what is true causes psychological agitation. By practicing Isostheneia—finding an equal and opposite argument for every claim—the Skeptic reached a state of Epoche, or suspension of judgment. In this silence, they claimed, tranquility followed like a shadow.

    • The Stoic Peace: Built on the bedrock of certain, rational truth.
    • The Skeptic Peace: Built on the relief of admitting we can know nothing for certain.

    In this landscape, the Stoic promise was unique because it was the only one that tied peace directly to duty. One didn’t find peace by hiding in a garden (Epicurean) or by stopping the search for truth (Skeptic), but by becoming an excellent, rational actor within the “drama” of the world.

    The Spiritual Architecture: Logos vs. Entropy

    A primary point of divergence between the two eras lies in the underlying spiritual framework of the practitioner. For the ancient Stoic, the universe was not a cold, empty void, but a filled plenum animated by a “divine fire.”

    The Ancient Pantheist

    The ancients were essentially pantheists. They believed that God was not a person outside the world, but the “Active Principle” within it. This deity was material—a fine, gas-like substance called Pneuma that gave everything its structure. When Marcus Aurelius spoke of “the gods,” he was referring to the rational laws of cause and effect.

    For the ancient practitioner, “faith” was actually a form of physics. They believed that because the world was a rational body, everything that happened was “meant” to happen for the sake of the whole. This provided a profound sense of belonging. The Stoic was not an accident of evolution; they were a “fragment” of the universal reason, and their death was simply the returning of their local Pneuma back into the cosmic fire.

    The Modern Spectrum: Atheism and the Traditional Debate

    In contrast, a vast segment of modern practitioners operate within a framework of scientific materialism or atheism. Within this “Secular Stoicism,” the universe is viewed as a neutral, indifferent space governed by blind physical laws and entropy. There is no “divine plan” behind a car accident or a job loss—only the intersection of probability and physics.

    However, the modern movement is not a monolith. There is a robust and ongoing debate among practitioners regarding the necessity of the “Providential” worldview. A growing school of Traditional Stoics argues that Stoicism is fundamentally a religious or spiritual philosophy. These practitioners do not consider themselves atheists; they believe that by removing the Logos, modern iterations become “hollowed out” versions of the original. They argue that without a belief in a rational cosmos, the Stoic command to “live according to nature” loses its objective power. For these practitioners, the goal is to recapture the ancient sense of cosmic piety, even in a scientific age.

    The Social Circle of Oikeiosis

    A common modern misconception is that the Stoic was a detached loner, a marble statue of a man indifferent to the suffering of others. On the contrary, ancient Stoicism utilized the concept of Oikeiosis—the “appropriation” of others into one’s own sphere of concern.

    The Stoics visualized this as a series of concentric circles. The innermost circle is the self; the next is the immediate family; then the extended family; then fellow citizens; and finally, the entire human race. The Stoic aimed to “pull” these circles inward, treating the stranger as a cousin and the cousin as a brother. They viewed themselves as “Cosmopolitans” (citizens of the world), holding a duty to the human community that superseded local politics. Their “inner citadel” was not a place to hide from the world, but the fortress from which they went out to serve it.

    The Lost Middle: The Neostoic Bridge

    Before we arrived at the modern “Life Hack,” Stoicism underwent a transformation during the 16th and 17th centuries, known as Neostoicism. Thinkers like Justus Lipsius attempted to synthesize Stoic ethics with Christian theology.

    This period represents a critical “thinning” of the philosophy. The “divine fire” of the Stoic Logos was replaced by the Christian God, and the goal shifted toward Constantia—an enduring, immovable strength in the face of religious wars and political upheaval. This was the moment Stoicism began to move from a “way of being” to a “way of enduring.” It became a philosophy for the soldier and the statesman who needed to maintain integrity in a collapsing world, but it began to lose the holistic integration of physics and logic that defined the ancients.

    The Modern Transition: From Metaphysics to Methodology

    The 21st-century “Modern Stoicism” (often called “Silicon Valley Stoicism”) has completed this process of secularization for many. It has been stripped of its ancient “Physics” and “Logic” to leave behind a highly effective psychological toolkit.

    Stoicism as a Performance Enhancer

    In the modern context, Stoicism is often framed as a tool for “mental toughness” or “entrepreneurial endurance.” The focus shifts from the ancient question (“How do I become a virtuous person?”) to the modern question (“How can I remain calm so I can be more productive?”).

    Consider the “Dichotomy of Control.”

    • The Ancient Stoic: Desired to be indifferent to wealth so that its loss wouldn’t corrupt their soul or lead them to act unjustly to keep it.
    • The Modern Stoic: Desired to be indifferent to stress so that they can more effectively acquire and manage wealth.

    This is not a value judgment on the modern practitioner, but an objective distinction in the aim. One uses Stoicism to transcend the world; the other uses it to navigate the world more effectively.

    The Logic of Impression (The Hidden Core)

    One aspect of Ancient Stoicism that is almost entirely absent from modern discourse is the Logic. The ancients spent years studying how the mind receives “impressions” (phantasiai). They believed that between an event and our reaction, there is a tiny moment of “assent.”

    When you feel an impulse of anger, the Ancient Stoic would stop and say, “You are just an impression, and not at all the thing you appear to be.” This was a rigorous, technical practice of logic—testing every thought for its truth value. Modern Stoicism often treats this as a “mindfulness” exercise, but for the ancients, it was a courtroom drama playing out in the mind hundreds of times a day, where the judge was Reason and the defendant was the ego.

    The Divergent Aim: Character vs. Comfort

    The history of these two approaches shows a narrowing of the Stoic aim.

    Ancient Stoicism was an “Active Transformation” of the self into a Sage—a near-mythical state of moral perfection. The Sage was someone who could lose everything and still be perfectly happy because their virtue was the only thing that mattered.

    Modern Stoicism, by contrast, is an “Active Filtration” of the world’s stressors to maintain personal equilibrium. It is a “Manual for Living” in a chaotic, high-information age. One sought to change the essence of the man; the other seeks to manage the reactions of the mind.

    Comparison Matrix: Ancient vs. Modern

    FeatureAncient StoicismModern Stoicism
    Primary GoalMoral Perfection (Arete)Psychological Resilience
    The UniverseA rational, divine organismA neutral void (mostly)
    Spiritual StancePantheism (God is the universe)Diverse (Atheist to Traditionalist)
    SufferingNecessary for growth and characterSomething to be mitigated or managed
    Wealth/StatusTruly indifferent (Adiaphora)Preferred tools for success
    Social FocusCosmopolitan duty (Oikeiosis)Personal boundaries and focus

    Suggested Reading

    Disclosure: I am an Amazon Associate. As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases. This comes at no additional cost to you, but it helps support the creation of content like this.

    To explore the bridge between the ancient way of life and the modern toolkit, consider these foundational texts:

    Foundational Primary Sources

    The Spiritual and Traditional Turn

    Stoicism and the Christian Synthesis

  • What is Christian Existentialism? The Leap into the Infinite

    In our previous exploration, we walked through the smoke-filled cafes of 1940s Paris to define the “mood” of atheistic existentialism. We looked at Jean-Paul Sartre’s “existence precedes essence” and Albert Camus’s “Sisyphus,” both of whom painted a portrait of a human being standing alone in a silent, indifferent universe. To the atheist, we are “condemned to be free,” tasked with the heavy burden of inventing our own values from scratch because there is no divine blueprint to guide us.

    However, if we stop the story there, we miss the foundation upon which the entire movement was built. Long before Sartre donned his black turtleneck, and even before Gabriel Marcel coined the term existentialisme, the seeds of this “rebellion against the system” were sown by a lonely, eccentric Danish pastor named Søren Kierkegaard.

    While atheistic existentialism asks, “How do I live now that God is dead?”, Christian Existentialism asks a much more daunting and paradoxical question: “How do I live a meaningful life when God is a mystery I can never fully grasp through logic or tradition?”

    The Father of the Leap: Søren Kierkegaard

    To understand Christian existentialism, one must understand Kierkegaard’s visceral loathing for “The System.” In the 19th century, the intellectual world was dominated by G.W.F. Hegel, who believed that all of history and human experience could be explained through a grand, rational, dialectical architecture. To Hegel, the individual was a small component of “Universal Reason.”

    Kierkegaard’s response was, essentially, a scream of protest. He argued that a system can explain the mechanics of a heart, but it cannot explain the experience of a heartbreak. For Kierkegaard, “Truth is subjectivity.” This doesn’t mean that there are no objective facts (like gravity), but rather that the most important truths—the ones worth living and dying for—cannot be proven by a lab report or a logical syllogism. They must be appropriated by the individual through passion and commitment.

    The Three Stages of Life

    Kierkegaard suggested that an individual moves through three spheres of existence:

    1. The Aesthetic: Living for pleasure, art, and the avoidance of boredom.
    2. The Ethical: Living for duty, social norms, and moral laws.
    3. The Religious: The final stage, where the individual realizes that neither pleasure nor “following the rules” can bridge the gap between a finite human and an infinite God.

    This leads to the most famous concept in the movement: The Leap of Faith. Faith is not a “conclusion” reached at the end of a math problem. If you could prove God existed, you wouldn’t need faith; you would only need observation. To Kierkegaard, faith is a “passionate inwardness” that chooses to believe in the face of the Absurd—the paradox that the infinite, eternal Creator became a finite, mortal human in the person of Christ.

    The Paradox of the “Absurd”

    We often associate “The Absurd” with Camus and the meaninglessness of life. But for the Christian existentialist, the Absurd is the central pivot of the universe. It is the realization that the finite cannot contain the infinite, yet the individual is called to relate to that infinite anyway.

    Atheistic existentialism finds the Absurd in the silence of the universe. Christian existentialism finds the Absurd in the nature of God. It is the “scandal” of belief—the idea that a person must step out over “seventy thousand fathoms of water” with no guarantee of being caught, relying solely on their individual commitment to the Divine.


    Gabriel Marcel: Problem vs. Mystery

    Returning to Gabriel Marcel—the man who actually named the movement—we find a bridge between the 19th-century theology of Kierkegaard and the 20th-century reality of a “broken world.” Marcel, a Catholic convert, was deeply concerned with the way modern technology and bureaucracy “objectify” human beings. He argued that we have turned life into a series of problems to be solved, rather than mysteries to be lived.

    • A Problem is something in front of me that I can analyze, take apart, and fix (like a mechanical movement or a software bug). Once solved, the problem disappears.
    • A Mystery is something I am involved in. I cannot stand outside of “Love” or “Existence” to analyze it objectively because I am part of the very thing I am trying to understand.

    For Marcel, Christian existentialism is the refusal to let oneself be reduced to a “cog” in a social or economic system. It is the insistence on the “ontological weight” of the individual. He believed that we find God not through abstract theological debate, but through Creative Fidelity—the act of being present and faithful to other people.

    I and Thou: The Relational God

    This leads us to Martin Buber, a Jewish philosopher often grouped with Christian existentialists because of his profound influence on the movement. Buber’s masterpiece, I and Thou, suggests that there are two ways to engage with the world:

    1. I-It: Treating the world (and people) as objects to be used, categorized, or navigated. This is the realm of the “System.”
    2. I-Thou: A direct, mutual, and transformative encounter between two beings.

    To a Christian existentialist, God is the “Eternal Thou.” We do not find God by talking about Him (I-It), but by talking to Him and meeting Him in the “Thou” of our neighbor. In this view, religion isn’t a set of rules; it is a series of encounters.


    The Rebellion Against “Christendom”

    One of the most radical aspects of this movement—and the one that mirrors the “anti-system” sentiment we discussed last week—is its critique of organized religion, or what Kierkegaard called “Christendom.”

    Kierkegaard lived in a society where everyone was technically a “Christian” because they were born in Denmark and baptized in the state church. He saw this as a spiritual death. If everyone is a Christian, then no one is a Christian. True faith requires a choice. It requires the “Sovereign Individual” to stand alone before God, often in opposition to the crowd.

    The crowd, for the existentialist, is the “untruth.” The crowd provides “Bad Faith” (to use Sartre’s term) by allowing the individual to hide. “I’m just doing what the Church says,” or “I’m just following the Bible,” can become ways to avoid the terrifying responsibility of a personal relationship with the Divine. The Christian existentialist argues that you cannot outsource your soul to an institution.

    Facticity, Transcendence, and Grace

    Last week, we discussed the balance between Facticity (the brute facts of your life) and Transcendence (your ability to choose your meaning). Christian existentialism adds a third element to this equation: Grace.

    In the atheistic view, we are the sole creators of our values. We have the “brush in our hand,” but the canvas is lonely. In the Christian view, we still have the brush—we are still responsible for our actions and our “essence”—but we are painting in response to a “Call.”

    • The Struggle: We acknowledge our facticity (we are broken, finite, and destined to die).
    • The Transcendence: We assert our freedom to move beyond our circumstances.
    • The Grace: We realize that our freedom is a gift, and that even when we fail to live authentically, there is a Divine “Thou” who sustains us.

    The Critique: Can You Be Free and Obedient?

    Just as Marxism and Structuralism critiqued Sartre, Christian existentialism faces its own challenges.

    • The Secular Critique: Atheists argue that if you believe in God, you aren’t truly free. If there is a “Higher Authority,” then your choices are just a form of “following orders,” which is the definition of Bad Faith.
    • The Theological Critique: Traditionalists argue that existentialism is too “me-centered.” If truth is subjectivity, what stops a person from inventing a “God” that just happens to agree with all their own prejudices?

    The Christian existentialist rebuttal is that faith is a risk. It is not a comfort blanket; it is a “fear and trembling.” To obey God is not to follow a manual, but to enter into a terrifyingly personal commitment where the “rules” (like the ethical laws) are often suspended in favor of the “Divine command.”

    Conclusion: The Sovereignty of the Soul

    As we look back at last week’s “Rebellion Against the System,” we see that existentialism is not just one thing. It is a spectrum of responses to the modern condition.

    Atheistic existentialism gives us the dignity of the Self-Creator. It tells us that in a hollow universe, we are the ones who provide the light.

    Christian existentialism gives us the dignity of the Sovereign Individual before the Infinite. It tells us that we are more than our jobs, our biological functions, or our place in a “System.” It suggests that meaning is not something we make up out of thin air, but something we forge through a gutsy, irrational, and deeply personal “Yes” to a God who remains hidden behind the veil of the Absurd.

    Ultimately, whether you find yourself in a Parisian cafe or a Danish pew, the existentialist message remains the same: the “System” cannot save you. Whether you are rolling a boulder like Sisyphus or taking a leap like Kierkegaard, the responsibility for your life—and the “brush” in your hand—belongs to you alone. The universe may be silent, and the “System” may try to turn you into a cog, but as long as you exist, you have the freedom to choose how you will relate to the Mystery.

    Suggested Reading

    Note: As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases made through the links below. This helps support Current Philosophy at no additional cost to you.

    Modern Primers

    • “At the Existentialist Café” by Sarah Bakewell: A brilliant biographical history that brings these thinkers to life.
    • “The Heart of Kierkegaard” edited by Terry Moore: A great collection of his journals and most accessible essays.

    Theistic Foundations

    • “Fear and Trembling” by Søren Kierkegaard: The definitive text on the Leap of Faith and the radical isolation of the individual.
    • “The Mystery of Being” by Gabriel Marcel: A beautiful look at why life is a mystery to be lived, not a problem to be solved.
    • “I and Thou” by Martin Buber: The foundational text for relational existentialism and the encounter with the Divine.

    The Bridge to Modernity

    • “The Courage to Be” by Paul Tillich: A 20th-century classic that looks at how faith provides the courage to overcome the anxiety of “non-being.”
  • What is Existentialism? The Rebellion Against the System

    Existentialism is perhaps the most enduring “mood” in the history of Western thought. To the casual observer, it is synonymous with mid-century Parisian cafes, black turtlenecks, and a certain grim obsession with the pointlessness of life. However, beneath the cinematic aesthetic lies a rigorous, demanding, and ultimately transformative framework for understanding human agency.

    At its core, existentialism is the study of the individual’s struggle to find meaning in a universe that appears to offer none. It is a philosophy of action, a rejection of pre-determined “systems,” and a radical call to personal responsibility.


    The Origins: Gabriel Marcel and the Naming of a Movement

    To understand the definition of existentialism, one must first look at its naming—a process that was itself a point of philosophical contention. While Jean-Paul Sartre is the name most frequently associated with the movement, he did not coin the term. That credit belongs to Gabriel Marcel, a Catholic philosopher and dramatist.

    In 1943, Marcel used the term existentialisme to categorize the growing school of thought shared by Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir. Ironically, Sartre initially found the label reductive and rejected it. It was not until his landmark 1945 lecture, Existentialism is a Humanism, that Sartre adopted the term as a badge of honor to defend his ideas against public misconception.

    This historical nuance is vital. It reminds us that existentialism was never a monolithic “club.” It was a heated, decades-long conversation between:

    • Theistic Existentialists: Such as Marcel and Søren Kierkegaard, who argued that while we are free, our freedom finds its ultimate fulfillment in a relationship with the Divine.
    • Atheistic Existentialists: Such as Sartre and Beauvoir, who argued that because there is no God, humans are “abandoned” to create their own values from scratch.

    The Core Tenet: Existence Precedes Essence

    The foundational pillar of existentialist thought is Sartre’s dictum: “Existence precedes essence.”

    To appreciate the gravity of this statement, consider almost any object in our world—a paperknife, a clock, or a software program. For these objects, the “essence” (the purpose, blueprint, or definition) comes before the physical object ever exists. A craftsman has a concept of what the tool is before he builds it. Its purpose is fixed; it can never be anything other than what it was designed to be.

    Existentialists argue that human beings are the sole exception to this rule. We are “thrown” into the world without a blueprint. We appear on the scene, we exist, and only then do we define what we are through our actions. There is no “human nature” to hide behind, no biological destiny that dictates our character, and no divine script. As Sartre put it, “Man is nothing else but that which he makes of himself.”


    The Rebellion: Why Existentialism is an “Anti-System”

    Throughout the 18th and 19th centuries, philosophy was dominated by “System-Builders.” Thinkers like Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel attempted to create grand, logical architectures that could explain the entirety of history, logic, and the human spirit. In these systems, the individual was often treated as a mere component—a cog in the machinery of “Universal Reason.”

    Existentialism was born as a violent rebellion against these structures. Søren Kierkegaard, the 19th-century Dane often called the father of the movement, argued that systems are for abstract concepts, not living people.

    The Critique of Abstraction

    Kierkegaard pointed out a fundamental flaw in systematic philosophy: it can explain the mechanics of a heart, but it cannot explain the experience of a heartbreak. A system is static and dead; an existing individual is in a constant state of “becoming.” By the time a philosopher has built a system to describe life, life has already moved on.

    Is “Anti-System” Still a System?

    Critics often argue that by creating a vocabulary of “Authenticity,” “Bad Faith,” and “The Absurd,” existentialists simply built a new system in a different guise.

    • The Argument for “System”: If Sartre says we are “condemned to be free,” is that not a universal law? If Authenticity is the goal, is that not a new morality?
    • The Existentialist Rebuttal: The existentialist would argue that their philosophy is a method, not a system. A system provides answers (The “What”); a method provides tools (The “How”). Existentialism refuses to give the reader a map, insisting instead that they learn to navigate by their own internal compass.

    The Burden of Freedom: Anguish and Abandonment

    If existence precedes essence, then we are entirely responsible for our own definitions. This freedom is not a gift in the traditional sense; Sartre famously noted that we are “condemned to be free.” This “condemnation” stems from the fact that we did not choose to be born, yet once we are here, we are responsible for everything we do. This realization triggers three distinct psychological states:

    1. Anguish: This is the anxiety of realizing that our choices have weight. When I choose a path, I am not just choosing for myself; I am creating an image of what I believe a human being ought to be.
    2. Forlornness (Abandonment): This is the feeling of being alone in a universe without an external moral authority. If there is no “God’s-eye view” to validate our choices, we must realize that we are the sole source of value.
    3. Despair: This is the recognition that we can only rely on our own will and the probabilities that make our actions possible. We cannot control the external world; we can only control our commitment to our own projects.

    Authenticity vs. Bad Faith (Mauvaise Foi)

    If there is no objective meaning handed down from above, how should one live? The existentialist answer is Authenticity. To live authentically is to acknowledge one’s total freedom and take full ownership of the consequences.

    The opposite of authenticity is “Bad Faith.” This is the act of lying to ourselves to escape the “anguish” of freedom. We fall into Bad Faith whenever we say:

    • “I had no choice.”
    • “That’s just the way I am.”
    • “I’m just following orders.”

    Facticity and Transcendence

    To avoid Bad Faith, one must balance Facticity and Transcendence.

    • Facticity refers to the brute facts of your life: your place of birth, your body, your past.
    • Transcendence is your ability to project yourself beyond those facts.

    Bad Faith occurs when we lean too far into either. If you say, “I am just a waiter” as if it were a biological fact like your eye color, you are denying your transcendence. If you say, “I can fly” while ignoring gravity, you are denying your facticity. Authenticity is the thin line where you acknowledge the facts of your life while asserting your freedom to choose how you relate to them.


    The Absurd: Camus and Sisyphus

    While Sartre focused on freedom, Albert Camus explored The Absurd. The Absurd is not simply that life is meaningless; it is the “divorce” between the human mind’s desperate longing for order and the “unreasonable silence” of the universe.

    Camus famously used the Myth of Sisyphus to illustrate this. Sisyphus, condemned to roll a boulder up a hill for eternity only for it to roll back down, is the ultimate “absurd hero.” Camus argues that “the struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man’s heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.” By accepting the futility of the task and continuing anyway, Sisyphus triumphs over his fate.


    Critiques: Marxism and Structuralism

    No exploration of existentialism is complete without addressing those who sought to dismantle it.

    The Marxist Critique

    Marxists argued that Sartre’s “absolute freedom” was a luxury of the middle class. If a person is starving or working 16 hours a day in a factory, are they truly “free” to choose their essence? They argued that economic systems dictate our lives far more than individual choices do. Sartre eventually spent much of his later life trying to reconcile existentialism with Marxism, acknowledging that “need” can limit freedom.

    The Structuralist Critique

    In the 1960s, Structuralists like Claude Lévi-Strauss and Michel Foucault argued that we are “spoken by” our culture, language, and biology. They suggested that the “Individual” is an illusion and that we are actually just intersections of various unconscious systems. To them, the existentialist focus on “choice” was naive.


    Conclusion: The Sovereign Individual

    Despite these critiques, existentialism remains a vital philosophical force because it addresses the “inner life” that structuralism and sociology often overlook. It provides a framework for those moments when an individual stands at a crossroads and realizes that no system or external authority can make the final choice for them.

    Ultimately, existentialism suggests that meaning is not something to be discovered, but something to be forged. It proposes a philosophy of sovereignty rather than despair. By stripping away the comfort of “destiny” or “divine plan,” the movement leaves the individual with a challenging but potentially liberating premise: we are the sum of our actions.

    In the existentialist view, the universe may remain silent and the boulder may eventually roll back down the hill. However, as long as a person exists, the philosophy maintains that the “brush” remains in their hand. The canvas—however limited by the brute facts of history and biology—is still theirs to paint.

    Suggested Reading

    Note: As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases made through the links below. This helps support Current Philosophy at no additional cost to you.

    Modern Primers (The Entry Points)

    Theistic Foundations

    • Fear and Trembling” by Søren Kierkegaard: Explores the “leap of faith” and the radical isolation of the individual before God.
    • The Mystery of Being” by Gabriel Marcel: Explores the man who coined the term “existentialism” and his view of existence as a mystery to be lived rather than a problem to be solved.

    The Atheistic Height

    • Existentialism is a Humanism” by Jean-Paul Sartre: The most accessible entry point into Sartre’s thought and his primary defense of the movement.
    • The Ethics of Ambiguity” by Simone de Beauvoir: A masterpiece on how our personal freedom is intertwined with the freedom of others.
    • The Myth of Sisyphus” by Albert Camus: The definitive meditation on finding joy within the struggle of the Absurd.