Existentialism is, in my view, the most exciting and important philosophical movement of the past century and a half. Fifty years after the French philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre gave it its identity and one hundred and fifty years after the Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard gave it its initial impetus, existentialism continues to win new enthusiasts and, in keeping with its still exciting and revolutionary message, vehement critics.
The message of existentialism, unlike that of many more obscure and academic philosophical movements, is about as simple as can be. It is that every one of us, as an individual, is responsible—responsible for what we do, responsible for who we are, responsible for the way we face and deal with the world, responsible, ultimately, for the way the world is. It is, in a very short phrase, the philosophy of "no excuses!" Life may be difficult; circumstances may be impossible. There may be obstacles, not least of which are our own personalities, characters, emotions, and limited means or intelligence. But, nevertheless, we are responsible. We cannot shift that burden onto God, or nature, or the ways of the world. If there is a God, we choose to believe. If nature made us one way, it is up to us to decide what we are to do with what nature gives us—whether to go along or fight back, to modify or transcend nature. As the delightfully priggish Kate Hepburn says to a wonderfully vulgar Humphrey Bogart in the movie The African Queen, "Nature is what we are put on this earth to rise above." That is what existentialism is all about. We are responsible for ourselves.
There are no excuses.
But to say that the basic message of existentialism is quite simple and straightforward is not to say that the philosophers or the philosophies that make up the movement are simple and straightforward. The movement itself is something of a fabrication. None of the major existentialist figures, Kierkegaard, Nietzsche, Heidegger, and Camus only excepting Sartre would recognize themselves as part of a "movement" at all. Kierkegaard and Nietzsche were both ferocious individualists who vehemently rejected all movements. To belong to a philosophical movement, each of them would have said, would be to show cowardice and a lack of integrity, to be simply one of the "herd." Heidegger was deeply offended when he was linked with Sartre as one of the existentialists, and he publicly denounced the association. Camus and Sartre once were friends, but they quarreled over politics and Camus also broke the association and publicly rejected it.
Many of the other writers and philosophers who have been associated with the movement would have been equally hesitant to embrace the title had they known of it. The main exceptions were those who have wanted or needed to derive some fame and notoriety by associating themselves with existentialism. In the 1950s in the United States, for example, Norman Mailer proudly took up the title, giving it his own definition, "hip."
The existentialists’ writings, too, are by no means simple and straightforward. Kierkegaard and Nietzsche write beautifully but in such challenging, often disjointed, exhortations that trying to summarize or systematize their thoughts is something of a hopeless venture. Heidegger is among the most difficult writers in the entire history of philosophy, and even Sartre—a lucid literary writer when he wants to be imitates some of the worst elements of Heidegger’s notorious style. Much of the challenge of this course of lectures, accordingly, is to free the exciting and revolutionary message of existentialism from its often formidable textual enclosures.
The course begins, after a brief introduction to the historical context and the very notion of "existentialism," with a discussion of the twentieth-century writer and philosopher Albert Camus (1913—1960). Chronologically, Camus is already late in the game. (We will trace existentialist ideas as far back as Kierkegaard and Nietzsche in the mid-nineteenth century, but we will not explore those figures, say Socrates or Saint Augustine—who with some justification might be called their predecessors.) Philosophically, it is often said that Camus is more of a literary figure, a lyrical essayist, than a philosopher. But the art of persuasive personal writing rather than dry philosophical analysis is one of the earmarks of existentialism. (Even the obscure writings of Martin Heidegger [1889—1976] are remarkable in their rhetorical and emotional efficacy.)
In this sense, Camus is exemplary in his combination of deep contemplation and often poetic writing and, because his ideas are less complex than the probing and systematic works of the other existential writers before him, he makes an ideal beginning. We will start with his most famous novel, The Stranger, published in the early 1940s, which combines a disturbingly "flat" descriptive style with a horrifying sequence of events, introducing us to a character whose reactions to the world are indeed "strange." It is our reaction to this character, however, that makes the novel so deeply philosophical. What is it that makes him so strange? The answer to that question starts us thinking about the way we think about ourselves and each other, what we take for granted and do not normally notice.
After an analysis of The Stranger, I want to take us through a number of Camus’s later works, beginning with a philosophical essay he wrote about the same time, The Myth of Sisyphus, in which he introduces his infamous concept of "The Absurd." Then, in Lectures Five and Six, I want to examine two later novels, The Plague and The Fall (the last novel Camus published in his lifetime, although his daughter recently published an unfinished novel he was working on at the time of his death). My aim in these first half dozen lectures will be to set a certain mood for the rest of the course, a rebellious, restless, yet thoroughly conscientious mood, which I believe Camus exemplifies both in his writings and in his life.
In Lectures Seven through Nine, I want to turn to the Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard (1813—1855) and his revolutionary work. Kierkegaard was a deeply religious philosopher—a pious Christian—and his existentialist thought was devoted to the question, "What does it mean to be—or rather, what does it mean to become—a Christian?" We should thus be advised that, contrary to some popular misunderstandings, existentialism is by no means an anti-religious or unspiritual philosophy. It can and often does embrace God, as well as a host of visions of the world that we can, without apology, call "spiritual."(We will see that Nietzsche and Heidegger both embrace such visions, although in very different ways.)
In Lectures Ten through Thirteen, I want to consider in some detail the philosophy of Friedrich Nietzsche (1844—1900) and his role in this rather eccentric movement. Nietzsche is perhaps best known for his bold declaration "God is dead." He is also well known as a self-proclaimed "immoralist." In fact, both of these phrases are misleading. Nietzsche was by no means the first person to say that God is dead (Martin Luther had said it three centuries before), and Nietzsche himself was anything but an immoral person. He attacks morality—or rather, he attacks one conception of morality—but nevertheless he defends a profound view of ethics and human nature.
In Lecture Fourteen, I want to turn briefly to three diverse but exemplary figures from the history of literature. All three display existentialist themes and temperaments in their works: Fyodor Dostoevsky (1821—1881), the great Russian novelist; Franz Kafka (1883—1924), the brilliant Czech novelist and story writer; and Hermann Hesse (1877—1962), a twentieth-century Swiss writer who combined a fascination with Asian philosophy with a profoundly Nietzschean interest and temperament.
In Lecture Fifteen, I would like to briefly introduce the philosophical method of a philosopher who could not be further from the existentialist temperament but yet had a profound influence on both Heidegger and Sartre. He is the German-Czech philosopher Edmund Husserl (1859—1938), who invented a philosophical technique called "phenomenology." Both Heidegger and Sartre, at least at the beginning of their careers, thought of themselves as phenomenologists. In the rest of that lecture and in Lectures Sixteen and Seventeen, I would like to consider Martin Heidegger’s very difficult but extremely insightful philosophy.
Finally, in Lectures Eighteen through Twenty-Three, I want to consider the philosophy of Jean-Paul Sartre (1905—1980), and in Lecture Twenty-Four, I would like to finish with a comparison and contrast with French philosophy since his time. My suggestion will be that much of what is best in "postmodernism" is taken more or less directly from Sartre, despite the fact that he is typically attacked as the very antithesis of postmodernism. Existentialism, I want to argue, was and is not just another French intellectual fashion but a timely antidote to some of the worst self-(mis)understandings of the end of the century.
How should one approach these lectures? My advice on the lecture on The Stranger is a good example of how I think each lecture should be approached. Although the lectures are self-contained, it would be ideally desirable to read the "Essential Reading" (in this case, the novel) before hearing or viewing the lecture. That way, you come to the lecture ready to question and challenge with your interpretation and ideas. This will be true even for the very difficult readings from Heidegger and Sartre. It is very helpful to have contact with their style and vocabulary even if the ideas at first seem impenetrable. Initial contact is even more desirable with our other two major authors, Kierkegaard and Nietzsche. Both write in a strikingly personal, provocative style, and nothing will impress the reader more than an immediate, first-hand confrontation with their witty and sometimes shocking aphorisms and observations.
Of course, many if not most viewers of the lectures will not have the opportunity to read the material before every lecture. I do suggest, however, that some attempt be made to read the essential material soon after. (I hope the lectures entice one to do so.) The questions are designed to help the reader straighten out the ideas and vocabulary, make various comparisons, and most important, work out his or her own views regarding the material in the lectures. In general, the introductory questions presume only a hearing of the lectures and perhaps some of the essential reading. The advanced questions invite further reading and more extensive thought.
Existentialism is, first of all, a philosophy of life, a philosophy about who we are. The ultimate intent of the course, accordingly, is not only to inform the viewer about a very exciting philosophy but also to enrich his or her life and make all of us think about who we are in a very new and bold way. The main texts for the lectures can be found in Robert C. Solomon, ed., Existentialism (New York: McGraw Hill/Modern Library, 1974). Secondary texts that follow the perspective of the lectures can be found in Robert C. Solomon, From Rationalism to Existentialism (Rowman and Littlefield, 1979), and Continental Philosophy Since 1750 (Oxford University Press, 1988).
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