And here we
come to the end. What is there to
say? As ever, I have many questions and
few answers. I have misgivings, I
suppose, about Solomon’s refusal to attempt to define existentialism; I think
Sartre’s concept of “essence,” the assigned cognitive construct of a thing that
differs from person to person; there is no idea why one definition should need
to be final, nor why an idea cannot evolve and shift from person to person, time
to time, context to context.
I’d
personally characterize the existentialist endeavor as exploring the problem of
how to live in an uncertain world without demonstrable meaning; I think this
definition robust. It ties to Camus’s
question of whether living is worthwhile at all, and his demonstration of the
absurdity of choice and meaning against the indifferent universe; it ties into
Kierkegaard’s embrace of “objective uncertainty” with the “passion of the
infinite”; it ties to de Unamuno’s recognition that action and moral value
cannot truly arise from rock-solid principles; it ties, ultimately, to Sartre,
who recognizes that we have no external recourse for actions, nothing that can
truly tell us how to act rightly, and so we are doomed to create value and
meaning through choice. This is Kierkegaard’s
“leap,” which Solomon speaks of in his ninth section; we can discover no
unquestionable criteria to guide choices in the world, so, in choosing, we
create our criteria.
Sartre, or,
perhaps, my reading of Sartre, goes farther; existence precedes essence, that
is, facticity exists far before any reflective comprehension, any mental
construct, fictional world posited by the mind and linked, hopefully, through
metaphor, simplification, and filtering, to the infinite, meaningless morass of
information that constitutes this complex world. It is filtering, selection of detail, that
absorbs and dissolves the atoms and their momenta, the specific, ever-shifting
arrangements, the vast empty spaces, and far more information besides contained
in a common chair into the construct of “chair” as a thing. The abstract, schematic concept created by
simple, limited perception alone already privileges and values some data (the
chair’s semi-dense arrangement of matter, the wavelengths of electromagnetic
radiation it reflects, complex, ever-shifting spatial arrangements elided under
such ideas as “texture” and “smell” and “weight”) over other information. Even before we reach prescription, we create
meaning with the simplest act of perception-which-is-description.
In light of
this, I suppose, I am either more humble, or, more likely, more cowardly than
Sartre; for, as explained in previous postings, I don’t see why I should think
of my actions as creating rightness or serving as a model for anyone save
myself. To be sure, I am responsible for
my actions’ consequences—absolutely responsible—but I have not the power nor
the reason to demand that any other should act as I would act in any given
situation, due to the characteristics in which we differ under our shared label
of “human.” No, I will simply act, in
accordance with my sentiments—socially created and experientially suggested
though they doubtless are—simply because I can see no other way to act and
pursue happiness. And with this, I am
content.