SECOND YEAR - SECOND SEMESTER
Unit 11 – Sartre
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Lecture 2
The Ethics of Absolute Freedom
David Banach
I.
Individuality,
Freedom, and Ethics.
The modern conception of man is
characterized, more than anything else, by individualism.
Existentialism can be seen as a rigorous
attempt to work out the implications of this individualism.
The purpose of this lecture is to makes
sense of the Existentialist conception of individuality and the
answers it
gives to these three questions: (1) What is human freedom? What can
the
absolute freedom of absolute individuals mean? (2) What is human
flourishing or
human happiness? What general ethic or way of life emerges when we
take our
individuality seriously? (3) What ought we to do? What ethics or code
of action
can emerge from a position that takes our individuality seriously. Although I am sure you will
want to take a
critical look at the assumptions from which Existentialism arises in
your
seminars, I will be attempting, sympathetically, to see what follows
if one
takes these assumptions seriously.
Let's begin by seeing what it could
mean to say we are absolute individuals.
When you think of it, each of us is alone in the world.
Only we feel our pains, our pleasures, our
hopes, and our fears immediately, subjectively, from the inside. Other people only see us
from the outside,
objectively, and, hard as we may try, we can only see them from the
outside. No one else can
feel what we
feel, and we cannot feel what is going on in any one else's mind.
Actually,
when you think of it, the only
thing we ever perceive immediately and directly is ourselves and the
images and
experiences in our mind. When
we look
at another person or object, we don't see it directly as it is; we see
it only
as it is represented in our own experience.
When you feel the seat under your rear-end, do you really feel
the seat
itself or do you merely feel the sensations transmitted to you by
nerve endings
in your posterior?. When
you look at
the person next to you (contemplating how their rear-end feels), do
you really
see them as they are on the inside or feel what they feel? You see
only the
image of them that is presented to your mind through your senses. This is easily demonstrated
by considering
how our senses deceive us in optical illusions, but one simple example
will
have to suffice here. [split
image
demonstration] It seems, then, that we are minds trapped in bodies,
only
perceiving the images transmitted to us through our bodies and their
senses.
Each of us is trapped within our own
mind, unable to feel anything but our own feelings and experiences. It is as if each of us is
trapped in a dark
room with no windows. Our
only access to
the outside world being a television screen on one wall on which we
(with our mind's
eye) perceive the images of other people, places, and things.
Thus, to be an absolute individual is to be
trapped within ourselves, unable to perceive or contact anything but
the images
on our mental tv screen, and to be imperceptible ourselves to anyone
outside of
us. In a world where
science has opened
up and laid bare the nature of subatomic particles, far-away planets,
and the
workings of our very own bodies and brains, it is to remain,
ourselves, hidden
from the objective view. It
is to be an
island of subjectivity in an otherwise objective world.
II. The Existentialist View of
Human
Freedom.
What view of human nature can emerge
from this view of the individual? One such view is the view of human
nature
identified with the name Existentialism.
Sartre says that what all existentialists, both atheistic and
christian,
share in common "... is that they think that existence precedes
essence,
or, if you prefer, that subjectivity must be the starting point."
(EHE, p.
13) Sartre explains what this means by contrasting it with the
opposite slogan:
ESSENCE PRECEDES EXISTENCE. He
uses the
example of a paper-cutter to explain how the old view treated human
beings as
artifacts, whose nature is tied to a preconceived essence and to a
project
outside of them, rather than as absolute individuals. He says in Existentialism and Human Emotions:
Let
us consider some object that is manufactured, for example, a
book or a paper-cutter: here is an object which has been made by an
artisan
whose inspiration came from a concept.
He referred to the concept of what a paper-cutter is ... . Thus, the paper-cutter is
at once an object
produced in a certain way and, on the other hand, one having a
specific use ...
. Therefore, let us say
that, for the
paper-cutter, essence ... precedes existence. (EHE, pp. 13-14)
Of
course,
the artisan in our case is God.
Sartre
continues:
When
we conceive of God as the Creator, He is generally thought of as a
superior
sort of artisan. ...
Thus the concept
of man in the mind of God is comparable to the concept of the
paper-cutter in
the mind of the manufacturer... .
Thus,
the individual man is the realization of a certain concept in the
divine
intelligence. (EHE, p. 14)
On
this
view, the one Sartre is attacking, we get our nature from outside of
us, from a
being who created us with a preconceived idea of what we were to be
and what we
were to be good for. Our
happiness and
our fulfillment consist in our living up to the external standards
that God had
in mind in creating us. Both
our nature
and our value come from outside of us.
According to the existentialist,
however, EXISTENCE PRECEDES ESSENCE.
Sartre explains:
What
is meant here by saying that existence precedes essence? It
means that first of all, man exists, turns up, appears on the scene,
and, only
afterwards, defines himself. ...
Not
only is man what he conceives himself to be, but he is also only what
he wills
himself to be after this thrust toward existence.
Man is nothing else
but
what he makes of himself. (EHE, p. 15)
Thus,
there
is no human nature which provides us with an external source of
determination
and value. Sartre says:
If
existence really does precede essence, there is no explaining
things away by reference to a fixed and given human nature.
In other words, there is no determinism, man
is free, man is freedom.
Nothing
outside
of us can determine what we are and what we are good for; we must do
it
ourselves, from the inside. What
we
will be and what will be good for us is a radically individual matter.
If we
are radical individuals, there is no place else for our nature and
value to
come from, except from within us.
It is
this view of human nature, or the lack thereof, from which the
existentialist
conceptions of freedom and value flow.
We are now in a position to begin to answer the first of our
three
main questions: What is human freedom? What, exactly can the freedom
of an
absolute individual consist of? At first, it may seem clear that if we
are
islands of subjectivity, isolated from the forces of the outside
world, we not
only are capable of acting freely of outside determination, but we
cannot help
doing so since the only possible sources of action are internal. The situation, however, is
somewhat more
complex than this. To
understand what
freedom is for the Existentialist we must first see how, even though
our
inescapable nature is to be free, we all inevitably tend to try to
escape our
freedom. We all tend to
act in what
Sartre calls 'bad faith'. We
attempt to
deceive ourselves and act as if we weren't free, as if we were really
determined by our nature, our body, or the expectations of other
people.
The picture we drew earlier of the
human individual trapped in a dark room perceiving the world only
through our
mental TV screens was too simple, for humans have a dual nature. Among the things we find on
the mental tv
screen, besides objects, other people, emotions, and desires, is
ourselves. I see my
body, and this
thing I see is me. The
human condition,
for the Existentialist is a tension, a vertiginous imbalance, between
the self
that watches these images, standing apart from them, and the self that
appears
as an image. Just as I
feel an
imbalance upon walking into a department store and finding that one of
the
people on the video monitor is ME (caught by some unseen camera); or
just as we
feel a tension looking in the mirror wondering how the person in the
glass can
be ME if I am standing out here looking at it; so the self feels a
tension
between identifying itself with mind's eye behind the screen (standing
apart
from the give and take, the flux and flow, of our experience) and the
images of
us that appear as part of our experience (engaged in the world).
Thus, we all have the tendency to
act in bad faith, to identify ourselves with one of the pictures we
find on our
mental TV screen, and to see ourselves as determined by one of the
outside
influences we find pictured there: our nature, our body, the physical
world, or
the expectations and pictures other people have of us.
We are all familiar with the ways in which
we try to excuse our actions by pretending that we are simply our
bodies and
are controlled by the forces that determine them. We have all said things like:
I
can't talk to people, I just don't have that kind of
personality.
I
can't pass this course, I'm just don't have the brain for
calculus.
I
can't help the fact that I was born a man (or a woman); Certain
things come naturally for certain types of people. (Says the man who can't take care of his children, or the
woman
who can't fix her car.)
I'm
no good at this; I guess I just wasn't made to go to college.
Gee,
I'm sorry about last night.
I guess my hormones just got out of control.
I'm
sorry I bit your head off yesterday. I must be premenstrual.
I
don't know what happened.
I guess the beer made me crazy.
In
these
cases, I am identifying myself with one of the pictures of me I find
on my
mental TV screen: I am my body, or my brain, or my personality, or my
hormones. In each of
these cases, I am
deceiving myself. I am
more than just
these, and no matter how I try to avoid it, I am free.
We are
also familiar with the way we all
play roles, identifying ourselves, or seeing ourselves, in terms of
how other
people see us, letting other people determine what we are instead of
deciding,
ourselves, what we will be. We
all to
some extent tend to make ourselves into the image other people have of
us. We are a different
person with our friends
than with our parents. We are a different person with a lover than
with our
acquaintances, and we are different still when we are in the classroom
or at a
job interview. It is
often easier to
let someone else determine what we will be than to do it ourselves,
especially
when we see our value in terms of the acceptance we get from other
people. We all see
little pictures of ourselves
projected by other people and we often tend to try to make ourselves
into these
little pictures by playing roles.
We
play at being college students out for a good time, at being macho men
or
nurturing women, at being sons or daughters, at being businesswomen,
policemen,
scientists. We play at
being students
taking notes, and professors giving lectures.
We play the roles; we make ourselves into characters in the
plays; we
make ourselves into little pictures on our mental tv screen determined
by the
script written by the expectations of other people.
But all of this is
self-deception. We are
more than any of
the pictures we find on our mental tv screen.
We stand behind it, watching it, making of it what we will. It is impossible to
abdicate our
freedom. In choosing to
identify
ourselves with some externally determined object we are choosing none
the less.
We cannot escape our freedom.
One might well ask at this point,
"What does this freedom consist of.
Am I free to become George Bush right now? Am I free to become
a woman
(without some fairly extensive and unpleasant surgery)? Am I free to
fly up to
the ceiling and hover above your heads? Am I free to close my eyes
right now
and find myself in the Bahamas when I reopen them? Unfortunately,it appears not. How, then, can I be free when
most
of my external circumstances are determined by forces beyond my
control, when I
cannot help where I was born, what type of body I have, and what type
of
abilities my brain has predisposed me towards?"
The answer to these questions lies
in the nature of our radical individuality.
I am not identical with any of the externally determined images
on my
mental TV screen. I am
forever beyond
the reach of their determinations within the island of my
subjectivity.[1] Even if I were a puppet, my
body and its
actions completely controlled by some malevolent master, what I am, my
mind's
eye would still be free and untouched.
I could still be free to rebel against my master or make
whatever I
wished of the situation. They
can do
what they want to my body, manipulate the objects or pictures of me on
my
mental TV screen, but they can never touch or control the real me. The self within its island
of subjectivity
is radically free in virtue of its radical individuality.
Furthermore, I have control over the
content of my TV screen as well.
External circumstances may determine the objects that appear,
how they
appear, and when they appear, but I control how these various
components will
be put together into a coherent picture.
Sartre compares the type of freedom we have to that of an
artist (EHE,
pp. 42-43). An artist
cannot control
the nature of the canvas, nor of the paints that she has to work with. Nor can she control the
nature of the
subjects she will paint. But
she can
control how she will view them, how she will put these various
elements
together into a unique whole. Likewise,
we
may not be able to control the various elements within our experience
that
come from outside us, but we can view them and combine them in any way
we
like. Our experience is
not any one of
these; it is the way in which we combine these into a unified whole. We have the power to edit
the frames which
constitute our experience into the film that is to be our life.
We all know the power of good editing, of
the creative juxtaposition of determinate elements. It can transform experience; make the ugly beautiful and the
ordinary, sublime.
Our freedom is, thus, a freedom of
synthesis. It is the
freedom to pull
ourselves together into the type of coherent whole that we will
ourselves to
be. Even if the raw
materials from
which we construct ourselves are determined (just as the materials of
the
artist are determined), what
we make of
ourselves out of these materials is up to us alone (just as what the
artist
makes of her subject is up to her alone).
We can not make the external world determine this even if we
try. The sentence of
freedom is the necessity of
pulling ourselves together at each moment out of the myriad different
influences imposing themselves upon us from the environment, our
community,and
from our own bodies. We
are required to
make ourselves, to pull ourselves together, and we can make of
ourselves what
we will.
The answer to our first question is,
then, that we can be free because (1) Our absolute individuality
isolates our
real self from the determining influences of the outside world; we can
always
rebel against its influence; and (2) Even though the raw material that
makes up
our experience is determined by outside influences we are free to put
these
elements together into a unified whole; we must make ourselves anew at
each
moment, and what we shall make of ourselves is up to us.
We now need to see what view of human
happiness and of morality arise from this conception of human freedom. Both of these can be summed
up by the single
slogan BE AUTHENTIC. The
secret of
human flourishing and of moral action lies in avoiding bad faith and
honoring
the responsibility we have to create our own nature and values.
The Existentialist enjoins us to be
ourselves and make the source of our nature and values our own
internal
decisions rather than the pictures of ourselves that appear in our
minds from
external sources. Let us
now see what
view of human happiness this implies.
III. The Existentialist View of
Human
Happiness.
Existentialism is often associated
with such themes as the absurdity of human existence and the
worthlessness of our
lives given our inevitable death.
One
might well wonder what view of happiness could arise from such a view. Sartre characterizes the
human condition by
(1) our forlorness at the loss of external values and determinants of
our
nature; (2) anguish at the resultant responsibility to create human
nature
ourselves; and (3) despair of finding value outside of ourselves and
reliance
upon what is under our own control.
Forlorness, anguish, and despair: Mr. Sartre, it would seem,
was not a
happy camper. For
another 20th century
French existentialist philosopher Albert Camus, however, the loss of
any
external source of value did not present quite such a dismal prospect.[2]
Camus compares our situation to that
of the mythical figure Sisyphus.
In his
essay "The Myth of Sisyphus" he explains that:
The
Gods had condemned Sisyphus to ceaselessly rolling a rock to
the top of a mountain, whence the stone would fall back of its own
weight. They had thought
with some reason that there
is no more dreadful punishment than futile and hopeless labor. (MS, p.
88)
It
is easy
to see the similarity between this situation and ours according to the
Existentialist. Just as
Sisyphus can
find no end to his activities, no final resting place where he has
finally
reached his goal or lived up to some set of pre-existing standards, so
we find
that all of our activities lead to nowhere. There are no external
values that
we can live up to, no external viewpoint from which our life can be
viewed to
be valuable. Our life is
a series of meaningless
actions culminating in death, with no possibility of external
justification. Yet,
Camus will say that
we must imagine Sisyphus (and ourselves) happy? "One must imagine Sisyphus happy." (MS, p. 91)
Why?
Why would this fool be happy eternally rolling a ball up a
hill, and why
should we be happy rolling our ball up the hill to nowhere?
At first, when one was still
expecting to get ones value from outside of oneself, all this might
seem
depressing. Camus says:
When
images of the earth cling to tightly to memory, when the call
of happiness becomes to insistent, it happens that melancholy rises in
man's
heart:this is the rock's victory this is the rock itself.
The boundless grief is to heavy to bear.
These are our nights in Gethsemane.
But crushing truths perish from being
acknowledged.
..............................................
Sisyphus,
proletarian of the gods, powerless and rebellious, knows
the whole extent of his wretched condition: it is what he thinks of
during his
descent. The lucidity
that was to
constitute his torture at the same time crowns his victory.There is no
fate
that cannot be surmounted by scorn.
(MS,
p. 90)
As
we saw
before, no matter what his external circumstances, Sisyphus is always
free to
make of them what he will, to rebel
against them within his island of subjectivity.
No matter what the Gods make him do, he is
always free to give the Gods one of these [defiant gesture].
I remember when I first read this
(as a senior in high school) thinking that this was sort of a stupid
response
to the absurdity of the human condition.
What sense does it make to give one of these [defiant gesture]
to a
non-existent God whose absence is the source of the absurdity of our
lives. What are we
rebelling against? There must be
more to the existentialist conception of happiness than this, I
thought.
And there was. The despair
and rebellion we feel at the loss of our external sources of value are
the
necessary price of a greater value and happiness that comes from
within. One must lose
all hope of external value
before seeking value within. The
theme
that true happiness must come from within is one that is familiar to
all of us,
and it is the key to understanding the existentialist conception of
happiness.
Two contemporary folk tails embody
this existentialist theme well: The Wizard of Oz and How the Grinch
Stole
Christmas. This common
theme probably
does not show that these are existentialist works, but only that the
American
emphasis on self-reliance and internalism flows from the same
individualist
emphasis as Existentialism. In
the
Wizard of Oz there is an external realm, somewhere over the rainbow,
where
everything is as it should be and all problems are solved.
There is a wizard who will give us brains, a
heart, courage, and happiness. When
Dorothy
got there and discovered that Oz was full of the same type of evil as
Kansas, when they discovered that the Wizard was a hoax, that there
was nothing
outside of them that was going to make them what they wanted to be,
they were
understandably depressed. But
this
disappointment was the necessary price of an important lesson: that
the only
place they could get a brain, or a heart, or courage was from within. Dorothy learns that if she
ever loses
anything that cannot be found within her own back yard, it wasn't
really lost
at all. There is no
place like Home.
(Especially if you are an island of subjectivity, for then there is no
place
but home.) The value one gets from within is infinitely better than
the value
one vainly attempts to get from outside.
The story of the Grinch shows why
this is so. At first
when the Who's in
Whoville woke up to find that the Grinch had stolen their Bamboozlers
and
Dingdangers, they were at first very disappointed. They thought that the value of Christmas was in these
external
things. What they
discovered, and what
the grinch discovered looking out over Whoville listening for sounds
of grief
and hearing, instead, the sounds of joy, was that their real value
came from
within and was greater than any value that could come from external
things
since it couldn't be taken away.
A common
theme in existentialist
literature is the transformation that can occur in one's outlook on
life when
one is forced to face death. One
of the
founders of Existentialism, the 19th century Russian novelist Fyodor
Dostoevsky, actually had such a brush with death transform his life. He was involved in some
activities that ran
afoul of the Czar and was among the people rounded up in one of the
Czar's
crackdowns. He was told
that he would
be executed. He was
blindfolded and
made to wait his turn to face death.
At
the last minute, as Dostoevsky prepared to meet death, he got a
reprieve. It turned out
that he was to be sent to a
labor camp instead and that this had merely been a cruel joke.
One might imagine that if one could face
one's death, face the impossibility of getting any value from any
external
accomplishments, and still find value within oneself, that value would
be invulnerable. It
could never be taken away. What else
could they do to you?
If, after all sources of external
value have been taken away, you can find value within yourself, you
would have
found what philosophers have been looking for throughout the ages: a
way of
achieving human happiness that is not vulnerable to the uncontrollable
contingencies of the natural world.
If
we find ourselves isolated from external value by our radical
individuality, we
can make a world of ourselves, a universe of our own experience, in
which we
can and must find ourselves happy.
Camus writes of Sisyphus:
The
absurd man says yes and his effort will henceforth be
unceasing. ... he knows
himself to be
the master of his days. At
that subtle
moment when man glances backward over his life, Sisyphus returning
toward his
rock, in that slight pivoting he contemplates that series of unrelated
actions
which becomes his fate, created by him, combined under his memory's
eye and
soon sealed by his death.
............................................
But
Sisyphus teaches a higher fidelity that negates the gods and
raises rocks. He too
concludes that all
is well. This universe
henceforth
without a master seems to him neither sterile nor futile.
Each atom of that stone, each mineral flake
of that night-filled mountain, in itself forms a world.
The struggle itself toward the heights is
enough to fill a man's heart. One
must
imagine Sisyphus happy. (MS, p.91)
The
Existentialist's secret of happiness,
then, is to get ones
value from within
oneself. In doing so,
one loses the
promise of external value, but they find a more real happiness, one
that cannot
be taken away by the external forces beyond their control.
IV. The Ethics of Absolute
Freedom.
This
conception of happiness, however, raises
our third question: How ought we act towards other people? If the
source of our
value and nature is wholly internal, what obligations can I have to
other
humans? Can I freely and authentically choose to kill my mother, as
Orestes
does? Can I choose to be a murderer, a thief, or an exploiter of
humanity? Is
it true, as some Existentialist were fond of pointing out, that if God
is dead
then all things are allowable? I'm sure that you will want to discuss
this
issue, as it arises in The Flies, in your seminars, but I would like
to briefly
present you with what I take to be Sartre's three-fold response to
this
question in Existentialism and Human Emotions.
(1)
First, in choosing our own human
nature, according to Sartre, we choose human nature for all humans. Hence, we must choose
courses of action that
we would wish all humans to take. In choosing for ourselves, we choose
for all
men. This must be the
case because, in
order to act freely, I cannot allow myself to be affected by my
peculiar
circumstances, desires, or goals. This would be to act in bad faith,
to try to
identify myself with my desires, or my plans, or my circumstances, and
these
are all merely pictures on my mental TV screen. When I act freely, the only things that can affect my action
must
be things that I share with all free agents.
Thus, I must choose in the same way I would want others to
choose. To say that one
must act authentically is to
say that one must act in a way that ignores the differences between
oneself and
other people. After all,
these
differences are merely external and do not affect our identity as free
agents,
within our islands of subjectivity.
To
be free, then, I must follow the golden rule and act only as I would
have
others act.
(2)
Sartre also argues that in order to
be free, we must desire the freedom of all men. It is self-defeating to attempt to use other humans as
objects to
satisfy our desires, or to protect our freedom at the cost of
enslaving others. If I
attempt to enslave others or use them as
objects, I make myself a slave and an object.
The person who attempts to dominate other people finds himself
a slave
to his dependence on the attention and approval of the people he tries
to
enslave. Think of the
tough guy leader
of a clique of teenagers. He
defines
himself in terms of the expectations of his peers to keep their
approval and
admiration. He makes
himself into a
character controlled by the very slaves of whom he takes himself to be
the
master. The person who
uses other
people as objects to satisfy his desires makes himself an object. He can see other people
only through his
desires, and ultimately sees himself only as his desire.
The manipulator, who attempts to buy and
sell other people for his own ends, finds that he has sold his own
soul as well
by seeing himself merely as his desires.
To see others as slaves of our desire is to make ourselves a
slave of
desire. To be free, we
must desire the
freedom of all men.
(3)
Third, the free decisions that we
make are not merely arbitrary. As
we
saw earlier, freedom does not mean just being able to do anything.
The artist is free to create; she does not follow any explicit
rules. Yet her action is
constrained by
the requirement that her creation must be coherent. In order to be her creation, she must pull the various
disparate
elements that go into the painting into one unified whole.
Her freedom is a freedom of synthesis
constrained by the material she has to work with and the requirement
that she
make some one unified thing out of it.
In the same way, our actions must unify the many different
influences on
our lives into the one life that is to be ours. In pulling ourselves together, we cannot ignore the
relationships
and obligations that provide the raw materials of our lives.
We must weave them into our lives, although
how we will do this is up to us.
Our
actions, though free, are constrained by our situation in a community. Orestes, as you shall see
in The Flies, is
not free to ignore his family, his country, and his mother's crime. Why does he not just leave,
as Zeus
suggests?
The
ethics of absolute freedom, it would
seem, are not absolutely free. To
be
free we must take on the responsibility of choosing for all men, we
must desire
and work for the freedom of all men, and we must create ourselves
within the
context of the relationships and obligations we have to other people.
Is the
ethic of absolute freedom a
portrait of human greatness? Human excellence often defines itself in
the
struggle against the forces that oppose human flourishing.
Existentialism attempts to find happiness,
value, and meaning in a modern world characterized by isolation,
inauthenticity, and absurdity. It
attempts
to see what human excellence can consist of if we find ourselves to be
islands
of subjectivity in an otherwise objective world. You will certainly want to ask if this is in fact what we
find
ourselves to be, but can it be doubted that the Existentialist attempt
to find
meaning in the face of
absurdity
exemplifies the basic drive that all portraits of human excellence
must embody.
References
(MS) Camus, Albert. The Myth of
Sisyphus and
Other Essays (trans. by Justin O'Brien). New York: Vintage, 1955.
(EHE)
Sartre,
Jean-Paul. Existentialism and Human Emotions (Trans. by Bernard
Frechtman). New York: Philosophical Library, 1957.