-Albert Camus, The Myth of SisyphusI leave Sisyphus at the foot of the mountain! One always finds one's burden again. But Sisyphus teaches the 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. 1
Yes, one must imagine Sisyphus happy. And we may add that, I suppose, to the compendium of great last lines, along with “And then they were upon her,” and “Workers of the world, unite!” Certainly, Camus found it easy to imagine Sisyphus happy, but why? Because he thinks that Sisyphus can accept his struggle against the futility of man's existence, because he plays the role of the perfect existential hero in the face of an absurd world. Sisyphus, if you’ll remember... oh, I’ll just let Camus tell you-
I was left with a profound sense of dissatisfaction when I finished reading Camus' The Myth of Sisyphus. It's not that I cannot imagine Sisyphus happy; I can, and do, but for reasons that Camus didn't mention. It's just that I could not help but to think that Camus missed the point, and completely misunderstood the meaning of the Ancient Greek myth. Is it possible that he had committed a classic rational fallacy? Yes, I think so- how does he know that human life is pointless? Well, just take a look at the myth of Sisyphus- even the Ancient Greeks knew. But how does he know what the myth is really about? Well, it's about the pointlessness of human existence, just take a look at the absurd world. Now that looks like circular reasoning to me. And what's this about “futile and hopeless labor?” What if it could be shown that Sisyphus' task is nothing of the sort?The gods had condemned Sisyphus to ceaselessly rolling a rock to the top of a mountain, whence the stone would fall back on its own weight. They had thought with some reason that there is no more dreadful punishment than futile and hopeless labor...Mercury came and seized the impudent man by the collar and, snatching him from his joys, led him forcibly back to the underworld, where his rock was ready for him. 2
I would love to argue with Camus, or at least tell him of my concerns, but unfortunately, he's dead. One night, whilst considering these questions, turning them over in my mind again and again, I fell asleep; and then, Camus was kind enough- and generous enough- to appear to me in a dream. In this dream, we discussed philosophy, life, and more pertinent and productive questions than the ones he raised in The Myth of Sisyphus, and, met a couple of interesting characters as well. At the start of this dream, I found myself in Hades. I knew where I was, because off in the gray, foggy distance, I observed Sisyphus himself, rolling his stone up the side of that mountain, watching it roll down the other side, and then, descending the mountain, positioning himself on the other side of the stone, and beginning his labor again. Then, another figure emerged from the fog, beyond the mountain, and strolled towards me. Just as I was able to make out the features on his face, he glanced over his shoulder at Sisyphus, walked towards me again, then stopped when he was right in front of me.
I spoke first- “Who are you?” I asked.
“I am Albert Camus,” he answered, although I suspected I already knew. “I once wrote a book about the unfortunate gentleman behind me.”
“Yes, I know,” I replied. “I'm glad that you showed up. I'd like to discuss that very book with you right now.”
“You have some questions for me?” asked Al.
“Indeed I do. I really enjoyed your book, but I couldn't help but think that you... how should I put this... that you were, um, 'begging the question.' Do you know what I mean?”
“No, I don't think I do. I've heard of 'begging the question,' but I don't think I'm guilty of it myself.” he replied.
“Well,” I continued, “You're assuming the truth of that which you should be trying to prove.”
“Now that sounds interesting. But, what exactly do you mean?”
At least now I had his attention. “You start out with the point of view that human life is absurd, futile, pointless-”
“Ah, yes!” he interrupted. “But isn't that much obvious? And isn't the myth of Sisyphus the perfect proof of it?”
“Well,” I said, “that's what I mean. You haven't proven that. You've just pointed to some ancient myth and said, 'there, that's my proof'...'”
“Wait!” Al interrupted. “Let's suppose I am 'begging the question' as you say. Then I'll just discard it as an argument for the moment. Even you could admit, I think, that the myth was meant to analogize the futility of existence?”
“Well, there you go again. You're still begging the question. You haven't discarded the argument after all.”
“But certainly you can see-” he continued, “the utter futility and hopelessness of ceaselessly rolling a rock to the top of a hill...”
“Yes, I know,” I said, as I felt it was now my turn to interrupt, “only to see it roll down the other side, whereupon he must chase after the stone..”
“And begin the labor anew,” said Al, with apparent victory in his voice. “Don't you see? That's very much like... a society that has to rebuild after an earthquake, or a hurricane, or other natural disaster. Nothing that man builds will last forever. Doesn't that sound futile and hopeless to you?”
“No, it doesn't!” I snapped. “Do you really think that no one would build anything if they knew for certain that it would some day be destroyed? That sounds like that's what you're saying.”
“Well, no, that's not what I'm saying... at least, that's not what I'm trying to say.”
Then I added: “Is a natural disaster a kind of punishment? Is an earthquake or a hurricane something that a deity visits upon mankind for the purpose of vengeance?”
“Well, no... things like that should not be taken as a form of punishment, for we live in a godless world,” answered Al. I could tell that my questions were getting to him.
“Then it can't be said that a society 'has to' rebuild after a natural disaster, wouldn't you agree?”
Al just wrinkled his brow, then nodded as he said, “Hmm...” I can see that I was beginning to win him over to my side.
Then I thought it was time for a compliment. “You don't mind if I call you 'Al,' do you?” He shook his head. “Good!” I thought. “I'd like to thank you for speaking English instead of French. If you had chosen to use your native tongue, we wouldn't be having this conversation. I don't mean to criticize your command of the English language- it is quite good, actually- but I still can't help but to think that you used the wrong verb in that sentence when you said, 'a society has to rebuild.'”
I watched the look on his face as he tried to identify the verb he used- has- and then the English infinitive form- to have to- and then he said, “Ah, the verb, to have to... I suppose no society has to do anything that is not imposed on them through an outside force, such as a god. So what verb do you think I should have used?”
“I'm glad you asked. I would suggest, to get. After a natural disaster, we don't have to rebuild, we get to rebuild. Why shouldn't that be considered a good thing? A lot of the destroyed buildings were likely old and in need of replacement anyway. Well, then we get to build new ones. Like in the recent earthquakes in Japan, or the hurricane in New Orleans- all of those people get to rebuild. They've all got their work cut out for them for the next few years, at least. Similarly, Sisyphus does not have to roll his stone to the top of the mountain, he gets to. In neither case do we see a punishment- certainly, it is not a punishment to be given something to do- like I said before, and I think you agreed with me.”
“Yes, I did agree with you, and I think I am beginning to get your point. But wait a minute- don't you think that Sisyphus' fate might be considered a punishment, at least because he is not accomplishing anything of value?”
“Now that's a good question, Al.” I felt that we were finally getting to the crux of the matter. “What if I were to say that- well- it cannot be said for certain that the labor of Sisyphus is futile. In fact, I don't think that there really is any such thing as a pointless act. I say it's all in the way you look at it.”
“Well, I'd certainly like to hear you defend that point.”
I looked straight at Al, smiled, and said, “That is precisely what I intend to do now. Let's take a walk.”
As I started walking toward the mountain in the distance, I motioned to Al to come with me. It didn't take long to get to our destination, for a walk in one of my dreams is always at a fast pace, and Al had no trouble keeping up with me. We stopped at the foot of the mountain, just as Sisyphus was about to begin his task of rolling his stone again. As he got in position to make his first push, I turned to Al once more and said, “Now watch closely this time, and see if you can spot an accomplishment.” I saw a look of skepticism on his face, but then he smiled, and then nodded. I knew he was willing to play my game.
Sisyphus started his task on cue, and we both watched as he made his way towards the summit; just as he got there, he made his final push, and the stone seemed to stop and hang there for just the briefest of moments, and then rolled down the other side. It was then that I turned to Al once more and asked him, “Did you see it?”
“See what?” he answered. “An accomplishment? I saw nothing of the sort.”
“Well I'll tell you what I saw. If you blinked, you missed it. Just as that stone had reached its maximum height, and just before it began its downhill journey, there it was- a monument to human achievement! Who cares if it stood for but a millisecond? Was Sisyphus ever instructed to not imagine that he was erecting such a monument? Was he ever told specifically, 'No, you are not to imagine that you are erecting a monument to anyone or anything; no, you are not to think that you are marking the grave of a fallen hero; no, you are not to imagine that you are moving that stone so that a road may be built; no, you are not to think that you are laying the foundation of a palace, a temple, or any other building...?' No, of course not- or at least the myth says nothing like that. Like I said, it's all in the way you look at it. I don't think there can be such a thing as a pointless task.”
“Now I think I really do get your point,” and Al smiled again.
Then I continued, “Let's just say that, at the very least, Sisyphus managed to get that stone to where it otherwise would not have gotten. That may be a small achievement, but I'll tell you this- that is a thousand times more than what any man of my generation would care to achieve!”
Al just looked at me as if he couldn't believe what I just said. “How could you possibly know something like that? Did someone just appoint you a spokesman for your generation now, or something?”
“Well, no... I just thought...” Or maybe I wasn't thinking. I paused for a few moments and said, “You know, Al, you're right. I'm not a spokesman for my generation, and I apologize for the abrupt and unwarranted change of subject.”
I could tell that Al accepted my apology and then he said, “Thank you for questioning my assumptions- after all, that's what philosophers are supposed to do. I had long assumed that the author of the myth of Sisyphus was merely trying to analogize the pointlessness of man's existence, but now I see that that is probably not the case. So what do you think the Ancient Greeks were thinking about when the myth of Sisyphus was born?”
“That's a great question, Al,” I said. “I don't think they would have begged the question. I'll tell you what I do think. I think that-”
I had to stop abruptly because at that point, yet a third person appeared- first as a mere grayish form emerging from the fog not far away, and then I began to make out his features as he slowly approached me. No, this was not someone I knew, not someone I'd seen in a dream, anyway. I soon saw that that he was dressed in a robe, as if he were- well- an Ancient Greek. So I said to Al, “Actually, I think that this guy could do a better job of answering that question.”
Simultaneously, I and Al said, “Who are you?”
“My name is Anonymous,” he answered. “I am not the sole author of the myth of Sisyphus, but I was present when it was born.”
“Boy, do we have a burning question for you!” I said. “So what were you, along with the myth's other authors, discussing at the time? Oh, and by the way, thank you for speaking English instead of Greek. And do you mind if I call you 'AG,' for 'Ancient Greek?'” AG shook his head.
“I remember it like this- I and a small group of philosopher friends were sitting and talking, when one of us, I don't remember his name, made a rather brilliant observation. He conjectured that all humans, all of us, no matter who we are, where we are, or when we lived, have at least one important thing in common- we all wake up in the morning, we all relieve ourselves, and then, perhaps eat, we do our usual morning things- and then, there comes a point when we all ask ourselves the same question- 'Now what do I do?' If you have plans for that day, you already have your answer; if not, you must find something to do. Or, as you might say, 'you get to find something to do.'”
The you that AG was referring to was, of course, me. Apparently, I had won him over as well. Both I and Al looked at him, smiled, and nodded. We knew he was on to something.
AG continued: “This philosopher realized something profound- we are all given time; we just don't know how much that will ultimately be for each of us. Time is a given in life; finding a way to spend it is nothing less than the act of living. Some men treat that as if it were a curse.”
AG looked us both square in the eye; I'm sure he could tell that we were both in total agreement.
“Then another of us spoke up, I don't remember his name either. His question was this: 'What if life consisted of the performance of a single task; would any of you do it? Before you answer, let me make the question a little more interesting- what if the task were especially tedious, so tedious, in fact, that practically no one would ever want to do it?' Now, that little addition to the question did not affect my answer at all; of course I would do it. What is my alternative? That I just sit there for all eternity? And at that point, yet another comrade spoke, and I don't recall his name, either. And he asked, 'What if the task you had to perform was this one- you had to roll a stone up a mountain, only to have it roll down the other side, whereupon you must chase after the stone and push it up the mountain again, only to have it roll down again, and you had to repeat the process over and over, ad infinitum; would you still do it?' I replied, 'I am going to stick with my first answer- I would choose to do something forever rather than nothing forever.'”
I could tell from the look on Al's face that he also knew what AG was going to ask next. And indeed, he asked it- “What if your life were reduced to a single task, would either of you do it?”
“Absolutely!” said Al, right away, “and for the same reason that you gave!”
“And so would I,” I said. “I concur completely.”
Then we all smiled at each other, and laughed. But the discussion was not over yet, for I still had one more important question I wanted to ask the two of them- “I was just wondering- would either of you take the stone away from Sisyphus? Even after knowing that he, too, has chosen to do something rather than nothing?”
“Certainly not!” snapped Al and AG, in unison. “That would be madness!”
“Indeed it would,” I replied. “I concur again.”
We all looked at each other; I think we each had the same question on our minds. I spoke first: “Do you think anyone would take Sisyphus' stone away from him?” We all laughed again. Al added, “Who in their right mind would do such a cruel thing as that?”
Right as Al said that, another character entered my dream. He seemed to appear out of nowhere, and he carried with him what looked like a modern laptop computer. He walked directly toward Sisyphus, and stopped right in front of him just as he was about to begin another trip up the mountain. “I have a funny feeling that we're about to find out,” I said.
Sisyphus had a puzzled look on his face as the new character began to speak: “Greetings, Sisyphus! I am about to change your life for the better, just because I can! Because of this wonderful device that I hold in my hands, you will no longer have to roll that stone up that mountain! Here's how it works- You see this right here? That's what we call a 'virtual stone.' And this is a 'virtual mountain.' If you want to push the virtual stone up the virtual mountain, just press the 'up' arrow; none of the other arrow keys will do anything. If you want to maneuver yourself around the stone, just press the space bar. When you get the stone to the summit, it will roll down the other side automatically, just like in the real world. This app is written in Java, so it's 'Write Once, Run Anywhere!' You can run this app even if you decide to switch platforms, provided you have installed a virtual machine. You don't have to worry about downloading an updated virtual machine, either, because I have already checked the 'download updates automatically' checkbox. If you have any questions, just press F4.”
And then, this new character simply left the wonderful device at the feet of Sisyphus, and began to push the stone away himself. Just a short walk from the foot of the mountain, there was a slight downgrade, and this man just pushed the stone of Sisyphus down the slope, where it started to roll, and then rolled faster and faster every second, for the slope of the downgrade got steeper as it went off into the distance; finally, just a few seconds later, the stone disappeared over the horizon, as if it had fallen off the edge of a cliff, and into a bottomless pit. After that, he just sat down in a cushy, comfortable-looking chair, and apparently waited- for what, I don't know. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, he turned his head towards Sisyphus, and spoke once again.
“Oh, Sisyphus? One more thing- you're welcome!”
Then, he went back to waiting, but this time, I surmised that he was waiting for a 'Thank you' from Sisyphus. I could tell that Al was wondering the same thing I was- will he say it?
Sisyphus thanked him, all right. “OH, THANK YOU SO MUCH, WHOEVER YOU ARE. I AM SO HAPPY THAT YOU JUST TOOK AWAY THE ONLY THING I HAD TO DO WITH MY TIME. I ALWAYS WANTED TO SIT HERE FOR ALL ETERNITY AND WATCH LIFE PLAY OUT ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THIS MIRROR-LIKE THING THAT YOU JUST GAVE ME. YEAH, THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT I WANT. I REALLY, REALLY APPRECIATE YOUR EFFORTS. THANKS AGAIN.”
Al, AG and I just stood there, looking at Sisyphus, in a state of shock. None of us knew that he was capable of such sarcasm. Al and AG, once again, spoke in unison- “Who was that?”
I knew who he was, so I had to tell them. “Now he,” I said, “was a spokesman for my generation.” They knew I was right. “He is the only one in the world that is cold enough- and stupid enough- to take the stone of Sisyphus away from him. And, as you can see, he was proud to do it. And this is the point I wanted to make earlier- that is typical behavior for a man of my generation. We can see now, why, as Camus said, 'one must imagine Sisyphus happy.' He's happy because he has something to do; nay, he gets something to do. And he does it because it is preferable to doing nothing. In the myth of Sisyphus, we see man's life reduced to the performance of a single task, and that task is not to feed himself, not to dress himself, or even wipe himself; no, his only task is to do something that might look tedious to any outside observer; and man performs this task nevertheless, because he knows that the gift of time, without a way to spend it, is not a gift at all. If one were to take the life of my generation and reduce it to a single task, we'll find a way to dodge it; we have technology.”
Al just smiled at me and said, “Let me see if I can sum this up for you- 'Man's Last Task- is to dodge Man's Last Task.”
“Al, you may be dead, but you're still brilliant.”
AG then interjected, “It sounds to me that you are quite disappointed in your fellow countrymen.”
“You're goddamned right I am!” I snapped.
Then, almost as an afterthought, I added: “It is tragic what has become of us- we are the generation that would rather just sit there.”
Then, I woke up.
Notes:
1. Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus and Other Essays (New York: Alfred A. Knopf,1955), 123.
2. Camus, 119-120.
