Chapter II: The Absurd and the Rebellion

In a world where humanity’s desire for meaning meets the cold indifference of the universe, the struggle for purpose becomes a central existential challenge. Albert Camus, one of the key figures of absurdist philosophy, explores this tension in The Myth of Sisyphus. Rather than offering metaphysical or religious solace, Camus asks us to confront the absurd head-on, acknowledging that the search for meaning may be futile but that life can still be lived with passion and intensity. Drawing on his own experiences of political turmoil and personal hardship, Camus presents rebellion against the absurd not as an act of despair, but as an assertion of freedom. Through the mythic figure of Sisyphus—condemned to roll a boulder up a hill for eternity—Camus illustrates that true heroism lies not in achieving resolution but in embracing the struggle itself.

In this chapter, we will also examine how the themes of absurdity and rebellion manifest in the works of William Shakespeare, particularly in Hamlet and Macbeth. Shakespeare’s tragic heroes, like Camus’s absurd man, are caught between the search for meaning and the oppressive forces of fate. Hamlet’s hesitation and Macbeth’s unchecked ambition both highlight the existential crises that arise when individuals are confronted with a world that offers no guarantees, no certainty. Both characters act in defiance of their circumstances, and in doing so, embody a kind of existential rebellion against time and fate.

The chapter will further explore the contributions of Carlo Michelstaedter, whose work Persuasion and Rhetoric offers a radical critique of modern existence. Michelstaedter draws a sharp contrast between lives lived under the tyranny of time and societal expectations, and the possibility of true freedom through persuasion—a mode of being that rejects future-oriented striving in favor of complete presence in the moment. His tragic life, culminating in his suicide, reflects the intensity of his struggle to reconcile personal authenticity with the demands of a world governed by external pressures.

Together, these thinkers offer a multifaceted exploration of rebellion—whether in the face of absurdity, fate, or societal constraints—revealing that the act of defiance itself can be the ultimate assertion of dignity and freedom.

Camus’ Absurdism: The Myth of Sisyphus and Revolt

In The Myth of Sisyphus (1942), Albert Camus constructs a philosophy rooted in the tension between consciousness and the irrational, indifferent universe. Unlike his existential predecessors such as Kierkegaard and Dostoevsky, the philosopher refuses to turn to metaphysics or religion for solace. Instead, he confronts the absurd directly, finding meaning not in resolution but in the struggle itself. His own life—marked by hardship, political upheaval, and a relentless search for meaning—deeply influenced his philosophical stance.

Born in 1913 in French Algeria, the writer grew up in poverty, the son of an illiterate mother and a father who died in World War I when he was just one year old. His early life was shaped by feelings of alienation, both as a colonized subject and as a young intellectual caught between two worlds. The sun-drenched landscapes of Algeria, where the vast, indifferent sea meets the harsh desert, also left an indelible mark on his thinking. This environment would later inspire the imagery in many of his works, reflecting both the beauty and the harshness of existence—an existence that offers no clear answers or ultimate meaning.

The Myth of Sisyphus begins with the stark assertion that the question of suicide is the fundamental philosophical inquiry: “Is life worth living?” (The Myth of Sisyphus, 1942, p. 3). This framing immediately positions the absurd as a lived experience rather than an abstract concept. For him, individuals are defined by their need for clarity, meaning, and order, yet the universe remains silent and indifferent to these demands. The absurd arises from this disjunction: “The absurd is not in man nor in the world, but in their presence together. It is the only bond uniting them” (The Myth of Sisyphus, 1942, p. 30). His deep engagement with the absurd was not merely an intellectual exercise; it was a personal confrontation with the fragility and transience of life, influenced by his experiences of war, illness, and the political struggles of the 20th century.

The experience of the absurd person, for the author, is one of disillusionment, but not despair. Despite the futility of seeking ultimate meaning in the cosmos, his absurd hero refuses to give in to nihilism or to seek refuge in false hope. This rebellion is not a rejection of life but an acceptance of its absurdity, combined with a fierce determination to continue living. He presents three possible responses to the absurd: suicide, a leap of faith (akin to Kierkegaard’s religious solution), or rebellion. The writer dismisses suicide as a denial of life itself and condemns the leap of faith as an escape into illusion. Instead, he champions rebellion as the only authentic response to the absurd.

Rebellion is not a passive acknowledgment of life’s meaninglessness, but an active, ongoing confrontation with the absurd. This idea of rebellion reflects his personal experiences, particularly his involvement in the French Resistance during World War II. During this time, he wrote for the underground newspaper Combat, risking his life to fight against Nazi occupation. This engagement with the moral and political struggles of his era shaped his philosophy, reinforcing his belief in the necessity of fighting against dehumanizing forces, even in the face of inevitable failure.

The figure of Sisyphus, condemned to eternally push a boulder up a hill only for it to roll back down, becomes for him the quintessential symbol of this rebellion. In Sisyphus, the philosopher does not see a figure of despair but one of profound heroism. By embracing the absurdity of his task, Sisyphus transforms his punishment into an act of freedom. He famously concludes, “One must imagine Sisyphus happy” (The Myth of Sisyphus, 1942, p. 123). This happiness, however, is not born from ignorance or delusion but from Sisyphus’s conscious acceptance of his fate. His joy lies in the act of rebellion itself, in his refusal to be broken by the futility of his task. The writer’s own struggles with tuberculosis—an illness that often left him bedridden—mirrors this idea of rebellion in the face of bodily limitations and suffering. Just as Sisyphus finds happiness in the continuous struggle, so too did he find meaning in his philosophical and political endeavors, despite the inevitable setbacks.

The author further develops his philosophy of rebellion in The Rebel (L'Homme révolté, 1951), where he explores the implications of rebellion on both an individual and collective level. Written in the aftermath of World War II and during the rise of totalitarian regimes, The Rebel reflects his growing concern with the political ramifications of rebellion. For him, rebellion is not merely a personal confrontation with the absurd; it is also a social and political act. To rebel is to assert one’s dignity in the face of dehumanizing forces, to refuse both submission and oppression. He writes, “What is a rebel? A man who says no, but whose refusal does not imply a renunciation” (The Rebel, 1951, p. 13). This vision of rebellion as both an affirmation of dignity and a rejection of imposed meaning resonates with his own life. His involvement in the Resistance, his criticism of totalitarianism, and his outspoken opposition to the death penalty all reflect his commitment to living in defiance of oppressive forces.

However, the philosopher’s personal life was marked by deep contradictions. Though a staunch critic of totalitarianism, he was initially involved with the Communist Party, and his later break from the French intellectual left—including his famous falling out with Jean-Paul Sartre—revealed the complexities of his political and philosophical positions. His experience of political betrayal and ideological disillusionment, particularly during the Algerian War, where he refused to support violence on either side, left him increasingly isolated. His philosophy of rebellion, therefore, is not one of easy answers or clear ideological positions. Rather, it is a continuous, difficult engagement with the complexities of existence and the realities of political power.

The act of rebellion, whether personal or political, is an ongoing process. It requires a constant engagement with the absurd, a refusal to be seduced by the false promises of metaphysical or ideological certainty. In this sense, rebellion becomes a form of existential freedom, an assertion of one’s will in the face of meaninglessness. His absurd hero is not a passive figure but an active participant in life, fully aware of its futility yet determined to continue living—not in spite of the absurd, but because of it. The absurd becomes not a source of despair but the foundation for a life lived with intensity, freedom, and awareness.

His philosophy thus offers a vision of existence that is at once tragic and triumphant. His recognition of life’s fundamental absurdity does not lead to resignation but to a deeper commitment to live fully and authentically. This commitment is reflected in his own life, from his early days as a journalist in Algeria to his final years as a Nobel Prize-winning writer and philosopher. His philosophy of rebellion celebrates the power of the will to create meaning within the limits imposed by an indifferent universe. The rebel, like Sisyphus, finds meaning not in the outcome of his actions but in the struggle itself—a struggle that, though ultimately futile, is the very essence of freedom.

The true triumph of the spirit lies not in achieving some ultimate resolution but in continuing to fight against the absurd, even when defeat is certain. This is the core of his existential philosophy: the belief that, despite life’s inherent limitations, we can live with dignity, purpose, and rebellion. The absurd hero, like the author himself, rejects despair and embraces the freedom that comes with recognizing the absurdity of existence. It is this defiant embrace of life, with all its contradictions and challenges, that defines his philosophy—and his legacy.

Shakespeare’s Tragic Heroes: Action in a Time of Uncertainty

The characters of Hamlet and Macbeth embody the existential struggle between action and uncertainty, fate and free will. William Shakespeare, in his exploration of these tragic figures, anticipates many of the themes later developed by existentialist philosophers, particularly in relation to time, destiny, and the nature of existence. The Bard of Avon was not only a playwright but a profound observer of human nature. Born in 1564 in Stratford-upon-Avon, England, his life spanned a period of significant political and social turmoil, including the rise and fall of monarchs, religious conflict, and the devastating effects of the plague. These experiences shaped his worldview, allowing him to capture the complexity of mortal existence in his works. His characters wrestle with profound questions that go beyond their individual stories, offering timeless insights into the existential dilemmas that define the nature of existence.

In Hamlet, the playwright presents a hero paralyzed by the weight of his existential predicament. His internal conflict is driven not only by the moral dilemma of avenging his father’s murder but by a deeper philosophical inquiry into the nature of existence. The play, written around 1600, reflects a world on the brink of modernity, where the certainties of the past are crumbling, and individuals are increasingly confronted with existential uncertainty. The famous soliloquy, “To be, or not to be, that is the question” (Hamlet, Act 3, Scene 1), encapsulates this existential doubt. Hamlet’s contemplation of life and death reflects his uncertainty about the value of action in a world that offers no guarantees. He asks whether it is “nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them.” Here, Hamlet grapples with the same absurd condition that Albert Camus would later describe—the tension between the desire for meaning and the uncertainty of the world.

The author’s Hamlet is, in many ways, a reflection of the era in which it was written. The Elizabethan age was marked by a growing awareness of mortality and the fragility of life. The Renaissance brought with it a shift away from medieval certainties, where faith in God and the afterlife provided a sense of purpose, to a more skeptical view of existence. Hamlet’s hesitation is emblematic of the condition in a universe where time and fate seem indifferent to mortal desires. His awareness of the futility of his actions—the knowledge that, regardless of what he does, the outcome remains uncertain—paralyzes him. Time,, is “out of joint,” and he finds himself trapped in a cycle of inaction, torn between the demands of duty and the profound uncertainty of existence.

Hamlet’s existential crisis, his contemplation of death, and his paralyzing awareness of time’s relentless march have led many scholars to consider him one of literature’s earliest existential figures. His soliloquies reflect an acute awareness of the absurdity of existence, akin to Camus’s philosophy of the absurd. For Hamlet, action seems futile because it cannot change the fundamental conditions of life—mortality and uncertainty. This tension between thought and action, reflection and paralysis, are a precursor to existentialist thought. Much like Søren Kierkegaard’s "knight of infinite resignation," Hamlet grapples with the abyss of uncertainty and the inability to reconcile his inner turmoil with the external demands of the world.

By contrast, in Macbeth, the poet explores the consequences of unrestrained action in the face of destiny. Written around 1606, it reflects the anxieties of the Jacobean era, where the stability of the monarchy and the divine right of kings were called into question. King James I, who had recently ascended the throne, was deeply concerned with issues of regicide and the supernatural, and Macbeth resonates with these fears. Where Hamlet hesitates, he acts with decisive force, driven by his ambition and the prophecies of the witches. The tragic flaw is not his hesitation but his overconfidence in his ability to control time and fate. From the moment he murders King Duncan, Macbeth is propelled into a downward spiral of violence and paranoia.

The witches’ prophecies, with their cryptic allusions to fate, prey upon Macbeth’s ambitions, and his belief that he can manipulate destiny leads him to commit increasingly heinous acts. The novelist’s interest in fate and free will, as explored in this character, anticipates the philosophical inquiries of Friedrich Nietzsche and Martin Heidegger. Macbeth, in his ambition to control the future, resembles Nietzsche’s concept of the will to power—the drive to assert one’s desires and reshape the world. However, the downfall reflects the danger of overreaching; his attempts to transcend the limits of agency result in his undoing. In trying to control time and fate, he loses his sense of self, and his life spirals into meaninglessness.

Macbeth’s famous soliloquy, “Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, creeps in this petty pace from day to day” (Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5), reveals his growing disillusionment with time and existence. Here, time has become an oppressive force, a relentless progression toward inevitable destruction. His attempt to seize control of his destiny only leads him deeper into despair, as he realizes that his actions have ultimately been futile. This speech reflects the dramatist’s deep understanding of the condition: the awareness that time marches on, indifferent to ambition and desire, reducing all to “dusty death.” Macbeth’s reflection on time echoes Heidegger’s concept of Being-toward-death, where the awareness of mortality defines the experience. We see someone trapped in the web of time and fate, yet that responds not with hesitation but with reckless action, leading to his downfall.

In both Hamlet and Macbeth, the playwright presents characters who are caught in the grip of time and fate. One’s hesitation and the other’s ambition both lead to destruction, as each character confronts the futility of their actions within the framework of time. Yet, like Camus’s absurd hero, they continue their struggle, even in the face of inevitable failure. Their rebellions, like those of Camus’s absurd man, are not acts of hope but defiant affirmations of their existence.

The existential dimension of these tragedies is perhaps best encapsulated in Hamlet’s final acceptance of his fate: “There’s a divinity that shapes our ends, rough-hew them how we will” (Hamlet, Act 5, Scene 2). In this line, he acknowledges the limits of agency in the face of fate and time, yet he continues to act, embracing his role in the unfolding tragedy. Like Camus’s Sisyphus, Hamlet finds meaning not in the outcome but in the act of rebellion itself. His journey toward acceptance of his mortality, much like the absurd man’s rebellion against the absurdity of existence, transforms him from a figure of paralysis into one of quiet defiance. The author’s deep understanding of the psyche, and his ability to capture the timeless struggles of existence, resonates with the later existentialists who saw in his works a reflection of their own inquiries into time, freedom, and the nature of existence.

Macbeth, on the other hand, becomes a cautionary tale of the dangers of hubris. His attempt to dominate time and fate only accelerates his downfall. His final moments are marked by a nihilistic recognition that life is “a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing” (Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5). Yet even in this despair, Macbeth’s refusal to surrender to fate can be seen as an existential act. Like Hamlet, Macbeth rebels against the inevitability of time and fate, but where the former’s rebellion is contemplative and reflective, the latter’s is violent and self-destructive. Both characters, however, highlight the existential tension between action and inaction, fate and free will, which the Bard so masterfully explores.

Carlo Michelstaedter: Persuasion and Rhetoric in a Timeless World

Carlo Michelstaedter’s Persuasion and Rhetoric (La Persuasione e la Retorica, 1910) offers one of the most profound critiques of modern existence and the relationship between individuals and time. The philosopher, who tragically took his own life at the age of 23, just after completing this work, presents a haunting dichotomy between two modes of being: persuasion and rhetoric. His concepts are not only deeply philosophical but also intensely personal, as they reflect his own existential struggle—a struggle that ultimately consumed him.

Born in 1887 in Gorizia, a small town on the northeastern edge of Italy, then part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, the writer’s early life was marked by an acute sensitivity to the tensions of the modern world. He grew up during a period of rapid industrialization, where the pursuit of progress, success, and external validation increasingly defined modern life. From an early age, he felt the weight of these societal pressures and the disconnect they created between individuals and their authentic selves. This sense of alienation, combined with his intellectual precocity, led him to study philosophy and literature, where he sought answers to the existential questions that tormented him.

Persuasion and Rhetoric is, in many ways, the culmination of the author’s brief but intense philosophical journey. At its core, the work presents a stark critique of modern life, where people are enslaved by the demands of time, external success, and the need for validation. For the philosopher, rhetoric represents the inauthentic life—a life dominated by the pursuit of achievement, status, and the relentless march of time. The rhetorical person is one who is perpetually looking toward the future, always striving for something just out of reach, always fearing failure or loss. As he writes, “They are afraid of not having time, of being too late or too early, of losing something” (Persuasion and Rhetoric, 1910, p. 45).

The rhetorical life, as the writer saw it, is a life of constant anxiety—a life lived in servitude to time. Individuals caught in rhetoric are never fully present; they are always becoming but never being. They are driven by an endless need to accumulate, to accomplish, and to satisfy the expectations imposed upon them by society. This relentless pursuit of external validation alienates them from their true selves, trapping them in a state of perpetual incompleteness. His critique here is not just philosophical; it is deeply personal. He saw in the world around him a constant pressure to conform, to achieve, and to compete, and he felt these pressures acutely in his own life. His writing conveys a palpable sense of frustration with the modern condition, where an individual’s worth is measured by success, and time becomes the ultimate tyrant.

In contrast, persuasion, for the poet, represents the only authentic mode of existence. The persuaded person lives fully in the present, free from the anxieties of time and the need for external validation. To live persuasively is to be complete in oneself, to be fully present in the moment, and to reject the endless striving that characterizes rhetorical existence. He writes, “The persuaded man lives now; he does not seek to be elsewhere, does not wait for anything to happen; he is complete in this moment” (Persuasion and Rhetoric, 1910, p. 67). This state of persuasion is not about passivity or resignation; rather, it is a radical affirmation of the present moment, a rejection of the future-oriented mindset that drives modern life.

The philosopher’s vision of persuasion anticipates later existential critiques of modernity, particularly the writings of Heidegger and Sartre. Like these thinkers, he is deeply concerned with the ways in which society alienates people from their authentic selves. However, his philosophy is even more radical in its rejection of time itself. Whereas Heidegger and Sartre explore the possibility of authenticity within the constraints of time, the author suggests that true freedom can only be found in a complete rejection of time and the future. The persuaded individual, in his view, lives in a state of timelessness, fully immersed in the present moment and free from the chains of societal expectations and the relentless forward march of time.

His critique of time and progress is as much a reflection of his personal existential struggle as it is a philosophical argument. His life, marked by intense intellectual isolation and a deep sensitivity to the contradictions of modern existence, was a constant battle between the demands of the world and the desire to live authentically. His writing style, dense with philosophical complexity yet infused with personal urgency, reflects the profound difficulty of this battle. The poet was not just a thinker; he was a soul tormented by the impossibility of reconciling his philosophical ideals with the reality of the world around him.

However, the writer’s own life and tragic death raise important questions about the feasibility of the state of persuasion he advocates. His suicide, committed shortly after completing Persuasion and Rhetoric, suggests that the burden of living outside of time—of rejecting the demands of the world—may have been too great for him to bear. His vision of persuasion, while offering a glimpse of freedom, also reveals the profound difficulty of achieving such a state in a world governed by rhetoric and time. His tragic end adds a layer of complexity to his philosophy, as it raises the possibility that the ideal of persuasion may be ultimately unattainable within the confines of mortal existence.

The novelist’s death, at such a young age, was not simply an act of despair; it was an existential statement. His refusal to continue living in a world dominated by rhetoric reflects the intensity of his commitment to his philosophy. Yet, at the same time, his inability to sustain the state of persuasion he so passionately defended points to the existential limits of his vision. His life and death thus serve as both a critique of modern life and a poignant reflection of the existential despair that accompanies the search for authenticity in a world governed by time.

His writing style—at once dense and lyrical, precise yet deeply emotional—mirrors the intensity of his inner life. The author’s prose is not simply a vehicle for philosophical ideas; it is an expression of his soul, a cry for a way of being that transcends the limitations of time and society. His work demands a deep engagement, not only with the intellect but with the heart. To read him is to confront the same existential questions that haunted him, to wrestle with the possibility of living authentically in a world that seems designed to prevent it.

In this sense, his philosophy is not merely a critique of modernity; it is a reflection of the condition itself. His dichotomy between persuasion and rhetoric speaks to the eternal struggle between authenticity and conformity, between the present moment and the endless demands of the future. His work, written in the shadow of his own impending death, offers a vision of life that is at once tragic and liberating. The state of persuasion he advocates is not a utopia, but a challenge—a call to reject the superficiality of modern life and to live fully in the present, even if that state can only be achieved for brief moments.

The philosopher’s legacy is one of intellectual and existential courage. His philosophy, though overshadowed by his tragic death, continues to resonate with those who seek to live authentically in a world that offers few opportunities for doing so. His work is a reminder that the search for persuasion—for a life lived fully in the present, free from the demands of time and society—is both the most difficult and the most important task we can undertake. It is a task that he himself could not fully complete, but in his struggle, he has given us a map for our own journey toward existential freedom.

Reflections: Rebellion as a Timeless Gesture

In the philosophies of Camus, Shakespeare, and Michelstaedter, we encounter a shared preoccupation with the struggle against time and the search for meaning in an indifferent universe. Each of these thinkers, in their own way, presents a vision of existence that is defined by rebellion—whether against the absurdity of life, the inevitability of fate, or the tyranny of time.

For Camus, rebellion is a conscious confrontation with the absurd, a refusal to surrender to nihilism or false hope. The absurd hero finds meaning not in the outcome of his actions but in the struggle itself, in the act of living fully and freely in a universe devoid of inherent meaning. Shakespeare’s tragic heroes, too, grapple with the uncertainty of existence, their actions driven by a desire to assert their individuality in the face of time and fate. Hamlet’s hesitation and Macbeth’s ambition both lead to destruction, yet their rebellions remain acts of existential significance.

Michelstaedter offers a more radical vision, suggesting that true freedom can only be found in the rejection of time itself. The persuaded individual lives outside of time, fully present in the moment, free from the demands of the future and the pressures of society. Yet Michelstaedter’s own life raises important questions about the possibility of such an existence. His philosophy, while offering a critique of modernity, also reveals the profound difficulty of escaping the constraints of time.

In the end, the rebellion against time—whether through Camus’ absurd revolt, Shakespeare’s tragic action, or Michelstaedter’s pursuit of persuasion—is a timeless gesture. It is an assertion of dignity in the face of meaninglessness, a refusal to be crushed by the weight of time and fate. In this rebellion, we find not despair but freedom—the freedom to live, to act, and to create meaning within the bounds of our finite existence.