You already know that absurdity is embedded in our digital world, and yet the constant bombardment confirming as much can be utterly overwhelming. You’re endlessly overloaded by conflicting information and opinions. You scroll through news of ecological disaster, war, political failure and economic instability. Then you get an ad for protein yoghurt and an artificial intelligence clip of someone telling you to quit your job and follow your dreams when the average Dublin rent is almost €2,500.
Also, there’s something fluttering in the back of your mind about who has nuclear weapons and who doesn’t. You wonder if you should take the weight loss drug everyone is talking about, except what about that comment you saw on Instagram saying, “my cousin is a podiatrist and said it makes your feet fall off”? You read headlines and wonder if everyone is getting a facelift and an ADHD diagnosis – it’s starting to feel like it – and it all feels absurd. It is absurd – this sense of rudderless, directionless urgency strips our experience of meaning. After watching a terrifying 30-second video about muscle loss and ageing, you order some protein yoghurt.
Human beings are meaning-oriented creatures. We don’t do well without a sense of “why”. Why we should get up in the morning. Why we should do the necessary things we’d rather not do. Why our lives and choices, as well as those of other people, matter. Meaning fuels us through difficulty, contextualises life’s inevitable suffering and gives us a sense of fulfilment in our own effort. It prevents us from feeling that we could be replaced by an actor who looks kind of like us without anyone noticing. Without meaning – Aristotle calls it telos – the wheels fall off.
A sense of meaninglessness is central to feeling clinically depressed, so while it might seem like an abstract and theoretical problem – a fruity, modern malaise – it really isn’t. We are experiencing a collective crisis of meaning; the grand narratives we once bought into, and which connected us through shared belief, are no longer cutting it. This is the postmodern reality, and it’s a lot of dancing tweens on TikTok and billionaires on testosterone building space shuttles and men past or pushing 80 (and who do or do not have nuclear weapons) sabre rattling on social media. It’s a lot of total absurdity without a lot of meaning.
Logotherapy – the creation of Holocaust survivor and psychiatrist Viktor Frankl – is unsurprisingly seeing a resurgence lately, given our thirst for meaning. Frankl outlined it most famously in his 1946 book Man’s Search for Meaning, where he introduces the “therapeutic doctrine” he formulated. It’s a form of psychotherapy that places pursuit of meaning at the centre of life. We can cope with pretty much anything, Frankl suggests (any “how”), if we can find meaning in it (if we have a “why”).
Meaning is not given to us from outside, he says, and it can come in many forms. Like the existentialists, Frankl thought that meaning is something we create for ourselves rather than something awaiting us out in the world. Especially when we’re struggling, Frankl suggests, we need a reason to navigate our way through whatever life is demanding of us. He’s not about endless rumination and self-examination, though, and in an age of tedious self-optimisation and hyper-therapised narcissism, it’s little wonder that people are reconnecting with Frankl’s suggestion that we consider one question above any other: “What is life asking of [me]?”
[ How absurd: the world as Albert Camus saw itOpens in new window ]
French-Algerian philosopher Albert Camus is another thinker who spent most of his career on questions of meaning, but he went another way with it. It makes sense that the destruction and narrative chaos of the second World War spurred these sorts of questions. It was Camus who brought the concept of absurdism into the mainstream. Unlike Frankl and people such as Jean-Paul Sartre, who agreed that there is no objective meaning to life but suggested that we create it, Camus rejected meaning altogether. Our great cause of suffering, he suggested, is our deep desire for meaning, clarity and a sense of purpose in a universe that has no inherent meaning. It offers us no answers. This is the absurdity, Camus says, our primordial desire to make sense of a senseless universe. The absurdity is not about the world being nonsensical, but about its inherent and unresolved contradiction. In our constant desire to make sense of the mayhem.
We can make meaning, Frankl says, we can find it, as others suggest, or we can revolt, as Camus would put it. His approach is not about giving in to despair or becoming cynical or turning into the worst Facebook comments section troll you can imagine. It’s about permitting the contradiction without trying to resolve it – looking right at the absurdity rather than away from it and being all right with it. We can’t make sense of what’s going on around us, but we can decide what we think about meaning, and what we’re going to do with it.
