Philosophy to Help You Live: For Sartre, Being Nothing Meant Being Able to Do Anything

Jeremy Mele
Nov 6 · 15 min read

Karl Marx once said that philosophers have “hitherto only interpreted the world in various ways; the point is to change it.” I share this sentiment. As a philosopher, I try to read a lot (though sometimes videogames get in the way…). As I read, I come across ideas and concepts that both explain the world and suggest ways that it can be improved, both on an individual and social level. So, I have decided to create a new series, which I’m calling “Philosophy to Help You Live” that dives into works that I have found enlightening and that prompted me to reevaluate my beliefs and behaviors. My hope is that I can spread concepts that I have found personally helpful. In doing so, I can maybe, if only in a small way, pay the help I’ve received forward, and aid others in understanding, navigating, and ultimately changing the world.

Today, we are looking at the philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre’s Existentialism and Human Emotions. We’ll see why he thinks that human nature doesn’t exist and why, furthermore, having no concrete definition of humanity — having nothing inside us — is a freeing revelation.

There’s something reassuring about considering oneself incapable, of believing oneself to be a failure. It hurts, it hurts like hell, but it also provides a warped kind of comfort. To define oneself as a failure means, at the very least, that one is defined, that one has a meaning, that one exists as something. Furthermore, to believe that one is a failure is to free oneself from responsibility and the need to try. There are countless formulations of the phrase, “Why should I try to do X, I’m too [lazy or incompetent or stupid or foolish or…]” Of course, one is dooming oneself from the start by doing this, but it at least provides a justification for one’s inertia. Momentum, after all, is hard to build up, and if one is going to crash and burn anyway, why should the effort be made in the first place?

To be clear, I’m not condemning anyone here; I am just a much a victim/practitioner of the art of the self-defining failure as anyone. Time and again, I will self-sabotage and browbeat myself into inaction. I’ve let ideas for stories and essays go unwritten because I “know” that I am too lazy to finish them. I’ve missed the chance to apply for jobs that seem interesting because I “know” that I could never handle them. And I’ve been afraid to apply for PhD programs because I “know” I could never measure up to any potential fellow members of those programs. In my life, there have been too many instances where I’ve let opportunities pass on by because I have come to the conclusion that I “am” not good enough.

This is no way to live. It’s no way to live, firstly, because it’s harmful. There is a psychological toll to telling oneself that one cannot measure up, that one is a loser. It’s the mental equivalent of hitting oneself over and over again, and it’s not healthy. But this mental self-flagellation is also no way to live because, ultimately, it is a lie. I am not a failure. No one is a failure.

Because everyone is nothing.

At least, that’s the perspective of Jean-Paul Sartre, whose existentialist philosophy I have studied before but which I recently reacquainted myself with by reading the collection of his essays Existentialism and Human Emotions. Reading it, I was struck by observations that hit close to home. Particularly in the first essay of the book, Existentialism, Sartre is able to key in on feelings of negativity and resignation that I am all too familiar with. I found his work to be illuminating and helpful, and I wanted to write about it.

One of the central claims of existentialism, if not the central claim, is that human beings have no fundamental nature and, therefore, that no one person is doomed to be any one thing. For existentialists, Sartre tells us, it is a categorical mistake to believe that individuals can be concretely defined, even by themselves. This is because human beings are not products; we are not static objects created to fulfill a certain purpose (13). Before a product is even created, its essence, that which it essentially is, precedes it; it is, in a sense, formed around an ideal which it can more or less live up to. Sartre provides the example of a paper cutter and talks about how such an object is made “by an artisan whose inspiration came from a concept” (13). The paper cutter did not choose to be made. Furthermore, being an object, and thus lacking free will, it cannot choose what it will be now that it has been made; its essence preceded its existence and will define it until it no longer exists.

People, however, are different. Like objects, we too had no say in being brought into the world; “I am not the foundation of my being,” Sarte writes (57). Unlike objects, however, there was no plan in place that can fashion us into a predetermined thing. Sure, our parents may or may not have chosen to conceive us, but they cannot shape us from silent materials the way an artisan can craft a paper cutter. They cannot put into us a purpose because, once we are born, we are free. We are subjects, beings with internal lives and individuated perspectives, not objects. The world sees us and we see right back. We can resist, in a way that objects cannot, outside attempts to reshape and repurpose us. The paper cutter exists after and because its essence was already predetermined; if the artisan did not want a paper cutter, she would not have made one. Human beings, however, come into existence without any such purpose. A person is brought into the world with no metaphysical content, which is to say that they are nothing. They are not, and cannot, be preloaded with essence. First they must exist. Then, and only then, can they begin the project of crafting an essence for themselves. “Man is nothing else but what he makes of himself,” writes Sartre, “Such is the first principle of existentialism” (15).

Sartre knows that this is not an uncontroversial position to hold. Many believed, and still do, that human beings are shaped both before and after their births by their “environment, society, [and] biological or psychological determinism” (34). A charitable reading of this perspective is that people are being charitable; they want to let others off the hook for their errors in judgement and/or moral failings. They are being understanding of, and empathetic to, the situations of others. The problem, however, is that such an attitude can be patronizing when it comes to others and defeatist when it comes to oneself. It assumes that some problems are simply insurmountable and that people have no choice but to relent to them. But being a human being means that one always has a choice (even if only an unattractive choice between resignation and a hard path of resistance). As Sartre says;

[W]hen the existentialist writes about a coward, he says that this coward is responsible for his cowardice. He’s not like that because he has a cowardly heart or lung or brain; he’s not like that on account of his physiological make-up; but he’s like that because he’s made himself a coward by his acts. There’s no such thing as a cowardly constitution; there are nervous constitutions; there is poor blood, as the common people say, or strong constitutions. But the man whose blood is poor is not a coward on that account, for what makes cowardice is the act of renouncing or yielding. A constitution is not an act; the coward is defined on the basis of the acts he performs. People feel, in a vague sort of way, that this coward we’re talking about is guilty of being a coward, and the thought frightens them. What people would like is that a coward or a hero be born that way. (34)

Sartre’s less charitable reading of his opponent’s position, then, is that such talk of humans being “predetermined” to be as they are is to give oneself an excuse to rest on one’s laurels. To be a coward is to excuse any and all actions of cowardice through the tautology of “a coward is a coward.” Therefore, those who behave cowardly, who define themselves as “cowards”, never have to work on themselves; their behavior is out of their hands. Similarly, those who take themselves to be “good” or “heroes” never have to critically reflect on themselves, either. After all, they are self-definedly “good,” so all of their actions must be good. “If you’re born a hero,” Sartre notes dryly, “you may set your mind…at rest; you’ll be a hero all your life; you’ll drink like a hero and eat like a hero” (35).

Existentialism, as we have seen, rejects this mindset. It is not that the coward or the hero are essentially cowardly or heroic; they have not been shaped by a creator to be so. Existing in the world as human beings, if they behave in the fashion of a coward or a hero, it is because they choose to do so. Again, the choice may not be easy; a nervous person might need to fight through a feeling of terror when confronted with the opportunity to be heroic — Sartre, as seen in the above quote, does not deny that some people are more prone to fear than others — but it is infantilizing to say that they have no choice but to relent to that terror. Some situations make terrible demands upon us, and sometimes we judge that the price we would have to pay to undertake a certain action is too steep. It is always us, however, who makes such a judgement. A price is only steep if we have chosen to value that which is asked for more than that which it would purchase. “Is it not I,” Sartre asks, “who decide the coefficient of adversity in things and even their unpredictability by deciding myself?” (54) By making ourselves, by choosing what actions to take and values to hold, we define also the situations we find ourselves in. To demonstrate this, one can imagine a person who comes across a burning building. Depending on the values this person has chosen to hold, the situation can be understood in various ways. Perhaps this person has decided that their physical safety is their top priority; in that case, the burning building is a situation to be avoided. Alternatively, perhaps the wellbeing of others takes precedence for them, and, in that case, the situation is one to be braved in order to make sure no one is trapped inside. In either case, the actions the person takes when confronted with the burning building define both themselves and their situation; to walk on by is to make oneself a coward or an egoist and to make the situation a peril. To rush in is to make oneself a hero or a saint and to make the situation an opportunity for moral forthrightness. There is nothing in the burning building itself that mandates a person must feel one way or another. The situation is, instead, defined by the individual based on the values they hold and choose to act on. Furthermore, what is true of this case is true of them all; every action one takes is both to define oneself and the world that one confronts.

There are, as already noted, those who reject this position. They are the ones who believe that circumstances dictate actions, and that people can sometimes be excused for their failings because they could never have been other than what they are/were. To a certain extent, this view is understandable, even appealing. If a person only knows of one way of life, for example, can they really be blamed for failing to choose to pursue a different way? Moreover, Sartre’s philosophy could be viewed as ableist; certain mental disorders, such as depression, present difficulties in that they seem to prevent persons from making healthy decisions (or at least make it harder for them to do so). Are people with such disorders really to blame for their suffering?

I’ll tread carefully here because, as someone who is neurotypical, I shouldn’t speak of what I do not know. It does seem, however, that Sartre recognizes some of these problems; “[E]xistentialism’s first move is to make every [person] aware of what he is and to make the full responsibility of his existence rest on him” (16). People are always free, but they may not realize that they are; if someone only knows of one way of life, then it is the job of existentialism (and philosophy more broadly) to make them aware that other ways exist. Once enlightened, the person can then make an informed choice on how they would like to live. Their situation, though, has not fundamentally changed. Even before they were made aware of the existentialist nature of their lives, they were still confronted with a choice; live as they have always lived or try something else. Even if the notion of that unknown “something else” appeared too difficult or scary or unappealing or “unthinkable”, it is still the case that they made a choice to value what they knew over what they did not.

It should also be said that Sartre’s argument is not to be taken as saying that material conditions do not matter. He was, after all, a Marxist, and believed that individuals could be physically limited by the material conditions of society and/or miseducated by a capitalist society to value the values of the “free market” above all else. Sartre believed in humanity’s ability to overcome such constraints through our existential freedom, but he did not deny that they were there. As Ronald Aronson writes, Sartre’s thesis was that “placed within social structures that shape and limit them, often oppressing and exploiting them, humans nevertheless signify, surpass, totalize, and transcend.” Though existentialism might share some superficial similarities with reactionary “bootstrap” ideology, its purpose is not to claim that individuals are and must be self-sufficient. Instead, it says that we all are free to make choices that affirm the values we (choose to) hold; we just need to be made aware that we are so. Moreover, existentialism is other-regarding in a way reactionary views often are not. Again, the existentialist recognizes a need to promote freedom in and of their fellow person; “[I]n wanting freedom we discover that it depends entirely on the freedom of others, and that the freedom of others depends on ours…I can take freedom as my goal only if I take that of others as a goal as well” (46).

As we can see, then, materially conditions can steer people, usually in the wrong direction, but it cannot determine them; we always have the option to take back control of the wheel, so to speak. Might, then, the same be said about medical/psychological conditions, such as depression? Sartre steadfastly rejects biological determinism and other strong variants of materialism on the grounds that such views treat all persons as “an ensemble of determined reactions in no way distinguished from the ensemble of qualities and phenomena which constitute a table or a stone” (37). To view people in such a way is to rob them of their dignity and treat them as if they were inert objects rather than dynamic subjects with free will. Sartre, as we have seen, wants people to recognize their freedom and ability to change, and he thinks that there is something fatalistic and lazy about assuming that one is doomed to be whatever one has been and “is”. As affirming as this position can be, it does raise the worry that it could be viewed as unsympathetic to those who suffer from mental illness. If we are always free, and, therefore, responsible for ourselves, then is failing to cope with one’s mental illness a “choice?” I do not think this has to be the case. After all, as we have seen, Sartre recognizes that external conditions can alter the context in which we make certain choices; some conditions, such as a lack of universal healthcare, can make getting treatment for mental illness much more difficult. Sartre would no doubt say a person would still be existentially free to pursue treatment, but the existentialist must also hold that barriers — such as paywalls — to mental healthcare must be torn down because of the limitations to external freedom they represent. It is true that a person could choose to seek help at any time, but it is an affront to the freedom of others if collectively we, as a society, require them to go into financial ruin in order to do so.

Moreover, one can say that the illness itself, like certain material conditions, makes the application of one’s existential freedom more difficult, but never impossible. The existentialist would posit that a person is not identical with their brain chemistry, and it is for that reason that illnesses like depression can be overcome. If that makes it sound easy, it is important to stress that it is not. Illness, mental or otherwise, is a burden that is incredibly hard to bear, especially chronic illnesses that can last a lifetime. One does not choose to have a mental illness. What (my reading of) the existentialist hopes to remind everyone, however, is that, when faced with such an illness, sufferers maintain the freedom to overcome. This existential call should not be confused with a moral condemnation (i.e. “If you do not overcome your depression, you have failed.”) Instead, it should be understood as an encouragement; “It may be devastatingly hard, but you do have the power to recover.”

In all cases, then, existentialism remains a philosophy that has much to offer in terms of personal empowerment and wellbeing. This may seem odd to say for a philosophy which proclaims that, at bottom, individuals are “nothing,” but it is precisely because we are “nothing” that we are free. If we were “something,” if we had a rigid definition, then we would be stuck, frozen, and unfree because to be something, definitionally, means that one is not something other than that. “The only being which can be called free is the being which nihilates its being,” Sartre writes (65). Human beings are free to become what we choose because we have to ability to radically reject what we have done and been by doing and being something else. And this is due to the fact that our existence precedes our essence; we have nothing inside of us, which means we can choose to be anything. A paper cutter was created with a preset purpose, and it will always be a paper cutter until it is destroyed or repurposed by an agent. In contrast, human beings were not given a preset purpose and we can choose to redefine ourselves and find a new purpose at any time.

This is why it is unhelpful and untruthful to think of oneself as incapable, as a failure. Again, it is easy to do so because, lacking definition, we long to be defined, even as something negative. Sartre describes humanity as “condemned to be free” because we have no other choice but to accept that we are the originators of our actions; we cannot blame our decisions on God, the world, or our biology. Everything we do is on us. “We are alone, with no excuses” (23). We rush to say that we “are” certain things, even failures, in order to justify ourselves to ourselves, but no such justification exists. We cannot blame a lack of initiative on our being “failures” because no one of us “is” a failure. All any one of us can be said to be is what we do. Our external actions define us because there is no internal essence to do so.

While it can be scary to have no excuse for our actions, it can also be incredibly freeing. We do not have to resign ourselves to being failures. We can be anything. That’s not to say that it is easy; we may be faced with making hard choices, and we may decide that some paths are too unappealing for us to take. It will always be our decision, though, and we will always be free to change our minds. To quote Sartre once again;

What the existentialist says is that the coward makes himself cowardly, that the hero makes himself heroic. There’s always the possibility for the coward not to be cowardly any more and for the hero to stop being heroic. What counts is total involvement; some one particular action or set of circumstances is not total involvement. (35).

While we are alive, we are free. The dead are defined by the sum of their actions, but the living will always have the choice to change the road we are on. Existentialism presents us with the thought that we do not have to resign ourselves to the definitions that we and others have given ourselves. It asserts that human beings are not objects, that we do not come prepackaged with a purpose, and so we are able to do and be what we choose. It says that we are nothing, and that can be very scary; we long to have meaning and an explanation for why we do what we do, and, in a world that has nothing to offer in terms of justifying us, such meaning and explanations are not forthcoming. As existentially terrifying as this can all be, though, existentialism is also very freeing. We don’t have to settle; we have the freedom to choose who we want to be. When an opportunity comes along, I don’t have to tear myself down and say that I am not worthy of taking it. The only failure in me is the one I make of myself. If I do not accept myself as a failure — if I refuse to let my actions be guided by self-imposed restrictions — then “a failure” cannot be what I am. We are only the sum of our external actions because, existentially, there is nothing inside us. Our being is nothing.

And being nothing means that we can do anything.

Work Cited

Aronson, Ronald. “The Philosophy of Our Time.” BostonReview.net. November 14, 2018

Sartre, Jean-Paul. Existentialism and Human Emotions. Translated by Bernard Frechtman and Hazel E. Barnes. Carol Publishing Group, 1995.

Jeremy Mele

Written by

Having survived grad school, I’ve decided that I need to keep writing or risk wasting $[redacted] on a philosophy degree of all things.

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