What do a fork and a train have in common? Although they are two entirely different things, they were created with a specific purpose. A fork, for instance, was designed for eating food, so it shares its purpose with other cutleries, like a spoon and chopsticks.
A train was created as a means of transport, not just for humans but also for animals and goods. The fork and the train both have an inherent purpose: they have been brought into existence for something. They have one or more specific functions.
If a fork, for some reason, fails to provide its inherent function, we could say it’s a ‘bad’ fork. The same is true for trains, meaning that, as a resident of the Netherlands, I could state that we have many ‘bad’ trains. But how about human beings?
Do we also have a built-in, preassigned function—an ‘essence’—or is there something fundamentally different about us? The French existentialist philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre believed that, aside from our biological features, humans come into existence without a predefined essence. Unlike forks and trains, we are fundamentally free to create our own identity and define our own purpose.
This idea lies at the core of Sartre’s existentialism. So, as you’re free anyway, you’re also entirely free to support this channel! Define yourself as a Patreon supporter, which grants access to ad-free videos, voting for topics, and free merchandise.
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When naval officer Jean-Baptiste Sartre died, his son Jean-Paul was just one year old. This loss brought Jean-Paul closer to his mother, Anne-Marie Schweitzer, as they lived under the care of his devout Protestant grandfather, Charles Schweitzer. While Sartre admired Charles’s intellect, he rejected his religious and traditional values.
Sartre’s relationship with his mother changed significantly when she remarried, and he wasn’t the focal point of her life anymore. Sartre didn’t like his stepfather. He was a man of authority who embodied typical bourgeois values, which Sartre would oppose throughout his life.
Sartre’s intellectual journey was deeply intertwined with Simone de Beauvoir, whose philosophy I recently explored in another video. The two met while studying in Paris and became lifelong partners. Their open relationship challenged traditional norms and values, as did their philosophical ideas.
Both, in their unique ways, became key figures in existentialism. Sartre became one of the most influential thinkers in French intellectual history. Unlike the father of existentialism, Søren Kierkegaard, Sartre was an atheist, and his version of existentialism was built on the absence of God.
His main works are Being and Nothingness, Existentialism Is a Humanism, and his novel Nausea. Before we dive into Sartre’s views, let’s briefly explore the roots of his philosophy. Sartre’s philosophy is based on understanding consciousness, which is how we experience and interact with the world.
According to Sartre, consciousness doesn’t exist on its own—it always focuses on “something,” whether it’s an object, a person, or even something imagined. In other words, consciousness depends on the world around it to exist. Sartre observed that when we’re conscious, we’re also aware of our own consciousness: we know that we exist.
This idea relates to René Descartes, who inspired Sartre and famously argued that there’s only one thing we can be absolutely sure of: our own consciousness. “Cogito ergo sum,” he famously proclaimed. Sartre builds his view on consciousness on the Cartesian view.
He agrees with Descartes that one can be sure of one’s consciousness. However, Descartes also assumed a separation between the self and the body, which is mind-body dualism. Sartre didn’t buy that; he experienced consciousness as more fluid and elusive.
Sartre developed his view of consciousness through Edmund Husserl’s phenomenology, which holds that consciousness is always directed toward something—a concept called “intentionality. ” While Sartre agreed with this idea, he rejected Husserl’s notion of a transcendental ego—an inner, stable self akin to a rock in the surf of our experiences. Sartre believed that consciousness is “nothingness,” meaning that consciousness has no fixed content.
It molds and forms by directing itself toward the outside world. This “nothingness” or emptiness of consciousness is fundamental to Sartre’s existentialist ideas, which we’ll find out shortly. There’s much more to Sartre’s theory of consciousness, but for the sake of brevity, let’s stop here and expand upon it when necessary.
Let’s move on to what Sartre said about why we are here and how we’re supposed to live, which, I suspect, is why most people are watching this video. If Sartre could explain his philosophy in three words, it would be as follows: “Existence precedes essence. ” This core existential belief is that we are not designed for a specific purpose.
Unlike a fork or a train, our existence does not have a fixed essence. We exist first; essence comes afterward. Sartre argued that we are “thrown” into this world, and no God or other higher entity tells us why or what we should do.
Life doesn’t come with an instruction manual or an explanation of why we’re alive in the first place. We are just here, facing a giant void, a question mark, a mystery never solved. Asking the question, “Why are we here?
” is pointless, as the seemingly indifferent universe remains silent. As Sartre stated: Man simply is. Not that he is simply what he conceives himself to be, but he is what he wills, and as he conceives himself after already existing – as he wills to be after that leap towards existence.
Man is nothing else but that which he makes of himself. That is the first principle of existentialism. End quote So, what we’re left with is an inherently undetermined existence.
Life, thus, is like an empty canvas. There are no fixed rules to this game. There are no definite goals.
There’s no overarching purpose. Morals and ethics are all manmade; none are final or absolute. Any claim of a universally right path, a presupposed way of living, is false.
The only truth is the empty canvas and our conscious ability to fill it in. The connection between Sartre’s view on consciousness and his existentialist ideas is probably becoming apparent, but let’s delve a bit deeper into it. It’s the “nothingness” of our consciousness, the absence of fixed content, that allows us to create our essence, to paint our canvasses however we like: a trait that is typically human.
It sets us apart from other existing objects and beings. To explain this further, Sartre distinguished two modes of existence: being-in-itself and being-for-itself. Being-in-itself refers to the mode of existence of things (or objects) that simply exist as they are.
They are without awareness or consciousness. Their essence is fixed. They can’t change themselves, nor can they reflect on their existence or have a desire to change themselves.
A fork and a train are ‘beings-in-themselves. ’ They are what they are. A fork doesn’t question why it’s a fork or wonder what else it could be.
A train can’t reflect on the purpose of its existence; it’s bound by its essence. Being-for-itself is quite different. Contrary to being-in-itself, being-for-itself is not fixed.
It’s constantly in flux, always in the process of becoming (which may remind you of Nietzsche). It defines itself through its actions. It has no predetermined existence.
Being-for-itself can reflect on itself and its place in the world as it’s conscious and aware of its surroundings. The mode of being-for-itself is unique to human beings. Sure, a part of our ‘humanness’ is inherent—what Sartre and Beauvoir called “facticity.
” Facticity includes your biology, skin color, your country of birth, or whether your parents are wealthy. In short, it’s the circumstances or facts about your life that you can’t control. But facticity doesn’t define who you are.
It’s your actions that define you. Whatever you do, you become. Our existence without a predefined essence allows us tremendous freedom.
Infinite possibilities allow us to walk on infinite roads. From the smallest choices, such as what we’ll have for dinner, to more significant life choices, such as which career path to take, we are free to grasp any of them. This is all great, but as we’re free to do what we please anyway, and our lives have no fixed essence, morals, or ethics, can’t we just do a bunch of bad stuff and get away with it?
Take breakfast, for example. Instead of eating the bowl of cornflakes in front of us, can’t we just take that bowl, walk through the front door, and smash it into someone’s head? Well, according to Sartre, that’s not how to do existentialism.
Au contraire, mon ami. Existentialism comes with great freedom but also with great responsibility. Why freedom comes with responsibility is actually quite simple to explain.
Consider the atheistic existentialist viewpoint and suppose there’s no God or similar divine authority to guide you. Sure, there’s Jordan Peterson and his twelve rules for life, but that aside, you are in charge. If you don’t have God as guidance or authority, you also don’t have God as an accountability partner.
In other words, if you (in the absence of God) are entirely free to live your life, you must also be entirely responsible for your choices. If there’s no one you’re accountable to, you’re the one accountable. As you’ve probably witnessed, choices have consequences.
For example, you’re free to smash a bowl of cornflakes into someone’s head, but such an action most likely leads to the police knocking on your door. According to Sartre, we are not just responsible for our deliberate choices. We are responsible for the totality of our lives, including our facticity.
This doesn’t mean that, for example, a war breaking out is our fault; it means we’re responsible for any action or inaction we take in such circumstances. Even inaction is a choice. Inaction in the face of human suffering was a big issue for Sartre.
Unlike Descartes, who focused on the certainty of one’s consciousness, Sartre emphasized the existence of other people’s consciousness through lived experience, using Husserl’s phenomenological method. Long story short, part of our responsibility is recognizing that others suffer as we do. “Don’t do unto others what you don’t want done unto you,” but not because it’s written in the Bible or Confucius said it a couple of millennia ago, but because we’re all interconnected.
Our choices affect others, and their choices affect us. We even experience their presence shaping us, which Sartre described through the concept of “the Look” or “the Gaze. ” He famously said, “Hell is other people,” not because others are inherently bad but because we can’t escape the influence of their judgments and expectations; others makes us view ourselves from the outside.
Moreover, Sartre argued that our choices concern mankind as a whole. We’re not just affecting others; we’re also setting an example. Through our choices, we represent what we stand for, our morals and principles, and whether or not we’re cowards.
Whatever we become echoes across the whole of humanity. And so, our choices shape not just ourselves but our entire species. Unfortunately, as observed by Sartre, many people deny their freedom and, with it, this responsibility.
We often consider freedom desirable. Who wouldn’t want to be free? Who doesn’t want to define their own lives?
But Sartre observed that freedom terrifies people. Hence, many try to escape it. Sartre admitted that the freedom he lay bare can be terrifying.
What should we do when there’s no external guidance or predetermined meaning to rely on? If Jordan Peterson’s 12 Rules for Life are not objectively and universally valid, how should we live? Which choices should I make, as there seem to be infinite?
And what’s the point of living anyway if there’s no heaven or some divine purpose we can work toward? What’s even more terrifying is the responsibility that comes with this freedom: imagine no God, boss, political party, parent, or whatever authority is accountable for your actions but you. Who can you blame if the consequences of your choices aren’t pretty to look at?
To escape the existentialist freedom, humans do what they’re generally masters at: they deceive themselves. Instead of embracing their freedom, including the weight of their responsibility as free, self-creating, and self-defining beings-for-themselves, they deny it by engaging in what Sartre called “bad faith. ” Now, what’s bad faith?
Bad faith is a way of denying your freedom by deceiving yourself. Even though you know you’re free, you convince yourself you aren’t. For example, you’re working a job you hate but have convinced yourself that you have no other choice: you need the money to pay the bills, so you must keep slaving away in that cubicle.
Without denying your financial pressure, Sartre would say you’re acting in bad faith. You’ve convinced yourself you have no choice, while in reality, you have. You have infinite choice.
Let’s face it. You could quit at this very moment. You can simply not go to work tomorrow morning and have a bagel somewhere.
You could run around naked on the street. You could step on a plane and fly to another continent. If you have the money, you could buy a sailing boat and sail across the Atlantic.
You could even smash a bowl of cornflakes into someone’s ear. Do you see the abundance of choices? That’s freedom.
Regardless of the consequences, you’re still entirely free to do any of these things. Bad faith means pretending this freedom isn’t there. You’re just doing whatever you’re supposed to do, which also implies a lack of responsibility.
A soldier who murdered many but defends his actions by saying he was just following orders; guess what? He’s also acting in bad faith. Having a superior telling you what to do is no excuse, to Sartre.
You had the freedom to choose, and you chose to kill. The same goes for people claiming to act in God’s name. “But Jesus made me do it!
” How convenient to hold God accountable for your actions! All in all, living in bad faith is inauthentic. It prevents you from fully realizing your potential.
Why? Because it denies the core traits of being human: freedom and the ability to create meaning through our choices. It denies you as a being-for-itself.
The beauty of “existence precedes essence” is that the ‘essence’ part of your life is up to you. As Sartre wrote: “Man is nothing else but what he makes of himself. ” Your life is yours to create.
Don’t let others do it. Now that we’ve explored two heavyweights of existentialism, it’s perhaps a good idea to further examine how exactly one becomes an existentialist. If you want me to cover this, please let me know.
Thank you for watching.
