How do we create meaning without falling into nihilism or complacency? And can existentialism move beyond the individual and into the collective, offering not just personal liberation but political transformation? To explore more about the concepts and thinkers discussed, including Sartre's Radical Freedom, Camus' Absurdist Rebellion, and Olufemi Otaewa's Constructive Politics, please visit the episode description. Scroll to the end for a link to the episode webpage where you'll find further resources, book recommendations, and an option to support my work through Buy Me A Coffee. Your support is vital to support the continuation of this long -form independent content. I really appreciate it. Existence is an open question, a riddle without an answer key. We reach for meaning the way a drowning man reaches for air, grasping at faith, love, ambition, anything to tether us to certainty. Yet the deeper we search, the more elusive certainty becomes. What if meaning is not given, but made? What if the only purpose we have is the one we carve out for ourselves? These questions unsettle the soul, stripping away comforting illusions and leaving us alone with the weight of our own choices. This is the domain of existentialism, where every individual is both the creator and the created, forging identity in the furnace of freedom. For centuries, philosophy found solace in the notion of essence, a fixed nature that defines each thing in the universe. A knife, after all, is a knife because it cuts. Plato and Aristotle extended this idea to human beings, arguing that we are born with an intrinsic purpose, a destiny encoded into our very being. To live well was to discover and fulfil this purpose, aligning with a cosmic order that predated us. This view, essentialism, placed human life within a grand narrative, a structured reality in which meaning was as natural as breath. But the world does not always behave like a well -ordered story. By the 19th century, the certainties of essentialism began to fracture. The universe, once thought to hum with divine intention, revealed itself as indifferent. Friedrich Nietzsche saw this shift with brutal clarity, declaring that God is dead, not merely as a religious statement, but as a recognition that all inherited structures of meaning were crumbling. Nihilism followed in its wake, the stark acknowledgement that life at its core holds no predetermined significance. If meaning existed at all, it would not be found. It would have to be invented. This existential void became the foundation for Jean -Paul Sartre's radical proposition. Existence precedes essence. We are not born with a purpose. We are born and then we must define ourselves. This idea overturned thousands of years of philosophy. There is no divine script, no universal blueprint, no external force shaping our fate. Each of us is thrown into the world, left to craft an identity from nothing. The task is daunting, exhilarating, and above all, inescapable. Yet, freedom of this magnitude does not come without its burdens. Sartre described it as a kind of condemnation. We are condemned to be free, forced to bear full responsibility for the paths we choose. Without an external guide, every decision becomes an act of self -definition, every action a brushstroke on the canvas of our own existence. The universe offers no validation. no comforting assurance that we have chosen correctly. This is the absurdity at the heart of existentialism, the relentless search for meaning in a world that offers none. But to call this despair would be to miss the point. If the universe does not bestow meaning upon us, then we are free to create it ourselves. Sartre urged us to live authentically, to reject bad faith, the self -deception that allows us to surrender our freedom to external expectations. whether through social conventions, religious doctrines or the weight of tradition. The temptation to relinquish responsibility is ever present, but existentialism demands that we resist, that we stand in the full light of our autonomy and embrace the terrifying, beautiful possibility of shaping our own existence. There is no fate but the one we forge, no justice but the justice we create, no meaning but the meaning we dare to build. The void is not an end, it is an invitation. And in that invitation lies the raw material for everything. The absurd is not merely an idea. It is a lived experience, a confrontation that defines the human condition. We are creatures who crave order, who seek patterns and purpose. Yet we find ourselves in a world that offers only silence in return. This is not mere misalignment. It is a rupture, a fundamental dissonance between our need for meaning and the universe's indifference. Albert Camus, one of existentialism's most poetic voices, described this as the absurd. The moment we realise that the universe is not made for us, that it does not care, that it will not provide the answers we seek, and yet we continue to seek them. The question then is not whether life has meaning, but whether it is possible to live fully in the absence of inherent meaning. For Camus, the immediate temptation was nihilism, the belief that without purpose, nothing matters. But nihilism is a dead end, a retreat, rather than a response. Instead, Camus proposed defiance. If the universe is absurd, then our task is not to surrender, but to rebel. He likened this struggle to the myth of Sisyphus, condemned by the gods to roll a boulder up a mountain, only for it to roll back down, endlessly repeating his futile labour. At first glance, Sisyphus's fate is tragic, a symbol of hopelessness. But Camus saw something different. If Sisyphus accepts his fate, if he embraces his struggle without illusion, then he is free. His suffering does not break him, it defines him. One must imagine Sisyphus happy, Camus wrote, not because his task has changed, but because he has. This defiance, this insistence on living in full awareness of life's absurdity, is at the core of existentialism. If the world does not provide meaning, we must create it ourselves, not as a means of escape, but as an act of affirmation. Jean -Paul Sartre took this further, arguing that to live authentically, We must recognise that every choice we make is an act of self -definition. There is no moral script, no external judge. Every action declares what we believe to be valuable, not just for ourselves but for humanity. We are, in Sartre's words, condemned to be free, unable to shift the weight of responsibility onto any higher power or external authority. The only sin in this framework is bad faith. The refusal to acknowledge our freedom... the willingness to let others define us, the quiet surrender to convention. But if responsibility is heavy, it is also exhilarating. To live authentically is to recognize that our choices matter, that they shape not only our own lives, but the world around us. Meaning is not something we stumble upon. It is something we construct. A person who devotes themselves to art, to justice, to love. These are not passive responses to a world devoid of meaning, but active assertions that meaning exists. because we choose to create it. This is not an easy philosophy. It does not offer comfort, nor does it promise certainty. Instead, it demands courage. The courage to stand alone in an indifferent universe and declare, despite everything, that life is worth living. And so the absurd becomes not a source of despair, but a call to arms. If the universe is silent, then let us speak. If there is no justice, then let us create it. If there is no grand design, then let us build something meaningful with our own hands. The existentialist does not seek permission, does not wait for the universe to provide validation. They simply live, embracing the full weight of their freedom, reveling in the defiant beauty of a life that, though fleeting, is entirely their own. The absurd is not a mere abstraction. It is the lived reality of a world that refuses to conform to our need for coherence. We seek meaning instinctively, yet the structures that once provided it, religion, tradition, the certainty of metaphysics, have eroded. In their place, we are left with a landscape of competing narratives, none of which can fully satisfy our hunger for order. This is the defining tension of modern existence, the desperate search for significance in a universe that offers only silence in return. Albert Camus named this tension the absurd, the confrontation between human beings who demand meaning. and a world that offers none. But the absurd is not only a metaphysical problem, it is deeply political, woven into the very fabric of contemporary life. Historically, the absurd emerged in response to the collapse of traditional worldviews. After World War II, existentialist thinkers sought to understand how meaning could persist in the face of mass violence and systemic brutality. Camus, writing in The Shadow of the Holocaust, rejected both religious consolation and nihilistic despair. Instead, he proposed rebellion not against suffering itself, which is unavoidable, but against the passive acceptance of meaninglessness. His interpretation of the myth of Sisyphus remains one of the most striking articulations of this defiance. The condemned man rolling his boulder up the hill for eternity is not to be pitied but admired. His fate is absurd, yes, but in embracing it fully he reclaims his agency. One must imagine Sisyphus happy, Camus insisted, not because his struggle has meaning in an objective sense, but because he chooses to persist despite its absence. Today, the absurd takes on new dimensions. The acceleration of technology and the rise of algorithmic governance have created a world where human agency is increasingly fragmented. Contemporary philosopher Byung -Chul Han argues that the digital age has not freed us, but instead subjected us to new forms of control. in which meaning is not discovered or constructed, but dictated by data -driven systems. Social media platforms designed to maximise engagement shape not just what we see, but what we desire, subtly directing our existential inquiries toward consumerism rather than self -determination. The philosopher Bernard Stiegler warned that this shift represents an existential crisis, as individuals are deprived of the slow, reflective spaces necessary to construct meaning on their own terms. The psychological effects of this crisis are measurable. A study published by the Pew Research Centre found that 70 % of young adults report feeling overwhelmed by the pressure to create a meaningful life in an age of relentless self -optimisation. The World Health Organisation has identified existential anxiety as a growing mental health concern. exacerbated by the decline of stable social structures. These findings suggest that the absurd is no longer an abstract philosophical dilemma, it is a public health issue, one that demands both intellectual and systemic responses. Yet if the absurd is inescapable, it is also an opportunity. Camus' rebellion is not an act of destruction, but of creation, a refusal to accept predetermined limits on what a meaningful life can be. The contemporary philosopher Amiya Srinivasan challenges us to rethink existentialism, not as an individual struggle, but as a collective one, arguing that meaning is not merely a personal endeavour, but a social and political act. If the world is absurd, then our task is not to passively endure it, but to actively construct spaces in which meaning can be shared, debated and expanded. Thus, the absurd is not a dead end, but a threshold. It forces us to confront the most fundamental question of all, Not what is the meaning of life, but what meaning will we create despite life's refusal to provide one? The answer to that question is, is not fixed. It is not something we find, but something we make. And in that act of making, the absurd ceases to be a void and becomes a canvas. Freedom is intoxicating in theory, but in practice it is a burden that few are prepared to bear. We imagine freedom as liberation. an open field of possibilities where self -creation flourishes without restraint. But Jean -Paul Sartre stripped away this romantic illusion, revealing the existential terror that lies beneath. To be free is not merely to choose. It is to take full responsibility for the consequences of those choices, knowing that no divine or external authority can absolve us. Man is condemned to be free, Sartre wrote, emphasizing that freedom is not a privilege. but an inescapable condition. There is no higher order to tell us what is right, no metaphysical framework to justify our existence. We must construct meaning from nothing, and in that responsibility we find both our greatest power and our deepest anguish. This anguish is not hypothetical. It is reflected in the paralysis of modern choice. The sheer volume of available options, careers, ideologies, identities, creates an illusion of infinite possibility. Yet studies suggest that an excess of choice often leads to anxiety rather than fulfilment. The paradox of freedom, as psychologist Barry Schwartz has documented, is that more options often lead to less satisfaction. His research, which draws from behavioural economics, suggests that individuals facing too many choices are more likely to experience regret, self -doubt and decision fatigue. In this light, Sartre's existentialist burden has never been more relevant. If freedom is absolute, then the weight of making the wrong choice becomes unbearable. Yet Sartre argued that evading this responsibility is the true failure. He called it mauvaise for bad faith, the self -deception that allows individuals to deny their own agency. A person living in bad faith convinces themselves that they have no choice, that their actions are dictated by external forces, society, religion, economic necessity. But Sartre was unyielding in his critique. Even when circumstances constrain us, we remain responsible for how we navigate them. To claim otherwise is to retreat into inauthenticity, to relinquish the very essence of what it means to exist as a free being. Sartre illustrated bad faith through the example of a waiter who plays his role too perfectly, reducing himself to a mere function. The waiter, by performing his duties with mechanical precision, treats himself as an object rather than a subject. as though he has no identity beyond his occupation. This is not an act of devotion to his craft, but a refusal to acknowledge his freedom to be something more. Contemporary scholars like Judith Butler expand on this notion, arguing that identity itself is often performed under societal expectations, reinforcing roles that restrict rather than liberate. Butler's analysis of gender as a constructed performance echoes Sartre's concern. When we define ourselves purely through external scripts, we risk becoming spectators in our own existence. The consequences of bad faith are not merely personal, they shape the social fabric. Political theorist Wendy Brown critiques the way neoliberal systems encourage passivity, persuading individuals that market forces rather than human agency dictate their lives. In this framework, resignation becomes easier than resistance. To accept injustice as inevitable is itself a form of bad faith. a refusal to acknowledge our role in perpetuating the structures that oppress us. Sartre's existentialism, then, is not just about personal authenticity but collective responsibility. If we do not actively define ourselves, we will be defined by others and that definition will serve power rather than truth. To live authentically is not to be free of doubt but to refuse the comfort of surrender. It is to recognize that while we are shaped by history, language and culture, we are not prisoners of them. The existentialist imperative is not simply to act, but to act with awareness, to accept that there are no guarantees, no cosmic assurances, only the raw, exhilarating fact of our own becoming. Whether this is a gift or a curse is irrelevant. It is, simply, the condition of being alive. The weight of freedom does not lighten with awareness. It deepens, revealing new layers of responsibility. To recognize oneself as the author of meaning is only the beginning. What follows is the unsettling realisation that every choice we make, every action we take, is not only a reflection of our individual values, but a model for what we believe humanity should be. Jean -Paul Sartre insisted that our choices are never just personal. They are declarations of the world we endorse. In this sense, freedom is never exercised in isolation. It is a force that shapes not only our own existence, but the collective reality in which others must live. This idea finds renewed urgency in contemporary moral philosophy, particularly in debates surrounding justice, ethics and political agency. If meaning is not imposed from above but created through human action, then moral responsibility shifts from divine decree to individual and collective accountability. Sartre's existentialism suggests that there are no external moral absolutes. We create morality through the choices we make. Yet, as philosopher Kwame Anthony Appiah argues, morality is never constructed in a vacuum. Our choices, whether consciously or unconsciously, are shaped by history, social structures and cultural narratives. The challenge is not merely to assert freedom, but to do so in a way that acknowledges the interconnectedness of our existence. Sartre's notion of radical responsibility stands in stark contrast to the passive resignation encouraged by modern political structures. In neoliberal societies, personal failure is often framed as an individual shortcoming rather than a symptom of systemic inequality. Philosopher Amiya Srinivasan critiques this mindset, arguing that it obscures the reality that freedom is unequally distributed. The existentialist claim that we define ourselves through our actions remains true, but it must be understood alongside the recognition that some are given more space to act than others. To embrace existentialism without acknowledging structures of oppression risks turning it into a philosophy of privilege rather than liberation. The consequences of ignoring this responsibility are visible in data on global inequality. According to the World Inequality Report, the top 1 % of earners captured nearly two -thirds of global wealth gains in the past two decades, while the bottom 50 % saw their share stagnate. If existentialism demands that we take ownership of the world we create, then this reality cannot be dismissed as an inevitability. It is a result of human choices, policies and priorities. Sartre's insistence that we are responsible for the world's meaning takes on a political dimension. To claim freedom while ignoring injustice is itself a form of bad faith. Simone de Beauvoir extended this idea to gender and oppression. arguing that true freedom is not the ability to choose within a constrained system, but the ability to redefine the system itself. For de Beauvoir, existentialism is not just about individual authenticity, but about dismantling the barriers that prevent others from exercising their own agency. Contemporary feminist thinkers such as Silvia Federici expand on this. illustrating how economic and social structures actively constrain freedom, turning existentialist theory into a framework for political action rather than mere self -reflection. Thus, existentialism is not a retreat into personal philosophy. It is a challenge to engage with the world as it is and to reshape it in the process. If meaning is constructed rather than discovered, then the responsibility for justice, progress and human dignity lies entirely in our hands. The world will not provide these things for us. We must build them deliberately and collectively in defiance of meaninglessness. In doing so, we turn Sartre's condemnation into a revolution, not merely the burden of freedom, but the power of creation itself. To accept responsibility for meaning is to accept responsibility for history. Existentialism at its core is not just an individualist philosophy, it is an ethical imperative. If we are the architects of meaning, then we are also the architects of justice, progress and the world that future generations will inherit. This burden extends beyond personal choices. It requires an active engagement with the structures that shape human experience. To exist authentically is to reject resignation, to refuse the comforting lie that the world simply is as it must be. If we construct meaning, then we construct everything else as well. And this realisation forces a confrontation. What kind of world are we building? Sartre argued that every choice is a universal statement. When we act, we are not just deciding for ourselves, we are implicitly endorsing a way of being, a set of values that define not only our own identity, but the possibilities available to others. This idea has profound implications for contemporary ethical debates, particularly in the face of crises such as climate change, economic inequality. and the erosion of democratic institutions. If we are free, then we are responsible. And if we are responsible, then inaction is itself a choice, a form of complicity. Nowhere is this clearer than in the moral philosophy of Peter Singer, whose work on effective altruism challenges the existentialist to extend their responsibility beyond personal authenticity to global ethics. If freedom means the ability to shape the world, then Sartre's ideas must contend with Singer's demand that we use that freedom to alleviate suffering. The wealthiest nations today possess unprecedented resources. Yet according to the United Nations, nearly 800 million people still lack access to clean water. To ignore this when we have the power to act is not neutrality. It is bad faith on a global scale. This same principle applies to the contemporary resurgence of authoritarianism. If existentialism asserts that no external force determines meaning, then it stands fundamentally opposed to political systems that demand submission to an imposed order. Hannah Arendt's analysis of totalitarianism warned that passivity rather than active oppression is what allows authoritarianism to thrive. Sartre's existentialism insists that we are never merely bystanders. The decision to do nothing, to remain detached, is a decision nonetheless. It is the endorsement of the status quo. Today, as democratic institutions are undermined by misinformation and political cynicism, this warning is more urgent than ever. Yet existentialism is not a philosophy of despair. It is a call to action. Achille Mbembe's concept of necropolitics expands existentialist thought beyond the Western tradition, forcing us to consider how meaning is constructed not just in individual lives, but in systems of power. that determine who gets to live freely and who does not. If Sartre argued that we define ourselves through action, then Bembe forces us to ask, whose actions are constrained, whose existence is denied, and what structures perpetuate this inequality? Existentialism must evolve. It must move beyond the individual into the collective, into the historical, into the systemic. To exist, then, is to be accountable. The absurd does not free us from responsibility. It intensifies it. If we live in a world without inherent justice, then we are the ones who must create it. If history does not follow a moral arc, then it is our hands that must bend it. Existentialism demands not just reflection but engagement, not just meaning but action. The world as it is, is the sum of human choices. And the question that remains is whether we will accept it passively or shape it deliberately with the full weight of our freedom behind us. The realization that meaning is constructed, not given, is both a burden and a weapon. It dismantles the illusion of inevitability, the idea that the world is simply the way it must be. This insight, central to existentialist thought, transforms passivity into complicity. To live authentically is not merely to carve out personal meaning, but to acknowledge that every system, every injustice, every hierarchy is the product of human choice. If we accept responsibility for our own existence, then we must also accept responsibility for the structures that shape it. The refusal to act, to challenge, to reconstruct, is itself an act of meaning -making, one that sustains the very realities we claim to reject. Simone de Beauvoir understood this deeply. Her existentialist ethics were not content with individual authenticity. They demanded an interrogation of power. The second sex was not just a work of feminist philosophy. It was an existentialist argument against the passivity of oppression. One is not born but rather becomes a woman, she wrote, articulating the existentialist insight that identity is not fixed but shaped through action and social conditioning. The subjugation of women in her analysis was not natural or predetermined but a historical construct reinforced through acts of bad faith by those who accept oppression and by those who benefit from it. This logic extends beyond gender. The philosopher Frantz Fanon applied a similar existentialist framework to colonialism, exposing how systems of racial subjugation rely on both domination and the internalization of inferiority. If oppression is constructed, then so is liberation. The evidence is everywhere. The Global Gender Gap Report, published annually by the World Economic Forum, continues to show that economic and political inequality persists. not because of biological difference, but because of social and legal structures that reinforce historical disparities. According to Oxfam, the world's richest 1 % control nearly twice as much wealth as 6 .9 billion people combined. These statistics are not abstract. They are the material consequences of human decisions. If we take existentialism seriously, then these conditions are not inevitabilities. They are choices we either challenge or sustain. The contemporary philosopher Olufemio Taiwa extends this analysis, arguing that existentialist thought must evolve into what he calls constructive politics. Sartre and de Beauvoir were right to insist that we define ourselves through action, but action cannot exist in isolation. It must be directed toward the dismantling of unjust structures and the building of new ones. Freedom, Taiwa argues, is not just about individual agency. but about creating the conditions in which all people can exercise that agency fully. This aligns with de Beauvoir's assertion that one's freedom is contingent on the freedom of others. To claim existentialist responsibility while ignoring systemic oppression is not just contradiction, it is failure. This is where existentialism leaves us, in a world that is neither predetermined nor just, but open to reconstruction. If meaning is something we build, then justice too is something we must create. To exist authentically is not simply to live with awareness, but to live in defiance of the structures that limit possibility. The absurdity of existence does not absolve us from responsibility. It intensifies it. The world will not provide meaning, will not provide fairness, will not provide liberation, but it will provide space. And within that space, we must decide what we will build. Thank you for listening to this episode of the Deeper Thinking Podcast, an audio essay read by me, Holly, your digital narrator. To learn more about the subjects covered today, check out the links in the show notes. Stay curious, stay engaged and keep questioning. Until next time.'
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