Imagine a world with no meaning—where our lives have no purpose, and we are meant for nothing greater.
The average Harvard student might reject this notion, as it implies that our hard work amounts to nothing. After all, we have made innumerable sacrifices to get to this College, whether it be our social lives or our health, often at the cost of one too many late nights studying. By attending Harvard, society would have us believe we are special: we have achieved the nearly impossible in a pool where approximately 96% of applicants are rejected. Our alumni community boasts highly accomplished figures, including Supreme Court justices, Nobel Prize laureates, and presidents. The world tells us that through Harvard, we have started down one of the best paths to fulfilling the formula for a successful life.
The College reinforces the idea that the Harvard student is exceptional and serves as a model for society. Displayed in the Beren Hall Common Room of Winthrop House is a quote that John Winthrop delivered in a sermon to the Puritans of the Massachusetts Bay Colony: “We must always consider, that we shall be as a city upon a hill—the eyes of all people are upon us.”
With society offering a blueprint for a meaningful life—and with our constant efforts to follow it—how is it possible that we have no purpose in the universe?
For humanity, the potential meaninglessness of life can feel suffocating. It is from this starting point that philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche wrote about nihilism in the late 19th century. He argued that neither the individual nor humanity writ large has an objective purpose; structure and order are human constructs with no truth value.
“Every belief, every considering something true, is necessarily false because there is simply no true world,” he wrote. Nihilism is a crisis humanity must confront, as people work to dismantle the notion of cosmic truths and objectives, leading to a collapse of contemporary values and moral foundations. Nietzsche diagnoses nihilism as an inevitable consequence of the fraudulent purpose humans assign themselves, which may lead to despair.
But what if instead of hopelessness we embraced this meaninglessness? This is where Albert Camus enters, nearly 50 years later.
Camus identified a tension between humanity’s desire for purpose and the world’s apparent lack of meaning, which he called “the Absurd.” According to Camus, humans must resolve this contradiction, and the only viable way to do so is to embrace the absurd. He believed humans should realize their freedom by not being bound by some greater meaning, and, in doing so, be free to define their own purpose on their own terms.
Camus drew on “The Myth of Sisyphus” as an analogy to make his point. In Greek mythology, Sisyphus is condemned to roll a boulder up a hill for eternity, only for it to roll back down upon him as he reaches the top. This task is considered a meaningless effort—it will forever yield the same result.
In absurdism, our lives are meaningless and filled with obstacles, much like Sisyphus’ punishment. Still, we should find happiness in the process. The lack of purpose should not be a cause for despair. Instead, it allows each person to make their own meaning, without believing that a higher power has predetermined their purpose. It frees us all.
What does this teach us about our time at Harvard? How can we draw on these teachings to make the most of our lives and “seize the day?”
As Harvard students, we often get caught up in what we should do or should strive for: success, excellence in our fields, status, and money. We follow the herd—a time-tested path that offers safety and comfort.
Yet these expectations may cloud what makes us happy and gives our lives meaning. We all came to Harvard with unique passions to contribute to the College community. Common career paths and social pressures can pull us away from what we love. Sure, each of us has to be realistic in the careers that we pursue, and we cannot ignore essential needs for survival, such as financial stability. It is hard to drown out societal expectations that tell you what you should prioritize and value lest you be cast as an outsider.
Still, we should be careful not to lose sight of our passions. We should feel free to pursue our interests, even if we fear the lack of practical applications, since we live in a world where nothing has intrinsic value. In the moments when we feel lost, it is what we love that grounds us and gives us meaning. There is no recipe for creating a perfect life. Absurdism tells us to abandon constructed rules, which have no meaning in the grander scheme of the universe, and create our own paths.
However, absurdism is also not as easy as just saying, “Abandon everything and do what makes you happy right now.” The meaning and happiness we pursue do not derive from instant gratification. Instead, it comes from awareness of our futile existence and intentional action: being fully conscious and finding enjoyment in our passions, even if we struggle along the way. We should not take absurdism as an excuse to avoid life’s challenges. There is still value in hard work, and Harvard students should continue with the same grit and determination that they always have.
Daily, we should not let ourselves be limited by social norms or what others think of us. We should look to enjoy the moment for what it is: self-contained, requiring no greater meaning. So I encourage you to take that spontaneous trip to Rhode Island or make a fool of yourself in public with friends. After all, I know I have found the most joy when I feel present and free from all the other pressures in life. An absurdist outlook tells us that we should prioritize what we love rather than what we are expected to achieve.
In the end, Camus teaches us that the boulder is worth pushing. We just have to be present enough to see it.
Julia Bouchut ’29 (julia_bouchut@college.harvard.edu) is the Associate News Editor of the “Harvard Independent.”
