Beyond Victory: Finding Meaning in Never-Ending Defeat
Insights from Albert Camus' The Plague for the Peace Movement's Failed Efforts to Stop the 2003 Invasion of Iraq
It is a mistake to evaluate our social change efforts strictly on the basis of outcomes and “victory.” Even when achieved, victory is transitory and gives way to reversals and future failure. Had the Iraq War been prevented, in 2003, it might have been implemented in 2004. The larger point is that human existence cannot be meaningful if it is strictly understood as a series of undertakings to achieve some perpetually postponed meaningful outcome or state of affairs. No victory is permanent; therefore, no victory avoids eventual defeat.
To contend that all that is worthwhile is that which generates a helpful outcome is to misunderstand the inherent absurdity of life. All of our earthly efforts come to the same conclusion: each of our achievements will, at some future point, come undone. This aspect of the human condition is no reason to conclude that life, therefore, has no value. Much of what is best about life—the intrinsically good—is to be found in the present—in our aliveness, our communion with the living and the exemplification of that which we know to be good.
This point is made during a conversation between friends in Albert Camus’ 1947 novel, The Plague. Dr. Rieux and Jean Tarrou take a rare break from their joint efforts to combat a lethal infectious disease that is rapidly spreading throughout the coastal town of Oran. Dr. Rieux tries to save as many lives as possible, but his treatments are largely ineffectual. Tarrou has formed sanitation squads responsible for trying to limit the spread of the disease. Each man is acutely aware of the muted impact of their efforts to preserve human life.
Reflecting on his efforts, Rieux says that he thinks it is better to rebel against death than to passively accept its dictates. In reply Tarrou observes,
“‘Yes. But your victories will never be lasting; that’s all.’ Rieux’s face darkened. ‘Yes, I know. But it’s no reason for giving up the struggle.’ ‘No reason, I agree. Only I now can picture what this plague must mean for you.’ ‘Yes. A never ending defeat.’“
We might summarize the insight this way: Those defeated by defeat are doomed to defeat. The fact that we may well fail to achieve our specific aims, Camus insists, is no justification for passively resigning ourselves to the predicted and perhaps even predictable outcome. Camus’ character, Rieux, is not a naïve optimist. He understands that death always wins. But he also appreciates that living in a manner that affirms the love of life is still worth doing. We can find joy and meaning in the love of life and virtue, even when they fail to gift us the futures we desire.
Those of us who affirm growth, courage, humanity, love, knowledge, justice, and integrity as values and experiences that animate and give meaning to human existence are not dissuaded from honoring and exemplifying them simply because they cannot be predictably or permanently achieved.
Rather than locating meaning or purpose strictly in attaining our ideal outcome, Camus challenges us to find purpose and value in aliveness, in conscious and committed participation in life even as it fleetingly escapes our grasp or defies grand designs. That a rose will wilt is no justification to stubbornly ignore its ambrosial fragrance or petulantly eschew its beauty and present vitality. So, too, with human existence and moral convictions.
Those of us who affirm growth, courage, humanity, love, knowledge, justice, and integrity as values and experiences that animate and give meaning to human existence are not dissuaded from honoring and exemplifying them simply because they cannot be predictably or permanently achieved. The humanities have and continue to help us come to terms with fallibility, impermanence, and mortality. The question of greatest concern, then, is how to revolt against despair, defeatism, and the forces of death, necrophilia, in a word. Being honest with ourselves, we must admit the risks of falling prey to such forces. We are lured in by the fetid nectar of fear and the desire to be made safe by those who wield dominance and also manipulation.
Some things are so offensive to human dignity—felt as visceral violations—that we cannot and will not passively consent to them. We would rather struggle against them even if doomed to failure because it is better to stand against suffering and indignity than to become a resigning bystander. This is of course not a factual claim. It is something even more important: a belief-orienting statement of value. The point is made by Tarrou after being confronted with the question of why to apply himself to what seems to be the impossible task of combatting death. Tarrou’s modest but profound answer was this:
“All I maintain is that on this earth there are pestilences and there are victims, and it’s up to us, so far as possible, not to join forces with the pestilences. That may sound simple to the point of childishness; I can’t judge if it’s simple, but I know it’s true.”
Those in the peace movement who tirelessly persisted in their efforts failed to prevent or stop the 2003 Iraq War as Tarrou failed to stop the plague. Where they succeeded is in refusing to be part of the pestilence—refusing to obediently accept an unjust war, a thing that violated their core human values.
Our direct and self-evident contribution was to conduct ourselves in such a manner as to manifest a resounding, “no.” No to consenting to unjust war. No to docility. No to passivity. No to going along quietly. We said, “no.”
We could have said “yes,” or we could have said nothing. But we cared enough to be human and cared enough for life to say “no”, and refused to participate in what we believed was wrong; even if in taking action we joined Sisyphus in rolling the boulder up the hill only for it to fall down once again. Such disobedience is one of the inspiring affirmations of of human autonomy and dignity dating back to Antigone, Prometheus, and Jesus. And let us not forget that these virtuous dissenters were each motivated by love.
The future is unknown and not within our perfect control. The present, by contrast, is ours—ours to live for what we love. I, for one, would rather live in a world where millions of people rose up to cry out for the preservation of human life and against an unjust war. A world where many of those voices refused to go silent even as the drums of war and unthinking patriotism sometimes drowned them out. May those cries for human dignity resound into the present and the future.
Whatever the future holds this much is clear: a world where millions affirmed the dignity of all human beings and challenged those in power to prioritize innocent life over amoral geo-political calculations is better than a world where all fatalistically resign themselves to dehumanization, domination, and death.
Read Part One and Two of this Three-Part Series Below
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