Albert Camus S Philosophy Of Communication Making Sense In An Age Of Absurdity

Albert Camusı
s
Philosophy of Communication

Albert Camusı
s
Philosophy of Communication
MAKING SENSE IN AN AGE OF ABSURDITY
Brent C. Sleasman

Copyright 2011 Brent C. Sleasman
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Sleasman, Brent C.
Albert Camus’s philosophy of communication : making sense in an age of
absurdity / Brent C. Sleasman.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references (p. ) and index.
ISBN 978-1-60497-791-2
1. Camus, Albert, 1913–1960—Philosophy. 2. Camus, Albert,
1913–1960—Ethics. I. Title.
PQ2605.A3734Z73623 2012
848’.91409—dc23
2011045926

Dedicated to Z, D, and E.
You are constant reminders that the absurdity of
this life will lead us to unknown destinations

TABLE OF CONTENTS
Acknowledgments ix
Introduction: Meeting Absurdity: Albert Camus
and the Communication Ethics
of the Everyday 1
Chapter 1: The Fall: A Communicative
Risk in an Age of Absurdity 17
Chapter 2: Embedded Rebellion:
An Ethical Response in an Age of Absurdity 37
Chapter 3: Dialogue: Ethical Engagement
in an Age of Absurdity 75
Chapter 4: The Public Sphere: Navigating
Opposing Agendas in an Age of Absurdity 113
Chapter 5: Responsibility in an Age of Absurdity 135
Conclusion: Hope in the Midst of Absurdity 159
References 167
Index 179

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
It is impossible to thank everyone who has contributed to the ideas
revealed in the following pages. Among those who deserve special men-
tion are Paul Richardson and the Cambria Press staff, as well as my col-
leagues in the Department of Theatre, Communication and Fine Arts at
Gannon University. I appreciate their support and their encouragement
to complete this book.
At the risk of overlooking someone, I do wish to express my thanks
to a special few who have contributed their own energy to this proj-
ect. First, I wish to thank the faculty in the Department of Communica-
tion and Rhetorical Studies at Duquesne University. I ﬁrst encountered
the work of Albert Camus as a graduate teaching assistant in Ronald C.
Arnett’s undergraduate Communication Ethics course. Little did I know
at the time that The Stranger would partly guide the next ten years of my
professional life. Second, I wish to thank Annette Holba for her feedback
on a much earlier draft of this project. In addition to providing a content-
based friendship, her work on philosophical leisure has inﬂuenced my
own academic development. Third, I wish to thank Eric Grabowsky for

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his ongoing friendship and conversations related to various aspects of
this research.
Finally, if the words on the following pages are true, then having
moments of stability and certainty are gifts indeed. Thank you to my
family, especially Julie, for carrying on in the midst of the chaos and
constant change.

INTRODUCTION
MEETING ABSURDITY
ALBERT CAMUS AND THE
COMMUNICATION ETHICS OF THE EVERYDAY
Of the few scholars still interested in Camus, most esteem his
literary genius but denigrate his importance as a philosopher.
—Golomb 268
If one could say just once: ‘This is clear,’all would be saved.
—Camus, “The Myth of Sisyphus” 27
The current age is an age of absurdity. In the dictionary, absurd is
deﬁned as “utterly or obviously senseless, illogical, or untrue; contrary
to all reason or common sense; laughably foolish or false” (“absurd”).
Unfortunately, one need not rely on a dictionary to point out the tension
between the way one desires the world to appear and the harsh truth of
human existence. Every day one is confronted with reminders that life
is full of contradictions and uncertainty; often the approaches to life that
made sense even a few years ago no longer create the same opportunities

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in a fast-paced and ever-changing society. Some scholars, including
Jean-Francois Lyotard, have used the term postmodern to describe this
era defined by a decline of agreed-upon daily practices. According to
Lyotard, this postmodern moment is one in which “the grand narrative
[of modernity] has lost its credibility,” and therefore the question of
knowledge is open to debate and disagreement (37). Whether one refers
to this historical moment as an age of absurdity or as postmodernity,
life provides ample reminders that human existence is partly defined by
opposition and ambiguity. It is within such moments of disruption (and
interruption) that one must turn to those who offer guidance for navigat-
ing related circumstances; in this case it is the life and work of Albert
Camus that provide guidance, insight, and inspiration for living in an
age of absurdity.
Camus’s insights are especially enlightening for those interested in
questions of human communication—specifically, the study of commu-
nication ethics. Through his various roles as journalist, playwright, actor,
essayist, philosopher, and novelist, Camus engaged a complex world in
a variety of capacities and offered an array of insights into and inter-
pretations of his time. This project seeks to contribute to the argument
that Camus’s deep ethical commitments allow him to serve as a phi-
losopher of communication for an age of absurdity (Sleasman, “Albert
Camus”). To that end, this introduction explores foundational concepts
that establish a framework for the remainder of the text. An exploration
of Camus’s understanding of absurdity and of how it can function as a
metaphor that guides communicative decision making establishes the
background against which he completed his life’s work. For Camus,
absurdity was not simply a theoretical concept but part of everyday life;
therefore the following section illustrates how he encountered absur-
dity in his daily existence. Finally, an outline of the remaining chapters
provides insight into Camus’s unique contribution to the theory of com-
munication ethics. These steps provide the structure for addressing the
central question of this book: How does Albert Camus’s use of the met-
aphor of the absurd assist one in engaging the contemporary historical

Meeting Absurdity
moment, a time of narrative and virtue contention, from an existential
ethical perspective?
ABSURDITY AS A METAPHOR
Fundamentally, Camus understood absurdity as a desire for clear
understanding in a world lacking universality and in which contradic-
tion is a given. Such an environment challenges one to make sense
of everyday circumstances and to find meaning in existence. It was
within “The Myth of Sisyphus” that Camus presented one of his clear-
est descriptions of an absurd existence; in the preface he wrote, “The
fundamental subject of ‘The Myth of Sisyphus’ is this: is it legiti-
mate and necessary to wonder whether life has a meaning?” (v). As
opposed to providing an explicit definition of the term absurd in his
work, Camus created vivid characters who illustrated the concept. He
also provided a broad description of how absurdity surfaces in every-
day life; in other words, he painted a picture of absurdity within the
human experience. Although Camus himself never truly defined the
concept, this has not discouraged other scholars from attempting to
fill that void.
Both Joseph McBride (3–8) and Robert Solomon (34–35) equated the
absurd specifically with the idea that life holds no meaning. According
to Cruikshank, absurdity for Camus represented “the conclusion arrived
at by those who had assumed the possibility of a total explanation of
existence by the mind but who discover instead an unbridgeable gulf
between rationality and experience” (Cruickshank 49). The meaning-
lessness of life is one aspect of Camus’s absurdity, but to suggest that
it supplies a full definition misses the complexity of Camus’s use of the
term. A fuller discussion of the interpretation of absurdity is provided
in chapter 3 and wrestles with these various interpretations in light of
Camus’s own work. But whether one describes absurdity primarily in
terms of meaninglessness or in terms of life’s inherent contradictions,
the connection between these two are consistent with Camus’s use of
the term. Camus considered absurdity a given in everyday life. Though

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human beings may hope for a life that provides a unity of meaning, what
is often discovered is a “unity of contraries” (Buber, Way 111), revealing
an absurd existence that results from the contradictions in every aspect
of living. In November 1942, Camus made the following entry in his
notebook:
Development of the absurd:
1. if the basic concern is the need for unity;
2. if the world (or God) cannot sufﬁce.
It is up to man to forge a unity for himself, either by turning away from
the world, or within the world. Thus are restored a morality and an aus-
terity that remain to be deﬁned. (Notebook IV 41)
The reality of the absurd provides a common theme that serves as a
background concern for each of Camus’s works explored in this text.
Camus’s use of absurdity as a metaphor becomes a lens through which
thinkers today can view their own historical moment.
The understanding of the term metaphor as used in this text is
informed by the work of Paul Ricoeur, who wrote, “[T]his is the function
of metaphor, to instruct by suddenly combining elements that have not
been put together before” (33). In many ways, this notion of metaphor
can be understood as a sort of interruption to the routine of daily living.
Michael Hyde, in his work addressing “rhetorical interruptions,” made
this suggestion: “[S]hould it not be the case that when conscience calls,
rhetoric ought to answer, even if the word of the poet is yet to come
and even if what one has to say is out of step with the party line?” (77).
Combining these ideas, one concludes that this understanding of meta-
phor allows the world to be reinterpreted in a new and different fash-
ion. Camus’s use of the metaphor of absurdity serves such a purpose:
to provide a unique lens through which one can make better sense of
human existence.
In the communication discipline, the work and thought of Albert
Camus has mostly served as a secondary resource.As of this writing, only
two sources explore absurdity as a guiding metaphor for developing a
contemporary communicative ethic (Sleasman, “Philosophy”; Sleasman,

Meeting Absurdity
“Albert Camus”). This study develops a book-length discussion that
ﬁrmly places Camus in the foreground of debate within the communi-
cation discipline. Working with a theoretical agenda informed by the
philosophical hermeneutics of Ricoeur and Hans-Georg Gadamer—
emphasizing the importance and role of metaphor—allows an examina-
tion of the connection between the absurd as used by Camus and the
current postmodern moment. Although many differences exist between
the historical moment of Camus and the contemporary postmodern
moment, both represent times in which no paradigmatic certainty exists.
The metaphor of the absurd is evident throughout Camus’s entire life.
The following section is not an effort to make false connections between
Camus’s experiences and his use of the metaphor of the absurd; it is an
effort to illustrate that Camus faced many absurd situations throughout
his life.
CAMUS’S PERSONAL MEETING OF THE ABSURD
Albert Camus was born on November 7, 1913, in Mondovi, Algeria, and
died on January 4, 1960, in Villeblevin, France. At the time of his birth,
Algeria was a French colony, and therefore male adults were subject to
service in the French military. On October 11, 1914, less than a year after
Albert’s birth, his father was fatally wounded in the ﬁrst battle of Marne
(France)duringWorldWarI.Followingthedeathofherhusband,Catherine
Camus, Albert’s mother, moved him and his brother into the home of
his grandmother. “Grandmother Catherine Sintes was a harsh woman …
the return of Catherine Camus with two infants, exceeded her under-
standing.… The children’s mother was a passive witness to the brawling
and beating, restrained by fatigue, by fear of the old woman, and the
inability to express herself sharply and effectively” (Lottman 21). Los-
ing his father and being raised by an illiterate mother and grandmother
shaped Camus’s early years (Lottman 18). If any opportunities were to
come for Camus, he would have to overcome family circumstances and
create them for himself. Joseph McBride wrote, “For Camus, then, it is
not the world but the human condition that is absurd. The world itself is

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simply unintelligible” (5). A further example of the potential absurdity
of human existence occurred for Camus when, at age seventeen, he expe-
rienced his first symptoms of tuberculosis (Lottman 43). Until that point
in his life, Camus had been an avid soccer player, but from then on,
life “in the sense he knew it seemed to come to an end, when it should
just be beginning” (Lottman 45). Although he was not yet writing about
absurdity, Camus was gaining experiential knowledge about the concept
that would come to define his work. The unexpected interruption caused
by tuberculosis forced Camus to experience the absurd firsthand; many
life circumstances defy explanation and, quite often, any ultimate mean-
ing remains hidden from human sight.
Throughout these early years, Camus’s main engagement with absur-
dity came through his personal experiences, which would be expanded
during his years of academic training and encounters with the ideas of
many thinkers, including St. Augustine and Fyodor Dostoevsky. From
1918 through 1923 Camus attended primary school. Upon completion of
this phase of his education, he held various jobs, including selling spare
parts for cars and working in a marine broker’s office (Cruickshank 13).
He completed his formal education in 1936 with a dissertation that
addressed the beliefs of Plotinus as they related to those of St. Augustine.
Although Camus never embraced the Christian faith, he remained sympa-
thetic to Christian beliefs throughout his life. While completing his edu-
cation, Camus was also building a reputation for his skills and interest in
the theater. In 1935 he founded the Théâtre du Travail (later reorganized
into the Théâtre de l’Equipe). Within this context, Camus first adapted
and performed works by Dostoevsky. Although it was not published until
1944 or performed until 1945, Camus wrote the play Caligula during this
period of theatrical productivity.
Camus moved to mainland France in 1940 when he accepted a job
working as a reporter at the newspaper Paris-Soir—only months before
the German offensive in northeast France and the beginning of Camus’s
journey into the French Resistance movement in the early stages of
World War II. After the German occupation of Paris, Camus remained
in the French capital. In 1943 he met Jean Paul Sartre, who would be

Meeting Absurdity
a major influence throughout Camus’s life. During this time, Camus
edited and wrote for the underground newspaper Combat. Following
the liberation of Paris by the Allied forces, Camus offered his vision
for postwar France. His commitment to ethical practice was evident
when he wrote on September 4, 1944, “[T]he affairs of this country
should be managed by those who paid and answered for it. In other
words, we are determined to replace politics with morality. That is what
we call a revolution” (“Morality” 28). This overwhelming burden that
Camus felt for the future of postwar France did not immobilize him or
leave him incapable of making a decision about how to act in a given
moment. He sought the freedom to respond to the moment as was nec-
essary and rejected being limited by any one particular system of belief.
He did not “belong to any school of thought” and, like Franz Kafka,
held a “marked dissatisfaction with traditional philosophy [that was]
superficial, academic, and remote from life” (Kaufmann 12). Camus
had a keen interest in the implications of deeply philosophical ideas
revealed in everyday life, an interest accompanied by his commitment
to an ethical philosophy.
Up to that point in his life, Camus’s personal meeting with the absurd
had comprised the loss of his father at a very early age (a theme that
would later deeply influence his posthumously published The First
Man), his recurring attacks of tuberculosis, and an unanticipated role in
the French Resistance movement. During this time his growing relation-
ship with Sartre also provided the foundation for a defining moment in
Camus’s life, a dispute that arose from a review of Camus’s The Rebel, a
publication that represents his attempt at navigating the post–World War
II European turbulence of the 1940s and 1950s. After the collapse of the
totalitarianism of Nazi Germany, the two political systems competing for
the support of Europeans were democratic capitalism (best exemplified
by the United States of America) and communism (best exemplified by
the Soviet Union). Although Camus had some early sympathy for com-
munism—in fact, he was briefly a member of the Communist Party—he
came to see that the best hope for Europe’s future was a third way, or an
approach that did not fully embrace either political structure. Although

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he reserved his greatest criticism for communism, Camus also leveled
critiques at the United States for its perceived acceptance of unbridled
capitalism.
The introduction to The Rebel meets the absurdity of his moment
head-on: “The purpose of this essay is once again to face the reality of the
present … it is an attempt to understand the times in which we live” (3).
Camus, along with many others of his era, could have chosen to ignore
“a period which, in a space of ﬁfty years, uproots, enslaves, or kills
seventy million human beings” (Rebel 3). But instead of ignoring the
moment, Camus believed that he had to choose to engage the moment
as it was manifest before him, although he lacked a clear understanding
of what the long-term implications of his actions might be. Ronald C.
Arnett and Pat Arneson wrote, “We are not saying that one must like
or approve of a given historical moment. We are suggesting, however,
that any historical moment must be taken seriously and responded to,
rather than ignored” (37). The Rebel was one of Camus’s entrances into
the ongoing conversation of his historical moment and represents his
attempt to “face the reality of the present” by recognizing the atrocities
committed during World War II and attempting to provide a vision for
the future of mainland Europe.
With the publication of The Rebel, Camus’s criticism of Soviet
communism brought him into direct conﬂict with his friend of over ten
years, Jean Paul Sartre. By this point, Sartre had become one of many
“apologists for Stalin” (Lottman 523), whereas Camus was growing
more and more hostile toward communism. “The author’s [Camus’s]
unambiguous stand against Stalinism was bound to receive sympathy
and approval from conservatives, from anti-Communists of all types”
(Lottman 522). Camus worked from a position in a larger context or
narrative, and he came to embody the particular narrative that he rep-
resented. Camus’s commitment to living out his political and philo-
sophical beliefs despite the absurdity of his historical moment, though
it contributed to the eventual break in his relationship with Jean Paul
Sartre, demonstrated his belief that words and actions should be
consistent with each other. Aronson wrote, “In the end Camus and

Meeting Absurdity
Sartre split not only because they took opposing sides but because
each became his own side’s intellectual leader” (2). Perhaps in less
turbulent times the two could have remained friends, but the politics
of their everyday lives and the situation in postwar France made that
option impossible. In our current moment, many would simply “agree
to disagree,” but in a moment characterized by an “unbridgeable gulf
between rationality and existence” (Cruickshank 49), this split further
accentuated the absurdity of their time. Eventually, the two differing
approaches to post–World War II France led to a permanent end to the
friendship:
In a philosophically intense and personally brutal argument, the
two main voices of postwar France intellectual life publicly
destroyed almost ten years of friendship. At first reluctantly and
hesitantly, and then with a rush that seemed uncontrollable, Sartre
and Camus also shattered their political milieu and any traces of
what was once their common project of creating an independent
Left. (Aronson 2)
A full explication of the differences between Camus and Sartre is pre-
sented in chapter 4; what is significant at this point is that Camus was
greatly influenced by the unintended consequences of the action he took
in his moment of absurdity. He knew that he and Sartre viewed the world
through different lenses, but the significance of these differences was
not fully evident until after the publication of The Rebel. Supporting
Cruikshank’s suggestion that absurdity can be understood as a longing
for clarity, Camus continued to take action without full knowledge of the
outcome of his acts.
The final manifestation of absurdity for Camus was the manner in
which he died. On January 4, 1960, while traveling with his good friend
and publisher, Michel Gallimard, Camus was killed in a car accident
that had no apparent explanation (Lottman 698). In some ways it seems
appropriate that the life of one who was so deeply influenced by the
metaphor of absurdity should be cut off through this tragically inexpli-
cable event.

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DEVELOPING CAMUS’S PHILOSOPHY OF COMMUNICATION
Like Albert Camus, human beings today live in an age of recognized
absurdity. As previously noted, Lyotard referred to the present historical
moment as postmodern; but whether one refers to this moment as post-
modern or absurd, it is definitely a moment defined by contradiction and
by the contention of the narrative and virtue structures of the past. This
study begins with three specific ways in which Camus can be consid-
ered a philosopher of communication for an age of absurdity (Sleasman,
“Albert Camus”). Living in such a time, one can be greatly informed
by the passionate voices of those who have navigated similar circum-
stances; it is fitting that as Camus sought to make sense of his own his-
torical moment, he drew upon the work of many who had preceded him.
Among those he sought out were Dostoevsky, Kafka, Kierkegaard, and
Nietzsche. Many voices from such moments in human history provide
firsthand insights into how to navigate such an absurd time; these think-
ers approached life with radically different agendas from those of their
contemporaries while living through their own eras of uncertainty and
contradiction. His effort at building upon the voices of the past is one
characteristic of Camus as a philosopher of communication for an age of
absurdity (Sleasman, “Albert Camus”).
Living in an absurd historical moment challenges one to steer clear
of implementing a template from a past narrative in the contemporary,
and often very different, narrative structure. It is not uncommon to find
many people in today’s American culture who become overly concerned
with convenience and finding a “quick fix,” unwilling to take the time
to find an appropriate and ethical response to everyday situations. What
the life and writing of Camus suggest is not that the world should always
be viewed through the lens of the metaphor of the absurd but that one
should allow space for the emergence of metaphors that help make sense
of the moment one is living.
Camus recognized the absurdity of his own historical moment and
sought out voices that helped him make sense of that moment. Arnett
and Arneson wrote, “applying concepts [metaphors] from a historical

Meeting Absurdity
era other than our own requires concepts from a given theory to meet the
needs (answer commonsense questions) of the present historical moment
or we invite an interpretation of communication that is static and danger-
ously anachronistic” (32). Unreﬂective decisions often emerge out of a
longing to satisfy personal desires and are motivated by nothing more
than personal preference, lacking any connection to or consideration
of a larger life narrative. These decisions could be considered ground-
less, thus leaving one with only personal preference. If a person does not
work from a grounded standpoint, in future moments he or she will be
tempted either to implement the previously successful model or to work
from personal preference. Either way, one will lack the coherence and
ﬁdelity that Walter R. Fisher suggested gives meaning to one’s personal
narrative and in turn, to one’s life. This reliance upon those who had
preceded him both provides insights into Camus’s own engagement and
serves as a model for this text, which seeks to draw upon the wisdom
and lessons of Camus’s own work.
A second way Camus functions as a philosopher of communication
with deep ethical commitments is in his willingness to engage an ever-
changing historical moment on its own terms; for Camus this meant
rejecting a Christian faith that would have provided an objective position
from which to judge the chaos experienced in life. He accepted the absur-
dity of his historical circumstances and allowed an organic metaphor of
absurdity to emerge from within the turmoil of his moment. Camus did
not interpret the evil that he witnessed in spiritual terms but believed
that humans are capable of creating the meaning of their own existence,
whether for good or evil. Evil actions could be manifest through both
attacks on people and attacks on clarity of thinking. He wrote, “[N]ever
perhaps at any time has the attack on reason been more violent than in
ours” (Myth 22). The metaphor of the absurd emerged and expanded as
Camus engaged his particular historical circumstances through activity as
an advocate for his homeland, Algeria, and as a participant in the French
Resistance movement during World War II. Camus’s moment revealed
itself as one of narrative and virtue contention, a moment unpredictable,
irrational, and violent—a time much like today.

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Throughout his life’s work, Albert Camus made use of metaphorical
distinctions to emphasize the general themes of his writings. These met-
aphors emerged at a relevant moment in history in which they connected
Camus’s own experience with historical circumstances. Camus’s ideas
were grounded in everyday living as he worked out the implications of
the metaphor of the absurd. For example, Camus’s ﬁrst cycle of work
exploring absurdity includes the novel The Stranger, the philosophical
essay The Myth of Sisyphus, and the plays The Misunderstanding and
Caligula. As Camus’s historical moment changed, he began working
more explicitly with the metaphor of rebellion—leading to the publica-
tion of his second cycle of work, including the novel The Plague, the
philosophical essay The Rebel, and the play The Just Assassins. This
shift should not be viewed as a turning away from engaging absurdity
but as a way of adding further nuance to his understanding of absur-
dity. Camus did not encourage an optimistic outlook that held unrealistic
expectations for living. Arnett and Arneson wrote, “A wedding of hope
and cynicism within a dialogic perspective is guided by a metaphor, not
of unlimited potential, but of hope within limits” (25–26). When one
willingly recognizes the limits of a given moment while at the same
time attempting to respond ethically and productively, one is walking in
the land of Martin Buber’s unity of contraries. This dialectical tension
is “lived out in the confusion of contradictions, not in the certainty of
YES or NO” (Arnett and Arneson 142). Resignation and hope went hand
in hand for Camus through his recognition that those who took action
in the world were capable of great evil; nevertheless, he attempted to
build a vision for the world that encouraged one to take action in spite of
life’s absurdity. This tension keeps both elements (resignation and hope)
healthy and provides limits within the optimism or unrealistic hope that
many possess while engaging absurd circumstances.
The ﬁnal lesson to be drawn from Camus’s work is that sometimes
ideas are more important than relationships. Like the contributors to
Communication Ethics in an Age of Diversity—a text that explores
the implications of taking ethical action in the contemporary histori-
cal moment—Camus sought to “develop constructive responses to the

Meeting Absurdity
challenges of [his] unique age” (Makau and Arnett viii). Sometimes
these constructive responses result in the destruction of an interpersonal
relationship. Camus’s engagement with his historical moment even-
tually led to a conflict of philosophical positions with such celebrated
individuals as Jean Paul Sartre (as already mentioned) and Simone de
Beauvoir. Camus’s friendship-ending disagreement with Sartre was
driven by a difference in philosophical beliefs rather than by a breakdown
in the interpersonal dynamics of the relationship. But it was also driven
by their conflicting visions for post–World War II France; Sartre was a
staunch supporter of the Soviet-style communism, whereas Camus was
seeking a third way between the communism of the East and the capital-
ist system of the West.
Whatever one calls the contemporary historical moment—a moment
of absurdity, a postmodern moment, a moment of contention over virtue
and narrative—one possible by-product of living in such a moment is
interpersonal conflict. As the events of the twentieth century unfolded,
leading to the end of the modern era, more and more voices began seek-
ing an answer to the question of whether meaning was found within
metanarratives or within human experience and relationships. Camus’s
break with Sartre is a brief glimpse of how Camus foreshadowed the com-
ing postmodern era. Sometimes when one prioritizes a narrative over an
interpersonal relationship, one finds that the particular relationship is no
longer sustainable in light of the new commitments.
The following outline demonstrates how this text expands the previ-
ously established points that Albert Camus’s deep ethical commitments
position him as a philosopher of communication in an age of absurdity.
Building upon the foundation established in this introduction, chapter 1
explores a potential consequence of taking action in the midst of absur-
dity. Camus’s novel The Fall, the focus of the chapter, provides a fictional
example of what occurs when one loses trust in the social practices of a
changing historical moment, often leading one to experience “existential
homelessness.” Each of this study’s chapters serves as a building block
to better understand Camus’s unique contribution to the theory of com-
munication ethics. The idea of the fall emerges as a metaphor that assists

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a human communicator in making sense of the inherent risks of taking
action in the contemporary age.
Chapter 2 explores Camus’s ongoing response to a changing historical
moment and his recognition that life is often lived amidst a unity of con-
traries.As he attempted to work out the ethical implications of the absurd
within his changing moment, Camus began to work with a secondary
metaphor, rebellion. A notebook entry dated June 17, 1947, stated, “Sec-
ond series. Revolt: The Plague (and annexes)—The Rebel—Kaliayev
[a character from Camus’s play The Just Assassins]” (Notebook V 158).
Camus’s exploration of rebellion does not represent an abandonment of
the absurd but suggests an effort to further texture his understanding; by
engaging rebellion, Camus was engaging an ever-changing moment. In
the preface to the ﬁrst English edition of “The Myth of Sisyphus,” Camus
made the connection between the absurd and rebellion when he wrote,
“For me ‘The Myth of Sisyphus’ marks the beginning of an idea which I
was to pursue in The Rebel” (v). The metaphor of rebellion supports the
idea that Camus was committed to working out the ethical implications
of his ideas in the midst of a changing historical moment. In this chapter,
embedded rebellion emerges as a metaphor that assists one in respond-
ing to the problems that occur when one experiences the fall.
Chapter 3 more fully explores the emergence of the metaphor of the
absurd within the work and thought of Albert Camus and examines how
he came to recognize that metaphor as an accurate description of his
historical moment. Camus functioned as both an ethical practitioner of
communication and a philosopher of communication. Through his work
as a journalist, playwright, theater director, and literary critic, Camus
served in a variety of communicative roles in the public sphere. Camus’s
ﬁrst cycle of work—including “The Myth of Sisyphus,” The Stranger,
“Caligula,” and “The Misunderstanding”—provides his most thorough
treatment of the metaphor of the absurd. These works also present a vivid
account of the need for active dialogue, the central metaphor of chapter 3,
between human beings. When one works from a position informed by
embedded rebellion, one can more fully make sense of human existence
in the midst of absurdity by constructively responding to the fall.

Meeting Absurdity
Chapter 4 provides a twentieth-century case study of the fall that
illustrates the implications of action in the face of absurdity. After pub-
lishing The Rebel, Camus had a very public and bitter debate with Jean
Paul Sartre. Each worked as an embedded rebel who was seeking to
respond to the absurdity of his historical era. For a time each was able
to engage the other in dialogue, but eventually the friendship ended in a
very public manner. The need for an appropriate space for public discus-
sion leads to the central metaphor for this chapter, the public sphere.
Chapter 5 explores two novels published after Camus’s death, A Happy
Death and The First Man, that demonstrate the importance of caring
for another human being in the context of communication ethics. The
contrast between these two novels highlights Camus’s own growing rec-
ognition of the need to take responsibility, the central metaphor of this
chapter, in an era of narrative uncertainty. Within an age of absurdity,
characterized by competing understandings in the public sphere, one
must seek to work from a position of embedded rebellion and not to
desire only what is best for oneself. This need for ethical engagement
with others suggests an active dialogue that works against the forces that
would promote a fall into meaninglessness.
One is not excused from concern about ethical action simply because
one lives in an absurd historical moment. Therefore the conclusion pres-
ents Albert Camus’s contribution to the theoretical study of communica-
tion ethics. The rhetoric found in Camus’s writings provides a powerful
example of one person’s productivity in spite of the surrounding chaos.
The work of Albert Camus—speciﬁcally, his interest in the metaphor
of the absurd—serves as a philosophical and pragmatic guide that
allows modern readers to more productively negotiate the contemporary
moment. Albert Camus’s rhetoric of historical engagement provides a
glimmer of hope for anyone living in an age of absurdity.
COMMUNICATION ETHICS IN AN AGE OF ABSURDITY
One of the goals of this text is to provide options for an informed
participant in the contemporary historical moment to make a reﬂective

A C ’ P C
existential ethical choice. Albert Camus provides insight into how one can
benefit from listening to relevant voices from previous generations; one
must take the time to become familiar with those who sought answers to
similar questions. For Camus, this meant discovering how others engaged
an absurd historical moment. For readers today, this means listening to
the voice of Albert Camus, for he represents a close historical perspective
on how to make sense of a world that has radically changed since both
World Wars of the twentieth century. This decision to rely upon thinkers
of the past is an intentional choice and comes only through an investment
of time and energy in the ideas of others. Camus also sought answers to
his questions by engaging people and ideas, not by seeking an interpre-
tive lens outside of human existence—such as in a religious framework.
This focus does not invalidate the existence or acceptance of a religious
worldview, but it should serve as a reminder that one can best understand
life by embracing it and not by attempting to explain it away by focusing
on something (such as an afterlife) beyond everyday existence. Finally,
Camus’s personal experience helped him understand that there are times
when support for certain ideas comes into conflict with particular relation-
ships. The break with Sartre demonstrates one final way in which Camus
was both a product of and a shaper of his own historical moment. Thus
Albert Camus can be regarded as a philosopher of communication with
deep ethical commitments. A better understanding of his work provides
a glimpse into a way one can better navigate the tensions of living in the
contemporary age of absurdity.

CHAPTER 1
THE FALL
A COMMUNICATIVE RISK IN
AN AGE OF ABSURDITY
True artists scorn nothing: they are obliged to understand rather
than to judge.
—Albert Camus, Nobel Prize for Literature
Acceptance Speech, 1957.
One meets the absurd in the inherent contradictions of human existence.
Unfortunately, the risk of taking action in such circumstances is found
not only in the action itself but also in the consequences of taking or
avoiding action. Often the most appropriate action is obvious to an out-
side onlooker, whereas the person living through the experience fails to
readily see what action is necessary in a given moment. At other times,
as the saying “hindsight is 20/20” suggests, the choice becomes obvi-
ous only after the decision-making moment has passed. In The Fall, the
last novel he completed and published during his lifetime, Albert Camus

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introduced readers to a character who lacked the ability to act upon the
accepted social practices of his day and fell into a state of despair as a
result. This vivid monologue illustrates what can happen when a com-
mon center for action dissipates in the midst of absurdity and demon-
strates that the lack of a common center poses a potential problem for a
human communicator as he or she seeks to navigate a moment of confu-
sion and contradiction. With this novel, Camus points toward several
significant questions that, depending upon how one answers each, have
major implications for daily living. Among the questions Camus raises
are these: Who has the ability to say whether another person’s decision
is right? What ethical standard exists against which one can evaluate and
judge both oneself and others? Who determines or controls this stan-
dard? What happens when the standard changes or one’s interpretation
of the standard changes?
In a notebook entry from June 17, 1947, Camus wrote, “Third Series.
Judgment” (Notebook V 158). Camus understood that taking action in
an age of absurdity would provoke consequences or judgment for those
actions.Although Camus’s original goal was to include the novel The First
Man in his cycle exploring judgment, he did not have the opportunity to
complete this text during his lifetime. But The Fall explores the topics of
judgment and the consequences of living in an absurd age; therefore the
novel fits within the planned theme for his third series of work. In order to
frame how The Fall represents Camus’s clear announcement of an ethical
problem for human communication in an age of absurdity, I first define
the metaphor of existential homelessness in relation to this text. Second,
I investigate the narrative of The Fall, exploring the central character’s
experience of his actions’ consequences in the midst of absurdity—and
this novel’s fictional account of existential homelessness. Finally, the
lack of trust in social practices conveys The Fall’s clear implications for
the current moment, contributing to the idea that Albert Camus serves as
a philosopher of communication for the early twenty-first century. These
three steps provide the structure as this chapter answers the following
question: What communicative problem did Albert Camus announce
with the publication of The Fall?

The Fall
EXISTENTIAL HOMELESSNESS
The metaphor of existential homelessness is introduced in the work of
Ronald C. Arnett (“Existential” 229), who sought to establish the impor-
tance of dialogue within human communication. According to Arnett,
existential homelessness emerges in moments when there are “lost com-
mon centers and moral stories that provide a publicly known base from
which conversation can begin” (“Existential” 232). A loss of such sto-
ries “contributes to uncertainty and mistrust” (232) and also leads one to
make decisions and ethical evaluations based upon a position of emo-
tivism which, according to Alasdair MacIntyre, is a time in which “all
moral judgments are nothing but expressions of preference, expressions
of attitude or feeling” (12). As the main character of The Fall, Jean-Bap-
tiste Clamence, demonstrates, when left with no common center or story
as a guide, “a person can lose a sense of direction. A person no longer
knows which way to turn and what option to pursue when personal pref-
erences clash” (Arnett, “Existential” 233). Building upon the foundation
of Arnett’s work, Annette Holba wrote,
Rootlessness fuels “existential homelessness” (Arnett, 1994, p. 229).
In feeling a sense of existential homelessness one feels embedded in
existential mistrust of others and of the world. In the communicative
space of existential homelessness one feels in between, disrupted, or
like an existential stranger trying to negotiate though a era of “paren-
thesis” (Arnett, 1994, p. 230). In this experience uncertainty mani-
fests feelings of homelessness, physically and emotionally. In this
state of existential homelessness one might feel stagnant or motion-
less, meandering about without arriving anywhere. It is in this expe-
rience that one feels a sense of failure permeating one’s existential
existence. From experiences of both uncertainty and hopelessness
one might describe her or his communicative exchanges occurring
within a monologic vacuum. (“Revisiting” 495).
In order to build upon the work of Arnett and Holba and establish a
framework for interpreting The Fall, I next explain four metaphors in
relation to the concept of existential homelessness: common center, dia-
logue, public sphere, and responsibility.

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Common Center
The work of Martin Buber provides a clear description of the importance
of a common center for human life: “The real essence of community is
to be found in the fact—manifest or otherwise—that it has a center. The
real beginning of a community is when its members have a common
relation to the center overriding all other relations” (Utopia, 135). Add-
ing to this, Michael Zank wrote, “Having a common Center to which
they are devoted, the members of the community are to varying degrees
freed from the shackles of self-centered interest, rendering them more
alert to the existence and presence of the other” (227). As noted previ-
ously, Arnett’s work suggests the importance of a common center by
illustrating what happens when a common center is lost or neglected.
Arnett and Arneson, greatly inﬂuenced by the work of Buber, also sug-
gested, “The common center of discourse is what brings people together
in conversation; the common center, not the psyche of the partners in
the conversation, is fundamental” (128–129). A commitment to main-
taining a common center should be distinguished from a commitment
that focuses upon individualism, a theme that Camus explored in The
Fall. One who reads The Fall is confronted with a character who lacks a
common center for conversation extending beyond his own self-interest.
Of course, by choosing to write in a monologic style, Camus accentu-
ated this point in the text. The monologue presents the reader with only
Clamence’s interpretations of what his interlocutor thinks; the lack of
dialogue is another facet that can potentially contribute to existential
homelessness.
Dialogue
A fuller treatment of dialogue is explored in chapter 3, but this section
provides a few coordinates for making sense of The Fall in light of this
concept. According to Julia T. Wood, dialogue is “the idea that any utter-
ance or act is always responding to and anticipating other utterances and
acts” (“Entering” xvi). As noted previously, the writing style chosen by
Camus to tell this story greatly emphasizes the necessity of dialogue
through the very absence of dialogue. The only insights the reader gains

The Fall
into the perspective of the conversation partner come through the ﬁlter
of Jean-Baptiste Clamence. The style assists in bringing the content of
the text to life; this one-sided exchange helps Camus emphasize Cla-
mence’s individualistic attitude and demonstrates that the protagonist
has little interest in what his interlocutor says beyond the opportunity the
other’s remarks provide for Clamence to make his own predetermined
points. Though it is beyond the scope of this section to explore why
Clamence acts as he does, it is possible to recognize that, by his own
admission, he is working from a position that lacks certainty and basic
interpersonal trust. These two components, certainty and trust, are vital
to what Christopher Lasch referred to as “havens of trust” (1977); unfor-
tunately, as certainty and trust decline, so do the available havens of
trust. Without havens of trust, “we begin to live life narcissistically, not
because we are self-centered, but out of a feeling that the old moral sto-
ries, havens of trust, cannot be counted on” (Arnett, “Existential” 239).
This decline in the stories available to mold and guide one’s decision
making directly contributes to the rise in the experience of existential
homelessness. Tying together the notions of common center and dia-
logue, Arnett wrote, a “[l]ack of direction … is born as a common center
for conversation ceases” (Arnett, “Existential” 234). Though Clamence
is talking with another human being, he is not truly engaging in dialogue
because he shares only what he feels is necessary to share—a point well
emphasized by Camus’s writing style.
Public Sphere
In order to facilitate the type of confession Clamence has in mind, he
needs to share very private events and experiences in the public setting
of the Amsterdam bar, thus contributing to the emergence of a thera-
peutic relationship. According to Arnett, “[W]hen we take therapeutic
communication, a private form of discourse, and transform its intention
and application to the public arena, we invite a new ‘Dark Ages’; truth is
privatized within the conﬁnes of the individual, resulting in the devalu-
ing of collective and public life” (“Therapeutic” 150). This blurring of
public and private communication contributes to the emergence of what

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Hannah Arendt referred to as the “social realm” of communication (47).
Part of Arendt’s philosophical project in The Human Condition was to
rehabilitate a healthy distinction between the public and private spheres
of existence. For Arendt, the private sphere concerns issues related
to household and family life. In contrast, the public sphere is a com-
mon space, shared by those of various backgrounds, in which ideas are
exchanged and people are recognized for their achievements. When the
public sphere is devalued, human beings lose an important place where
they can practice excellence and be recognized for acting according to
the Aristotelian virtues (49). The “social realm” is “neither private nor
public” and is a “relatively new phenomenon” (28). In her interpretation
of Arendt’s work, Holba wrote, “In the realm of the social individuals
encounter endless conflict because she or he is not able to feel at home
in society” (Philosophical 87). The social realm is often driven by indi-
viduals’ bringing items for conversation into public spaces that are more
at home in the private realm—this idea returns us to Arnett’s concerns
about therapeutic communication. As Clamence shares his private feel-
ings in the public space of the Amsterdam bar, there is no way for a pub-
lic verification of his ideas to take place. Therefore Clamence is seeking
to function according to influence as opposed to the “productive output”
that is evaluated in a public setting (Arnett, “Therapeutic” 151).
Clamence previously worked as a lawyer, a profession that situated
him in the public sphere, “where one could excel, could distinguish
oneself from all others” (Arendt 49). Instead of completely withdraw-
ing into a private world dominated by his own thoughts and regrets,
he seeks to create a place where “social” concerns dominate. Holba
wrote, “Arendt explains that the realm of the social has killed off the
realms of the private and the public, which are essential to human com-
munication” (38). This social sphere promotes a therapeutic environ-
ment. According to Arnett, “When therapeutic language is misused, it
is likely to offer sickness, not health, to institutions that embrace its use,
just as the indiscriminate use of medication can cause illness, but when
used correctly in particular cases, the same medicine invites human
health” (“Therapeutic” 150). As the character Clamence demonstrates,

The Fall
“[i]n essence, a therapeutic model of communication misapplies a ‘social
good’ of counseling and inadvertently moves us back to a communi-
cative dark age” (“Therapeutic” 151). Unfortunately, Clamence does
not heed Arnett’s warning that “[c]ommunication, like the rest of life,
requires work” (“Therapeutic” 158); he simply seeks to invite his con-
versation partner into his private sphere, which is governed by his own
emotions and feelings. Arnett’s response to such a practice serves as a
fitting rejoinder to Clamence himself: “In secular language, show me
the evidence, not your intensity of feeling” (“Therapeutic” 157). The
confusion of the private and public spheres invites a therapeutic form of
communication that adds to the confusion one experiences in the midst
of absurdity. Therefore this factor also contributes to the experience of
existential homelessness through the added difficulty of finding a home
in either the public or private spheres.
Responsibility
As one becomes aware of the absence of common centers for conver-
sation and as, subsequently, the framework for dialogue disappears,
possessing genuine concern for another human being becomes a much
greater challenge. Clamence, within The Fall, is deeply concerned about
his conversation partner as far as that person allows him to share his own
side of the story. A certain inevitability arises when one ceases to engage
others in dialogue around a common center for conversation and discus-
sion about ideas. The metaphor of absurdity allowed Camus to wrestle
with the implications of living in a moment filled with uncertainty and
contradiction. “In such a situation, one begins to rely increasingly on ‘the
self,’ no longer supported by either a geographic or philosophical sense
of home that offers meaning for existence” (Arnett, “Existential” 239).
Clamence’s move from Paris to Amsterdam not only is a physical reloca-
tion but also coincides with his change in personal philosophy and the
emergence of his role as a judge-penitent. This new activity leads Cla-
mence to a series of public confessions that invoke personal feelings and
emotions, components of a therapeutic turn within contemporary culture.
“The individual self prospers in a therapeutic culture, but institutions

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and stories that guide a people are ignored for the power of individual
pathos” (Arnett, “Therapeutic” 150). When the long-held stories are dis-
carded and replaced by stories of personal feelings and emotions, one is
inadvertently invited into a state of existential homelessness. Not only is
Clamence working from such a position, but through his invitation for the
interlocutor’s confession, he invites the other into this state, as well.
Existential homelessness is a real experience for many living in
the midst of absurdity. As Holba suggested, “[e]xistential homeless-
ness is pervasive in the human condition” (Philosophical Leisure 46).
This experience is often found when one lacks a common center for
conversation, fails to engage in dialogue, blurs the distinction between
the private and public spheres, and resists feeling genuine responsibil-
ity for another human being. Albert Camus’s novel The Fall provides a
fictional account of existential homelessness and presents a vivid image
of what this might look like in an age of absurdity.
THE FALL
The Fall was first published in 1956; it was the last novel Camus completed
and published during his lifetime. Written in six unnumbered sections,
The Fall is told as a monologue by the central character, Jean-Baptiste
Clamence, who considers himself a “judge-penitent” and invites his con-
versation partner (listener) and the reader to interact with his lengthy con-
fession as he tells his story.
Narrative
In the first section, Clamence begins his relationship with a visitor to
a bar in Amsterdam by offering to serve as an interpreter. As the con-
versation continues, Clamence states, “I am talkative, alas, and make
friends easily. Although I know how to keep my distance, I seize any and
every opportunity” (5). He has a rather bleak outlook on his contempo-
raries: “A single sentence will suffice for modern man: he fornicated and
read the papers. After that vigorous definition, the subject will be, if I
may say so, exhausted” (6–7). Clamence reveals the first bit of personal

The Fall
information to his listener when he states, “If you want to know, I was a
lawyer before coming here. Now I am a judge-penitent” (8). This brief
description is followed by his introduction: “But allow me to introduce
myself: Jean-Baptiste Clamence” (8). As the section ends, Clamence’s
narrative foreshadows a topic of later conversation:
I’ll leave you near the bridge. I never cross a bridge at night. It’s
the result of a vow. Suppose, after all, that someone should jump
in the water. One of two things—either you do likewise and ﬁsh
him out and, in cold weather, you run a great risk. Or you forsake
him there and suppressed dives sometimes leave one strangely
aching. (15)
With that cryptic statement, Clamence leaves his new acquaintance until
the next day.
The second section begins with the interlocutor’s reoccurring ques-
tion, “What is a judge-penitent?” (17). Clamence avoids answering the
question and begins to tell his own story. He shares that he was a law-
yer and that “I didn’t tell you my real name” (17). As a lawyer, he was
always “on the right side” (18). He was motivated to practice law by the
“feeling of the law, the satisfaction of being right, the joy of self esteem”
(18). Not only was he a respected lawyer, but “I was considered gener-
ous … I gave a great deal in public and in private” (22). Clamence’s
past generosity was an intentional effort to position himself higher than
the others he encountered. “Yes, I have never felt comfortable except
in lofty places. Even in the details of daily life, I needed to feel above”
(23). This feeling of being above his surroundings “cleansed me of all
bitterness toward my neighbor, whom I always obligated without ever
owing him anything. It set me above the judge whom I judged in turn,
above the defendant whom I forced to gratitude … I lived with impu-
nity” (25). Being above the punishment or judgment of others is only
the beginning of Clamence’s story. “To tell the truth, just from being so
fully and simply a man, I looked upon myself as something of a super-
man” (28). Again foreshadowing an important element of his own story,
he begins to elaborate but stops himself: “I soared until the evening

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when … But no, that’s another matter and it must be forgotten” (29).
The section ends when Clamence is summoned by another man who is
in need of his companionship.
The third section also begins with Clamence’s evading questions
about his story. As he continues to share his interpretation of his life,
he states, “I recognized no equals. I always considered myself more
intelligent than everyone else, as I’ve told you, but also more sensitive
and more skillful, a crack shot, an incomparable driver, a better lover”
(48). He later explains why he had “always succeeded with women … I
was considered to have charm. Fancy that! You know what charm is: a
way of getting the answer yes without having asked any clear question”
(56–57). Though Clamence “had principles, to be sure, such as that the
wife of a friend is sacred” (58), he would conveniently cease “a few
days before, to feel any friendship for the husband” (59). Clamence still
has not confessed what he means by “judge-penitent,” but he invites his
listener to “Search [his] memory and perhaps [he] will find some similar
story that [he’ll] tell me later on” (65). As this conversation draws to a
close, Clamence recounts an event he witnessed while he was still in
France. While walking across a bridge, he saw a woman standing next to
the rail staring at the water. A few moments later, he heard the sound of
“a body striking the water” (70). Though several cries reached his ears,
Clamence did nothing to assist; he simply kept walking and “informed
no one” (70). He ends the conversation abruptly, saying that he does not
know what happened to that woman because over the next few days “I
didn’t read the papers” (71).
As the fourth section opens, Clamence confesses that “I have no more
friends; I have nothing but accomplices” (73), who include “the whole
human race. And within the human race, you first of all. Whoever is at
hand is always first” (73). He had arrived at this conclusion when he
realized that no one would care if he committed suicide. But Clamence
perseveres in spite of his lack of friends because “I love life—that’s my
real weakness” (76). Next, Clamence begins an extended monologue
addressing the topic of judgment. He realized that because he had not
attempted to help the woman who dove into the water, others could find

The Fall
“something to judge in me” (78). This alerted him that “there was in
them an irresistible vocation for judgment” (78). Clamence continues
to invite judgment upon himself: “The idea, for instance, that I am the
only one to know what everyone is looking for and that I have at home
an object which kept the police of three countries on the run is sheer
delight. But let’s not go into that” (90). Although he still has not revealed
his own interpretation of the vocation of judge-penitent, he offers insight
into it when he states, “You see, it is not enough to accuse yourself in
order to clear yourself; otherwise, I’d be as innocent as a lamb” (95).
This section concludes as Clamence teases his listener, saying that he
is close to giving his full description of a judge-penitent and will do so
after a lesson about debauchery.
The ﬁfth section explores Clamence’s opinion about his various rela-
tionships with women. “Despairing of love and chastity, I at last bethought
myself of debauchery, a substitute for love, which quiets the laughter,
restores silence, and above all confers immortality” (102). A lifestyle of
debauchery is an opportunity to experience true freedom and “is liberat-
ing because it creates no obligations” (103). Apparently the conversation
partner responds with something regarding the Last Judgment, to which
Clamence replies, “You were speaking of the Last Judgment. Allow me
to laugh respectfully. I shall wait for it resolutely, for I have known
what is worse, the judgment of men” (110). Clamence advises, “Don’t
wait for the Last Judgment. It takes place every day” (111). Clamence
considers himself a prophet, like “Elijah without a messiah” (117); this
elevated position allows Clamence to pass judgment “without a law”
(117). He is beyond the reproach of others and is “the end and the
beginning; I announce the law. In short, I am a judge-penitent” (118).
Clamence assures his partner that he will reveal “what this noble pro-
fession [of judge-penitent] consists of” (118) when they meet the fol-
lowing day.
The sixth, and ﬁnal, section of The Fall begins with Clamence’s com-
ment, “I have ceased to like anything but confessions, and authors of con-
fessions write especially to avoid confessing, to tell nothing of what they
know” (120). Clamence confesses to possessing a panel of the painting

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“The Just Judges” which was stolen and subsequently sold to the owner
of a bar in Amsterdam. The owner was convinced by Clamence to store
it in his home so that “in this way I dominate” (130). After relating the
story of his stolen property, he states that he is practicing the profession
of judge-penitent “at present” (130). He informs his partner that he has
not been talking to him for five days merely “for the fun of it” (131):
Now my words have a purpose. They have the purpose, obvi-
ously, of silencing the laughter, of avoiding judgment personally,
though there is apparently no escape. Is not the great thing that
stands in the way of our escaping it the fact that we are the first to
condemn ourselves? Therefore it is essential to begin extending
the condemnation to all, without distinction, in order to thin it out
at the start. (131)
The practical steps of serving as a judge-penitent begin with “indulging
in public confession as often as possible. I accuse myself up and down.
It’s not hard…” (139). Over the days of conversation, the I of Clamence’s
confessions yields to a collective we: “When I get to ‘This is what we
are,’ the trick has been played and I can tell them off ” (140). From
Clamence’s vantage point, “[t]he more I accuse myself, the more I have
a right to judge you” (140). At this, Clamence invites his companion
to begin his own confession, encouraging him by stating that with “the
intelligent ones it takes time” (141). At the end of the section, the part-
ner has responded to Clamence’s invitation to confess and begins telling
his own story, confirming Clamence’s role as a self-appointed judge-
penitent. Whereas the novel addresses concerns of judgment and guilt,
the central metaphor that connects it to the Camus’s wider metaphor of
the absurd is the metaphor of the fall.
Narrative Engagement
As a metaphor, the fall serves as a reminder that one must not rely solely
upon oneself but must recognize one’s own situatedness within a larger
story and seek to work from the perspective of meaningful stories.
The title of this novel, The Fall, represents Jean-Baptiste Clamence’s

The Fall
indifference, manifest in his failure to assist the woman who fell into the
river. Cruickshank wrote, “Overcome by a sense of moral bankruptcy
he sought escape in various forms of debauchery … as its title suggests
it questions that assumption of human innocence” (182–183). The very
name Jean-Baptiste evokes the biblical character John the Baptist, the
New Testament prophet who prepared the people for the coming of
Jesus Christ. Jean-Baptiste Clamence prepares people, as well—not for
the coming of a savior, but for their own fall. Isaac called Clamence a
“nihilist” who “seeks to dominate”; furthermore, “only his [Clamence’s]
perspective matters, and he employs subtle strategies of disarming and
negating others so as to master them” (172). Although Clamence needs
others in order to act as a judge-penitent, “he uses language only to dom-
inate others … he exhibits no concern for the viewpoints of others except
insofar as he can manipulate them” (Isaac 172). Clamence’s manipula-
tion of others is driven by his desire to overcome his own sense of guilt.
Through his confession of guilt, Clamence subtly invites others to
reﬂect upon their own guilt. Once they arrive at the point of vocalizing
their concerns, he believes his work is completed. Clamence believes
that by hearing the confessions of others, he moves into a morally supe-
rior position that allows him to live with himself in spite of the inner
anguish he experiences—anguish that can be viewed as a consequence
of living in an age of absurdity. The absurdity of his own existence is
illustrated through the story Clamence tells of the events leading to his
own fall. There was no reason why Clamence chose to cross one par-
ticular bridge at one particular time on the evening when he heard the
woman fall into the water. The randomness of the circumstance illus-
trates that absurdity is not something one controls but something one
must choose to accept—and in spite of which one must act. Clamence’s
retreat into self-doubt and arguably self-pity reveals an intentional effort
to avoid taking action in the face of absurdity. Though he could have
chosen to rescue the woman, he did nothing. Though he could have read
the papers following the event to discover the woman’s fate, he did noth-
ing. Though he could have chosen to face his growing inner guilt, he
chose a self-imposed exile to Amsterdam. The failure to take action or

A C ’ P C
to rebel against circumstances can also lead to a fall—for Clamence, this
was a fall into existential homelessness.
Clamence’s move from Paris toAmsterdam is symbolic of his personal
exile from the place that he had called his geographic home for many
years. The consequences of the events that led Clamence to the bar in
Amsterdam include both his loss of a geographic home and a “psy-
chological feeling of being ‘homeless’” (Arnett, “Existential” 230). This
existential homelessness results in his obsession with his own guilt and
subsequently a sense of narcissism, which can be considered “an effort
to bolster the self as the core of meaning, in hopes of compensating for
the loss of faith in other structures, institutions, and philosophies that had
previously offered a sense of home” (Arnett, “Existential” 239).Although
Clamence openly admits that while he was a lawyer he enjoyed being rec-
ognized for his achievements, his actions at that time in his life benefited
others. But after his fall into existential homelessness, he is concerned
only about himself; he helps others only in order to stand above them
and judge them for their actions. The story he tells of the woman’s falling
from the bridge is an indication that he feels some level of responsibility
for another human being, some sense of guilt for another person. His lack
of action, the manifestation of his indifference toward her, further propels
his fall into existential guilt.
The shift from taking responsibility for others to a fixation on one’s
own guilt may appear to be a change in direction, but it actually signifies
Clamence’s loss of direction. “Left with no common center or moral story
to offer a beginning for conversation, a person [in this case, Clamence]
can lose a sense of direction. A person no longer knows which way to
turn and what option to pursue” (Arnett, “Existential” 233). In an age
of contention over narrative and virtue structures, “narrative remnants”
often remain in place of a guiding metanarrative (Arnett andArneson 89),
pieces of previous stories that once guided public life. Clamence is, in the
words of Arnett and Arneson, “still story-informed by the narrative rem-
nant” (89) while he lives and works as a judge-penitent in the Amsterdam
bar. The notion of the absurd makes sense in a time of competing narra-
tive remnants because one recognizes that one’s actions may not be right,

The Fall
but one is nevertheless incapable of discerning the correct action. For
Clamence, though, the issue is not that he did not know the best action
but that he failed to act upon his knowledge, failed to engage in a socially
acceptable attempt to rescue the fallen woman. One thing that allows nar-
rative remnants to offer guilt is the hope that narrative clarity will begin
to emerge. For Clamence, enough narrative remnants remain that he can
sense an authentic or “existential guilt” (Buber, Knowledge 146). This
sense of guilt is brought upon the self through one’s actions or inactions;
something specific has to be done or avoided to earn it. Clamence’s lack
of action on behalf of the woman on the bridge burdens him with a sense
of “authentic guilt” (Arnett and Arneson 246) that he is unable to relin-
quish because, perhaps for the first time in his life, he can be judged by
others.
Within a modern moment of metanarrative certainty, the existential
ethical response required of Clamence may have been more readily appar-
ent. His struggle appears to be that he knew what was appropriate and
failed to act, thus leading to a sense of authentic guilt. Instead of choos-
ing to respond in a constructive fashion, however, he descended into an
analysis of others and invited others to experience his own guilt by focus-
ing upon their own. Clamence, trained as a lawyer, attempts to inflict his
armchair psychological analysis upon himself and others. The therapeutic
environment that he creates is what Arnett referred to as a “moral cul-
de-sac,” in which the private language of psychology enters the public
conversation. The study of psychology serves an important role within
culture, but when it moves into the public conversation it can become
extremely destructive. For example, when one person analyzes another,
probing the motives behind his or her actions, the focus of attention can
inhibit positive communication. Anytime one catches oneself saying, “I
knew what she really meant,” one is entering a dangerous phase of con-
versation. In an age of absurdity, meaning is not a given in any commu-
nicative circumstance, and therefore one person does not possess insight
beyond what another person actually says or does in a given moment.
A society’s guiding stories should be revisited periodically to avoid
the establishment of anachronistic narratives as a foundation for action.

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Although some may lament living in an age of absurdity, one of the
advantages of such a historical moment is that the oppressive stories
of the past are more openly challenged. Movements for civil rights and
equal rights for men and women entered the twentieth-century conversa-
tion at the same time the narrative structure was collapsing. When one
loses faith in the larger story, one risks falling into despair and losing
hope. Absurdity cannot be avoided, but action or failure to act in such
circumstances is well within the control of a human being. It is often
the case that historical moments shift and change when the practices of
the previous era no longer make sense within the emerging context. To
use language introduced earlier in this chapter, as new practices emerge,
they serve as a new common center for action within the changing his-
torical moment.
SOCIAL PRACTICES
Clamence has lost hope in the accepted social practices of his day. The
novel suggests that Clamence understands what an appropriate action
would have been that night on the bridge, but he failed to act upon that
knowledge. For Clamence, the problem is not that accepted social prac-
tices have collapsed or disappeared but that he lacks the ability (for what-
ever reason) to act upon the social conventions that would allow him to
be a constructive member of society. The issue becomes that Clamence
has lost trust in the social practices of his day. According to Alasdair
MacIntyre, social practices can be understood as forms of “socially
established” activities that possess goodness internal to the activity itself
(187). Kallenberg extended MacIntyre’s deﬁnition: “to participate in the
community is to participate in practices because communal life is the
point at which practices intersect” (22). In many ways, when a person
acts upon recognized social practices, he or she is validating contem-
porary culture and assisting in situating himself or herself within that
particular historical moment. This situatedness contributes to a feeling
of home within a given moment; practices contribute to feeling at home,
and feeling at home leads one to follow the social practices.

The Fall
Through Clamence’s failure to attempt to rescue the woman—
speciﬁcally, because he admits that this would have been the appropriate
action—he surrenders to a sense of fate that no longer allows him to
rebel against the growing sense of meaninglessness of his existence. In
an absurd historical moment, one chooses to make things happen or one
simply allows things to happen. Clamence failed to take the necessary
and appropriate action. He allowed the moment to take over, thus lead-
ing to his fall into hopelessness and despair. The title of this novel can
be interpreted in at least two different fashions. First, it can be seen as
a reference to the central event in Clamence’s story about himself—the
fall taken by the woman who walked across the bridge. Second, the title
can serve as a metaphor for Clamence’s own descent into the abyss of
his existence. This fall occurred not because Clamence took an inap-
propriate action but because he took no action to attempt to save her—
thus choosing inaction. Although any effort Clamence made to save her
might have been unsuccessful, he still would have distinguished himself
from the characters in The Plague, who are doomed regardless of the
action they take. If Clamence had saved the woman from her death, his
life would have been radically different—although it is of no value to
speculate about this, any effort to assist her would have allowed him to
respond to those who judged him in a more constructive way.
As he shifts from his role as a lawyer to that of a judge-penitent,
Clamence sets out to establish a new pattern of activity that will allow
him to stand above others and in turn judge them for their behavior, deci-
sions, and lifestyles. Unfortunately, this activity builds not upon a com-
mon public activity or pattern but upon the shared thoughts, feelings, and
inner emotions of the participants—most notably of Clamence himself.
Through this novel, Camus is directing the reader’s attention to what
happens when the social practices (which are necessary to sustain the
cultural virtue structure) collapse and too much emphasis is placed upon
the individual. Clamence was seeking to live according to an extreme
version of individual autonomy in which he was solely responsible
and accountable for any actions taken (Sleasman, “Individual” 393).
Despite this seeking to act in an individualistic manner, enough narrative

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remnants remained that Clamence’s inability to follow the social practices
of his day provoked a sense of intense guilt. Clamence functioned as
have many members of the modern age driven by individualistic agency
in which the primary concern was the self and not the story in which the
self works. Camus understood that within a moment of absurdity, mean-
ing will not be handed down from someone or something outside of
everyday existence. Camus, in contrast to the character that he created,
was willing to ﬁnd meaning by engaging life on its own terms in spite
of the absurdity of the moment. Through a commitment to ethical action
and rebellion, Camus sought meaning for his everyday life and has thus
brought meaning to the lives of many others.
CONCLUSION
An existential fall occurs when one pushes to extreme limits the modern
era’s reliance upon individualism and is no longer capable of maintain-
ing a livable philosophy in the midst of absurdity. This fall creates an
existential crisis in which one searches for meaning in a given historical
moment—and often results in existential homelessness. Some seek an
escape from an absurd existence, whereas others may fall into a state of
perpetual despair. An existential call to responsibility for another human
being in the face of absurdity leads one to focus outwardly rather than
making all decisions with only one’s own self-interest in mind. One of
Albert Camus’s unique contributions to the theory of communication
ethics is found in the metaphor of the fall, a metaphor that points toward
a time in which one has lost trust in previously accepted social prac-
tices. For a human communicator, the fall represents a potential negative
consequence of living in an age of absurdity and is a problem that can
be overcome only by active engagement with one’s historical moment;
a lack of engagement can contribute to one’s experience of existential
homelessness.
In many ways, living in an age of absurdity is summed up by the
maxim damned if you do; damned if you don’t. There are no guaran-
tees that by taking action one can overcome the uncertainty of an absurd

The Fall
historical moment. Yet failure to act places a person at the mercy of
historical circumstances. Faced with such a dire situation, many suc-
cumb to perpetual despair. For Camus, inaction and despair were not
ethical alternatives. In the face of such overwhelming tension, contradic-
tion and absurdity, one must seek to rebel.

CHAPTER 2
EMBEDDED REBELLION
AN ETHICAL RESPONSE IN
AN AGE OF ABSURDITY
[W]hat is absurd is the confrontation of this irrational and the
wild longing for clarity whose call echoes in the human heart.
—(Myth of Sisyphus 21)
Absurdity, for Albert Camus, represented the inescapable circumstances
of human existence, including an irresolvable tension between the human
need for clarity and the fact that sometimes life does not make sense.
Once one is caught in this absurd situation, the best choice is to rebel
against the circumstances and create one’s own meaning for life. Though
his work was written during the latter days of the modern era, one can
connect Camus’s meeting of his own historical moment with the pres-
ent postmodern moment, another moment of absurdity that invites one
to rebel. The absurd was a situated concern for Camus; as the historical
moment continued to rapidly change, his understanding of the term was

A C ’ P C
extended to include human reaction in the midst of absurdity, propelling
him into a conversation about rebellion. The move from the metaphor
of the absurd to the metaphor of rebellion does not represent Camus’s
abandoning his interest in absurdity but provides a different point of
hermeneutic entry into his ongoing engagement of absurdity in his
ever-changing moment. The background theory of absurdity informed
all of Camus’s engagement with his historical moment; he was consis-
tently interested in how the metaphor of the absurd revealed itself in
everyday life and what response was required in the midst of absurd
conditions. Rebellion, for Camus, was an act against the non-sense of
his own time and represented an effort to impose order on a chaotic
world.
A notebook entry from June 17, 1947, reads, “Second series. Revolt:
The Plague (and annexes)—The Rebel—Kaliayev [a character from
Camus’s play The Just Assassins]” (Notebook V 158). Although this
series was written before the novel The Fall, in many ways it appears
that Camus was able to suggest some answers before he was able to
clearly articulate the problem. In order to make sense of how existen-
tial rebellion offers an answer to the concerns in the previous chapter,
I first define the metaphor of the unity of contraries in relation to the
wider concerns of this chapter. Second, in an investigation of the cen-
tral texts of this cycle of work (The Plague, The Just Assassins, and
The Rebel), this chapter explores Camus’s understanding of rebellion as
an ethical response to the experience of existential homelessness in an
age of absurdity. Each section begins with a narrative summary of the
main points and characters in the story, which is followed by a narra-
tive engagement demonstrating how each work textures an understand-
ing of the metaphor of rebellion. Finally, through a synthesis of the
metaphors explored in this chapter, Camus’s unique contribution to the
theory of communication ethics emerges. Through his ongoing commit-
ment to ethically engage the changing historical moment, Albert Camus
was working as a philosopher of communication. As Camus’s recogni-
tion of his own historical moment grew, he began to flesh out the ideas
that would form the foundation of his existential ethical call to action,

Embedded Rebellion
thus leading to the guiding question of this chapter: How does Camus’s
exploration of the metaphor of rebellion provide an ethical response to
existential homelessness?
THE UNITY OF CONTRARIES
Martin Buber wrote:
It is only when reality is turned into logic and A and non-A dare
no longer dwell together, that we get determinism and indetermin-
ism, a doctrine of predestination and a doctrine of freedom, each
excluding the other. According to the logical conception of truth
only one of two contraries can be true, but in the reality of life as
one lives it they are inseparable.… The unity of contraries is the
mystery at the innermost core of the dialogue. (Buber, Israel and
the World 17, emphasis added)
Buber was committed to living life in the midst of the dialectical ten-
sions of everyday existence. Fundamental to Buber’s understanding of
dialogue, in addition to the unity of contraries, is what he referred to as
the between: “What is peculiarly characteristic of the human world is
above all that something takes place between one being and another the
like of which can be found nowhere in nature” (Between 240, empha-
sis added). When one is caught in the tension of differing perspectives,
one’s ability to discover meaning in between these two different ways of
living is vital.
Buber’s use of the terms truth and reality in the previous extended
quote invites Jacques Ellul, like Camus a twentieth-century French
author, into this particular conversation. Ellul saw a dialectical tension
between the way the world appears and the way one wishes the world to
be. With his text The Humiliation of the Word, Ellul provided some help-
ful language that contributes to a fuller understanding of Buber’s unity of
contraries. On the one hand, reality for Ellul is the term used to describe
the way in which the world is experienced and appears to humans; truth,
on the other hand, is the way things actually are—independent of one’s

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experience of the world. For example, although one may experience
chaos in daily life (reality), one can still be comforted by the fact that
God is in control of all things (truth). Neither Buber nor Ellul would
ﬁnd this religious example troubling, yet Camus’s own philosophical
belief would lead him to call this reach for a religious release philo-
sophical suicide. Regardless of one’s response to this tension, how-
ever, Buber’s notion of the unity of contraries is a helpful concept for
making better sense of Camus’s understanding of rebellion in the face
of absurdity.
As illustrated in the previous chapter, Camus recognized the risk
of being caught within the contradictions of an age of absurdity. In a
changing historical moment, one may be temporarily paralyzed when
confronted with an ethical decision. Living in a given era, one human
being does not directly control the larger historical circumstances that
can cause a historical moment to change. Therefore one may desire that
things “remain the way they were” while at the same time confronting
changes that are beyond his or her control. If one has lost trust in the
social practices of the era, one is at risk of experiencing a sense of exis-
tential homelessness. Following Camus’s example, one must be willing
to engage an ever-changing historical moment and not simply engage
life as one wishes it would remain. These highly practical concerns have
led several scholars in the communication discipline to explore Buber’s
notion of the unity of contraries.
Among those who have worked with Buber’s ideas are Julia T.
Wood and Ronald C. Arnett. Wood wrote that the unity of contraries
“calls on us to appreciate the worth of our own patterns and beliefs
and, at the same time, to respect others and their ways of seeing and
acting in the world. In other words, you don’t have to abandon your
own ways of participating in friendship to honor different ways others
employ” (“Diversity” 18). This commitment to difference, echoed by
Arnett, is central to a constructive approach to human communica-
tion. In Dwell in Peace, Arnett wrote, “the human must stand her own
ground yet be open to the other in a single movement” (114). Arnett,
as coauthor with Pat Arneson, emphasized the contradictory nature of

Embedded Rebellion
the unity of contraries: “The complexity of life for Buber is lived out
in the confusion of contradictions, not in the certainty of YES or NO”
(142). Communication scholars who are committed to a constructive
ethic for living recognize that in order to take any action at all, one
must be willing to make a choice when confronted with unpredict-
ability. If one is waiting for certainty in order to act, one will most
likely remain immobilized by the circumstances, merely watching as
the moment continues to change. In many ways this unity of contrar-
ies is an ontological reality; whether a person desires that the world
exist this way (a question of Ellul’s truth), he or she is constantly con-
fronted with a life that is ﬁlled with uncertainty and unpredictability
(a question of Ellul’s reality).
As Camus continually engaged his changing historical moment, he
recognized the need to texture his initial understanding of absurdity. In
the preface to the ﬁrst English edition of The Myth of Sisyphus, Camus
connected rebellion to the absurd: “For me ‘The Myth of Sisyphus’
marks the beginning of an idea which I was to pursue in The Rebel” (v).
In the “Myth of Sisyphus,” Camus provided an introduction to rebel-
lion, a concept he would address in greater detail in his second cycle of
work:
One of the only coherent philosophical positions is thus revolt. It
is a constant confrontation between man and his own obscurity.
It is an insistence upon an impossible transparency. It challenges
the world anew every second. Just as danger provided man the
unique opportunity of seizing awareness, so metaphysical revolt
extends awareness to the whole of experience. It is that constant
presence of man in his own eyes. (“Myth” 54)
This passage illustrates Camus’s phenomenological understanding
of the absurd and the subsequent response of rebellion that one must
make to this human condition. For Camus, absurdity is a phenomeno-
logical reality, and humanity’s response to and engagement with that
reality represent a hermeneutic turn. Absurd circumstances are not only
something to be engaged but something that opens new understandings

A C ’ P C
of human existence. When new understandings and opportunities for
living occur, one is confronted with the hermeneutic dimension of the
metaphors of absurdity and rebellion. In the context of an absurd exis-
tence, one’s only option is to respond through existential rebellion, thus
revealing that rebellion itself can become an entrance to something
else. As he attempted to work out the implications of the absurd for the
changing historical moment, Camus began to work with a new meta-
phor, rebellion.
As already stated, the understanding of rebellion provided by these
three projects does not represent an abandoning of the absurd but rather
texture for an understanding of absurdity within an ever-changing his-
torical moment. Though the background theory remained constant, the
foreground events were ever changing (a true unity of contraries): dur-
ing the writing of “The Myth of Sisyphus” and The Stranger, France
was engaged in World War II; during the writing of The Rebel and The
Plague, a new Europe was emerging after the war’s destruction had
ended. Camus provided the foundational philosophy for rebellion in his
book-length essay The Rebel. By overlapping the writing of “The Myth
of Sisyphus,” The Stranger, and Caligula, Camus textured the metaphor
of the absurd through three distinct forms of written communication:
a philosophical essay, a novel, and a play. He followed the same pat-
tern for completing the cycle on rebellion. A natural starting point is The
Plague, which contains Camus’s clearest exploration of the concept of
the unity of contraries.
THE PLAGUE
Camus provides a very livable example of existential rebellion in his
novel The Plague, ﬁrst published in 1947. By focusing upon the char-
acters’ various responses to a medical epidemic, the author captures
both the actions and spirit necessary for productivity amidst absurdity.
The absurd circumstances provide the background against which the
action takes place. The focus is not upon the absurdity of the town but
upon the responses of rebellion that are necessary in order for human

Embedded Rebellion
beings to make a difference and create their own meaning in the face of
absurdity.
Narrative
Camus’s novel The Plague, a work in five parts, is an exploration of
the extraordinary events surrounding the outbreak of plague in the very
ordinary town of Oran in “194–” (The Plague 3). A narrator (identified
only at the end of the story as Dr. Bernard Rieux) situated within the
town provides the description of and commentary on events; the story
is primarily written and told in the past tense, a retrospective account of
what occurred. A very ordinary town, Oran is a place where “everyone
is bored, and devotes himself to cultivating habits” (4) that allow a per-
son to “get through the days there without any trouble, once you form
the habits. And since habits are precisely what our town encourages, all
is for the best” (5). The novel focuses on the actions of a variety of
characters, most notably Dr. Rieux, a medical doctor who cares for the
citizens of Oran. As the novel opens, Dr. Rieux’s wife is ill and in need
of treatment unavailable in Oran, and she leaves the town in search of
appropriate medical intervention. As he goes about his normal business,
Dr. Rieux encounters Rambert, an out-of-town journalist who is work-
ing on a story in Oran and who becomes curious about the rats that have
been appearing in town. Dr. Rieux is described as a man who “was sick
and tired of the world he lived in—though he had much liking for his
fellow men” (12). Dr. Rieux’s “liking for his fellow men” becomes more
evident as the novel unfolds.
Dr. Rieux’s mother comes to stay with him while his wife is out of
town. “It was about this time that our townsfolk began to show signs of
uneasiness” about the numbers of “dead or dying rats” in local “facto-
ries and warehouses” (15). Rieux receives a phone call from a former
patient, Joseph Grand, who is concerned about a neighbor, Cottard, who
has attempted to hang himself; these characters take on added signifi-
cance as the story progresses. Concerns for solidarity are expressed by
Grand: “But I can very well stay with him [Cottard]. I can’t say I really
know him, but one’s got to help a neighbor, hasn’t one?” (20). After the

A C ’ P C
death of the concierge of Rieux’s apartment building, people in Oran
begin to notice that something horrible is happening in their town:
[T]heir views obviously called for revision. Still, if things had
gone thus far and no farther, force of habit would doubtless have
gained the day, as usual. But other members of our community,
not all menials or poor people, were to follow the path down to
which M. Michel had led the way. And it was then that fear, and
with fear serious reﬂection, began. (23)
The realization that the fate of Michel could overtake anyone led to the
realization that “[n]ow we’re like everybody else” (28). The rats served
as a great equalizer for every person who called Oran home, and it
“became evident to all observers of this strange malady that a real epi-
demic had set in” (35). Those in charge of Oran’s medical issues become
slowly aware that the “strange malady” could in fact be the plague.
When it is suggested to Dr. Rieux that plague vanished from the region
centuries ago, he replies, “Vanished? What does that word really mean?”
(36). The narrator provides commentary on the topic: “There have been
as many plagues as wars in history; yet always plagues and wars take
people equally by surprise” (37). This plague, although perhaps com-
mon in European history, is something that catches the town of Oran
completely by surprise.
As news of the plague spreads, people become more aware of the
freedom that could be taken from them if the town is quarantined. “They
[the citizens of Oran] fancied themselves free, and no one will ever be
free so long as there are pestilences” (37). In the face of the growing epi-
demic, Dr. Rieux continues to work as necessary; his belief is that “[t]he
thing was to do your job as it should be done” (41). As Rieux follows up
with Cottard after his failed suicide attempt, a sort of friendship emerges
among Grand, Cottard, and Dr. Rieux. Upon reﬂection, Rieux
realized how absurd it was, but he simply couldn’t believe that
a pestilence on the great scale could befall a town where people
like Grand were to be found, obscure functionaries cultivating
harmless eccentricities … and he concluded that the chances were

Embedded Rebellion
all against the plague’s making any headway among our fellow
citizens. (47)
When the authorities challenge Rieux’s growing conviction that the epi-
demic is plague, he asserts that it is of “small importance whether you
call it plague or some kind of fever. The important thing is to prevent its
killing off half the population of this town” (49). He continues, “You’re
stating the problem wrongly. It’s not a question of the term I use; it’s a
question of time” (50). As the first part of the novel comes to a close,
Rieux is burdened by his vocation: never had he “known his profession
to weigh on him so heavily” (59). An official telegram provides the final
words of this part: “Proclaim a state of plague stop close the town” (63).
As the novel’s second part opens, everyone in Oran has realized that
“plague was the concern of all of us” (67). The gates of the town were
closed: “the first thing that plague brought to our town was exile” (71).
This feeling of separation created many who “drifted through life rather
than lived” (73). Even as the plague is taking over the town, Dr. Rieux is
doing his part to engage the epidemic as best he can. The feeling of exile
produces a strange benefit: it causes many who are separated from their
families to focus upon their despair rather than upon the plague. “Their
despair saved them from panic, thus their misfortune had a good side”
(77). Rambert, the journalist stuck in the town under the quarantine, is
exiled from his “wife in Paris…. Well, she wasn’t actually his wife, but
it came to the same thing” (84). His feelings for her lead him to begin
searching for a way to escape from Oran and return to Paris. Rambert
attempts to persuade Dr. Rieux to supply a letter supporting his cause to
leave the town, and Rieux replies, “That’s not a sufficient reason. Oh, I
know it’s an absurd situation, but we’re all involved in it, and we’ve got
to accept it as it is” (86). Rambert accuses the doctor of “abstraction”
and of divorcing his actions from reality. Rieux does not back down and
does not assist Rambert in his effort to escape the exile imposed by the
plague. Upon further reflection, Rieux admits to himself that perhaps he
was acting as an abstraction and that perhaps “only one factor changed,
and that was Rieux himself” (91).

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As plague continues to dominate everyday life in Oran, everything,
“even the least sound, ha[s] a heightened significance” (112). During
a discussion with Tarrou about the fact that plague “has a good side;
it opens men’s eyes and forces them to take thought” (125), Rieux
responds, “For the moment I know this; there are sick people and they
need curing. Later on, perhaps, they’ll think things over; and so shall
I. But what’s wanted now is to make them well. I defend them the best
as I can, that’s all” (127). In this pivotal exchange between Tarrou and
Dr. Rieux, Camus’s belief in absurdity is evident in Rieux’s statement:
“[S]ince the order of the world is shaped by death, mightn’t it be better
for God if we refuse to believe in Him and struggle with all our might
against death, without raising our eyes toward the heaven where He sits
in silence?” (128). When Tarrou asks the doctor from whom he learned
this view, Rieux’s one-word reply is “Suffering” (129).
Expressing a view that contrasts with Dr. Rieux’s, “[m]any fledgling
moralists in those days were going about our town proclaiming there was
nothing to be done about it and we should bow to the inevitable … There
was nothing admirable about this attitude; it was merely logical” (133).
Rieux’s actions in the face of such opinions are not heroic; in fact, in a
conversation with Rambert, the doctor states, “[T]here’s no question of
heroism in all this. It’s a matter of common decency” (163). Rambert
learns from Tarrou that Dr. Rieux’s wife is in a sanatorium outside of
Oran. When he discovers that Rieux is doing his part to combat the face-
less plague, his attitude about the situation changes entirely. In part three,
Rambert abandons his plan to escape from Oran and instead volunteers
to assist where needed. As the third part continues, the folks in the town
give up the “furious revolt of the first weeks” and instead experience
“vast despondency.” With his patients in this state, Rieux finds “that the
habit of despair is worse than despair itself” (181). When a new opportu-
nity emerges for Rambert to escape, he lets it pass and continues working
with Dr. Rieux—taking action, as opposed to falling into despair.
As the plague dominates the town, “death [shows] no favoritism”
(214).After watching a child die, Rieux snaps at Father Paneloux, a priest.
Offering an apology, Rieux states, “I’m sorry. But weariness is a kind of

Albert Camus S Philosophy Of Communication Making Sense In An Age Of Absurdity

Albert Camus S Philosophy Of Communication Making Sense In An Age Of Absurdity

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Albert Camus S Philosophy Of Communication Making Sense In An Age Of Absurdity