On Jean-Paul Sartre

Man is nothing else but that which he makes of himself. That is the first principle of existentialism

Jean-Paul Sartre, whom I studied at university and whose work has interested me ever since, introduces us to the idea of our absolute freedom. While he admits that we are limited by some physical and social circumstances, he places us utterly in charge of ourselves.

Are we "condemned" to be free, as Sartre would seem at first glance to have it, or is such freedom more, as he would perhaps really contend, an opportunity staring us in the face if only we'd pay attention?

Søren Kierkegaard believed that being authentic meant breaking from cultural and social constraints and living a self-determined life; Martin Heidegger equated authenticity to accepting who you are today and living up to all the potential you have in the future and Sartre had a similar idea: people have the freedom to interpret themselves, and their experiences, however they like.

In Existentialism is a Humanism, Sartre narrated the story of a student who came to him for advice during the Nazi occupation of France. The student asked, “Should I stay home to care for my mother or join the resistance to avenge my brother and fight for France?” Sartre argued that the student didn’t want advice - he wanted Sartre to tell him what to do. He wanted to surrender his freedom and responsibility of choice to someone or something else. “Oh, I couldn’t fight with you because Sartre told me to stay with my mother,” he’d say to his paramilitary friends.

However, as his understanding of how social and economic limitations on our freedom to choose increased he began to stop identifying as a pure existentialist and openly declared himself to have always been an anarchist.

A Quartz writer took an interesting and recognisable angle on Sartre, claiming that long before she read him, she had a clear idea of who he was. Or who she thought he was. She knew all about the turtleneck-wearing, chain-cigarette-smoking, moody sort of soul, with a melancholy philosophy to match. After opening his books, though, it became clear to her that this brooding reputation didn’t match the reality. His words didn’t read like those of a poet in crisis, but like something that would not look out of place in a self-help book.