One truly serious philosophical problem

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There is but one truly serious philosophical problem, and that is suicide. Judging whether life is or is not worth living amounts to answering the fundamental question of philosophy.

- Albert Camus

So what's the answer?

I don't know.

I think it's a wonderful question though. I also think that everyone who has ever lived has wondered, at one time, the answer to the Suicide Question. I think we are all plagued by grief or frustration at life or even boredom...to the point we consider ending it (life). I think that's a key element of being human. The fact that we haven't killed ourselves yet means that, in some way or other, all of us have answered Camus' question for ourselves.

That's not to say that our checks can't move from the 'yes' box to the 'no' box. In fact, I believe we have each encountered this problem innumerable times and have answered 'yes' each time. The way we answer each time depends on who we are and what we believe.

Many of us answer the question with religion, saying that God gives our life meaning--fills the void. Other individuals answer the question through philosophical morality. Humanism. In fact, Camus and other existentialist philosophers (who profess that life is absurd) were required to fall back on a form of humanism to find meaning in life. Some people, religious or irreligious, truly love life--and that is their answer. But there is a last category of individuals who answer the Suicide Question in a different way: they can't supply an answer of 'why to live' so much as an answer of 'why not to die.' I would divide these individuals into three categories: 1) Those afraid of personal pain, 2) Those afraid of collective pain, 3) Those afraid of the unknown.

The first group is those who imagine the pain or fear of those last few moments. Whatever grief they feel presently isn't worth those minutes or hours. The second group is those who imagine the pain that their death would cause on those who survived it--their family and friends--and this stays their hand. The last group is those who, like Hamlet, are afraid that the afterlife might be worse than the present one...or rather that there might exist an afterlife rather than a never-ending sleep...

"To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; / For in that sleep of death
what dreams may come, / When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, / Must give
us pause."

What is unique about the Suicide Question is the omnitude of its consequences: it is a singular decision which determines all decisions. So if we are to talk ethics the Question is central to ethics, and if we are to talk religion the Question is central to religion; the reason being that it is, more than anything else, all about power. Whether we believe God gave us life or that we are the result of a cosmic accident--no matter what the purpose of this existence--we have the power to end it. This is a godly power in its own right since Destruction is the antithesis of Creation.

The awareness of this power comes to us in our teens or perhaps earlier, during puberty; the awareness is intrinsically entwined with all aspects of self-determination. Teenagers find themselves, physically, as adults and yet without the responsibilities or privileges associated with adulthood. This often leads to resentment, angst, self-doubt, or lack of identity. It is no wonder that so many youth will lash out with what power they feel they have: whether through eating disorders, drug addictions, sexual promiscuity, or suicide. These are all manifestations of self-determination: the teenager is showing that they have power over their physical self.

But that is not to say that suicide is solely a juvenile activity. On the contrary, suicide is no respecter of persons. Old or young, rich or poor, we are all faced with the Question: it is a golden balance, weighing our raison de vivre (reason for living) against our raison de mourir (reason for dying)...and it has the ability to tip at any time.

The statement that "the one truly serious philosophical problem" is suicide implies that all other philosophical questions are insignificant at best; at worse, trivial. I don't believe this and I don't think Camus did either. On the contrary, anyone who questions their own existence is also faced with their own mortality. And anyone willing to consider the fact that--just maybe--there is no purpose of life, is at risk of finding no reason to live. This was the case of Nietzsche, Camus, Sartre and any other number of human philosophers. It is what was described, in part, by Nietzsche when he remarked, "Battle not with monsters lest ye become a monster, and if ye gaze into the abyss the abyss gazes into you."

You see, Camus was facing the same dilemma that so many others have faced. Doubt is what makes us human.