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Albert Camus: Tireless Lover of Women, Life, and Death

As the son of a semi-deaf illiterate mother and a father who died prematurely (killed in the Battle of the Marne when little Albert was only one year old), Camus was born in the impoverished district of the Algerian city of Mondove a hundred years ago (November 7, 1913). He realized early on that only through education could one escape poverty. As a scholarship student, he completed high school and studied philosophy in Algeria, while also seriously engaging in philosophy and literature (Kierkegaard and Nietzsche were his philosophical models, while Proust, Gide, and Malraux were his literary influences) and additionally earned money as a private tutor, car parts salesman, meteorologist, and passionate football fan. In 1930, he fell ill with tuberculosis, which marked the end of his football career, but his tireless spirit founded the theater troupe ‘Workers’ Theater’ where he wrote, directed, and even acted. In 1935, he joined the French Communist Party and advocated for Algerian independence, and with such fervor did he rise against every (including Russian) totalitarianism that he was declared a Trotskyist and expelled from the PCF. Camus then aligned himself with the French anarchist movement and published in anarchist magazines.

The Paradox of the Absurd

During World War II (in which he could not participate due to poor health), he became a member of the resistance movement ‘Combat’ which illegally printed the magazine of the same name, in which Camus wrote, worked as an editor, and later as the chief editor. Although left-leaning, his sharp critiques of the totalitarianism of communism did not earn him sympathy among communists and ultimately decided his great friendship with Sartre, with whom he was a regular guest in the famous Café de Flore on Boulevard St. Germain in the post-war years, the site of passionate and heated debates among the radical left currents of the time. Camus placed pacifism and peace above ideals, while Sartre held on to his communist and revolutionary ideals. The idea of communism represented the perfection of human society for Sartre, regardless of how it was implemented, while Camus was so disappointed in this ideology that by rejecting it, he also rejected all ideologies, both from the left and the right.

Camus first mentions the absurd in ‘The Myth of Sisyphus’, in which he states that people strive for clarity and meaning in a world that offers neither. By renouncing ideologies, he also renounced allegiance to any philosophical current, although critics still consider him a theorist of the absurd and an existentialist. However, Camus could not tolerate either party or religious affiliation, did not kneel before any altar, and wanted to be the ‘happy Sisyphus’, aware of the absurdity, but also of the fact that life is the only thing we possess, so it is worth fighting for freedom, which is the only meaning in a meaningless world. Many writers have written about the absurd, but Camus’s absurdity differed in many ways, so it is often referred to as the ‘Paradox of the Absurd’. Camus’s ideas about the absurd are, in fact, much more sophisticated; he does not provide a philosophical statement, not even a definition of the absurd, but speaks about the experience of the absurd. ‘The absurd is an essential concept and the first truth,’ he says. ‘I rebel, therefore I exist,’ he asserts.

The Paradox of Life

Camus wrote prose works, short stories, plays, philosophical works, essays, and was also intensely involved in journalism (most of his works have fortunately been translated into our language). In 1957, he received the Nobel Prize for Literature for his novel ‘The Fall’. Many compare Camus’s bitter struggle against all forms of totalitarianism with George Orwell, and what Big Brother is in Orwell’s famous novel ‘1984’, that is the plague in Camus’s novel of the same title.

Camus confronts the reader with dualism – happiness and sadness, darkness and light, life and death – but not with the desire to be morbid, but to teach people to appreciate happiness and life more. We greatly value life, while at the same time knowing that we are mortal. In this lies the paradox. We live, indeed, in an indifferent and absurd world, we are mortal beings, but we can achieve meaning through our own decisions and interpretations. Camus’s work encourages us to think about the absurd and contribute our own to key values, which are: cooperation, friendship, joint effort, and solidarity, because nihilism is not an acceptable answer. ‘The Plague’ is an undeniable part of life, and as the ‘epidemic’ develops, people do not surrender indifferently to the disease they cannot control, they fight against it, that is, against death, and thus in a wave of despair, optimism is born. Here is what the author tells us: ‘If nothing made sense, you would be right. But there is something that still makes sense.’

Camus died on January 4, 1960, in a car accident near Sens, in the village of Villeblevin, in a Facel Vega car driven by his friend and publisher Michel Gallimard. His friend persuaded him to travel with him to Paris by car, only to die in that accident along with his two children. An unused train ticket was found in the pocket of Camus’s coat…

Women Loved Him

Despite the grim realization of absurdity, Camus was a great lover of life, and of course, of women, and many of them (often at the same time). His romantic (and marital!) ‘career’ involved a double, triple, and even at one point a quadruple parallel life. His first childhood love was his grandmother and mother, whom he always imagined with hunched backs tirelessly cleaning other people’s floors and in hard labor. He greatly respected them. His first wife was Simone Hie, a morphine addict, but the marriage quickly ended due to infidelity on both sides. He then lived for years and eventually married Francine Faure, a pianist and mathematician, with whom he had twins Catherine and Jean. He was strongly opposed to the institution of marriage, considering it unnatural. Poor Francine suffered greatly for years due to his multiple extramarital affairs, which also cost her her mental health.

Although an exceptionally handsome man, the question arises as to where he found so many women willing to engage in a love battle ‘all or nothing’ with him, to go with him to the desert, and even to the Moon itself. The answer is self-evident: as a great lover of theater and a celebrated playwright, it is clear that the theater was his romantic first line of battle. He collaborated with actresses, befriended many, and it is hard to even list them, but his greatest acting-love clash occurred when he met the Spanish actress Maria Casarès. He openly appeared with his mistress in cafes, nightclubs, and premieres, to the sheer despair of poor Francine. Among the numerous chosen ones, Catherine Sellers should also be mentioned, who acted in Camus’s play ‘Requiem for a Nun’, based on a Faulkner template, as well as Simone Hié, with her provocative mustache and libertarian ideas, Christine Galindo, a fatal woman, by profession a teacher, who readily ‘typed’ manuscripts for him on an old Remington. There were many other relationships, some overlapping, and they were usually accompanied by numerous intrigues. In his diary, this tireless lover confided that he was currently involved with as many as four women, namely Francine, Maria, Catherine, and model Mi. The entry dates back to the year of his death…

Manifesto on Censorship

In the Algerian daily ‘Le Soir Républicain’, Camus published in 1939 under a pseudonym (we experience it as if it were written yesterday!) his ‘Manifesto on Censorship’ and on the role of the free journalist. He states that a free journalist does not despair and fights for what he believes to be true as if his actions can influence the course of events. He does not publish anything that could incite hatred or provoke despair. All of this is within his power.

On the path to freedom of expression, there are numerous discouraging obstacles: the persistence of stupidity, organized cowardice, aggressive narrow-mindedness. Persistence is a cardinal virtue in the latter case. Camus says: ‘It is difficult today to mention freedom of the press without being accused of excess, or of being Mata Hari, or being convinced that you are Stalin’s relative.’

Of course, every freedom has its limits; they just need to be recognized. Once the principle of censorship is imposed, even tacitly, the fact that a newspaper depends on the mood and competence of one person indicates better than anything else the degree of unawareness in which we live. One of the good rules is to never waste time in unnecessary lamentations about the state of affairs in which we find ourselves. Therefore, we try to determine the conditions and methods by which freedom can not only be preserved but also expressed even in difficult times.

Does Not Serve Lies

Even if he cannot say everything, a free journalist can always say what he does not think and what he considers to be wrong. The value of a text is measured by what it says, but also by what it does not say. This negative freedom is indeed the most important if we know how to preserve it. For it prepares the arrival of true freedom. An independent newspaper helps the reader in his assessment, rejects propaganda, abolishes insults, and with its commentary overshadows the uniformity of information – in short, it serves the truth within the human measure of its strengths. And, most importantly, it does not serve lies.

Here we necessarily arrive at the irony that is the unique weapon of the powerful – the free journalist. It complements rejection not to discard the false but to often speak the truth. The truth expressed in a dogmatic tone is censored nine out of ten times. The same truth expressed in a joke is censored only five out of ten times. This explains why French satirical newspapers like ‘Le Merle’ and ‘Le Canard enchaîné’ (in our case, for example, ‘Feral Tribune’) could publish the brave articles we know. Therefore, a journalist in unfortunate times is necessarily ironic, although often against his will. But truth and freedom are demanding ‘concubines’ since they have few lovers. Such a state of mind, it is clear, cannot be successfully maintained without persistence. The virtue of a man, indeed, is to hold on against everything that denies him. Therefore, we must try with entirely new methods of justice and generosity, but they are only expressed in already liberated hearts and in still discerning spirits.