The Tragic Sense of Life

I was re-reading a small part of Miguel de Unamuno‘s, The Tragic Sense of Life (1910), when I came across these haunting lines:

Why do I wish to know whence I come and whither I go, whence comes and whither goes everything that environs me, and what is the meaning of it all? For I do not wish to die utterly, and I wish to know whether I am to die or not definitely. If I do not die, what is my destiny? and if I die, then nothing has any meaning for me. And there are three solutions: (a) I know that I shall die utterly, and then irremediable despair, or (b) I know that I shall not die utterly, and then resignation, or (c) I cannot know either one or the other, and then resignation in despair or despair in resignation, a desperate resignation or are resigned despair, and hence conflict.

For the present let us remain keenly suspecting that the longing not to die, the hunger for personal immortality, the effort whereby we tend to persist indefinitely in our own being, which is, according to the tragic Jew (Spinoza), our very essence, that this is the affective basis of all knowledge and the personal inward starting-point of all human philosophy, wrought by a man and for all men…

And this personal and affective starting point of all philosophy and all religion is the tragic sense of life.

Unamuno’s sublime description of the tragic sense of life is reminiscent of the sentiments of Blaise Pascal. Both convey a lostness regarding our place in an indifferent cosmos. When I used to teach existentialism—Unamuno is an early existentialist—students complained that it was both tragic and depressing. They saw little value in the longings of someone like Unamuno, or in Dostoevsky’s “suffering is the origin of consciousness,” or in Sartre’s “Life begins on the other side of despair.” Some even found Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning too depressing.

Now I do not believe there is any intrinsic value in suffering; I do not believe in pain, suffering, war, death or in any of the other limitations and evils that surround us. But the recognition of how terrible, tragic, and absurd life is compared with how good it could be has a redeeming feature—the possibility that this recognition may motivate us to eliminate these evils. This is the value of Unamuno’s recognition of the tragic sense of life.

2 thoughts on “The Tragic Sense of Life

  1. I think eliminating these evils is sort of an inevitable side effect of the coming future of humanity, specifically augmenting our intelligence. The “lostness concerning our place in an indifferent cosmos” as you put it (which is great wording) seems to be a pervasive thought process even among the laymen when presented with the idea of an over all lack of meaning, but why is that? I tend more to agree with guys like Simon Critchley in that meaningless is awesome! Yeah, the cosmos is indifferent! All that means is that we have been granted access to this amazing, possibly infinite sandbox to play in for as long as we allow ourselves to do so! Maybe that’s just me.

  2. Thanks for the comments. I really wish I could embrace possible meaninglessness the way Critchley does; eschew all salvation narratives as he suggests. Perhaps this is what Kazantzakis had in mind when he called hope “the last temptation.” But as you would say “maybe its just me” but that doesn’t seem totally satisfying. Of course then the question whether this suggests that there is something wrong with me, that i can’t accept the finitude of life. I suppose I may be forced to accept it soon as I’m aging. But then another part of me wants to rebel as Dylan Thomas put it:

    “Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *