Can you explain this from “Le Mythe de Sisyphe”? « Mon champ, dit Goethe, c’est le temps. » Voilà bien la parole absurde. Qu’est-ce en eﬀet
que l’homme absurde? Celui qui, sans le nier, ne fait rien pour l’éternel. Non que la nostalgie
lui soit étrangère. Mais il lui préfère son courage et son raisonnement. Le premier lui apprend
à vivre sans appel et se suﬃre de ce qu’il a, le second l’instruit de ses limites. Assuré de sa
liberté à terme, de sa révolte sans avenir et de sa conscience périssable, il poursuit son aventure
dans le temps de sa vie. Là est son champ, là son action qu’il soustrait à tout jugement hormis
le sien. Une plus grande vie ne peut signifier pour lui une autre vie. Ce serait déshonnête. Je
ne parle même pas ici de cette éternité dérisoire qu’on appelle postérité. Madame Roland s’en
remettait à elle. Cette imprudence a reçu sa leçon. La postérité cite volontiers ce mot, mais
oublie d’en juger. Madame Roland est indiﬀérente à la postérité.

Question

Ask a Philosopher · Accepted Answer

In reflecting upon the assertion of Goethe that “Mon champ, dit Goethe, c’est le temps,” we are compelled to confront the very essence of human existence within the temporal domain, a matter both profound and worthy of rigorous examination. The absurdity hinted at in the phrase relates not simply to the existential condition of humanity, but rather to the recognition of our inherent limitations in the face of immortality's elusive grasp. One might reason that the absurd man is not merely defined by the absence of eternal significance, but is instead characterized by a resolute acceptance of this void; he acknowledges, even embraces, his finite nature. The allure of nostalgia may certainly dwell within him, yet he chooses to harness the twin forces of courage and rationality to navigate through the labyrinth of existence. Courage, that indomitable spirit, teaches him to forge a path through life without constant appeal to a higher purpose or the anticipation of a transcendent reward. Meanwhile, reason unveils the contours of his mortality, marking the boundaries of his aspirations. Thus armed with the knowledge of his freedom, the inevitability of his rebellion against a predetermined fate, and the awareness of his conscientiously transient essence, the absurd man embarks upon his unique odyssey within the temporality of life. In this time—a field rife with possibilities and actions—he grants legitimacy solely to his own judgments, dismissing the external evaluations of existence as mere distractions from his lived experience. The prospect of a greater life, one that ebbs beyond the confines of his temporal habitat, appears to him a disingenuous pursuit. This leads us to question the nature of legacy, that ephemeral concept often ascribed to posthumous recognition. For Madame Roland, who explicitly entrusted her legacy to the currents of time, we witness the folly of seeking validation from an indifferent future. Her words, though quoted with reverence, become nothing but echoes in the vast expanse when stripped of judgment, highlighting our intrinsic futility in escaping the momentary for the eternal. Thus, while we may admire the heroic struggle of Sisyphe, eternally condemned to push his boulder, we must recognize that it is within the exertion of the struggle itself—the conscious embrace of our limitations and the relentless pursuit of meaning within them—that we find our true field, our authentic selves, and ultimately, the essence of what it means to be human.