The Absurdity of Travel

I like it more than anything else

The philosophical idea of "the Absurd" is most famously associated with Albert Camus, who was French, given that Algeria was part of France when he was born there. Maybe without colonialism we would never have benefited from my favourite philosophical idea. Or maybe ChatGPT would’ve come up with it anyway. From Camus’ essay, The Myth of Sisyphus, he refers to the apparently inherent conflict between the deep desire for meaning, purpose, and order in life, from humans (that’s you and me, who never had a choice to be anything other than human), and the indifferent, chaotic, and meaningless nature of the universe. The Absurd arises from this confrontation, where human beings strive to find significance, but the universe offers none. Maybe you’re reading this thinking I’m going to offer you something significant, and feeling mildly irritated that it hasn’t happened so far. Read on and see if it comes.

Rather than resorting to despair or nihilism, Camus insisted that we should embrace the Absurd. So I tried it. This involves recognising it without surrendering to it. I really don’t know if ‘it’ is the meaningless nature of the Universe or the moment of confrontation; feel free to enlighten me in the comments. Either way, we should continue to live fully in the context in which we find ourselves, seeing freedom in the very lack of ultimate meaning.

For some people, freedom is an ordeal. It means too many yoghurts on the shelf in the supermarket and a chaos of indecision, before buying none of them and having no yoghurt. But these people are possibly trying to pick what they believe to be the correct yoghurt. I don’t know about you, but if I can try as many different yoghurts over the years as befit my insatiability for novelty, so much the better. The idea of the Absurd appealed to me the instant I heard it, some years ago. It has massively helped me orientate myself when planning a life, which often involves booking flights to, and accommodation in, a place I’ve never been to. A place where I could die from a tropical disease, or a snake bite, or lack of appropriate medical insurance (when I think back on some of the places I’ve been, I’m lucky to tell the tale). Absurdism simply means I don’t have to be convinced that I’m doing the right thing, I just need to maintain the motivation to do a thing, and then another thing, and then another, and be satisfied with my own conduct (I’m not hurting people or leaving a trail of destruction behind me).

I cannot check-out of life unless I die, so if I live then I have to do things. Therefore, according to how I see Absurdism, I should enjoy these things, even if they are representative of pushing rocks up a mountain. I am free to go to places without needing to prove that they are the correct place for me, and wherever I go my objectives are the same. There are better or worse places, as far as I'm concerned. Some objectively worse (they’re at war) and some worse according to my taste (they’re too cold!). But as long as I’m not suffering as a direct result of a location in which I choose to be, I can be in that very location and enjoy my life. I also usually have yoghurt in the kitchen, and it’s not always the same type.

If I had to come up with some kind of meaningful theory as to why I thought I was correct in packing an arbitrary 40kg of my possessions to take from London to Kuala Lumpur for three months, every time I decided to do that kind of thing (in the absence of a desire to go back to the normal thing of doing my job in an office in a fixed place), then I probably would end up in a state of despair or nihilism in my relentless failure to specify the meaning in my decisions. Nothing I could come up with would convince myself that I had genuinely found significance in Kuala Lumpur, and this was absolutely the right place compared with everywhere else in the liveable universe.

For a start, I’m not Muslim, so why would I pick another (after two years in Morocco) Muslim country where certain laws or cultural expectations are not entirely in my favour? Next, I don’t like busy roads and air pollution from traffic because I like to walk a lot. I may as well stop already; Kuala Lumpur is clearly not the correct place for me to be. So where should I be? Is Amsterdam better? The problem is, I like hot, tropical climates. What about Singapore? I can’t afford it… wait, what was the problem with Malaysia again? This is becoming tedious and I haven’t even started to work out how I’m going to get to Malaysia, let alone which accommodation to take. This is not a nice way to make decisions.

It’s possible you already live your life like this every time you have to make a decision. Maybe you self-medicate with your drug of choice and blame poor decisions on the influence. Or, you just don’t commit to making any big decisions and you leave your life ticking over as it is, essentially letting chance pull your strings, even if you don’t like the outcome or the feeling of zero agency most of the time. At least you feel like the blame is not on you when things go wrong, even when it may well be.

Alternatively, there’s the possibility that you are delusional in thinking you’re always right, and you can spin any catastrophe into a logical explanation about how you made the correct decision, as the place is burning around you. No need for absurd ideas to replace your comfortable delusion. You could be someone who does not believe in free will, so… err… what decisions? One more option, you’ve already joined a religion or cult.

One big problem with many of these is that if you ever travel anywhere, it’s probably a desperate escape, which takes your chaotic mind and emotional baggage with you, and finally leads to the horrible conclusion of getting the plane back to your awful regular life. That’s if you ever manage to make the decision to travel anywhere at all. So for me, highly reluctant as I am to join an organised cult, Absurdism it is. Absurdism will not paralyse me when I need to pick a place to go. With or without free will, the place I feel like I’m choosing will never be the wrong one, and a quick, impulsive decision will often do. Absurdism will not leave me deluded because I don’t have to lie in the face of facts, I am instead forced to embrace any facts and navigate them as best I can. Absurdism will allow me to make the most of anything I have that seems like contributing to a regular life (eating yoghurt in the morning, for example), or change it however I see fit within my means if it causes suffering (maybe some projectile diarrhoea will prompt me to not finish the opened pot). Absurdism will remove much of the decision-fatigue and anxiety that prevents me from enjoying the moment when I’m actually travelling. Absurd is exactly what my life has become.

So I’m off to the airport. I’ve lived in enough places to know that Kuala Lumpur is not necessarily going to be the utopia that fits like a glove, but the enjoyment I get from going to somewhere that’s as arbitrary as a million other places is visible in the gleeful way I approach check-in, because I’ve decided to enjoy flying. Before, I hated it. Now, I love it. I will be returning to this theme, of calming the mind and having purpose, without the need for meaning given to me by the universe (or a guru), whenever I like, which shall probably be often.

If you enjoyed what you read today, tell your friends, they might like it too.
If you hated it, come back next time to see if you hate everything I say.