The Act of Rebellion
Finding Freedom in an Unfree World
The Diminishing of the Self
Where have all the humans gone? Not in the sense of their replacement by machines, though such a future may indeed be on the horizon, but in the way they have become less themselves, diminished by the illusions they eagerly construct.
Observe the modern spectacle: on LinkedIn, one finds not professionals but performers. It has become a stage not unlike the marketplace of OnlyFans, where pieces of one’s pride or integrity are bartered in exchange for attention or fleeting status. The new motto? Fake it till you make it, a banner waved proudly by those marching in step to an unfree rhythm dictated by society’s lifeless contract.
The Quiet Tragedy
When was the last time you sat in a café, not to escape but to witness? To watch the quiet tragedy unfolding around you: heads bowed, not in prayer or contemplation, but before the altar of screens. Distractions buzz and hum like the machinery of a great factory, numbing our senses.
I am no less guilty. As I write this, here and now in a restaurant, the clatter of plates and voices rising faintly around me, I too am drawn into the void of mass communication.
The Commodification of Identity
Perhaps it is the ancient pull, the inherited instinct to connect and belong. Though now we do so by building walls of cardboard and convincing ourselves they are made of stone. These platforms, LinkedIn and OnlyFans among them, are symptoms of a deeper issue: the commodification of identity.
In seeking approval, we trade authenticity for curated personas, further disconnecting from the human experience. We speak of the ancients as though their wisdom courses through our veins, yet our lives are dictated by forces they would scarcely recognize. Their struggles were physical, immediate; ours are often abstract and technological, pulling us further from the essence of what it means to be human.
The Question of Freedom
And so, I return to the question: where have all the humans gone? I think now of this quote attributed to Albert Camus:
“The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.”
What does it mean to live freely in a world so eager to reduce us to automatons? To be human in an age that demands we become machines?
Freedom is a concept that stirs the heart. It has inspired revolutions, defined movements, and, at times, demanded the ultimate sacrifice. Yet, in a world increasingly defined by systems, rules, and unyielding expectations, freedom often feels more like an elusive ideal than a tangible reality.
Rebellion as Affirmation
This quote encapsulates a profound truth and aligns deeply with the existential and absurdist themes Camus explored in his work. He examined rebellion not as mere resistance or defiance but as a search for meaning, a way to affirm life’s value in the face of chaos and absurdity.
Camus’ vision of rebellion as an affirmation of life offers a way back to humanity. To resist becoming an automaton is not just to defy external systems, but to reclaim the ability to feel, to think, and to be.
A Perspective Shaped by Time
But how could I know? I never met the man. I can only interpret his meaning through the prism of my own understanding, shaped by my reading and reflection. I’d like to believe his thoughts align with mine, but his words were penned in a world untouched by the age of Ultron. A time before we were drowned in an ocean of endless information, before humanity was ensnared by the very knowledge it sought to master.
Today, many of us navigate systems that feel overwhelming: rigid career paths, societal expectations, economic pressures. These forces often leave little room for individuality, let alone the kind of absolute freedom described in this quote. Yet, Camus challenges us to reframe rebellion, not as a battle against external forces but as a declaration of inner sovereignty.
Choosing Authenticity
To be “so absolutely free” that your existence becomes an act of rebellion is to choose authenticity. It is to embrace your unique perspective, values, and purpose, regardless of external expectations. This rebellion isn’t loud or aggressive—it’s quiet, resolute, and deeply personal.
For me, writing represents a form of rebellion. It is a way to carve out a space where I can explore ideas, challenge assumptions, and connect with others who seek the same. Camus reminds us that rebellion begins within, and through it, we find the essence of what it means to be human.
An Invitation to Reclaim Humanity
This Substack is my act of rebellion, a space to rediscover what it means to live freely in an unfree world. I invite you to join me, not as followers or performers, but as fellow rebels seeking to live authentically in an unfree world.
"We speak of the ancients... Their struggles were physical, immediate; ours are often abstract and technological, pulling us further from the essence of what it means to be human."
Which ancients do you have in mind? Not trying to disagree with you; just want to understand where you're coming from.
There is a letter, possibly fictional, that Alexander the Great wrote to Darius III of Persia during the lead-up to battle between the two. Darius had sent Alexander a ball, as if to say that Alexander was a mere boy who needed to go home and play with a boy's things. Alexander wrote back to say that the ball was a symbol of the globe, which Alexander would soon possess. Whether the letter was fictional or not, both Darius and Alexander would have been well aware that the world is round. Educated people have always known that it is round; it's not a great mystery, and you can figure it out for yourself if you pay enough attention.
I bring this up because animals don't know that it is round and they wouldn't care. Even globetrotters like the Arctic Tern and Blue Whale don't know. Man knows, and this is just one example of the nature of human intellect. Further examples can be seen in architecture, astronomy, and geometry. The earliest of the ancient Egyptians-- the most ancient people for whom we have historical records-- built enormous pyramids of subtle geometric proportion and in positions precisely reflecting specific stars in the sky. The three largest pyramids at Giza, for example, are part of a larger network of pyramids that replicate the lower half of what we call Orion and some stars immediately south of Orion. The Egyptians called this constellation S3h, and it represented Osiris, a character central to a religious cosmology that, while not our cosmology, cannot be lightly dismissed. The ancient Greeks contemplated the shapes that would result if a plane intersected a cone, and thereby they gave us everything important we know today about the parabola (as in "parabolic trajectory"), hyperbola, and ellipse. We have not made significant advances in this area beyond what Apollonius of Perga wrote down thousands of years ago. The ancients were not lacking in abstract and technological culture.
Does the abstract and technological pull us further from the essence of what it means to be human? Well, do understand the essence of anything, philosophers throughout the millennia would tell us to look at a thing's causes. (Camus is among those who sought to abandon such quaint ancient simplicity. Well, good luck to Camus.) Be particularly alert to four types of causes: efficient, material, formal, and teleological. If we look at man in terms of these four causes, we end up developing an anthropology: a theory of what man is. The traditional conclusion is that man is a spiritual creature with a physical body. Though such a combination seems impossible on its face, here are the Egyptian pyramids, and there is Greek geometry, and here again is Darius' gift to Alexander. The theory explains much.
If someone doesn't like that theory, fair enough. If a new one's needed, if we need a new anthropology, then start with the causes. All four of them. Learn the causes of a thing and you'll find that thing's essence.