The Obsession with Success and the Myth of Sisyphus

General Philosophy
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What is that “big boulder” in your life right now that you keep trying to push to the top, only to watch it roll back down?

There is only one motto that modern life whispers—and sometimes screams—into our ears: “Work harder, achieve more, never stop!”

We graduate from university and think, “I need to find a good job.” We find a job, then say, “I need a promotion.” Our salary increases, and we think, “I need to buy a house or a car.” We constantly find ourselves chasing the next step, the next achievement. But have you ever noticed? The feeling of satisfaction that comes when we actually reach that goal lasts for a few days at most—sometimes just a few hours. Then, that sweet intoxication fades, leaving behind a massive void: “Alright, what’s next?”

Right at this point, to understand modern human’s endless “obsession with success,” we need to listen to a myth from thousands of years ago and one of the most striking philosophers of the 20th century: Albert Camus and The Myth of Sisyphus.

Who is Sisyphus and What Does He Have to Do with Us?

In Greek mythology, Sisyphus is condemned to a severe punishment for trying to trick the gods. His punishment is this: he must roll a massive boulder up to the top of a steep mountain.

Sweating and straining, Sisyphus summons all his strength and finally manages to push the boulder to the very peak. But right at that moment, the rock rolls all the way back down to the bottom under its own weight, right back to where it started. Sisyphus walks back down and begins to push the rock up all over again. This cycle is bound to repeat forever, achieving absolutely nothing.

At first glance, what a tragic, meaningless punishment, right?

Now, pause for a moment and think about your own life. Monday morning, the alarm goes off. We get out of bed, go to work or school, reply to emails, deliver projects, and pass exams. By Friday evening, we feel like we’ve pushed that boulder to the top of the mountain. We catch our breath over the weekend, and hoop… Monday morning, the rock is back at the foot of the mountain. What’s worse, we don’t just do this in a weekly cycle; we do it in our career goals and our search for social status, too.

In reality, we are all digital Sisyphuses in this modern world. What we call success is nothing more than pushing that rock to the top; but that rock will always fall back down.

Camus’ Answer: “One Must Imagine Sisyphus Happy”

Albert Camus, in his philosophical essay The Myth of Sisyphus, defines this condition as the “Absurd.” Human beings constantly search for meaning, permanent success, and absolute satisfaction in life; yet the universe never grants us this permanent meaning. Life is cyclical and temporary.

So, is Camus telling us, “Life is meaningless, so let’s just give up and lie in bed”? Absolutely not. Camus’ philosophy is not one of resignation; on the contrary, it is a magnificent rebellion.

Camus argues that the most important moment in Sisyphus’ story is that brief moment when the rock rolls down and Sisyphus starts walking back to the foot of the mountain behind it. In that moment, Sisyphus is conscious of his condition. He is aware of his fate. He has no god to worship, no hope to cling to, but that rock belongs to him, and that effort is his own.

It is not the rock reaching the top, but the very effort of pushing it up that gives meaning to Sisyphus’ life. That is why Camus concludes his book with this famous sentence:

“The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man’s heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.”

Escaping the Success Obsession and Loving “The Effort Itself”

If we tie our happiness and self-worth solely to the metrics of “success,” we doom ourselves to be crushed under that rock for the rest of our lives. Because there will always be a higher peak, a bigger boulder.

The most sincere lesson we can draw from this philosophy for our daily lives is this:

  • Focus on the Process, Not the Outcome: What matters is not just finishing the project, passing the exam, or getting that title; it is who you become along the way, what you learn, and the effort itself.
  • Own Your Boulder: The responsibilities and routines that life brings can sometimes feel meaningless. But you can create your own freedom within that routine. Enjoying the taste of your morning coffee or respecting the hard work you put into your job is choosing to carry that rock on your own terms.
  • The Finish Line is an Illusion: There is no peak in life where you can say, “Once I get here, everything will be perfect and I will be happy forever.” Life is the very act of climbing that mountain.

The next time you feel suffocated under the pressure to succeed, take a deep breath. Instead of looking at the peak of the mountain and worrying, look at the rock between your hands.

Remember, that rock is yours, and this climb is beautifully raw.

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Interesting OP. I remember thinking similarly in the 1980s, which seemed to be an even more horrible time of Sisyphean drudgery, status anxiety, misdirected ambition, and the propagandisation of certain stylised forms of success, perhaps best satirised by Martin Amis in his novel Money, an excoriation of an era if ever there was one.

But of course no one has to play along, right? Parents and peer groups often determine our behaviours in this space rather than any reflective thinking. We think we need to be ambitions, but do we? A colleague of mine put it rather well when she said her ambition was never to own a home and to die in poverty, having spent all her money on experiences. Now those of us addicted to certain comforts might find that absurd. But clearly we can choose our own path and leave the boulder to the sightseers rather than push it up the hill. Many people don’t put money and ambition first and privilege experiences and connecting with others over careers and more money.

Of course it isn’t success that’s the problem, it might be our primitive sense of what success looks like.

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Camus always seemed to me to be trying to rationalise nihilism, or to make sense of the reality that nothing makes sense.

There are many ways to see life as other than a hamster-wheel without going full Sisyphus. I think of 20th century existentialism, particularly of Sartre and Camus, as responses to Nietszche and the death of God, with the vanishing of all moral certitude and with it the hope of salvation, however faint or attenuated. But then it is true that nihilism is an endemic condition in what it sees as a meaningless universe.

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I really enjoyed your post. I am certainly in the absurdist camp and relish the difficulties strewn throughout any worthwhile goal.

I find common understandings of absurdism, well… absurd. The absurdist position clearly views life as ridiculous in every possible way. Why define success normatively? Why define happiness normatively? Why condemn yourself to a life of social convention?

Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning comes to mind. He describes how, after suffering in Nazi Concentration Camps, ordinary everyday life felt devoid of meaning. Yet the fraternity and shared suffering within the camp gave his life its deepest sense meaning: survival. Arthur Schopenhauer similarly suggests we should refer to each other as fellow sufferers, amongst the human condition (wholly described as suffering). Within that suffering, we can find what I believe to be a twisted form of happiness.

That being said, it is important not to romanticise suffering and entirely reject pleasure. The bitter things make the sweet all that sweeter. :grinning_face:

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Camus always seemed to me to be trying to rationalise nihilism, or to make sense of the reality that nothing makes sense.

He died relatively young. If he had lived longer, I wonder whether his writings could have developed into a more robust philosophy of life rather than remaining, in many ways, a philosophy centered on suicide.

He saw suicide as the ultimate response to the absurdity of existence. Perhaps we are just a biological mistake?

Maybe I’m not doing justice to his genius, but I feel like his philosophy was deeply shaped by the crises of his generation. He was a World War I baby and saw the end of World War II. Similar to Viktor Frankl, I imagine he struggled with the question of how the meaning found in ordinary life could ever compare to the sense of purpose forged in direct confrontation with suffering and evil. Camus was a party animal, no? Life must have felt stagnant.

Language used to instill purpose in our hearts is the most dangerous tool Man possesses. What a wonderful tool. Somewhat contradictingly…

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There’s another thread running that is based on this premise.

Camus was same generation as Frankl, but Frankl had a completely different attitude. His ‘logotherapy’ was premissed on the observation that those who found meaning in life no matter the circumstances were more robust and more likely to survive.

Schopenhauer was different to both! Schopenhauer hated religious orthodoxy, but his philosophy was nevertheless shaped by the implict understanding of the possibility of salvation. His renowned pessimism was not the whole story. For example:

In order to always have a secure compass in hand so as to find one’s way in life, and to see life always in the correct light without going astray, nothing is more suitable than getting used to seeing the world as something like a penal colony. This view finds its…justification not only in my philosophy, but also in the wisdom of all times, namely, in Brahmanism, Buddhism, Empedocles, Pythagoras […] Even in genuine and correctly understood Christianity, our existence is regarded as the result of a liability or a misstep. … We will thus always keep our position in mind and regard every human, first and foremost, as a being that exists only on account of sinfulness, and who is life is an expiation of the offence committed through birth. Exactly this constitutes what Christianity calls the sinful nature of man (Quoted in Urs App ‘Schopenhauer’s Compass’).

(Incidentally, I once stumbled on a book about a developing dialogue between Camus and an American Methodist minister, Howard Mumma, resident in Paris. It was cut short, of course, by Camus’ very untimely death, but the suggestion was that Camus was at least re-considering his atheism.)

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You’ve given me some food for thought here!

Indeed. Perhaps Camus was approaching his “Why?” If so, then it would seem Camus’ thoughts if developed would be more aligned with Frankl than I originally thought. On the other hand, maybe I am assuming Camus’ purpose would strengthen his resolve to live. If his purpose came from a metaphysical world equally that may just strengthen his views on suicide.

Your insights are helpful. Although I am not familiar on Frankl beyond the book I mentioned, it does seem apparent that Frankl’s ideas were based on survival, not suicide. Haha. That’s quite the distinction.

Any reading recommendations on taking this further?

Doesn’t Schopenhauer recognise the need for purpose here? Different from Camus, I agree, but similar to Frankl. Somewhat of a bleak purpose, but a purpose nonetheless! Haha.

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I have never read the whole of Mankind’s Search for Meaning, but it was one of those books that was in my house when I grew up. There’s a more recent re-appraisal here. As I said, and also in the other thread about life being a mistake, nihilism is endemic in our culture, although a lot of people won’t recognise the word and would deny that it applies to them even if it does. It doesn’t necessarily require a grand gesture or drama, it can be just a shrug, a ‘who knows?’ or a feeling of ennui. Precisely the sense that life is a mistake and nothing makes sense.

As for Schopenhauer - that book I quoted, Schopenhauer’s Compass, Urs App, is a very good recent study, all thoroughly grounded on primary documentation. I have a lot of time for Schopenhauer’s idealism, but I’m not persauded by ‘world as will’, and I don’t like his misotheism.

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He was certainly a known stickman. But isn’t there a view that promiscuity is about managing death anxiety (Becker)?

Again, I would say these are the obvious questions most thinking young people in the West should be asking themselves: do we join the machine or resist it? The Beats were asking these questions in the 1950s, the hippies in the '60s, the punks in the '70’s and by the time the 1980s came around, too many young people saw career and money as a pathway to meaning. Rebelling meant wearing a suit.

The key lesson I got from Frankl was that the people who survived were those who did not succumb to nihilism and hopelessness but instead maintained a sense of meaning, generally future focused. People with meaning can endure almost any number of deprivations. Frankl’s Sisyphus is not happy; he rolls that boulder in hope of transformation. Not that Sisyphus is Frankl’s metaphor.

Sorry @Wayfarer not sure why you’re tagged in this.

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another thing to consider is that both Neitszche’s ‘myth of the eternal return’ and the trope of Sisyphus could be interpreted as symbolising the ‘eternal caravan of reincarnation’ of Eastern cultures. But those cultures also say that there can be a liberation from it, which provides a purpose (although it might require taking something of a long view.)

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Nice idea bringing those two together. I wonder what the Nietzsche devotees might think of this. It is sometimes the case that suicide is seen as a secular form of liberation from suffering, which is why the question of whether to kill yourself or not is Camus’ most important philosophical question.

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If you believe there’s an afterlife, then suicide isn’t really an option is it? It might be out of the frying pan…

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Yes, well I did say “secular” form. Of course we don’t know how an afterlife actually would deal with suicide, whatever traditions or scriptures might claim.

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It is sometimes the case that suicide is seen as a secular form of liberation from suffering, which is why the question of whether to kill yourself or not is Camus’ most important philosophical question

I’m not sure we have considered suicide wholly, though. Liberation seems important, but it is not the whole picture. @Tom_Storm

Most of our discussion has focused on physical suicide, but I noticed in The Rebel and The Stranger, Camus is really talking about two types of suicide: physical and philosophical suicide. This is why there are many striking moments whete the protagonist must fight through a spiritual fatigue. Camus warns about dogmas that provide artifical meaning; such as in The Stranger where many absurd characters rigidly enforce rules that our main character struggles to understand.

The Myth of Sisyphus confronts both these types of suicide: the physical and philosophical. Sisyphus does not glorify his task, similar to what we see in many faith systems. He finds dignity in his pointless task without the decoration. Haha. Pushing a rock up a mountain. A victory, of sorts! His spoils of war? Dignity.

He was certainly known as a stickman. But isn’t there a view that promiscuity is about managing death anxiety (Becker).

I don’t think Camus saw it this way. Suicide is surrender, not a solution or medication. We commit suicide because of supreme detachment from reality or self-sacrifice — a generosity to others. It is generous because we could do abhorent things with the absolute freedom provided by suicide. Ultimately, suicide is an act of recognition that human’s crave meaning in a cold, silent universe that offers none. It is an escape route without dignity. @Tom_Storm

We can obtain this minor victory and dignity by living with defiance. For Camus, suicide was the only question philosophy should try to answer because it would provide us meaning. Is there anything more essential for life than meaning? I believe Camus’ promiscuity was an act of defiance. Haha. I guess we all live a routine of defiance one way or another.

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I’m not convinced. To begin with, in a cold, silent universe the notion of dignity is incoherent. Suicide is a choice and it’s for me the more recognisable flip side to the performative and idiotic notion that someone could imagine Sisyphus happy. Of course in our capitalist corporatist world suicide might look like rampant consumerism. Who knows?

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I agree that happy is certainly another conservation altogether. I wouldn’t even say that defiance equates to meaning in the ontological sense. It is clear that Camus (Sisyphus, too) found neither happiness nor meaning in his ontology.

Dignity found in defiance is merely a single victory in what is ultimately a losing war. It does not equate to happiness nor meaning.

Consumerism is an interesting point. If Camus saw faith systems as philosophical suicide (because it provides artificial meaning), I wonder whether a habitual need to consume capitalist comforts (hehe, love a bit of alliteration) provides us the same form of artificial meaning? :slightly_smiling_face:

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Yes. I think one either clicks with absurdism or one doesn’t. It was very popular in my circle in the 1980s (it had just come back into vogue after the 1960s). If you said you were an existentialist in the 1990s, most people would have laughed heartily and told you to piss off.

I’ve often found that the most unhappy people I’ve met have been hedonists and consumption-driven people. In middle age and later, there’s a resentment and anxiety about them that seems palpable. I suspect consumerism functions more as a distraction that doesn’t quite rise to the level of artificial meaning.

As I may have said earlier, Camus seems to do something similar to the consumption-driven person; he was a known as a womaniser, another distraction often understood in terms of terror management theory.

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