Existentialism: What It Actually Says and Why It's Still Useful [2026]

Existentialism is one of those philosophical movements that most people have a vague sense of — something about meaninglessness, maybe Sartre in a café, perhaps Nietzsche — without a clear understanding of what it actually claims or why those claims might be practically useful. Here is the honest guide to what existentialism actually says, without either the academic jargon or the dramatic nihilist misreading.

The Central Claim: Existence Precedes Essence

Sartre's formulation "existence precedes essence" is the existentialist thesis in its most compact form. The contrast is with the traditional view (associated with religious and Aristotelian thought) that things have a predetermined nature or purpose — essence precedes existence. A knife has an essence (its nature as a cutting tool) that preceded any specific knife's existence because a craftsman conceived of "knife" before making one. Traditional theology applied this to humans: God conceived of human nature before creating humans, giving humans a predetermined essence or purpose.

Existentialism rejects this: human beings exist first, and only then define themselves through their choices and actions. There is no predetermined human nature, no God-given purpose, no essence that determines what you should be. You exist, and through your choices you create your identity, your values, and your meaning. This is simultaneously liberating and terrifying — it means you are "condemned to be free," as Sartre put it, because there is no escape from the responsibility of choosing who you are.

Bad Faith: The Concept That's Practically Useful

Sartre's concept of bad faith (mauvaise foi) describes the tendency to deny one's own freedom by treating oneself as a thing with fixed properties rather than a being with choices. The waiter who performs the "role of waiter" so completely that he treats his role as his identity — who forgets that he chose this job and could choose otherwise — is in bad faith. The person who says "I can't help it, I'm just that kind of person" about behaviors they could choose differently is in bad faith. Bad faith is the lie we tell ourselves to avoid the discomfort of recognizing our own freedom and responsibility.

The practical application is significant: the moment you find yourself thinking "I have no choice" or "that's just who I am" about something that's actually a choice, you're in bad faith territory. Existentialism calls you back to the recognition that you're choosing, which is both uncomfortable (it removes the excuse) and empowering (it means you could choose differently).

Camus and Absurdism: The Friendly Divergence

Albert Camus is often grouped with existentialists but specifically rejected the label. His position — absurdism — shares the existentialist starting point (no inherent meaning) but diverges significantly on the response. Where Sartre responded to meaninglessness with the project of creating authentic meaning through choice, Camus argued that we should neither pretend meaning exists (religious leap of faith) nor despair at its absence (philosophical suicide), but rather rebel against meaninglessness by living fully anyway — embracing the absurdity with defiance and joy.

The Myth of Sisyphus — in which Camus argues we must imagine Sisyphus happy despite his endless, pointless task — is the clearest statement of absurdism: the acceptance of meaninglessness combined with the refusal to be defeated by it, the decision to find value in the activity itself rather than in any transcendent purpose it serves. This is a more practically livable position than either nihilistic despair or self-deceptive meaning-making.

My honest take: Start with Camus — "The Myth of Sisyphus" is readable, powerful, and directly useful. Bad faith is the existentialist concept most immediately applicable to daily life. Then read Sartre's "Existentialism is a Humanism" for the clearest statement of the core position.