Are You a Subhuman? | The Existential Crisis You Can’t Ignore

We are free. We cannot deny this freedom, as it’s  an inescapable part of being human. According to existentialist philosopher Simone de Beauvoir,  any attempt to escape freedom is illusory, as such attempts are also a choice and, therefore,  an act of freedom.

Yet, some people try to run away from this freedom, as it frightens them.  But by doing so, they evade responsibility, as they refuse to engage with life and make it  a meaningful endeavor. They hide in the shadows; they negate themselves; they stand for nothing and  easily fall for anything.

According to Beauvoir, the latter makes such individuals dangerous  as they are easily manipulated by forces that would love to use them as pawns. We’re talking here about the subhuman. The existentialist subhuman is not a neckbearded  short guy with a weak chin living in his mom’s basement (although I found a connection, which  I’ll discuss later in this video).

For Beauvoir, the subhuman is an archetypical position  toward what she called “the ambiguity of freedom. ” This concept is the central  theme of her book The Ethics of Ambiguity, one of the foundational texts of existentialism. For Simone de Beauvoir, freedom is a double-edged sword: a gift and a burden.

The bad news  is that life comes with limitations, things that are a given. “Fate,” if you will. The  good news is we have the freedom to act despite these things, and many limitations  can be overcome.

We are, thus, allowed to shape our lives authentically to an extent:  there’s a space, and that space is freedom. But some people deny this freedom and  opportunity to forge one’s authentic path. They don’t want it as it scares them. 

And so they hide from it in curious ways. Beauvoir argued that such people fall into two  categories: the subhuman and the serious person. So, if you want to know what not to do from an  existentialist viewpoint, stay tuned.

This video explores these two freedom-denying archetypes. Please note I took the existentialist freedom to use the term “subhuman” instead of Beauvoir’s  original term “sub-man” as a universal and ungendered version of the concept. Speaking of freedom, you’re also free to support this channel, Einzelgänger,  which you can do by joining my Patreon, where you’ll find ad-free videos, have a  say in future topics, and even receive free merchandise.

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Simone de Beauvoir was a French existentialist philosopher born in a Parisian bourgeois  family. Her father encouraged her intellectual development. As she was good at it, he ironically  but proudly exclaimed: “Simone thinks like a man.

” Little did he know that she would later become one  of the most important figures in feminist thought, writing the groundbreaking work “The Second Sex. ” She had a lifelong partnership with no one less than Jean-Paul Sartre. They were quite  the unconventional couple: they had an open relationship based on respecting each other’s  freedom, which coincides with their philosophy.

The turmoil of World War II and the challenges  of that era deepened Beauvoir’s reflections on themes like freedom, meaning, and  responsibility, inspiring her later works, such as The Ethics of Ambiguity. In this book, Beauvoir explores how to live genuinely in a world without ready-made  meaning. She saw life’s freedom as a privilege but also a responsibility.

It’s a game  that must be played. Whatever we do, we’re always part of that game, even if we  refuse to play and sit on the sidelines. What does it mean to be free?

Simone de Beauvoir  believed that freedom is inherently ambiguous—we are both free and not free. On the one hand,  we are subjects who can make choices and create meaning in life. On the other hand, we are  objects to others and are embedded in a world shaped by circumstances beyond our control.

Consider a talented painter with a strong drive to create. She has the materials,  space, and income from her day job, so nothing stops her from painting and finding  meaning in his work. Yet, she faces constraints: a lack of recognition, financial pressure, and  a world more captivated by Netflix than art galleries.

Then, a war breaks out, forcing her  to enlist in the military and abandon her art. In the example, we see how the ambiguity of  freedom comes with a constant tension between freedom and “facticity,” of which the latter means  the “facts” of our situation. Facticity is a set of conditions.

They are circumstances  that shape our lives. For the painter, it’s her financial situation, global conflicts,  and societal trends. Many of these things cannot be changed, but some of them can be overcome.

Suppose the painter is an existentialist. As an existentialist, she doesn’t just passively  allow herself to be shaped by circumstances. If she did, she would be merely an object, a  product entirely formed by outside forces.

An existentialist embraces both object and  subject, meaning that the painter actively shapes her life (and, simultaneously, the world)  despite the facts of her situation. This dynamic creates tension. It’s subject versus object,  imposing versus being imposed on, creating purpose versus becoming subjected to someone else’s.

According to Beauvoir, embracing freedom means transcending one’s facticity and forging  an authentic path despite it. I admit, this sounds pretty vague. So, the  question is: how do we pull this off?

The answer is complicated. Beauvoir does not  provide fixed morals or ethics to guide us on the path of freedom because freedom is subjective.  An individual’s freedom depends on their unique circumstances.

It’s personal and theirs to decide.  True freedom implies a triumph over facticity, in other words, overcoming the obstacles  in the way of one’s authentic path. Yet, this struggle is different for everyone  because everyone’s situation is different.

If you aim to be free and then follow some  step-by-step guide on how to get that freedom written by, let’s say, someone on YouTube,  you’re essentially giving up your freedom. You just surrender yourself to someone else’s  blueprint for what life should be like. In the existentialist sense, true freedom means figuring  out one’s own direction in life and actively choosing it.

An ethics of ambiguity, therefore,  can never be universal, or as Beauvoir states: An ethics of ambiguity will be one which will  refuse to deny a priori that separate existants can, at the same time, be bound to each other,  that their individual freedoms can forge laws valid for all. End quote. But does acknowledging our freedom  mean we can do anything we want?

For Beauvoir, freedom implies responsibility.  The world influences and constrains us, but our actions also shape it. If we remain  passive, external forces dictate our lives.

We are mere objects of our circumstances  in that case. But the moment we transcend our conditions and act freely,  we impact ourselves and others. Thus, we must choose responsibly.

Our choices  will affect people, whether we like it or not. For example, as a content creator with over  two million subscribers, I should recognize my influence and see it as my responsibility  not to spread misinformation or incite harm. Keeping this in mind, let’s examine Beauvoir’s  archetypical attitudes that deny freedom.

So, what’s a subhuman? Before this archetype  makes sense, we’ll have to dive a bit deeper into what Beauvoir believes is the origin of one’s  attitude toward ambiguity: childhood. I quote: The child’s situation is characterized by  his finding himself cast into a universe which he has not helped to establish,  which has been fashioned without him, and which appears to him as an absolute to which  he can only submit.

In his eyes, human inventions, words, customs, and values are given facts,  as inevitable as the sky and the trees. End quote. When we’re still children, we’re not aware of the ambiguity of freedom,  which is a natural thing, says Beauvoir.

Our parents are godlike, and so are our teachers.  To children, the adult world is serious: these big people know what life is all about; they  hold the absolute truth about the world. “My momma says…” Well, whatever it is, it’s true.

The child himself isn’t serious. He’s safely living under the eyes of the adults,  irresponsibly carefree. Someday, he’ll be part of the ‘seriousness,’ and the  absolute world will be accessible to him.

Of course, adults do not have a monopoly on  wisdom, and their values and morals are not absolute. As children grow older, they may become  aware of how unfounded the adult world is. Mom’s truisms about how girls are supposed to  become mothers and how boys are not supposed to cry: these used to be the absolute truth, but  now they sound questionable.

Like… why? Who says so? Suddenly, the child realizes  there are no fixed roles and laws.

Beauvoir famously stated, “One is not born, but  rather becomes, a woman. ” Hence, she could very well choose not to. From the existentialist  viewpoint, we’re nothingness.

Existence precedes essence. We come into this world as empty  canvasses, subjected to an ambiguous freedom. More often than not, this empty, open, and  contingent universe in front of them scares people.

As children, things were still simple  and absolute. As adults, the ambivalence and uncertainty of it all become apparent. Here’s where the archetype of the ‘serious man’ or ‘serious person’ comes in, which is,  according to Beauvoir, most people’s attitude.

The serious person denies his freedom.  He wants to get rid of it. I quote: The serious man gets rid of his freedom by  claiming to subordinate it to values which would be unconditioned.

He imagines that the  accession to these values likewise permanently confers value upon himself. End quote. The serious person is devoted to what he deems a  higher purpose that justifies his existence.

He seeks identity and meaning in predefined roles,  giving him an illusion of absolute purpose and truth. To maintain this illusion, he willingly  throws critical thinking overboard. He wants to lose himself in these external entities.

Why?  Because by doing so, he doesn’t have to think for himself anymore. Big Daddy does it for him,  just as his parents did when he was a kid.

Now, which roles are we talking about? It  could be anything. Take a mid-level manager, for example, who’s basically everyone’s pain  in the ass.

His identity is almost entirely submerged in the company. His holy book?  The company’s code of ethics.

The sacred symbol he proudly carries on his suitcase?  The company’s logo. Not to mention the whiteboard in his bedroom showing the company’s  mission statement and future growth plan… Okay, this sounds hyperbolic, but seriously (pun  intended), most people seek something external to become a meaning-giving entity.

They lose  themselves roles—soldiers, fathers, professors, you name it—and the values these roles entail. Take a serious person assuming the role of a student, for example. Instead of being merely  someone who studies, he begins to act, think, and talk like a stereotypical studious  automaton or an archetypical frat boy.

He sacrifices his authenticity, but who cares?  He’s now part of the Borg—a safe system that provides stability and a sense of purpose. In this  way, the serious person becomes a textbook NPC, moving through life on autopilot and following  a script dictated by external values.

The serious person seems selfless, sacrificing  himself for the greater good. But there’s a catch: what truly matters to him isn’t so much the cause  itself but the opportunity to lose himself in it. It’s an existential lifebuoy, offering certainty  and escape from the ambiguity of freedom.

The serious person clings to childhood  absolutes: the time when values imposed by authority figures felt unquestionable. Beauvoir warns this attitude can lead to tyranny, as the serious person prioritizes their  chosen system over humanity. For example, someone overly committed to an ideology is  likely to ignore the humanity of others, impose his beliefs as absolute truths, and justify  harm and oppression in the name of his cause.

However, the serious person can also lose his  cause. One day, his system of absolutes could collapse, and he risks sliding into  another archetype: the subhuman. What does it mean to be a subhuman?

For  some, the term “subhuman” sounds familiar, as it’s a term used by the incel (or  involuntary celibate) subculture to describe men that are inferior in terms of  physical appearance and status. Beauvoir’s meaning of subhuman is fundamentally different. From her viewpoint, the subhuman has nothing to do with not having a well-defined jawline.

It has  nothing to do with being ugly or from a certain “race. ” Genetics are irrelevant. Sure, they  are a given fact of life that we cannot change, and they may constrain us in certain areas. 

But they do not restrict the subjectivity of our existence. In other words, we can still  create meaning despite our constraints. The subhuman rejects freedom,  unlike the serious person, who surrenders it to external values.

He  drifts through life, letting circumstances like genetics or class define him. They  cope through distractions—video games, television, social media. This mindset  overlaps with incels, who fatalistically believe their situation is hopeless.

Facticity  is everything. “It’s over” is their mantra. Beauvoir warns that the subhuman is also  dangerous.

Not only is he passive and indifferent in the face of injustice, he’s an  easy target for tyrants and oppressive systems. They adopt ideologies passively, becoming tools  for others’ agendas. As Beauvoir states: One day, a monarchist, the next day, an  anarchist, he is more readily anti-semitic, anti-clerical, or anti-republican.

Thus, though  we have defined him as a denial and a flight, the sub-man is not a harmless creature. He  realizes himself in the world as a blind uncontrolled force which anybody can get control  of. In lynchings, in pogroms, in all the great bloody movements organized by the fanaticism  of seriousness and passion, movements where there is no risk, those who do the actual dirty  work are recruited from among the sub-men.

End quote. From Beauvoir’s perspective, not choosing is still a choice—and a dangerous  one. But there’s always a way out.

For most of us, freedom is within reach, waiting to be  claimed. In The Ethics of Ambiguity, Beauvoir explores how to deal with the complexities of  freedom: how to become an existentialist. If you’d like, I can explore these ideas  further in future videos.

Please let me know in the comments. Thank you for watching.