Depression: An Existential Crossroads of Meaning and Identity

Byung-Chul Han pointed out in his work 'The Burnout Society' how neoliberal logic produces exhausted, hyper-exposed, and self-exploited subjects. Viewed from this perspective, depression can be interpreted as a social and political symptom rather than an individual failing, though this interpretation should never replace the necessary clinical attention from relevant professionals.

Depression: An Existential Crossroads of Meaning and Identity

Autor: The Citizen

Original article: La depresión como encrucijada existencial


By Lisandro Prieto Femenía, educator, writer, and philosopher

«The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.»
Camus, 1955/1942, p. 78.

Today, I invite you to reflect on depression, a phenomenon that transcends clinical diagnosis and the mere sum of neurotransmitters. Rather, it presents itself as a philosophical issue that compels us to rethink the intrinsic relationship between meaning, freedom, and identity.

When life appears to drain of content, when the surrounding world seems silent in the face of our demands for coherence, we are confronted with the question of meaning that has pervaded existentialist thought.

Philosopher Albert Camus confronted the human condition in light of the absurd, asserting that awareness of the brutal clash between our innate thirst for meaning and the universe’s indifference should not lead to surrender.

In his work “The Myth of Sisyphus,” he posited that the absurd is born from a confrontation: “the absurd arises from this confrontation between human call and the irrational silence of the world” (Camus, 1955/1942, p. 30).

If we choose to view depression as a radical response to the experience of absurdity, we paradoxically find within it a painful clarity—the intimate recognition that our usual frameworks of meaning have collapsed.

This painful clarity, however, opens up notably divergent interpretive paths. From a Sartrean perspective, human freedom is understood as absolute and radical, with resulting anguish being nothing more than the revelation of the nothingness underlying all choices.

Consequently, depression could be seen as an external manifestation of that anguish, emerging when the possibility of action becomes unbearable and freedom itself feels like a burden without horizon.

Jean-Paul Sartre categorically stated that «man is condemned to be free» (Sartre, 2018/1943, p. 627), and that depression exposes the real cost of this condemnation: the paralysis of decision-making and the inability to project oneself into futures that once infused purpose into action.

In confronting this abyss, Camus proposed a response that avoided metaphysical comforts, advocating instead for rebellion: affirming one’s awareness of the absurd without renouncing life. Thus, the tension between acknowledging the lack of meaning and still choosing to persist in the world becomes one of the most pressing dilemmas depression poses to philosophy.

Søren Kierkegaard contributes to this discussion with crucial nuances related to authenticity and despair. For the Danish philosopher, despair is not merely a pathology but an intrinsic modality of the self’s relationship with itself, which he termed «the sickness unto death» (Kierkegaard, 2019/1849, p. 12).

In his description of “The Sickness Unto Death,” despair emerges from the subject’s inability to synthesize the constitutive dimensions of the self— the finite and the infinite, the temporal and the eternal. Therefore, it involves a profound moral and existential reading, revealing inconsistencies in how one lives.

Seen this way, depression could be interpreted not just as a biological failure but also as a radical warning about the lack of authenticity, a timely call to re-examine one’s vital premises.

However, reducing despair to merely an opportunity for authenticity risks blaming the suffering subject, as the experience of emptiness simultaneously serves as an existential diagnosis and a suffering that transcends any demand for fulfillment. Such reduction is as pathetic and useless as telling a depressed person: “don’t be sad” or “just try harder.”

This double-edged sword inevitably leads us to the question of suffering as a pathway to knowledge.

Philosophical traditions have regarded suffering as a school that reveals fundamental aspects of the human condition. Extreme despondency can sometimes uncover uncomfortable truths about the fragility of personal projects, the contingency of desires, and the inescapable finitude underlying all hope.

However, asserting that depressive suffering conveys profound truth must be approached with utmost caution. It is vital to understand that not all pain is an epiphany, as agony can distort perception, introduce debilitating cognitive biases, and close off any horizon of meaning.

Thus, the pertinent philosophical question is not whether suffering always enlightens, but how we can engage with it without falling into the trap of romanticizing it or utilizing it as a privileged access point to wisdom.

The question of freedom in relation to depression also calls for a complex response recognizing biological causes while not neutralizing existential responsibility. Scientific evidence about genetic predispositions or neurochemical imbalances does not negate that the experience of the depressed self remains, at its core, a moral and existential situation.

While it is true that freedom, understood as the capacity to respond, is severely weakened by conditions that limit action, this freedom persists to the extent that the subject, with adequate support, can reconnect with meaningful projections.

Moreover, there exists a critical perspective linking depression to forms of passive resistance within the social framework. In societies demanding constant productivity, emotional collapse may function as a revealing silence in response to clearly dehumanizing demands.

In this context, Byung-Chul Han pointed out in his work “The Burnout Society” how neoliberal logic produces exhausted, hyper-exposed, and self-exploited subjects. Viewed this way, depression can be interpreted as a social and political symptom rather than merely an individual failing, although this perspective should never replace the necessary clinical attention from relevant professionals.

Added to this social critique is the inherent disquiet of the liquid postmodern experience. Sociologist Zygmunt Bauman, reflecting on this new configuration, identified the paradox of a life defined by the absence of solid anchors: projects, ties, and even identities become provisional, flexible to the point of fragility.

In this world of unlimited options, constant choice becomes a curse, as the Polish author argues, «being modern means being condemned to incessant choice, to constantly changing, to ceaselessly revisiting decisions made and always being ready to discard them and take others instead» (Bauman, 2013, p. 88).

This saturation of possibilities leads to a fatigue of will where satisfaction is always fleeting.

Gilles Lipovetsky deepens this saturation by describing the era of emptiness, where the hypertrophy of individualism and hedonism leads to profound existential dissatisfaction.

The postmodern subject, although immersed in material abundance, feels uprooted. As he states, «absorbed in worshiping well-being and obsessed with oneself, one finds oneself lonelier and more disoriented than ever» (Lipovetsky, 2008, p. 110). Thus, depressive emptiness is not merely the loss of personal meaning but the amplified echo of a culture promising happiness through consumption and perpetual self-realization, yet delivering only discontent.

Furthermore, the self in depression becomes fragmented. Modern self-perception crumbles, unveiling layers of identity that social routine kept hidden.

The drastic decline in interest, the feeling of alienation from oneself, and the loss of a meaningful life project are elements that alter one’s self-awareness and can, paradoxically, enable a peculiar kind of self-knowledge.

On this note, Martin Heidegger, in his work “Being and Time,” referred to “Dasein” (the “being-there,” that is, us as beings-in-time) as a fundamental projection toward the future, maintaining that losing this projection affects our very openness to the world (Heidegger, 2003/1927). When future projects fade, temporal being contracts, and existence centers on a paralyzing and incapacitating present.

From another angle, the mask of the social self is unmasked, resulting in what emerges in the “depressed self” potentially revealing the artifice of identities constructed solely to fulfill external roles, exposing a painful core demanding recognition and care.

Simultaneously, the ethical and social dimension imposes clear responsibilities on the community. Morally judging someone entrenched in despair is ethically unjust, so the moral valuation must accurately distinguish between requiring accountability from the subject and extending the necessary compassion that recognizes profound limitations.

In addition, depression urgently calls for a response of social justice. If the prevailing social structure fosters conditions that favor psychological suffering, collective ethics should demand structural transformations.

In this regard, Michel Foucault demonstrated in his “History of Madness in the Classical Age” how social practices and institutional knowledge configure the possibilities of subjectivation: thus, mental pathology is not just a medical issue but also a political one (Foucault, 2012/1961).

The duty towards the suffering of others, consequently, involves not only providing solace but also transforming: advocating for institutions, support networks, and lifestyles that mitigate the structural causes of suffering.

Another connection we must not overlook in this reflection is the link between depression and nihilism.

If nihilism represents the experience of the collapse of transcendent values, depression can be a palpable embodiment of that experience. However, Friedrich Nietzsche proposed an activist response: transvaluation, the creativity that transforms suffering into a driving force.

His call, far from trivializing pain, invites us to envision possibilities of self that can transform that pain into a vital engine. Hence, art and philosophy provide pathways to partial redemption, not as magical cures, nor as substitutes for medical treatments, but as practices capable of reframing experience, nurturing imagination, and opening new horizons of meaning.

Certainly, not everything in depression can be sublimated, but symbolic creation remains one of the most powerful strategies that allow one to resist the night of despair.

In conclusion, dear readers, we have sought to demonstrate that depression calls for a philosophy that refuses to settle for mere technical classifications, insisting instead on a deep reflection that articulates meaning, freedom, identity, ethics, and language in its intricate complexity.

In the face of the tyranny of performance and the crisis of meaning in our time, are we truly prepared to rethink the social forms that produce this emotional suffering and to create practices of listening that restore a name and companionship to those silenced by despair?

Beyond clinical approaches, which are vital, how can we sustain the unresolved tension between acknowledging undeniable biological causes while also assuming ethical and political responsibilities without falling into individualizing guilt or simplifying the complex pain of others?

And finally, in the face of the oppressive silence that depression imposes on a person’s life, what words, what artistic gestures, and what collective actions can genuinely open a crack towards new and urgent existential futures?

Let these questions resonate and endure; such reflection is the minimum condition to avoid leaving those traversing the profound night of the soul adrift in absolute solitude.

Lisandro Prieto Femenía

Bibliographic References
-Bauman, Z. (2013). Liquid Modernity. Fondo de Cultura Económica.
-Camus, A. (1955). The Myth of Sisyphus (J. O’Brien, Trans.). Gallimard/Hamish Hamilton. (Original work published in 1942).
-Foucault, M. (2012). History of Madness in the Classical Age. Siglo XXI. (Original work published in 1961).
-Han, B.-C. (2012). The Burnout Society. Herder.
-Heidegger, M. (2003). Being and Time. Trotta. (Original work published in 1927).
-Kierkegaard, S. (2019). The Sickness Unto Death. Alianza Editorial. (Original work published in 1849).
-Lipovetsky, G. (2008). The Era of Emptiness: Essays on Contemporary Individualism. Anagrama.
-Sartre, J.-P. (2018). Being and Nothingness: An Essay on Phenomenological Ontology. Losada. (Original work published in 1943).
-Wittgenstein, L. (2009). Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus. Routledge. (Original work published in 1921)

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