By Betty Bassett
āIn a world where everyone seemed to be constantly engaged in some activity, Cioran believed that doing nothing was the only worthwhile pursuit. By rejecting action, practical ambitions, and busyness, he believed that one could create space for meaningful experiences. Cioran asserted, "Anything good comes from indolence, from our incapacity of taking action, executing our projects and plans." His lifestyle reflected his philosophy, as he often claimed to be the laziest man in Paris, joking that only a prostitute without clients did less than he did.
Cioran's idleness was not a mere joke; it was his serious commitment and lifelong endeavor. He embarked on this path not out of laziness but due to his insatiable thirst for knowledge and understanding. Oscar Wilde once said, "[T]o do nothing at all is the most difficult thing in the world, the most difficult and the most intellectual." Cioran shared this sentiment, asserting that to truly comprehend the world, one must cease to act upon it and instead contemplate it. Contemplation and action are diametrically opposed, and doing nothing allows for a perspective of cosmic detachment, fostering depth of vision and a genuinely philosophical outlook.
While Cioran didn't acquire his profound insights from books or prestigious institutions, he gained them from aimlessly wandering the streets of Paris and enduring sleepless nights plagued by insomnia. His philosophical education came not from professors but from conversations with beggars, drunkards, and sex workers. Following in the footsteps of other prominent idlers such as Herman Melville's Bartleby and Ivan Goncharov's Oblomov, Cioran explored the vast expanse of nothingness that precedes and follows our existence. Even though he was jobless for most of his life, his primary occupation was confronting the void.
Enlightened by the revelation of universal insignificance, Cioran concluded that embracing a loser's life was the best possible social existence. In a meaningless world, he believed that "learning to be the loser" was the only thing that truly mattered. Becoming one with loserdom became Cioran's grand project, pursued with the same passion and single-mindedness as others strive for success in business, academia, or politics. He recognized that loserdom provided a unique vantage point to understand society's inner workings and how it can subtly transform our social nature into self-enslavement. Above all, embracing loserdom revealed life's most well-guarded secret: the world, and our existence within it, is ultimately a failed project.
Failure permeates our lives, both in significant and trivial matters, yet our greatest failure lies in our inability to comprehend its true significance. Evolution has wired us to prioritize immediate success, as it enhances our chances of survival. Brooding over failure, much like contemplating our finitude and mortality, doesn't offer any immediate evolutionary advantage. Failure represents the intrusion of nothingness into existence, and while it may provide spiritual enlightenment, it lacks practical value. Consequently, when failure occurs (which is frequent), our instinct is to move forward without dwelling on it or deeply analyzing its implications. This avoidance is one of failure's triumphs over us: on a fundamental level, we are designed to fail, even in our ultimate failure of physical annihilation. Yet, we remain blissfully ignorant of failure's profound message because our thinking is ill-equipped to grapple with it, much like our inability to confront death itself.
The popular notion of "failing better," often quoted by self-help gurus and life-hackers, suggests that failure is a stepping stone to eventual success. They emphasize the positive side of failure, like a lovers' quarrel that leads to a sweeter reconciliation. However, they conveniently omit what comes after the failure: the possibility of failing worse. Samuel Beckett, a close friend of Cioran, understood this better than most. In his novella Worstward Ho, Beckett goes beyond the idea of failing better and delves into the realm of failing worseādescending into the depths of capitulation, seeking an exit, ultimately embracing expiration. Beckett wrote to Cioran, "Amidst your ruins I feel at home."
This sugarcoating of failure is part of a broader societal process. Anything unpleasant, disturbing, or depressing is quickly sanitized and swept under the rug. This isn't solely for the sake of mental well-being but driven by economic and social factors. To be productive members of society, capable of accumulating wealth and spending it, taking loans and paying them back with interest, we must be perpetually hooked on a "positive outlook." Capitalism thrives on active participants, not loners, depressives, or deep thinkers. No reputable bank would lend money to someone who might suddenly reject societal norms and embrace a life akin to Henry David Thoreau's.
Even navel-gazing and philosophical nihilism can be seen as dangerous elements. Left unchecked, they may undermine the industrious fabric of society. Hence, these anti-social tendencies are closely monitored and, if necessary, eradicated. A vast army of therapists, well-being coaches, yoga instructors, self-help experts, entertainers, educators, and entrepreneurs work diligently to ensure that we never stumble upon the dark side of existence, let alone confront the void as Cioran did. This process extends even to art and literature, as great works that explore the abyss of the human soul now come with "trigger warnings." Engaging with serious literature is deemed as risky as smoking. Undoubtedly, this excessive sugarcoating has transformed modern life into an artificial and mockingly superficial existence, but it seems that most people are content with this mindlessnessāit has become an essential dimension of contemporary life.ā
