In these original readings of Albert Camus' novels, short stories, and political essays, David Carroll concentrates on Camus' conflicted relationship with his Algerian background and finds important critical insights into questions of justice, the effects of colonial oppression, and the deadly cycle of terrorism and counterterrorism that characterized the Algerian War and continues to surface in the devastation of postcolonial wars today.
During France's "dirty war" in Algeria, Camus called for an end to the violence perpetrated against civilians by both France and the Algerian National Liberation Front (FLN) and supported the creation of a postcolonial, multicultural, and democratic Algeria. His position was rejected by most of his contemporaries on the Left and has, ironically, earned him the title of colonialist sympathizer as well as the scorn of important postcolonial critics.
Carroll rescues Camus' work from such criticism by emphasizing the Algerian dimensions of his literary and philosophical texts and by highlighting in his novels and short stories his understanding of both the injustice of colonialism and the tragic nature of Algeria's struggle for independence. By refusing to accept that the sacrifice of innocent human lives can ever be justified, even in the pursuit of noble political goals, and by rejecting simple, ideological binaries (West vs. East, Christian vs. Muslim, "us" vs. "them," good vs. evil), Camus' work offers an alternative to the stark choices that characterized his troubled times and continue to define our own.
"What they didn't like, was the Algerian, in him," Camus wrote of his fictional double in The First Man . Not only should "the Algerian" in Camus be "liked," Carroll argues, but the Algerian dimensions of his literary and political texts constitute a crucial part of their continuing interest. Carroll's reading also shows why Camus' critical perspective has much to contribute to contemporary debates stemming from the global "war on terror."
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In "Albert Camus the Algerian", David Carroll argues for a view of Camus that he states was a revision of his earlier opinion that the writer was too soft on colonialism, that no matter how many times he denounced colonialism or any form of authoritarianism, Camus was not passionate enough in denouncing one side in the Algerian conflict. I knew, of course, of Camus' and Sartre's split because of the Algerian question, among others, but I did not realize the extent to which Camus had been vilified over the fact that he would not stop denouncing the terrorism of both the French colonial government and the group that came most to represent the Algerian resistance, the FLN. This fact of absolute condemnation of any act of killing by an individual or a group is totally consistent with the essays under the heading of "The Myth of Sisyphus". The only moral compass that Camus could defend was the reaction of the body: if it made you want to vomit to watch an act, that act was not good. Your body judged that it was good to embrace your mother, sunbathe on a beautiful beach, or fall into deep discussion with a friend. To hurt the body whose eyes showed terror or joy was the absolute evil, and there was no bridge of abstract reasoning that could lead to a justification of a harmful act.
Camus' "Resistance, Resistance, and Death" is a fascinating progression from the euphoria of the resistance fighter to the disgust with Europe, especially France, after the war. He could not fathom how a country who had fought for its own liberty denying it to what was purported to be its extension into Algeria. He went from consenting to some, carefully considered, executions of French Nazis,of whom it could be shown that they had taken Resistance lives, to saying any death only caused more ripples of terror, and, most of all, those taken by the state. "Reflections n the Guillotine" is one of the most elegant refutals of capital punishment ever written. This essay, showing how any imposed death only produces more and unexpected terror, along with Carroll's interpretation of "The Stranger", finally made me see (a) reason why Camus used a murder as a catalyst for the development of his novel, which had always stuck me as an anomaly before. Carroll portrays Mersault as a man with most (he was not economically elite) of the privileges of a Frenchman, but who is reduced to an outsider who has no voice (he is not allowed to speak at his own trial) and literally demonized as inhuman by the judge. This is not, of course, because he shot a man, but because he failed to cry at his mother's funeral, among other petty grievances, that demonstrated his lazy lack of conformity to French Catholic assumptions. Some event needs to bring him to the attention of the bourgeois conforming public, and a murder is uniquely appropriate, I now allow, because this death does exactly what Camus consistently predicts: it brings on alienation and more death, Mersault's own by capital punishment.
Carroll's conversion to deep respect for Camus' unyielding regard for human life and absolute refusal to bend to the ideological comforts was brought about by reading "First Man". This ability to remain in dialogue with a subject would have been very much to Camus' liking. He frequently bemoaned the time, soon after the war, when France did not take advantage of Algerians who were willing to talk about attaining their freedom through negotiation. But later, as Camus warned, death always leads to more death, terrorism to more terrorism.
It is needless to say that Camus never assumed the mantel of a pacifist. For one reason, it has too frequently been associated with religion, one of the ideologies he found most dishonest. When there is a Plague, one must fight it with every resource available. But it was very difficult being Camus' kind of freedom fighter. If one takes human life as your moral compass, it make action difficult, and in the last few years of Camus' life, he refused to speak on the Algerian conflict because he feared any statement he might make could be construed in such a way that it would make the tortuous course toward hurting someone. Instead, he wrote "First Man".
Albert Camus has been criticised for holding meek views on colonialism and his lack of support for Algeria's independence. The book provides a rebuttal in the form of highlighting his non-fiction editorial writings where he condemned oppression. He believed in non-violence throughout his life and had a very "multiculturalist" perspective of looking at Algeria's colonial condition. Well-written apologist's account.