What is the meaning of the life

The Meaning of Life According to Different Philosophies

Can the meaning of life be told in a word? Maybe it is naive, but there is nothing wrong with wanting a simple answer to an apparently simple question: why live? Here we visualized the most prominent philosophies that tackled this question over the past 5000 years.

All philosophies on the meaning of life seem to fall into one of the four groups:

The philosophies of the East and West also follow a pattern: Easterners think in terms of “we”, the community, while Westerners think in terms of “I”, the individual.

Then there is a question of what is a philosophy. Ideologies and religions are often mistaken for philosophies and vice versa. Take Daoism, for example, Oxford Advanced Learner’s Dictionary defines it as a philosophy. But the Cambridge Dictionary defines it as a religion. All belief systems that are definitely religions fall under “theism” in this infographic.

We follow the history of philosophy chronologically. Roughly, all philosophies follow this pattern: first, people appeal to God and supernatural forces, then they look for meaning within the community, later they look at the individual person, and finally, they look at humanity as a whole. We start with Natural Pantheism, humanity’s first attempt to explain its existence.

Natural Pantheism

Dates back to prehistoric times
Pantheism is the belief that God is in everything, that all things together comprise an all-encompassing god. The meaning of life is in living in harmony with all that there is.
Pantheism is an ancient idea that was formalized as a separate philosophy in Ethics by the Dutch philosopher Baruch Spinoza (1632-1677) in 1675.

Theism

Dates back to prehistoric times
Theism is the proposition that God or a Supreme Being exists. The meaning of life is then prescribed by the God that one believes in.
Theism dates back to the dawn of humanity where it was practiced in its various forms depending on what a group of humans believed their god to be like.

Daoism

Circa 5th Century BC
Daoism offers people a painless way of finding life’s meaning through Wu Wei (無爲) “action without intention” or “naturalness”. Such action leads to finding the Dao, which is “the way”. And yet, “the way” cannot be understood through any explanation or action. The Dao reveals itself only when a person simply is.
The Dao De Jing (aka Tao Te Ching) by Chinese philosopher Lao Zi (lived c. 6th – 4th century BC) is the primary source on Daoism.

Determinism

Circa 6th Century BC
Determinism is the idea that all events happen as a result of previously existing causes. Since nothing can be changed in a pre-determined world, a person cannot have free will. The meaning of life, is there is one, is also pre-determined, and we cannot do anything to understand it.
The idea of determinism is ancient, reviving in the mathematics of the 18th. One of its well-known representatives is the French philosopher and mathematician Rene Descartes (1596-1650).

Confucianism

Circa 5th Century BC
Chinese philosopher Confucius (551-479 BC) tells us to cultivate virtue called Ren (仁) which is an altruistic sort of feeling one experiences when taking care of one’s children and parents. One of many ways Confucius explained virtue is this:

Now the man of perfect virtue, wishing to be established himself, seeks also to establish others; wishing to be enlarged himself, he seeks also to enlarge others. To be able to judge of others by what is nigh in ourselves – this may be called the art of virtue.

(Analects 6:30)
The primary source on Confucianism is The Analects of Confucius.

Mohism

Appeared around 5th Century BC
The Mohists propose the concept of “inclusive love” jian ai, a kind of impartial care for fellow human beings that includes everyone in society. The meaning of life is in following the model called Fa (法) in which one’s psychological state of care and the beneficial behavior that results from it are two sides of the same coin.
The source of Mohism is Mozi, a compilation of 71 books written by the Chinese philosopher Mozi (c. 470 – 391 BC).

Solipsism

Appeared around 5th Century BC
Solipsism is a theory that one can only be certain about one thing: one’s mind to exist. Solipsism was first recorded by the Greek sophist, Gorgias (483-375) who is reported to have said:

The meaning of life according to solipsism can only be known by one’s mind and not in relation to other beings.
Some psychologists believe newborns to be initially solipsistic. Infants cry in the absence of parents nearby because they believe that when not visible, the parents stop existing. Eventually, children learn from observing others to reject solipsism.

Cynicism

Appeared around 4th Century BC
The Cynics attempt to offer people the possibility of happiness and freedom from suffering in the age of uncertainty. The meaning of life is mental lucidity and self-sufficiency (eudaimonia). To achieve self-sufficiency, a person must become free from external influences – such as wealth, fame, and power.
There is no central authority on Cynicism or any official doctrine. Yet, it was an influential tradition in Ancient Greece.

Hedonism

Appeared around 4th Century BC
Hedonism offers us a life based on seeking pleasure and avoiding suffering. Simple pleasures like eating, dancing, and playing music are meaningful in themselves.
Hedonism is an ancient idea that was later formulated by the Greek philosopher Democritus (c. 460 – 370 B.C.).

Platonism

Appeared around 4th Century BC
For the Greek philosopher Plato (c. 428 – c. 347 BC), the meaning of life is the pursuit of knowledge. In his book Apology, Plato quotes his teacher Socrates (c. 470 – 399 BC) saying that “the unexamined life is not worth living”. In a nutshell, Platonism is the idea that there exist such things as “pure forms” which are abstractions. An abstration is something that neither exists in space nor time. It is completely non-physical and yet it is knowable. Knowledge of “pure forms” is the meaning of life. Daunting as it sounds, there is a shortcut of sorts. According to Plato, we are all born with all knowledge inside us but we have to recall it or rediscover it, which is a concept called anamnesis.
Plato’s most influential work is The Republic published around 375 BC.

Legalism (Chinese)

Appeared around 4th Century BC
The Legalists believed that humans are inherently selfish and cannot be trusted to behave morally. A strong government system can steer humans to continue behaving in their selfish ways while the system as a whole benefits from their work. The meaning of life is then in the acquisition of skills that make a person’s work valuable to the state which in turn benefits society.
The earliest Legalist text is The Book of Lord Shang ( 商君書) written by the politician who raised Qin dynasty to its leading position in Asia.

Epicureanism

Appeared around 4th Century BC
The Greek philosopher Epicurus (341-270 BC) was a materialist ancient Greek philosopher who offered that the meaning of life was in achieving sustainable pleasure which leads to a state of tranquility and freedom from fear (ataraxia).
What sort of pleasures are meaningful? Mental, not physical, because mental pleasures exist in the past, the present, and the future, while physical pleasures are fleeting.
The poem On the Nature of Things (De rerum nature) compiles the core arguments and theories of Epicureanism.

Quietism

Appeared around 3rd Century BC
Quietists believe that philosophy as such has no answers to offer. Instead, its role is in pointing out linguistic confusions in the questions presented to philosophers. Thus, the question of the meaning of life assumes that we understand the meaning of the words “meaning” and “life”. Any attempt to pin down the meaning of either word reveals the meaninglessness of the question and thus the meaning of life cannot be understood by asking such a question.
Elements of Quietism are found in both Eastern and Western philosophies with Daoism known for its reluctance to use language and Greek Pyrrhonism embracing non-verbal “suspension of judgment” (epoché).

Aristotelianism

Circa 3rd Century BC
The Greek philosopher Aristotle (385-322 BC) reminds us that no one lives a good life in order to achieve some other goal. Being a good person in itself is sufficient. Virtue is the goal. There is no list of virtues because we all know what they are. For example, it is a virtue to have friends. We do not need to be taught that. Virtue and the rules of ethics are not a theoretical concept according to Aristotle. A human being knows what is good.
Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics is the best known work on his thinking.

Stoicism

Circa 3rd Century BC
The Stoics (c. 334 – c. 262 BC) want you to be free from desire for pleasure or fear of pain. Eschew emotion. How does one become dispassionate? Only through wisdom can one be free to act justly. A wise person becomes a sage through rational action that does not violate the laws of nature.
Hellenistic philosopher Zeno of Citium (c. 334 – 264 BC) founded the Stoic school of philosophy in Athens about 300 BC. The only complete Stoic works we have are by Seneca, Epictetus, and the Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius (121–180), whose diary Meditations records his progress on self-transformation toward becoming a sage.

Modern Humanism

Circa the late 1300s
Humanism points out that humans themselves are responsible for the fate of humans in this world. Thus, promoting and helping other humans is the meaning of life.

Subjectivism

Circa the early 1600s
According to Subjectivists, the meaning of life varies by individual, depending on one’s mental state. The more a person achieves their own goals that are set by themselves, the more meaningful their life is. Subjectivists reject that there may be objective values in life that one should achieve despite subjective goals.
Subjectivism is attributed to Rene Descartes and his thought experiment “I think, therefore, I exist.”

Liberalism

Appeared in 1689
The Liberalists trust that a person is naturally free to choose what to do without permission from any other person. Anyone attempting to limit freedoms must first prove that it is necessary. The meaning of life is then in protecting individual liberties against the political coercion that may or may not be justified.
English philosopher and physician John Locke’s (1632-1704) work Two Treatises of Government is the foundational text of liberal ideology.

Kantianism

Appeared in 1785
Kantianism proposes that every human action should be judged according to a universal maxim, or principle. If an action violates a principle then a person failed their duty toward humans. For example, if people followed the maxim kill anyone you dislike, when applied universally, it would lead to the end of humanity. So, the meaning of life is in fulfilling your duty to follow universal principles.
The origin of Kantianism is German philosopher Emmanuel Kant’s(1724-1804) book The Critique of Pure Reason.

Nihilism

Appeared in 1862
Nihilism, also called Pessimism, is the belief that nothing can make life meaningful. The Nihilists see something inherent about humans that prevents us from finding meaning in life. It can be the human tendency for being dissatisfied or always seeking something or being bored once it is found.
The origin of Nihilism is ancient but among philosophers, German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900) concept “Will to Power” is most often associated with it.

Pragmatism

Circa the 1870s
Unlike many other schools of philosophy, the Pragmatists have no official creed. In general, their views suggest that rather than truth about life, we should seek a useful understanding of life.
The American philosopher and psychologist William James (1842-1910), one of pragmatism’s main figures argued that truth could be made but not sought. Is life worth living? James answered, “Maybe.” The answer depends on what you do with your life. The meaning of life is then doing the thing that most contributes to the most human good over the longest course – that is bringing maximum value to humanity.
There is hardly a main source of the Pragmatism doctrine, but William James is one of its most prolific authors. His book William James on Habit, Will, Truth, and the Meaning of Life covers the subject.

Logical Empiricism

Circa the 1920s
Also called logical positivism, the idea of logical positivism is that anything that the only type of knowledge available to us is facts – scientifically verifiable and observable. Anything else is meaningless. The meaning of life can then only be derived from one’s actual experience. We cannot know if life has a meaning beyond what we can see.
Although the logical positivists did not have a leader, The Vienna Circle is the movement’s most influential group.

Existentialism

Circa the 1940s
The existentialists think that we all begin life with “existential angst”, a feeling of anxiety about the apparent meaningless of our lives. To find meaning in life, a person has to decide on their own values and then take action to live according to them.
The first existentialist text is German philosopher Martin Heidegger’s(1889-1976) work Being and Time (1927), which is an exploration of the “being that we ourselves are”.

Absurdism

Appeared in 1942
Absurdists ask, “Why would you even ask such a useless question?” The question destined to fail because of the conflict between the human mind that desperately seeks meaning and a world where everything falls short of having a finite, immutable meaning. Looking for meaning in life is a Sysipean task – the more you search for one, the less you understand it. Sysiphus became a symbol of life’s meaninglessness because in Greek mythology he was punished for his misdeeds by being forced to roll an immense boulder up a hill only for it to tumble back every time he neared the summit. This went on for eternity.
The absurdist French philosopher Albert Camus (1913-1960) proposed that people should embrace the absurdity of our existence and then proceed to wilfully live their lives.
The defining work on absurdism is Albert Camus’s work The Myth of Sisyphus

What’s Next for the Meaning of Life?

You might have noticed that this whole time, philosophers assumed we are talking about the meaning of human life. What about animal life? Or maybe life as in all events that happen in the universe? If extraterrestrial life exists, does our definition of life’s meaning include them?

Acknowledgments

This article is inspired by Metz, Thaddeus, “The Meaning of Life”, The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Summer 2013 Edition), Edward N. Zalta (ed.), URL.

Thanks to Daniel Action for validating the research for this article and proofreading the drafts. Thanks to Igor Pikovets for reviewing the drafts, and to Mark Vital for collaborating on information design of the graphic.

Why I wrote this

As an infographic designer (or visual writer) I’m on a quest to reduce wordy textual knowledge to its concise visual form. Reductionism is a tool, not the goal. Ideally, a philosopher should write this article with my help in the visualization department. I hope the next version of this infographic will be made in collaboration with a philosophy expert. Until then, please treat this infographic as a proof of concept for visualization on a popular topic with an academic foundation.

What is the meaning of life?

Try to find your own meaning of life in this article.

Have you ever asked yourself what is the meaning of life?

Nobody can really answer this question, as well as such questions as: What is love?”, “What is happiness?” etc.

Psychologists think that when people start thinking and talking too much about their meaning of life, it is a first sign that they are not completely satisfied with their lives.

However, the ability to think and analyze is a factor that distinguishes a human from an animal.

We are not interested in living only for satisfaction of our physical instincts.

This peculiarity became the main purpose why people started to seek the true meaning of life.

People who lose their meaning of life and cannot find their vocation are doomed to failure.

You can disagree with this and tell me that not everybody seeks the meaning of life.

Many people live without even thinking of it, and they do perfectly well! I can prove you that it is not exactly so.

At some point of life everybody starts thinking WHY he lives in this world and tries to answer himself this question.

He/she can be satisfied with the answer for some period of time or even for the whole life.

This is how the life goes…

Let’s analyze some typical answers to this question and, maybe, you will find the answer for yourself in this list as well.

What is the meaning of life: what does it consist in?

To be always healthy and attractive is my true meaning of life!

It means to go in for sports, to take care of myself and to stay always young!

My meaning of life consists in receiving as many positive emotions and impressions as possible!

We have only one life to live, so we have to live it to the fullest!

It may sound a bit selfish, but it is my life, so why cannot I be happy with it?

«The meaning of life is to find your gift, the purpose of life is to give it away.»
Pablo Picasso.

My meaning of life consists in self-realization.

I see my meaning of life in serving my relatives and friends.

There is no such thing as the meaning of life!

Stop thinking about it and simply live your life!

As you can see, I found many examples how people see their meaning of life.

You can choose the variant you like best of all.

However, you have to analyze your choice and to think whether you have chosen the right way of living your life and whether you are ready to find your true meaning of life.

Let’s consider our period of life when we go to school or study at the university.

You won’t cram a piece of story from the textbook without any aim, will you?

If you try to learn it, you must have a reason for it.

You do this for a good mark, or in order to acquire new knowledge, or to pass the subject.

You will receive the result of your learning in any case.

You will be able to realize the meaning of your efforts only in the end of your way, e.g. when you take an exam in order to pass the subject.

What is the last stage of our life?

Obviously, it is death!

Somebody has done more in his life than others; some people have lived their life in kindness while other people have lived it in anger; somebody has fully dedicated himself to his family; maybe, somebody has tried everything in his life – nevertheless, death will make us all equal.

I see my meaning of life in self-development.

We can compare our planet Earth to the study at school or at the university, where everybody must learn something new, acquire some knowledge and constantly practise his skills.

My main goal in life is to discover my potential and to realize it in my life.

My meaning of life is the ability to live my life the best I can.

When I reach its final stage, I want to be able to turn the last page of my life, to smile and to say:

“If I had the possibility to return into my past and change my life, I would not probably change anything! I always made my own choices in life, and I always was the master of my own life! It doesn’t matter whether my choices were right or not, I always managed to find the way out of any situation! The best possible choice for me is my own choice! I don’t have any regrets; I know that I have lived my life to the fullest!”

Here is what Dale Carnegie wrote in his famous book “How to Stop Worrying and Start Living”:

Be the best of whatever you are.

If you can’t be a pine on the top of the hill.
Be a scrub in the valley — but be
The best little scrub by the side of the rill;
Be a bush, if you can’t be a tree.
If you can’t be a bush, be a bit of the grass.
If you can’t be a muskie, then just be a bass-
But the liveliest bass in the lake!
We can’t all be captains, we’ve got to be crew.
There’s something for all of us here.
There’s big work to do and there’s lesser to do
And the task we must do is the near.
If you can’t be a highway, then just be a trail,
If you can’t be the sun, be a star;
It isn’t by the size that you win or you fail-
Be the best of whatever you are!”

What Is the Meaning of Life?

What is the purpose of life?
What happens after this life?
Who gives me life? Why?
Who do I live for?
Who controls me?
Am I really alive?

The meaning of life is to know the meaning of life.
The meaning of life is to know why we live.

The meaning of life is to rise above life so that I know why I live.

What Is the Meaning of Life? – An Examination

The wisdom of Kabbalah claims to be a method specifically made to answer the question about the meaning of life.

We thus met with today’s foremost Kabbalist Dr. Michael Laitman to examine life’s most fundamental question. Below are the questions we prepared, and following them, the resultant conversation:

– Why do we ask about the meaning of life? Why does this question exist in us?

– Is the meaning of life attainable?

– Why do children ask about the meaning of life?

– Why do more people ask about the meaning of life during times of crisis?

– Do we have free choice with the question about the meaning of life?

– Why do some people question the meaning of life and other people don’t?

– Is the meaning of life to always have life goals and dreams?

– Is the meaning of life to survive, evolve and reproduce?

– Is the meaning of life a constant aspiration for wisdom and knowledge?

– Is the meaning of life to be a good person?

– Is the meaning of life to worship God and enter heaven in the afterlife?

– Is the meaning of life to love?

– Is the meaning of life to be happy?

– Is the meaning of life to be powerful?

– Is life meaningless?

– Should the question about the meaning of life be ignored?

– Is life just bad?

“We created our whole lives intentionally so that we would not ask the question about the meaning of life.”

Why do we ask about the meaning of life? Why do we have this question to begin with?

We ask about the meaning of life because, in contrast to the still, vegetative and animate levels of nature, the human level is qualitatively higher than the animate. The human stands apart from the animal because he asks about the meaning of life. He wants his existence to be eternal.

If we can’t live eternally, then life has no value, because everything dies and disappears.

Therefore, the most important question that belongs precisely to the human is about the meaning of life.

Is the meaning of life to always have goals and dreams?

Continuation of the question: There is a perception that pursuing goals and dreams is what gives a sense of meaning in life. Thus, some conclude that the meaning of life is to have a goal or some goals that a person works to achieve, because then the person is always filled with a feeling of meaning. Is it enough that each person can picture or create any goals for themselves in life to satisfy that desire for meaning, or is there something missing in this view?

If the meaning of life is in this life, then it’s not the meaning of life, because this life ends. I need something eternal and whole in order to truly have a reason to live. So let’s search for a meaning in life beyond this life.

You immediately connect the meaning of life to eternal life…

Whoever lives their whole life in this corporeal life doesn’t attain the meaning of life, because in their life’s final moment, they see that everything they did had no lasting benefit; they didn’t find the meaning of life.

Most of the time, we try to fulfill ourselves, to forget about life and the question about its meaning. But the meaning of life can’t be found by erasing the question about it.

Can you expand on how we engage in forgetting about the meaning of life?

Everything we do in our lives beyond our necessities is in order to push aside and forget about the meaning of life question.

It’s clear that I need to work, get married, have children and get involved in science, creativity, read books, listen to music, participate in cultural life and so on.

But what’s all that for?

I need to know, in any case: Is that the meaning of life? Or am I just filling time, forgetting about what’s most important?

I need to know that there is a “little devil” inside me. It constantly scratches me, asking “Is that what you live for?” And I need to answer that question.

Is that “little devil” always there?

It gets agitated, calms down, gets agitated again, then calms down again. It wants to show me just how much I depend on the world, and how much the world manipulates me and gives me a chance to forget about why I live.

If I don’t ask about the meaning of life, then I’m like any animal.

If I wake up with the question of the human—“Why do I live?”—and don’t have an answer to that question, then in order not to suffer, I forget about it.

Why does this question awaken in some people and not in others?

The question about the meaning of life depends on a person’s development. However, we need to understand that all questions we tried answering throughout history—and our subsequent developments of religion, science, beliefs, culture and education—were in order to provide answers to the question about the meaning of life.

Animals don’t need to answer this question. They just live their lives.

Human development, especially our competitive development, is in a hidden way, in order to show each other that we know what the secret and meaning of life is compared to others. We compete and develop by trying to show each other that we know what the meaning of life is.

Is it like wanting a bigger car because I want to show it off to the other person?

With the car, when I buy a bigger car than my neighbor, I want to show him that I am in a better attainment of the meaning of life than he is.

Children also ask, maybe even more than we do, about the meaning of life.

A child at the ages of six, seven and eight also asks about the meaning of life. I heard from many children, even at the ages of ten, eleven and twelve, that they are ashamed to ask about this question. Sometimes, after I arouse interest in them, they end up asking, “So what do I live for?”

The question about the meaning of life is like a heavy rock that burdens a child, demanding an answer. Afterwards, however, as hormonal and social development emerge, we forget about it and start running after whatever the world presents to us and confuses us with.

However, the question about the meaning of life—“Why do I live?”—really disturbs anyone who doesn’t “succeed” to forget about it.

Since the question awakens in children, why does it always disappear?

The question disappears over time because we created our whole lives intentionally so that we would not ask that question.

As a parent, if my child asks me, “What is the meaning of life?” How should I answer the child?

If the child asks me about the meaning of life, then I need to think hard about where that question comes from. It could be that the child is seeking something more in relation to a profession, sport or music, i.e. asking “Why do I live?” in order to find his way in this life.

Is his question really about the meaning of life, i.e. above this life? In other words, does he want to know where life comes from, what happens after he dies, and what happens with this whole life? I first need to check the reason why he’s asking.

Let’s say a five year old child asks me, “What is the meaning of life?”

This question doesn’t relate to age.

I remember how I used to question life and the meaning of life. I looked at adults, and it was clear to me that they had nothing to live for. “What are they living for?” I used to ask myself. I sincerely thought that they’d be better off dead than alive. Why do they run to-and-from work everyday? Why do they keeping doing the same things day after day after day? Is it just in order to have children, who themselves grow up to run that same rat race?

I thought that if someone had explained to me before I was born that this is what life was, I wouldn’t want to be born.

So as you can see, my question was really about the meaning of life; it was in relation to life’s source: “Where is life from?” “Why is there life?” “What is the need for life?” “Is there a need for life?”

If you would have told me that in a few generations we would reach something great—something beyond our life—then I would understand that it would simply be a matter of time till a certain generation realizes it. But if there’s no such thing, if we’re just living in order to survive and reproduce, then we’re even worse off than animals. This is because animals don’t ask themselves why they live, and since they don’t have questions, they’re more complete.

“If I start entering a higher degree through the question about the meaning of life, then I don’t die.”

Is it better to be a happy animal or a suffering human?

Is it preferable to be a happy animal or a human who suffers from the question about the meaning of life? It’s preferable to be the human, because we gradually develop to a state where we indeed attain the correct answer to “What is the meaning of life?”

When we attain that answer, we truly become “human” in the full sense of the term.

Whoever doesn’t attain that is much worse off.

There is a fear in answering the question about the meaning of life; answering it means eliminating the question.

If I know the meaning of life, precisely then I’m truly alive, because it doesn’t seal my life off to a state where I know what it is and then I have nothing left to do. Instead, it opens a plethora of opportunities for attainment and a whole new world.

Precisely that question—”What is the meaning of life?” “Why do I live?”—is a gateway to the upper world.

With the knowledge that the question has an answer, I enter that gateway and start my research. I understand that there is a colossal mechanism surrounding our life and our world. The question prepares us in great depth, to develop from the animate to the human level, to enter the wide, eternal world and why it exists. We learn where our universe and life on planet Earth come from, where it is developing towards, and what great system operates and guides us. Gradually, through this research, we come to attain the degree of Godliness.

Why do people die?

We die because there is a limit to how much we can exist at the animate level. My body dies—my animate level—not the human being within. If I start entering a higher degree through the question about the meaning of life, then I don’t die. My spirit continues developing.

Can you connect the question about the meaning of life to the fact that we die?

Physical death is given to us consciously, with some fear and calculation included, so that we will ask ourselves about the meaning of life at least once during our lifetime.

Would I ask about the meaning of life if I didn’t know I was going to die?

If we were eternal, then we certainly wouldn’t ask about the meaning of life. We would always keep ourselves busy with all kinds of engagements, like we do now, confusing ourselves more and more. Death is a major correction.

How is a person’s age connected to the question about the meaning of life?

Age indeed plays a role, but it’s not connected to people’s individual development. It depends on how much people are connected to society. There are people who, when asking about the meaning of life, want to attain it during the first part of their lives, others in their middle ages and others when older. It doesn’t depend on the person, but on how much the person is connected to the collective system of human connection.

At first glance, it seems like a person asks about the meaning of life to satisfy their curiosity.

The question about the meaning of life doesn’t surface clearly and directly. It sometimes appears philosophically or scientifically.

When I asked about the meaning of life, I found myself studying a little anthropology and astronomy. Then I went through a lot of different studies, and finally I arrived at the wisdom of Kabbalah.

We search for the meaning of life through many avenues. If we endeavor into all kinds of creative, cultural and educational activities, there too we search for the meaning of life and find satisfaction in those activities. For example, if you write a symphony, you feel like you realize and find yourself, that you give birth to something. By doing so, you are similar to nature, and feel that your life has meaning.

But in reality, everyone needs to answer the question about life’s meaning.

During our narrow and sorrowful lives, everyone subconsciously knows, even vaguely, that life has meaning.

Is the question about the meaning of life connected to depression?

In today’s generation, the question about the meaning of life surfaces very sharply and among a broad spectrum of the population. This is because our generation’s ego has overblown exponentially. Today, nearly everybody asks about the meaning of life. Depression emerges when people can’t find its answer, and a multitude of problems in our society follow: drug abuse, suicide, divorce and terrorism, among many others.

Youth don’t see themselves connected to the goals presented to them today, but they don’t really ask about spirituality. Why is that so?

Our generation faces that eternal question, “What is the meaning of life?” and in contrast to past generations, ours needs to answer it clearly and collectively, i.e. society as a whole will need to answer it because the development of the whole human society depends on finding its answer.

We have reached a state where we’re living as a small village on this planet. When we all ask about the meaning of life, then we all need its answer.

In a global world, where people and nations are tightly connected, and where this compact connection is expressed virtually through the Internet, we need to understand that the question about the meaning of life is our most important question.

The Internet emerged as a result of us asking about the meaning of life. It’s because this question internally connects us, where through the correct connection between us, we can rise to the level of its answers.

For the time being, we use the Internet like little children playing and running around a messy house from one room to the next. I very much hope that, after we advance beyond all this confusion, we will seriously engage in what’s most important: How can we—now that the Internet allows us all to be in one place, one state, one internal and virtual field—truly ask: “What is the purpose of our whole civilization?” “What do we get out of it?”

And then we will find the answer.

Can people help each other find the answer to the question about the meaning of life?

In order to find an answer to the question about the meaning of life, people will need to be connected, because its answer is above life. Only when we “wake up” from ourselves can we find its answer, and that’s possible only if we’re well connected.

How does this work? If I’m inside myself, my ego, then I won’t know the meaning of life. Precisely if I can exit into you, to connect to you such that I am really inside you, then I can see my life and the meaning of my life, i.e. by being inside you.

Therefore, human connection is necessary for the attainment of the meaning of life as it “wakes us up” above our private lives. We can then attain the meaning of life through the same direction by which life comes and clothes on us.

If a person doesn’t have the question about the meaning of life, is it worthwhile to raise that question?

Yes it is. Our generation has reached a state where everyone can access the meaning of life. By doing so, our lives take on a completely different tone: we don’t just live for the sake of survival.

Couldn’t it do damage to people?

No. How could rising above the animal level of life, and attaining eternity and wholeness during people’s lifetimes, do any damage?

One perception about the meaning of life states that people need to worship God and enter eternal life in the afterlife.

I don’t know what “worshiping God” means, and I also don’t know what “the afterlife” is. I know that a person can enter a system that controls our life and the life of the system that operates us.

We can reach a higher level of awareness, and on that level, exist in eternal thought and desire. You could call that “the afterlife.” It’s the mind or thought of the system.

There are surveys that get shared around social media, which raise the question “What is the meaning of life to you?” and they offer a few multiple choice answers: Happiness, Love, Success, Freedom…

I disagree that the meaning of life is happiness, love, success and freedom, because all these qualities remain in this life and die together with the person. What benefit do these qualities give me if I’m dead and they all disappear? I take none of those things with me. On this point, the Kabbalistic texts describe Pharaoh—the egoistic-materialistic control of the person—who wanted to take all the happiness he had during his life to his grave. Nothing remains of that happiness. What does remain, and is thus most important, is the spirit.

If we are concerned about the elevation of our spirit—that it won’t serve our body, but that it will be above our body—we then reach a state where we attain the meaning of life during our current lifetime. Then, by attaining the perception and sensation of this higher system controlling us, we understand where life comes from, what controls us and why we live the way we do. That is what the wisdom of Kabbalah gives us.

Does happiness come as a byproduct of engaging in the process of attaining this higher system?

Our discovery of the higher system—”higher” meaning above our corporeal intellect and emotion—completely fulfills us. This is because we can explain everything happening to us from a higher perspective. In other words, we can answer, “Why does anything exist at all?” Even the higher system, why does it exist? We can answer anything not just about our current lives where we live like animals trying to supply our bodies with their needs, but also what’s above and below it. We learn that our life’s purpose is to discover our spirit, and rise to an eternal and complete meaning of life. Also, what is that for? The question about the meaning of life, our corporeal and spiritual life, is really an eternal question, and it takes us to higher and higher degrees.

What knowledge does a person need to learn in order to answer, “What is the meaning of life?”

We need to learn the fundamentals of nature—knowledge about nature, culture, science, everything about life in this world—because we need to know where we get our urges from.

We need to learn how our development guides us towards discovering the meaning of life, and that we reach a crossroad on the way there: Why, after this whole long process of many thousands of years of our development, do we finally reach a state where, after great despair and major questions surfacing, an opportunity arises to discover the meaning of life?

We need to know quite a lot, and to be especially intelligent in wisdom, science, culture, education, and the history of the universe and humanity. We cannot simply have a very narrow viewpoint, because then life will distract us with different directions, each time making us think that the meaning of life is “in that new thing over there.” We need to reach a conclusion, in a very personal way, that there is no meaning of life in this world.

Can a person keep engaging in things that fulfill him for now, e.g. drugs, entertainment, technologies and hobbies, and still find a deeper meaning?

The meaning of life doesn’t seal off our existence in this world, because we need to search for meaning out of how we live in this world, where life takes us to the solution to that same question. So I am not allowed to relinquish this life. By doing so, I wouldn’t do anything. On the contrary, by living among people—having a profession, children, etc.—together with those things, I need to find the meaning of life.

No, it doesn’t replace them. It organizes them into accurate proportions. Discovering the meaning of life lets me take everything I engage with in this world and apply meaning to it. You could say that it adds dimension, height and volume to life. I organize my life so that it is truly complete, where I won’t have to abstain from anything, and in addition, I organize myself to attain the meaning of life. Then, I can be a complete person.

In one sentence, what is the answer to the question: “What is the meaning of life?”

The meaning of life is to discover the meaning of life.

What Is the Meaning of Life? A Guide to Living With Meaning

A wellness advocate who writes about the psychology behind confidence, happiness and well-being. Read full profile

Since the dawn of time, the question, “what is the meaning of life” has captivated humanity’s finest minds. The ultimate goal appears to be to live a meaningful life with purpose.

As diverse as the questions are, the origins of our existence, the reasons humans were “made,” the drive for personal growth, and, of course, religion, are all explored.

There is no shortage of ideas on what the “good life” is all about, what makes us happy and content, and what we can do to achieve it.

The Big Bang, the beginnings of the cosmos, and the evolution of the species to where we are today will likely be discussed by a researcher if you inquire about the purpose of our existence.

We don’t really need evolution to motivate us and keep us going in the face of adversity, do we? Much more is going on than this. It is our intellect, our self-awareness, and our aspirations, objectives, and aspirations that define who we are as people.

So, if you want to know what life is all about, study Viktor Frankl and Albert Camus, and consider your ideals, progress, community, family, and yes, reproduction, when attempting to answer this question.

Table of Contents

What Is the Meaning of Life — Historical Perspectives

Let’s take a step back and observe what great men throughout history thought a life of purpose to be before we dissect these parts of significance.

The Greeks

Eudaimonia, which means “happiness,” “good life,” or “welfare,” was a belief held by the ancient Greeks. A life lived in eudaimonia was considered the ideal by all of the great Greek philosophers, including Socrates, Thales, Plato, and Aristotle.

“The most difficult thing in life is to know yourself.” – Thales

Self-discovery is the most difficult task in life. In other words, Thales

The meaning of this sentence has been interpreted in a variety of ways. Some people used to believe that gaining virtues was the only way to find meaning in life (such as self-control, courage, wisdom) [1]

According to Aristotle, eudaimonia requires more than a good character; it requires action and excellence. Epicurus, a well-known Greek philosopher, believed that human life should be a time of pleasure and freedom from pain and sorrow.

The Bhagwad Geeta

Ancient India’s texts were written with extraordinary intellectual acumen. The Bhagavad Gita is the most researched, analyzed, and interpreted of all the scriptures. [2]

Our separated material energies are comprised of eight elements: earth, water, fire, air, ether, mind, intellect, and ego.

An ancient Indian text known as the Bhagavad Gita, it is regarded as one of the most important works of Hindu philosophy in both literature and philosophy. Lord or ‘manifested one’: Bhagavad Gita is known as “the song of the Lord or the Lord Himself.”

Mahabharata (the longest Indian epic) incorporated the Bhagavad Gita as a subplot, but it is usually edited separately. The Bhagavad Gita is a section of the Mahabharata that spans 18 short chapters and approximately 700 verses.

Questions like “what is the meaning of life” are at the heart of the Bhagavad Gita. It focuses on how can one lead a spiritually meaningful life without renouncing society. What can a person do to live a moral life if they don’t want to give up their ties to friends and family?

According to popular belief, only ascetics and monks can achieve a perfect spiritual life through renunciation. The Gita, on the other hand, argues that anyone can achieve a perfect spiritual life through active devotion.

Cynicism

Cynicism was founded by Diogenes of Sinope around 380 BC as a way of life and thinking that emphasized virtue and harmony with nature, much like Stoicism later on.

Human reason, according to both schools, is capable of discerning nature’s will; however, their conclusions about what constitutes natural law differed.

The Cynics had a much more primitive view of nature, and so they lived a more solitary life as a result.

While Cynicism sees human institutions like laws and customs as artificial, Stoicism considers them to be part of the fabric of life itself and urges its adherents to uphold them. [3]

When it comes to morality, a Cynic is the antithesis of the idealist.

Diogenes, the founder of Cynicism, is one of the most intriguing characters in all of philosophy. Diogenes lived in a tub and had very little.

To him, human life should be as simple as possible, and he detested much of what “civilization” purports to provide us. A typical quote from him: “Mankind has complicated every simple gift from the gods.”

Rather, people should undergo rigorous training and live in way that is most natural to them. [4]

Stoicism

The Stoic school of thought, founded by Zeno of Citium around 300 B.C., considered the good life to be “living in agreement with nature.” [5]

At that time, people’s principal priority was to avoid a bad life. As a result, they were more likely to structure their thoughts, choices, and actions in a way that enhanced their sense of well-being.

It’s critical to remember that people didn’t always think that acquiring wealth, fame, or other aesthetically pleasing items would bring them happiness. Many people were eager to learn how to cultivate a fine soul.

The Stoics, one of the most well-known schools of thought at the time, presented persuasive answers to problematic concerns like “What do I want out of life?” through their Stoic philosophy. The Stoics proposed a way of life that dealt with the difficulties of being human.

Finally, they said: “I desire enduring enjoyment and peace of mind, which come from being a good person.” This was their ultimate response to all of these difficulties.

As an example, a person can cultivate virtues of character by prioritizing their acts over their words. In other words, if you’re doing things right, you’ll have a better life. And, yes, as you would have suspected, unpleasant behavior led to a more difficult situation.

In essence, Stoicism advocates separating good and evil and doing good while staying calm, focusing on what’s important and under our control, not wasting thoughts on what we can’t change.

Theism

Theists believed in the presence of a deity, or God, who was responsible for the creation of the cosmos. Our lives’ purpose is therefore connected with God’s goal in creating the cosmos, and it is God who gives meaning, purpose, and values to our existence.

This relates to modern-day religious studies and how and why we search for meaning beyond what is readily seen or understood. If you still want to find out answer to the query, what is the true meaning of life? then a deeper understanding of Theism would help.

According to Britannica, Theism is the belief that God is beyond human comprehension, perfect and self-sustaining, but also unusually concerned in the world and its events.

Theists use reasonable reasoning and personal experience to support their belief in God.

Theists often use one of four main kinds of evidence to support their belief in the existence of God: cosmological, ontological, teleological, or moral. The existence of evil must be reconciled with God’s omnipotence and perfection, which are core concepts of theism.

Existentialism

Philosophers like Sren Kierkegaard, Fyodor Dostoyevsky, and Jean-Paul Sartre advocated for this idea of free will in the twentieth century.

“The intuition of free will gives us the truth.” – Corliss Lamont

Rather than relying on society or religion, it is believed that each person creates their own meaning in their own life. Everyone’s reason for being is based on their own circumstances and knowledge. [6]

To put it another way, the meaning of your life is entirely up to you. Simply put, your life’s meaning is what you decide it to be.

What Creates Meaning of Your Life?

Based on the foregoing brief historical tour, it appears that the interpretation of what gives our existence value and purpose changes depending on the historical period and school of thought.

However, there are some unmistakable similarities and repeating themes. Our motivation for assuming a role larger than ourselves, such as serving God’s will or making a contribution to society. At the same time, it’s all nuanced because it’s filtered through our particular prisms, hampered by our historians’ or intellectuals’ beliefs.

Still, there are a few basic types of items that could be ideal candidates for meaning-creators in our lives:

Social

We have an innate urge to connect with others, to be a part of a group, to feel like we belong, and that someone cares about us since we are social creatures.

So, what’s the meaning of life?

Our friendships aren’t the only thing that makes life worthwhile. It’s our parents, siblings, and children. It’s all the people for whom we have feelings of love and affection and who, in turn, have feelings for us.

Achievement

Although pinning our worth only on the results of our efforts can lead to a shaky feeling of self-worth, we nevertheless want our triumphs to outnumber our failures. We want to feel like we’re making progress and achieving our objectives.

“Life is like riding a bicycle, to keep your balance, you must keep moving.” – Albert Einstein

Studies have found that achievements bring greater meaning to our everyday lives. [8]

The pull of the limelight or the desire for accolades will not be enough to justify our existence. What counts is that our efforts be acknowledged, appreciated, and acknowledged. To put it another way, we want our efforts to be meaningful and impactful.

In this podcast from The Lifehack Show, you’ll get a straightforward solution to the question of what personal success looks like:

Competence, Knowledge, and Expertise

The concept of achievement is directly tied to these purpose drivers.

“Life itself is a process of acquiring knowledge.”

Today’s self-improvement movement emphasizes becoming the best at what we do. The Japanese concepts of kaizen and shokunin are among the most well-known examples.

Kaizen is a continuous improvement process that involves learning and building experience in order to improve oneself as a way of life.

Shokunin is a Japanese word that means “craftsman.” It’s also about being proud of what we do and who we are. It’s the desire to improve on a personal and professional level.

Researched Ways That Have Given Meaning to Life (Living Meaning)

However, there are many more colors and understandings of a life well-lived than the three categories that have been mentioned already.

To help you find your own sense of purpose and fulfillment, here are some more ideas.

1. Be Aware of What Makes You Happy and Gives Your Life Meaning

This encompasses your interests, as well as your drive to interact with others, read, write, travel, and keep in shape. Even if these activities do not provide you with any ‘One’ Meaning in Your Life, they have the ability to make you pleased and joyful.

“Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.” – Omar Khayyam

They are joyous spurs. You might think of them as mini-meanings that, over time, may help you achieve your larger goals and purposes.

However, they will continue to provide you with something to look forward to, a cause to live.

2. What Does Life Mean if Not Embraced By the Love and Existence of a Family?

In order to assure that human life will continue into the foreseeable future, evolutionary biology provides us with the fundamental cause for our existence. Isn’t it all about the survival and continuation of our families? With loved ones, life has a purpose.

“Family is not an important thing. It’s everything.” –Michael J. Fox

When it comes to what makes life worthwhile, having children and family and living it with them is frequently at or near the top of the list. When we feel like we belong, we feel like we can celebrate our triumphs with others.

3. Desire to Leave a Mark in the World

As we come to grips with the fact that our lives are finite, we naturally feel compelled to leave behind something worthwhile. The first step is to focus on one thing that is important to you and build from there.

For example, you could adopt an abandoned puppy and offer it a better existence. You can also help the environment by donating your time to a local food shelter or by beginning to sort your rubbish.

In the words of Mother Teresa:

“We can’t do anything spectacular, but we can do a lot of tiny things with a lot of heart.”

Caring is the key to a fulfilling existence.

4. Be Compassionate and Care About Yourself

What these suggestions imply is that finding methods to take care of ourselves and do things that make us happy is what brings sunshine into our lives.

You don’t need me to tell you that giving and meditation is good for your physical and mental wellbeing; they are widely documented.

Being kind, empathetic, and helpful to others is, in fact, the best way to live a long, healthy life while also reducing our levels of stress and despair.

5. Helping Others Is The Way to Add Meaning to Life

Research participants were asked about their prosocial behavior, life purpose, and level of relationship satisfaction as a way to test this hypothesis.

Prosocial behavior and meaning in life were linked, and relationship satisfaction—in other words, the quality of people’s relationships—accounted for a portion of that link.

According to this article, when we engage in prosocial actions, we fulfill our basic psychological needs for autonomy, competence, and relatedness when we feel good and capable (feeling close to others).

In one study, participants were given the option of giving money to a study participant of their choice, or the researchers simply told them how much money to give.

As long as participants had the option of deciding how much money they wanted to donate, they were more likely to feel satisfied with their psychological needs.

Moreover, that feeling accounted for the link between giving and well-being, which suggests that giving may improve well-being because it helps us meet our psychological needs. ”

Altruism may be especially important for strengthening our relationships and connecting us with others, according to these two studies when taken together, because it meets basic human needs.

“It comes down to this—what are you DOING that’s making a difference?”

We must participate in acts of usefulness—to help and make people happy, to build something—rather than seeking satisfaction and purpose through worldly items.

“The last thing I want is to be on my deathbed and realize there’s zero evidence that I ever existed.”

6. Connect With the World

Another influencer, Alain de Botton, the founder of the famous blog The School of Life, believes that the meaning of life comes down to three activities: [13]

“Some of our most meaningful moments are to do with instances of connection,” he writes, be it to a person, song, or a book, for instance. It takes us out of our isolation. Understanding is our ability to make sense of the world, and service is to work on improving others’ lives.

7. Use the PURE Model

Finally, Peter Wong—a Canadian existential psychologist, has proposed a model known as PURE for individuals to discover meaning in their lives. [14]

There are several options available to you that can provide you with a feeling of purpose. True, you may sometimes feel as if your acts are insignificant as if you are too insignificant to make a difference.

However, this is not the case.

It’s all about bringing out the best in you and doing good for yourself and others when it comes to meaning. As corny as it may seem, if we all commit to the objective of bettering ourselves and the world we live in, a single drop may turn into a wave.

Final Thoughts

Every action we take is influenced by our search for significance in our life. It’s the underlying cause of all of them. There’s no clear answer to the question, either.

There are several ways to establish your purpose, including forming a tribe, striving to be a better version of yourself, helping and serving others, and setting and achieving goals.

Because it’s such a broad term, defining what “purpose” really means might be difficult. It might mean a variety of things to different people.

It’s possible that, in the end, there’s no single, overarching purpose to existence. It’s possible that a mosaic approach to understanding our meaning and purpose is preferable.

Each aspect of our lives—family, friends, accomplishments, recognition—is a piece. To know if you’re satisfied with the picture you’ve created, you have to look at it as a whole.

Or, as Sadhuguru has put it,

“What is life?” I am reminding you that you are life!”

Or, perhaps, it is as Viktor Frankl said:

“The meaning of life is to give life meaning.”

And we are all free to decide for ourselves what, when, and how significant life is.

The Meaning of Life

Many major historical figures in philosophy have provided an answer to the question of what, if anything, makes life meaningful, although they typically have not put it in these terms (with such talk having arisen only in the past 250 years or so, on which see Landau 1997). Consider, for instance, Aristotle on the human function, Aquinas on the beatific vision, and Kant on the highest good. Relatedly, think about Koheleth, the presumed author of the Biblical book Ecclesiastes, describing life as “futility” and akin to “the pursuit of wind,” Nietzsche on nihilism, as well as Schopenhauer when he remarks that whenever we reach a goal we have longed for we discover “how vain and empty it is.” While these concepts have some bearing on happiness and virtue (and their opposites), they are straightforwardly construed (roughly) as accounts of which higher-order final ends, if any, a person ought to realize that would make her life significant.

Despite the venerable pedigree, it is only since the 1980s or so that a distinct field of the meaning of life has been established in Anglo-American-Australasian philosophy, on which this survey focuses, and it is only in the past 20 years that debate with real depth and intricacy has appeared. Two decades ago analytic reflection on life’s meaning was described as a “backwater” compared to that on well-being or good character, and it was possible to cite nearly all the literature in a given critical discussion of the field (Metz 2002). Neither is true any longer. Anglo-American-Australasian philosophy of life’s meaning has become vibrant, such that there is now way too much literature to be able to cite comprehensively in this survey. To obtain focus, it tends to discuss books, influential essays, and more recent works, and it leaves aside contributions from other philosophical traditions (such as the Continental or African) and from non-philosophical fields (e.g., psychology or literature). This survey’s central aim is to acquaint the reader with current analytic approaches to life’s meaning, sketching major debates and pointing out neglected topics that merit further consideration.

When the topic of the meaning of life comes up, people tend to pose one of three questions: “What are you talking about?”, “What is the meaning of life?”, and “Is life in fact meaningful?”. The analytic literature can be usefully organized according to which question it seeks to answer. This survey starts off with recent work that addresses the first, abstract (or “meta”) question regarding the sense of talk of “life’s meaning,” i.e., that aims to clarify what we have in mind when inquiring into the meaning of life (section 1). Afterward, it considers texts that provide answers to the more substantive question about the nature of meaningfulness (sections 2–3). There is in the making a sub-field of applied meaning that parallels applied ethics, in which meaningfulness is considered in the context of particular cases or specific themes. Examples include downshifting (Levy 2005), implementing genetic enhancements (Agar 2013), making achievements (Bradford 2015), getting an education (Schinkel et al. 2015), interacting with research participants (Olson 2016), automating labor (Danaher 2017), and creating children (Ferracioli 2018). In contrast, this survey focuses nearly exclusively on contemporary normative-theoretical approaches to life’s meanining, that is, attempts to capture in a single, general principle all the variegated conditions that could confer meaning on life. Finally, this survey examines fresh arguments for the nihilist view that the conditions necessary for a meaningful life do not obtain for any of us, i.e., that all our lives are meaningless (section 4).

1. The Meaning of “Meaning”

One part of philosophy of life’s meaning consists of the systematic attempt to identify what people have in mind when they think about the topic or what they mean by talk of “life’s meaning.” For many in the field, terms such as “importance” and “significance” are synonyms of “meaningfulness” and so are insufficiently revealing, but there are those who draw a distinction between meaningfulness and significance (Singer 1996, 112–18; Belliotti 2019, 145–50, 186). There is also debate about how the concept of a meaningless life relates to the ideas of a life that is absurd (Nagel 1970, 1986, 214–23; Feinberg 1980; Belliotti 2019), futile (Trisel 2002), and not worth living (Landau 2017, 12–15; Matheson 2017).

A useful way to begin to get clear about what thinking about life’s meaning involves is to specify the bearer. Which life does the inquirer have in mind? A standard distinction to draw is between the meaning “in” life, where a human person is what can exhibit meaning, and the meaning “of” life in a narrow sense, where the human species as a whole is what can be meaningful or not. There has also been a bit of recent consideration of whether animals or human infants can have meaning in their lives, with most rejecting that possibility (e.g., Wong 2008, 131, 147; Fischer 2019, 1–24), but a handful of others beginning to make a case for it (Purves and Delon 2018; Thomas 2018). Also under-explored is the issue of whether groups, such as a people or an organization, can be bearers of meaning, and, if so, under what conditions.

Most analytic philosophers have been interested in meaning in life, that is, in the meaningfulness that a person’s life could exhibit, with comparatively few these days addressing the meaning of life in the narrow sense. Even those who believe that God is or would be central to life’s meaning have lately addressed how an individual’s life might be meaningful in virtue of God more often than how the human race might be. Although some have argued that the meaningfulness of human life as such merits inquiry to no less a degree (if not more) than the meaning in a life (Seachris 2013; Tartaglia 2015; cf. Trisel 2016), a large majority of the field has instead been interested in whether their lives as individual persons (and the lives of those they care about) are meaningful and how they could become more so.

Focusing on meaning in life, it is quite common to maintain that it is conceptually something good for its own sake or, relatedly, something that provides a basic reason for action (on which see Visak 2017). There are a few who have recently suggested otherwise, maintaining that there can be neutral or even undesirable kinds of meaning in a person’s life (e.g., Mawson 2016, 90, 193; Thomas 2018, 291, 294). However, these are outliers, with most analytic philosophers, and presumably laypeople, instead wanting to know when an individual’s life exhibits a certain kind of final value (or non-instrumental reason for action).

Another claim about which there is substantial consensus is that meaningfulness is not all or nothing and instead comes in degrees, such that some periods of life are more meaningful than others and that some lives as a whole are more meaningful than others. Note that one can coherently hold the view that some people’s lives are less meaningful (or even in a certain sense less “important”) than others, or are even meaningless (unimportant), and still maintain that people have an equal standing from a moral point of view. Consider a consequentialist moral principle according to which each individual counts for one in virtue of having a capacity for a meaningful life, or a Kantian approach according to which all people have a dignity in virtue of their capacity for autonomous decision-making, where meaning is a function of the exercise of this capacity. For both moral outlooks, we could be required to help people with relatively meaningless lives.

Yet another relatively uncontroversial element of the concept of meaningfulness in respect of individual persons is that it is conceptually distinct from happiness or rightness (emphasized in Wolf 2010, 2016). First, to ask whether someone’s life is meaningful is not one and the same as asking whether her life is pleasant or she is subjectively well off. A life in an experience machine or virtual reality device would surely be a happy one, but very few take it to be a prima facie candidate for meaningfulness (Nozick 1974: 42–45). Indeed, a number would say that one’s life logically could become meaningful precisely by sacrificing one’s well-being, e.g., by helping others at the expense of one’s self-interest. Second, asking whether a person’s existence over time is meaningful is not identical to considering whether she has been morally upright; there are intuitively ways to enhance meaning that have nothing to do with right action or moral virtue, such as making a scientific discovery or becoming an excellent dancer. Now, one might argue that a life would be meaningless if, or even because, it were unhappy or immoral, but that would be to posit a synthetic, substantive relationship between the concepts, far from indicating that speaking of “meaningfulness” is analytically a matter of connoting ideas regarding happiness or rightness. The question of what (if anything) makes a person’s life meaningful is conceptually distinct from the questions of what makes a life happy or moral, although it could turn out that the best answer to the former question appeals to an answer to one of the latter questions.

Supposing, then, that talk of “meaning in life” connotes something good for its own sake that can come in degrees and that is not analytically equivalent to happiness or rightness, what else does it involve? What more can we say about this final value, by definition? Most contemporary analytic philosophers would say that the relevant value is absent from spending time in an experience machine (but see Goetz 2012 for a different view) or living akin to Sisyphus, the mythic figure doomed by the Greek gods to roll a stone up a hill for eternity (famously discussed by Albert Camus and Taylor 1970). In addition, many would say that the relevant value is typified by the classic triad of “the good, the true, and the beautiful” (or would be under certain conditions). These terms are not to be taken literally, but instead are rough catchwords for beneficent relationships (love, collegiality, morality), intellectual reflection (wisdom, education, discoveries), and creativity (particularly the arts, but also potentially things like humor or gardening).

Pressing further, is there something that the values of the good, the true, the beautiful, and any other logically possible sources of meaning involve? There is as yet no consensus in the field. One salient view is that the concept of meaning in life is a cluster or amalgam of overlapping ideas, such as fulfilling higher-order purposes, meriting substantial esteem or admiration, having a noteworthy impact, transcending one’s animal nature, making sense, or exhibiting a compelling life-story (Markus 2003; Thomson 2003; Metz 2013, 24–35; Seachris 2013, 3–4; Mawson 2016). However, there are philosophers who maintain that something much more monistic is true of the concept, so that (nearly) all thought about meaningfulness in a person’s life is essentially about a single property. Suggestions include being devoted to or in awe of qualitatively superior goods (Taylor 1989, 3–24), transcending one’s limits (Levy 2005), or making a contribution (Martela 2016).

Recently there has been something of an “interpretive turn” in the field, one instance of which is the strong view that meaning-talk is logically about whether and how a life is intelligible within a wider frame of reference (Goldman 2018, 116–29; Seachris 2019; Thomas 2019; cf. Repp 2018). According to this approach, inquiring into life’s meaning is nothing other than seeking out sense-making information, perhaps a narrative about life or an explanation of its source and destiny. This analysis has the advantage of promising to unify a wide array of uses of the term “meaning.” However, it has the disadvantages of being unable to capture the intuitions that meaning in life is essentially good for its own sake (Landau 2017, 12–15), that it is not logically contradictory to maintain that an ineffable condition is what confers meaning on life (as per Cooper 2003, 126–42; Bennett-Hunter 2014; Waghorn 2014), and that often human actions themselves (as distinct from an interpretation of them), such as rescuing a child from a burning building, are what bear meaning.

Some thinkers have suggested that a complete analysis of the concept of life’s meaning should include what has been called “anti-matter” (Metz 2002, 805–07, 2013, 63–65, 71–73) or “anti-meaning” (Campbell and Nyholm 2015; Egerstrom 2015), conditions that reduce the meaningfulness of a life. The thought is that meaning is well represented by a bipolar scale, where there is a dimension of not merely positive conditions, but also negative ones. Gratuitous cruelty or destructiveness are prima facie candidates for actions that not merely fail to add meaning, but also subtract from any meaning one’s life might have had.

Despite the ongoing debates about how to analyze the concept of life’s meaning (or articulate the definition of the phrase “meaning in life”), the field remains in a good position to make progress on the other key questions posed above, viz., of what would make a life meaningful and whether any lives are in fact meaningful. A certain amount of common ground is provided by the point that meaningfulness at least involves a gradient final value in a person’s life that is conceptually distinct from happiness and rightness, with exemplars of it potentially being the good, the true, and the beautiful. The rest of this discussion addresses philosophical attempts to capture the nature of this value theoretically and to ascertain whether it exists in at least some of our lives.

2. Supernaturalism

Most analytic philosophers writing on meaning in life have been trying to develop and evaluate theories, i.e., fundamental and general principles, that are meant to capture all the particular ways that a life could obtain meaning. As in moral philosophy, there are recognizable “anti-theorists,” i.e., those who maintain that there is too much pluralism among meaning conditions to be able to unify them in the form of a principle (e.g., Kekes 2000; Hosseini 2015). Arguably, though, the systematic search for unity is too nascent to be able to draw a firm conclusion about whether it is available.

The theories are standardly divided on a metaphysical basis, that is, in terms of which kinds of properties are held to constitute the meaning. Supernaturalist theories are views according to which a spiritual realm is central to meaning in life. Most Western philosophers have conceived of the spiritual in terms of God or a soul as commonly understood in the Abrahamic faiths (but see Mulgan 2015 for discussion of meaning in the context of a God uninterested in us). In contrast, naturalist theories are views that the physical world as known particularly well by the scientific method is central to life’s meaning.

There is logical space for a non-naturalist theory, according to which central to meaning is an abstract property that is neither spiritual nor physical. However, only scant attention has been paid to this possibility in the recent Anglo-American-Australasian literature (Audi 2005).

It is important to note that supernaturalism, a claim that God (or a soul) would confer meaning on a life, is logically distinct from theism, the claim that God (or a soul) exists. Although most who hold supernaturalism also hold theism, one could accept the former without the latter (as Camus more or less did), committing one to the view that life is meaningless or at least lacks substantial meaning. Similarly, while most naturalists are atheists, it is not contradictory to maintain that God exists but has nothing to do with meaning in life or perhaps even detracts from it. Although these combinations of positions are logically possible, some of them might be substantively implausible. The field could benefit from discussion of the comparative attractiveness of various combinations of evaluative claims about what would make life meaningful and metaphysical claims about whether spiritual conditions exist.

Over the past 15 years or so, two different types of supernaturalism have become distinguished on a regular basis (Metz 2019). That is true not only in the literature on life’s meaning, but also in that on the related pro-theism/anti-theism debate, about whether it would be desirable for God or a soul to exist (e.g., Kahane 2011; Kraay 2018; Lougheed 2020). On the one hand, there is extreme supernaturalism, according to which spiritual conditions are necessary for any meaning in life. If neither God nor a soul exists, then, by this view, everyone’s life is meaningless. On the other hand, there is moderate supernaturalism, according to which spiritual conditions are necessary for a great or ultimate meaning in life, although not meaning in life as such. If neither God nor a soul exists, then, by this view, everyone’s life could have some meaning, or even be meaningful, but no one’s life could exhibit the most desirable meaning. For a moderate supernaturalist, God or a soul would substantially enhance meaningfulness or be a major contributory condition for it.

There are a variety of ways that great or ultimate meaning has been described, sometimes quantitatively as “infinite” (Mawson 2016), qualitatively as “deeper” (Swinburne 2016), relationally as “unlimited” (Nozick 1981, 618–19; cf. Waghorn 2014), temporally as “eternal” (Cottingham 2016), and perspectivally as “from the point of view of the universe” (Benatar 2017). There has been no reflection as yet on the crucial question of how these distinctions might bear on each another, for instance, on whether some are more basic than others or some are more valuable than others.

Cross-cutting the extreme/moderate distinction is one between God-centered theories and soul-centered ones. According to the former, some kind of connection with God (understood to be a spiritual person who is all-knowing, all-good, and all-powerful and who is the ground of the physical universe) constitutes meaning in life, even if one lacks a soul (construed as an immortal, spiritual substance that contains one’s identity). In contrast, by the latter, having a soul and putting it into a certain state is what makes life meaningful, even if God does not exist. Many supernaturalists of course believe that God and a soul are jointly necessary for a (greatly) meaningful existence. However, the simpler view, that only one of them is necessary, is common, and sometimes arguments proffered for the complex view fail to support it any more than the simpler one.

2.1. God-centered Views

The most influential God-based account of meaning in life has been the extreme view that one’s existence is significant if and only if one fulfills a purpose God has assigned. The familiar idea is that God has a plan for the universe and that one’s life is meaningful just to the degree that one helps God realize this plan, perhaps in a particular way that God wants one to do so. If a person failed to do what God intends her to do with her life (or if God does not even exist), then, on the current view, her life would be meaningless.

Thinkers differ over what it is about God’s purpose that might make it uniquely able to confer meaning on human lives, but the most influential argument has been that only God’s purpose could be the source of invariant moral rules (Davis 1987, 296, 304–05; Moreland 1987, 124–29; Craig 1994/2013, 161–67) or of objective values more generally (Cottingham 2005, 37–57), where a lack of such would render our lives nonsensical. According to this argument, lower goods such as animal pleasure or desire satisfaction could exist without God, but higher ones pertaining to meaning in life, particularly moral virtue, could not. However, critics point to many non-moral sources of meaning in life (e.g., Kekes 2000; Wolf 2010), with one arguing that a universal moral code is not necessary for meaning in life, even if, say, beneficent actions are (Ellin 1995, 327). In addition, there are a variety of naturalist and non-naturalist accounts of objective morality––and of value more generally––on offer these days, so that it is not clear that it must have a supernatural source in God’s will.

One recurrent objection to the idea that God’s purpose could make life meaningful is that if God had created us with a purpose in mind, then God would have degraded us and thereby undercut the possibility of us obtaining meaning from fulfilling the purpose. The objection harks back to Jean-Paul Sartre, but in the analytic literature it appears that Kurt Baier was the first to articulate it (1957/2000, 118–20; see also Murphy 1982, 14–15; Singer 1996, 29; Kahane 2011; Lougheed 2020, 121–41). Sometimes the concern is the threat of punishment God would make so that we do God’s bidding, while other times it is that the source of meaning would be constrictive and not up to us, and still other times it is that our dignity would be maligned simply by having been created with a certain end in mind (for some replies to such concerns, see Hanfling 1987, 45–46; Cottingham 2005, 37–57; Lougheed 2020, 111–21).

There is a different argument for an extreme God-based view that focuses less on God as purposive and more on God as infinite, unlimited, or ineffable, which Robert Nozick first articulated with care (Nozick 1981, 594–618; see also Bennett-Hunter 2014; Waghorn 2014). The core idea is that for a finite condition to be meaningful, it must obtain its meaning from another condition that has meaning. So, if one’s life is meaningful, it might be so in virtue of being married to a person, who is important. Being finite, the spouse must obtain his or her importance from elsewhere, perhaps from the sort of work he or she does. This work also must obtain its meaning by being related to something else that is meaningful, and so on. A regress on meaningful conditions is present, and the suggestion is that the regress can terminate only in something so all-encompassing that it need not (indeed, cannot) go beyond itself to obtain meaning from anything else. And that is God. The standard objection to this relational rationale is that a finite condition could be meaningful without obtaining its meaning from another meaningful condition. Perhaps it could be meaningful in itself, without being connected to something beyond it, or maybe it could obtain its meaning by being related to something else that is beautiful or otherwise valuable for its own sake but not meaningful (Nozick 1989, 167–68; Thomson 2003, 25–26, 48).

A serious concern for any extreme God-based view is the existence of apparent counterexamples. If we think of the stereotypical lives of Albert Einstein, Mother Teresa, and Pablo Picasso, they seem meaningful even if we suppose there is no all-knowing, all-powerful, and all-good spiritual person who is the ground of the physical world (e.g., Wielenberg 2005, 31–37, 49–50; Landau 2017). Even religiously inclined philosophers have found this hard to deny these days (Quinn 2000, 58; Audi 2005; Mawson 2016, 5; Williams 2020, 132–34).

Largely for that reason, contemporary supernaturalists have tended to opt for moderation, that is, to maintain that God would greatly enhance the meaning in our lives, even if some meaning would be possible in a world without God. One approach is to invoke the relational argument to show that God is necessary, not for any meaning whatsoever, but rather for an ultimate meaning. “Limited transcendence, the transcending of our limits so as to connect with a wider context of value which itself is limited, does give our lives meaning––but a limited one. We may thirst for more” (Nozick 1981, 618). Another angle is to appeal to playing a role in God’s plan, again to claim, not that it is essential for meaning as such, but rather for “a cosmic significance. intead of a significance very limited in time and space” (Swinburne 2016, 154; see also Quinn 2000; Cottingham 2016, 131). Another rationale is that by fulfilling God’s purpose, we would meaningfully please God, a perfect person, as well as be remembered favorably by God forever (Cottingham 2016, 135; Williams 2020, 21–22, 29, 101, 108). Still another argument is that only with God could the deepest desires of human nature be satisfied (e.g., Goetz 2012; Seachris 2013, 20; Cottingham 2016, 127, 136), even if more surface desires could be satisifed without God.

In reply to such rationales for a moderate supernaturalism, there has been the suggestion that it is precisely by virtue of being alone in the universe that our lives would be particularly significant; otherwise, God’s greatness would overshadow us (Kahane 2014). There has also been the response that, with the opportunity for greater meaning from God would also come that for greater anti-meaning, so that it is not clear that a world with God would offer a net gain in respect of meaning (Metz 2019, 34–35). For example, if pleasing God would greatly enhance meaning in our lives, then presumably displeasing God would greatly reduce it and to a comparable degree. In addition, there are arguments for extreme naturalism (or its “anti-theist” cousin) mentioned below (sub-section 3.3).

2.2. Soul-centered Views

Notice that none of the above arguments for supernaturalism appeals to the prospect of eternal life (at least not explicitly). Arguments that do make such an appeal are soul-centered, holding that meaning in life mainly comes from having an immortal, spiritual substance that is contiguous with one’s body when it is alive and that will forever outlive its death. Some think of the afterlife in terms of one’s soul entering a transcendent, spiritual realm (Heaven), while others conceive of one’s soul getting reincarnated into another body on Earth. According to the extreme version, if one has a soul but fails to put it in the right state (or if one lacks a soul altogether), then one’s life is meaningless.

There are three prominent arguments for an extreme soul-based perspective. One argument, made famous by Leo Tolstoy, is the suggestion that for life to be meaningful something must be worth doing, that something is worth doing only if it will make a permanent difference to the world, and that doing so requires being immortal (see also Hanfling 1987, 22–24; Morris 1992, 26; Craig 1994). Critics most often appeal to counterexamples, suggesting for instance that it is surely worth your time and effort to help prevent people from suffering, even if you and they are mortal. Indeed, some have gone on the offensive and argued that helping people is worth the sacrifice only if and because they are mortal, for otherwise they could invariably be compensated in an afterlife (e.g., Wielenberg 2005, 91–94). Another recent and interesting criticism is that the major motivations for the claim that nothing matters now if one day it will end are incoherent (Greene 2021).

A second argument for the view that life would be meaningless without a soul is that it is necessary for justice to be done, which, in turn, is necessary for a meaningful life. Life seems nonsensical when the wicked flourish and the righteous suffer, at least supposing there is no other world in which these injustices will be rectified, whether by God or a Karmic force. Something like this argument can be found in Ecclesiastes, and it continues to be defended (e.g., Davis 1987; Craig 1994). However, even granting that an afterlife is required for perfectly just outcomes, it is far from obvious that an eternal afterlife is necessary for them, and, then, there is the suggestion that some lives, such as Mandela’s, have been meaningful precisely in virtue of encountering injustice and fighting it.

A third argument for thinking that having a soul is essential for any meaning is that it is required to have the sort of free will without which our lives would be meaningless. Immanuel Kant is known for having maintained that if we were merely physical beings, subjected to the laws of nature like everything else in the material world, then we could not act for moral reasons and hence would be unimportant. More recently, one theologian has eloquently put the point in religious terms: “The moral spirit finds the meaning of life in choice. It finds it in that which proceeds from man and remains with him as his inner essence rather than in the accidents of circumstances turns of external fortune. (W)henever a human being rubs the lamp of his moral conscience, a Spirit does appear. This Spirit is God. It is in the ‘Thou must’ of God and man’s ‘I can’ that the divine image of God in human life is contained” (Swenson 1949/2000, 27–28). Notice that, even if moral norms did not spring from God’s commands, the logic of the argument entails that one’s life could be meaningful, so long as one had the inherent ability to make the morally correct choice in any situation. That, in turn, arguably requires something non-physical about one’s self, so as to be able to overcome whichever physical laws and forces one might confront. The standard objection to this reasoning is to advance a compatibilism about having a determined physical nature and being able to act for moral reasons (e.g., Arpaly 2006; Fischer 2009, 145–77). It is also worth wondering whether, if one had to have a spiritual essence in order to make free choices, it would have to be one that never perished.

Like God-centered theorists, many soul-centered theorists these days advance a moderate view, accepting that some meaning in life would be possible without immortality, but arguing that a much greater meaning would be possible with it. Granting that Einstein, Mandela, and Picasso had somewhat meaningful lives despite not having survived the deaths of their bodies (as per, e.g., Trisel 2004; Wolf 2015, 89–140; Landau 2017), there remains a powerful thought: more is better. If a finite life with the good, the true, and the beautiful has meaning in it to some degree, then surely it would have all the more meaning if it exhibited such higher values––including a relationship with God––for an eternity (Cottingham 2016, 132–35; Mawson 2016, 2019, 52–53; Williams 2020, 112–34; cf. Benatar 2017, 35–63). One objection to this reasoning is that the infinity of meaning that would be possible with a soul would be “too big,” rendering it difficult for the moderate supernaturalist to make sense of the intution that a finite life such as Einstein’s can indeed count as meaningful by comparison (Metz 2019, 30–31; cf. Mawson 2019, 53–54). More common, though, is the objection that an eternal life would include anti-meaning of various kinds, such as boredom and repetition, discussed below in the context of extreme naturalism (sub-section 3.3).

3. Naturalism

Recall that naturalism is the view that a physical life is central to life’s meaning, that even if there is no spiritual realm, a substantially meaningful life is possible. Like supernaturalism, contemporary naturalism admits of two distinguishable variants, moderate and extreme (Metz 2019). The moderate version is that, while a genuinely meaningful life could be had in a purely physical universe as known well by science, a somewhat more meaningful life would be possible if a spiritual realm also existed. God or a soul could enhance meaning in life, although they would not be major contributors. The extreme version of naturalism is the view that it would be better in respect of life’s meaning if there were no spiritual realm. From this perspective, God or a soul would be anti-matter, i.e., would detract from the meaning available to us, making a purely physical world (even if not this particular one) preferable.

Cross-cutting the moderate/extreme distinction is that between subjectivism and objectivism, which are theoretical accounts of the nature of meaningfulness insofar as it is physical. They differ in terms of the extent to which the human mind constitutes meaning and whether there are conditions of meaning that are invariant among human beings. Subjectivists believe that there are no invariant standards of meaning because meaning is relative to the subject, i.e., depends on an individual’s pro-attitudes such as her particular desires or ends, which are not shared by everyone. Roughly, something is meaningful for a person if she strongly wants it or intends to seek it out and she gets it. Objectivists maintain, in contrast, that there are some invariant standards for meaning because meaning is at least partly mind-independent, i.e., obtains not merely in virtue of being the object of anyone’s mental states. Here, something is meaningful (partially) because of its intrinsic nature, in the sense of being independent of whether it is wanted or intended; meaning is instead (to some extent) the sort of thing that merits these reactions.

There is logical space for an orthogonal view, according to which there are invariant standards of meaningfulness constituted by what all human beings would converge on from a certain standpoint. However, it has not been much of a player in the field (Darwall 1983, 164–66).

3.1. Subjectivism

According to this version of naturalism, meaning in life varies from person to person, depending on each one’s variable pro-attitudes. Common instances are views that one’s life is more meaningful, the more one gets what one happens to want strongly, achieves one’s highly ranked goals, or does what one believes to be really important (Trisel 2002; Hooker 2008). One influential subjectivist has recently maintained that the relevant mental state is caring or loving, so that life is meaningful just to the extent that one cares about or loves something (Frankfurt 1988, 80–94, 2004). Another recent proposal is that meaningfulness consists of “an active engagement and affirmation that vivifies the person who has freely created or accepted and now promotes and nurtures the projects of her highest concern” (Belliotti 2019, 183).

Subjectivism was dominant in the middle of the twentieth century, when positivism, noncognitivism, existentialism, and Humeanism were influential (Ayer 1947; Hare 1957; Barnes 1967; Taylor 1970; Williams 1976). However, in the last quarter of the twentieth century, inference to the best explanation and reflective equilibrium became accepted forms of normative argumentation and were frequently used to defend claims about the existence and nature of objective value (or of “external reasons,” ones obtaining independently of one’s extant attitudes). As a result, subjectivism about meaning lost its dominance. Those who continue to hold subjectivism often remain suspicious of attempts to justify beliefs about objective value (e.g., Trisel 2002, 73, 79, 2004, 378–79; Frankfurt 2004, 47–48, 55–57; Wong 2008, 138–39; Evers 2017, 32, 36; Svensson 2017, 54). Theorists are moved to accept subjectivism typically because the alternatives are unpalatable; they are reasonably sure that meaning in life obtains for some people, but do not see how it could be grounded on something independent of the mind, whether it be the natural or the supernatural (or the non-natural). In contrast to these possibilities, it appears straightforward to account for what is meaningful in terms of what people find meaningful or what people want out of their lives. Wide-ranging meta-ethical debates in epistemology, metaphysics, and the philosophy of language are necessary to address this rationale for subjectivism.

There is a cluster of other, more circumscribed arguments for subjectivism, according to which this theory best explains certain intuitive features of meaning in life. For one, subjectivism seems plausible since it is reasonable to think that a meaningful life is an authentic one (Frankfurt 1988, 80–94). If a person’s life is significant insofar as she is true to herself or her deepest nature, then we have some reason to believe that meaning simply is a function of those matters for which the person cares. For another, it is uncontroversial that often meaning comes from losing oneself, i.e., in becoming absorbed in an activity or experience, as opposed to being bored by it or finding it frustrating (Frankfurt 1988, 80–94; Belliotti 2019, 162–70). Work that concentrates the mind and relationships that are engrossing seem central to meaning and to be so because of the subjective elements involved. For a third, meaning is often taken to be something that makes life worth continuing for a specific person, i.e., that gives her a reason to get out of bed in the morning, which subjectivism is thought to account for best (Williams 1976; Svensson 2017; Calhoun 2018).

Critics maintain that these arguments are vulnerable to a common objection: they neglect the role of objective value (or an external reason) in realizing oneself, losing oneself, and having a reason to live (Taylor 1989, 1992; Wolf 2010, 2015, 89–140). One is not really being true to oneself, losing oneself in a meaningful way, or having a genuine reason to live insofar as one, say, successfully maintains 3,732 hairs on one’s head (Taylor 1992, 36), cultivates one’s prowess at long-distance spitting (Wolf 2010, 104), collects a big ball of string (Wolf 2010, 104), or, well, eats one’s own excrement (Wielenberg 2005, 22). The counterexamples suggest that subjective conditions are insufficient to ground meaning in life; there seem to be certain actions, relationships, and states that are objectively valuable (but see Evers 2017, 30–32) and toward which one’s pro-attitudes ought to be oriented, if meaning is to accrue.

So say objectivists, but subjectivists feel the pull of the point and usually seek to avoid the counterexamples, lest they have to bite the bullet by accepting the meaningfulness of maintaining 3,732 hairs on one’s head and all the rest (for some who do, see Svensson 2017, 54–55; Belliotti 2019, 181–83). One important strategy is to suggest that subjectivists can avoid the counterexamples by appealing to the right sort of pro-attitude. Instead of whatever an individual happens to want, perhaps the relevant mental state is an emotional-perceptual one of seeing-as (Alexis 2011; cf. Hosseini 2015, 47–66), a “categorical” desire, that is, an intrinsic desire constitutive of one’s identity that one takes to make life worth continuing (Svensson 2017), or a judgment that one has a good reason to value something highly for its own sake (Calhoun 2018). Even here, though, objectivists will argue that it might “appear that whatever the will chooses to treat as a good reason to engage itself is, for the will, a good reason. But the will itself. craves objective reasons; and often it could not go forward unless it thought it had them” (Wiggins 1988, 136). And without any appeal to objectivity, it is perhaps likely that counterexamples would resurface.

Another subjectivist strategy by which to deal with the counterexamples is the attempt to ground meaningfulness, not on the pro-attitudes of an individual valuer, but on those of a group (Darwall 1983, 164–66; Brogaard and Smith 2005; Wong 2008). Does such an intersubjective move avoid (more of) the counterexamples? If so, does it do so more plausibly than an objective theory?

3.2. Objectivism

Objective naturalists believe that meaning in life is constituted at least in part by something physical beyond merely the fact that it is the object of a pro-attitude. Obtaining the object of some emotion, desire, or judgment is not sufficient for meaningfulness, on this view. Instead, there are certain conditions of the material world that could confer meaning on anyone’s life, not merely because they are viewed as meaningful, wanted for their own sake, or believed to be choiceworthy, but instead (at least partially) because they are inherently worthwhile or valuable in themselves.

Morality (the good), enquiry (the true), and creativity (the beautiful) are widely held instances of activities that confer meaning on life, while trimming toenails and eating snow––along with the counterexamples to subjectivism above––are not. Objectivism is widely thought to be a powerful general explanation of these particular judgments: the former are meaningful not merely because some agent (whether it is an individual, her society, or even God) cares about them or judges them to be worth doing, while the latter simply lack significance and cannot obtain it even if some agent does care about them or judge them to be worth doing. From an objective perspective, it is possible for an individual to care about the wrong thing or to be mistaken that something is worthwhile, and not merely because of something she cares about all the more or judges to be still more choiceworthy. Of course, meta-ethical debates about the existence and nature of value are again relevant to appraising this rationale.

Some objectivists think that being the object of a person’s mental states plays no constitutive role in making that person’s life meaningful, although they of course contend that it often plays an instrumental role––liking a certain activity, after all, is likely to motivate one to do it. Relatively few objectivists are “pure” in that way, although consequentialists do stand out as clear instances (e.g., Singer 1995; Smuts 2018, 75–99). Most objectivists instead try to account for the above intuitions driving subjectivism by holding that a life is more meaningful, not merely because of objective factors, but also in part because of propositional attitudes such as cognition, conation, and emotion. Particularly influential has been Susan Wolf’s hybrid view, captured by this pithy slogan: “Meaning arises when subjective attraction meets objective attractiveness” (Wolf 2015, 112; see also Kekes 1986, 2000; Wiggins 1988; Raz 2001, 10–40; Mintoff 2008; Wolf 2010, 2016; Fischer 2019, 9–23; Belshaw 2021, 160–81). This theory implies that no meaning accrues to one’s life if one believes in, is satisfied by, or cares about a project that is not truly worthwhile, or if one takes up a truly worthwhile project but fails to judge it important, be satisfied by it, or care about it. A related approach is that, while subjective attraction is not necessary for meaning, it could enhance it (e.g., Audi 2005, 344; Metz 2013, 183–84, 196–98, 220–25). For instance, a stereotypical Mother Teresa who is bored by and alienated from her substantial charity work might have a somewhat significant existence because of it, even if she would have an even more significant existence if she felt pride in it or identified with it.

There have been several attempts to capture theoretically what all objectively attractive, inherently worthwhile, or finally valuable conditions have in common insofar as they bear on meaning in a person’s life. Over the past few decades, one encounters the proposals that objectively meaningful conditions are just those that involve: positively connecting with organic unity beyond oneself (Nozick 1981, 594–619); being creative (Taylor 1987; Matheson 2018); living an emotional life (Solomon 1993; cf. Williams 2020, 56–78); promoting good consequences, such as improving the quality of life of oneself and others (Singer 1995; Audi 2005; Smuts 2018, 75–99); exercising or fostering rational nature in exceptional ways (Smith 1997, 179–221; Gewirth 1998, 177–82; Metz 2013, 222–36); progressing toward ends that can never be fully realized because one’s knowledge of them changes as one approaches them (Levy 2005); realizing goals that are transcendent for being long-lasting in duration and broad in scope (Mintoff 2008); living virtuously (May 2015, 61–138; McPherson 2020); and loving what is worth loving (Wolf 2016). There is as yet no convergence in the field on one, or even a small cluster, of these accounts.

One feature of a large majority of the above naturalist theories is that they are aggregative or additive, objectionably treating a life as a mere “container” of bits of life that are meaningful considered in isolation from other bits (Brännmark 2003, 330). It has become increasingly common for philosophers of life’s meaning, especially objectivists, to hold that life as a whole, or at least long stretches of it, can substantially affect its meaningfulness beyond the amount of meaning (if any) in its parts.

For instance, a life that has lots of beneficence and otherwise intuitively meaning-conferring conditions but that is also extremely repetitive (à la the movie Groundhog Day) is less than maximally meaningful (Taylor 1987; Blumenfeld 2009). Furthermore, a life that not only avoids repetition but also ends with a substantial amount of meaningful (or otherwise desirable) parts seems to have more meaning overall than one that has the same amount of meaningful (desirable) parts but ends with few or none of them (Kamm 2013, 18–22; Dorsey 2015). Still more, a life in which its meaningless (or otherwise undesirable parts) cause its meaningful (desirable) parts to come about through a process of personal growth seems meaningful in virtue of this redemptive pattern, “good life-story,” or narrative self-expression (Taylor 1989, 48–51; Wong 2008; Fischer 2009, 145–77; Kauppinen 2012; May 2015, 61–138; Velleman 2015, 141–73). These three cases suggest that meaning can inhere in life as a whole, that is, in the relationships between its parts, and not merely in the parts considered in isolation. However, some would maintain that it is, strictly speaking, the story that is or could be told of a life that matters, not so much the life-story qua relations between events themselves (de Bres 2018).

There are pure or extreme versions of holism present in the literature, according to which the only possible bearer of meaning in life is a person’s life as a whole, and not any isolated activities, relationships, or states (Taylor 1989, 48–51; Tabensky 2003; Levinson 2004). A salient argument for this position is that judgments of the meaningfulness of a part of someone’s life are merely provisional, open to revision upon considering how they fit into a wider perspective. So, for example, it would initially appear that taking an ax away from a madman and thereby protecting innocent parties confers some meaning on one’s life, but one might well revise that judgment upon learning that the intention behind it was merely to steal an ax, not to save lives, or that the madman then took out a machine gun, causing much more harm than his ax would have. It is worth considering how far this sort of case is generalizable, and, if it can be to a substantial extent, whether that provides strong evidence that only life as a whole can exhibit meaningfulness.

Perhaps most objectivists would, at least upon reflection, accept that both the parts of a life and the whole-life relationships among the parts can exhibit meaning. Supposing there are two bearers of meaning in a life, important questions arise. One is whether a certain narrative can be meaningful even if its parts are not, while a second is whether the meaningfulness of a part increases if it is an aspect of a meaningful whole (on which see Brännmark 2003), and a third is whether there is anything revealing to say about how to make tradeoffs between the parts and whole in cases where one must choose between them (Blumenfeld 2009 appears to assign lexical priority to the whole).

3.3. Rejecting God and a Soul

Naturalists until recently had been largely concerned to show that meaning in life is possible without God or a soul; they have not spent much time considering how such spiritual conditions might enhance meaning, but have, in moderate fashion, tended to leave that possibility open (an exception is Hooker 2008). Lately, however, an extreme form of naturalism has arisen, according to which our lives would probably, if not unavoidably, have less meaning in a world with God or a soul than in one without. Although such an approach was voiced early on by Baier (1957), it is really in the past decade or so that this “anti-theist” position has become widely and intricately discussed.

One rationale, mentioned above as an objection to the view that God’s purpose constitutes meaning in life, has also been deployed to argue that the existence of God as such would necessarily reduce meaning, that is, would consist of anti-matter. It is the idea that master/servant and parent/child analogies so prominent in the monotheist religious traditions reveal something about our status in a world where there is a qualitatively higher being who has created us with certain ends in mind: our independence or dignity as adult persons would be violated (e.g., Baier 1957/2000, 118–20; Kahane 2011, 681–85; Lougheed 2020, 121–41). One interesting objection to this reasoning has been to accept that God’s existence is necessarily incompatible with the sort of meaning that would come (roughly stated) from being one’s own boss, but to argue that God would also make greater sorts of meaning available, offering a net gain to us (Mawson 2016, 110–58).

Another salient argument for thinking that God would detract from meaning in life appeals to the value of privacy (Kahane 2011, 681–85; Lougheed 2020, 55–110). God’s omniscience would unavoidably make it impossible for us to control another person’s access to the most intimate details about ourselves, which, for some, amounts to a less meaningful life than one with such control. Beyond questioning the value of our privacy in relation to God, one thought-provoking criticism has been to suggest that, if a lack of privacy really would substantially reduce meaning in our lives, then God, qua morally perfect person, would simply avoid knowing everything about us (Tooley 2018). Lacking complete knowledge of our mental states would be compatible with describing God as “omniscient,” so the criticism goes, insofar as that is plausibly understood as having as much knowledge as is morally permissible.

Turn, now, to major arguments for thinking that having a soul would reduce life’s meaning, so that if one wants a maximally meaningful life, one should prefer a purely physical world, or at least one in which people are mortal. First and foremost, there has been the argument that an immortal life could not avoid becoming boring (Williams 1973), rendering life pointless according to many subjective and objective theories. The literature on this topic has become enormous, with the central reply being that immortality need not get boring (for more recent discussions, see Fischer 2009, 79–101, 2019, 117–42; Mawson 2019, 51–52; Williams 2020, 30–41, 123–29; Belshaw 2021, 182–97). However, it might also be worth questioning whether boredom is sufficient for meaninglessness. Suppose, for instance, that one volunteers to be bored so that many others will not be bored; perhaps this would be a meaningful sacrifice to make. Being bored for an eternity would not be blissful or even satisfying, to be sure, but if it served the function of preventing others from being bored for an eternity, would it be meaningful (at least to some degree)? If, as is commonly held, sacrificing one’s life could be meaningful, why not also sacrificing one’s liveliness?

Another reason given to reject eternal life is that it would become repetitive, which would substantially drain it of meaning (Scarre 2007, 54–55; May 2009, 46–47, 64–65, 71; Smuts 2011, 142–44; cf. Blumenfeld 2009). If, as it appears, there are only a finite number of actions one could perform, relationships one could have, and states one could be in during an eternity, one would have to end up doing the same things again. Even though one’s activities might be more valuable than rolling a stone up a hill forever à la Sisyphus, the prospect of doing them over and over again forever is disheartening for many. To be sure, one might not remember having done them before and hence could avoid boredom, but for some philosophers that would make it all the worse, akin to having dementia and forgetting that one has told the same stories. Others, however, still find meaning in such a life (e.g., Belshaw 2021, 197, 205n41).

A third meaning-based argument against immortality invokes considerations of narrative. If the pattern of one’s life as a whole substantially matters, and if a proper pattern would include a beginning, a middle, and an end, it appears that a life that never ends would lack the relevant narrative structure. “Because it would drag on endlessly, it would, sooner or later, just be a string of events lacking all form. With immortality, the novel never ends. How meaningful can such a novel be?” (May 2009, 68, 72; see also Scarre 2007, 58–60). Notice that this objection is distinct from considerations of boredom and repetition (which concern novelty); even if one were stimulated and active, and even if one found a way not to repeat one’s life in the course of eternity, an immortal life would appear to lack shape. In reply, some reject the idea that a meaningful life must be akin to a novel, and intead opt for narrativity in the form of something like a string of short stories that build on each other (Fischer 2009, 145–77, 2019, 101–16). Others, though, have sought to show that eternity could still be novel-like, deeming the sort of ending that matters to be a function of what the content is and how it relates to the content that came before (e.g., Seachris 2011; Williams 2020, 112–19).

There have been additional objections to immortality as undercutting meaningfulness, but they are prima facie less powerful than the previous three in that, if sound, they arguably show that an eternal life would have a cost, but probably not one that would utterly occlude the prospect of meaning in it. For example, there have been the suggestions that eternal lives would lack a sense of preciousness and urgency (Nussbaum 1989, 339; Kass 2002, 266–67), could not exemplify virtues such as courageously risking one’s life for others (Kass 2002, 267–68; Wielenberg 2005, 91–94), and could not obtain meaning from sustaining or saving others’ lives (Nussbaum 1989, 338; Wielenberg 2005, 91–94). Note that at least the first two rationales turn substantially on the belief in immortality, not quite immortality itself: if one were immortal but forgot that one is or did not know that at all, then one could appreciate life and obtain much of the virtue of courage (and, conversely, if one were not immortal, but thought that one is, then, by the logic of these arguments, one would fail to appreciate limits and be unable to exemplify courage).

4. Nihilism

The previous two sections addressed theoretical accounts of what would confer meaning on a human person’s life. Although these theories do not imply that some people’s lives are in fact meaningful, that has been the presumption of a very large majority of those who have advanced them. Much of the procedure has been to suppose that many lives have had meaning in them and then to consider in virtue of what they have or otherwise could. However, there are nihilist (or pessimist) perspectives that question this supposition. According to nihilism (pessimism), what would make a life meaningful in principle cannot obtain for any of us.

One straightforward rationale for nihilism is the combination of extreme supernaturalism about what makes life meaningful and atheism about whether a spiritual realm exists. If you believe that God or a soul is necessary for meaning in life, and if you believe that neither is real, then you are committed to nihilism, to the denial that life can have any meaning. Athough this rationale for nihilism was prominent in the modern era (and was more or less Camus’ position), it has been on the wane in analytic philosophical circles, as extreme supernaturalism has been eclipsed by the moderate variety.

The most common rationales for nihilism these days do not appeal to supernaturalism, or at least not explicitly. One cluster of ideas appeals to what meta-ethicists call “error theory,” the view that evaluative claims (in this case about meaning in life, or about morality qua necessary for meaning) characteristically posit objectively real or universally justified values, but that such values do not exist. According to one version, value judgments often analytically include a claim to objectivity but there is no reason to think that objective values exist, as they “would be entities or qualities or relations of a very strange sort, utterly different from anything else in the universe” (Mackie 1977/1990, 38). According to a second version, life would be meaningless if there were no set of moral standards that could be fully justified to all rational enquirers, but it so happens that such standards cannot exist for persons who can always reasonably question a given claim (Murphy 1982, 12–17). According to a third, we hold certain beliefs about the objectivity and universality of morality and related values such as meaning because they were evolutionarily advantageous to our ancestors, not because they are true. Humans have been “deceived by their genes into thinking that there is a distinterested, objective morality binding upon them, which all should obey” (Ruse and Wilson 1986, 179; cf. Street 2015). One must draw on the intricate work in meta-ethics that has been underway for the past several decades in order to appraise these arguments.

In contrast to error-theoretic arguments for nihilism, there are rationales for it accepting that objective values exist but denying that our lives can ever exhibit or promote them so as to obtain meaning. One version of this approach maintains that, for our lives to matter, we must be in a position to add objective value to the world, which we are not since the objective value of the world is already infinite (Smith 2003). The key premises for this view are that every bit of space-time (or at least the stars in the physical universe) have some positive value, that these values can be added up, and that space is infinite. If the physical world at present contains an infinite degree of value, nothing we do can make a difference in terms of meaning, for infinity plus any amount of value remains infinity. One way to question this argument, beyond doubting the value of space-time or stars, is to suggest that, even if one cannot add to the value of the universe, meaning plausibly comes from being the source of certain values.

A second rationale for nihilism that accepts the existence of objective value is David Benatar’s (2006, 18–59) intriguing “asymmetry argument” for anti-natalism, the view that it is immoral to bring new people into existence because doing so would always be on balance bad for them. For Benatar, the bads of existing (e.g., pains) are real disadvantages relative to not existing, while the goods of existing (pleasures) are not real advantages relative to not existing, since there is in the latter state no one to be deprived of them. If indeed the state of not existing is no worse than that of experiencing the benefits of existence, then, since existing invariably brings harm in its wake, it follows that existing is always worse compared to not existing. Although this argument is illustrated with experiential goods and bads, it seems generalizable to non-experiential ones, including meaning in life and anti-matter. The literature on this argument has become large (for a recent collection, see Hauskeller and Hallich 2022).

Benatar (2006, 60–92, 2017, 35–63) has advanced an additional argument for nihilism, one that appeals to Thomas Nagel’s (1986, 208–32) widely discussed analysis of the extremely external standpoint that human persons can take on their lives. There exists, to use Henry Sidgwick’s influential phrase, the “point of view of the universe,” that is, the standpoint that considers a human being’s life in relation to all times and all places. When one takes up this most external standpoint and views one’s puny impact on the world, little of one’s life appears to matter. What one does in a certain society on Earth over 75 years or so just does not amount to much, when considering the billions of temporal years and billions of light-years that make up space-time. Although this reasoning grants limited kinds of meaning to human beings, from a personal, social, or human perspective, Benatar both denies that the greatest sort of meaning––a cosmic one––is available to them and contends that this makes their lives bad, hence the “nihilist” tag. Some have objected that our lives could in fact have a cosmic significance, say, if they played a role in God’s plan (Quinn 2000, 65–66; Swinburne 2016, 154), were the sole ones with a dignity in the universe (Kahane 2014), or engaged in valuable activities that could be appreciated by anyone anywhere anytime (Wolf 2016, 261–62). Others naturally maintain that cosmic significance is irrelevant to appraising a human life, with some denying that it would be a genuine source of meaning (Landau 2017, 93–99), and others accepting that it would be but maintaining that the absence of this good would not count as a bad or merit regret (discussed in Benatar 2017, 56–62; Williams 2020, 108–11).