Fitting in with Justice: Examining Albert Camus’ The Stranger as representative of the dangers of rejecting the laws discursive power.
Maman died today. Or maybe yesterday; I can’t be sure
- Meursault, The Stranger
Although Justitia, with her scales and blindfold, has long personified the law and its preoccupation with impartiality and objective truths, literature can often repudiate these claims of universality, and offer critiques and insights into the more perverse functions of law. Albert Camus’ The Stranger, fulfils this evaluative function by portraying the law as a tool of dominant discourse, punishing those who stray outside its normative boundaries in order to perpetuate its own power. It is through this understanding of law that The Stranger will be analysed, focusing particularly on how the law is primarily preoccupied with enforcing and maintaining normative behaviour, despite the triviality of certain transgressions. In doing so, this paper will draw on Foucauldian theories of discourse, the function of remorse, and the remedial role that sympathy may have in combatting the dangers of the law’s affective austerity.
Camus and the law
A staunch moralist, Albert Camus’ body of work is deeply entrenched in humanism and the notions of universal justice.[1] Whilst much famed for his literary enunciation of existentialism, Camus’ work is also inextricably linked with the law and its distribution of justice — one that he subtly critiques. Given his objection to the laws claims of objectivity and universality, Camus’ legacy is inextricably entrenched within the law and literature movement.[2] Whilst the focus of this article is not concerned with exploring the foundations nor authority of the law and literature movement, it is nonetheless useful to acknowledge literatures value in providing a medium for unveiling certain meanings, rhetoric’s and values of the law.[3] It is within this jurisprudential realm then, that The Stranger will be examined.
Together with being the seminal text on his existential beliefs, The Stranger is also useful as a conduit through which Camus’ perspective and understanding of law and its relationship with justice can be understood. A first person narration, The Stranger tracks the events leading up to a murder of an unnamed man on a beach in Algiers, and the subsequent trial of the perpetrator, Meursault. At first glance, The Stranger offers a conventional view on law and justice; Meursault, charged with the murder of an unnamed man, and who, incapable of defending his actions or showing contrition, is sentenced to death. His verdict then, is welcome; by transgressing the ultimate law, his condemnation is inevitable. Such an interpretation corresponds to traditional perceptions of the law as an objective representative of a universal value system. [4] Despite this, such a reading of The Stranger is invariably superficial, for as the trial begins, it is clear that Camus is offering an alternative view on the form and functions of the law and justice. For although Meursault stands before the court charged with murder, it is his lack of emotion over his Mother’s death that quickly becomes the focus of the trial, and his guilt. As will become evident, it is his unwillingness to conform to the universal value system of which the law seeks to perpetuate, which ultimately seals his fate. Such an analysis is seemingly given credence by Camus, who, in the preface to The Stranger, stated that Meursault is condemned to death ‘for not playing the game.’[5] For Camus then, law is neither a source of morality nor a reflection of it; it is but a construct; a tool both created by and for discourse in order to ensure the perpetuation of its power, and the enforcement of the prevailing value system it represents.[6]
The trial
That Meursault is guilty of murder is undeniable. For no matter the strength of the sun that day, no court of law could forgive Meursault’s unprovoked and irrational killing of the unnamed victim. Although the shooting is the reason behind his arrest and subsequent trial, it is precisely its irrelevance during the legal proceedings that creates the space for Camus critique of the law and justice. Rather, Meursault finds himself standing trial for transgressing societal norms, principally, by refusing to cry at his mother’s funeral; ‘The prosecutor asked him if he had at least seen me cry. Perez said no’.[7] It is this transgression — rather than the murder — for which Meursault is examined and consequently condemned. It is this overt link between justice and power that relays Camus post-modern inclinations and warrants a Foucauldian analysis. Doing so leads to the understanding that Meursault’s failure to adhere to the dominant value system — as represented in his trial –[8] is evidence of him expelling discourse’s internalisation of norms, thereby refusing the government of his soul.[9] It is important to note that although The Stranger is a critique of law and justice, Camus does not attempt to offer an alternative; rather, he identifies the forms of power inherent in all systems of legal judgment and by extension, the prescriptive discourses attached to them.[10]
The notion of Meursault being outside normative society is established firmly during the trial. Immediately after Meursault enters the court, he becomes aware of his otherness;
‘I noticed then that everyone was waving and exchanging greetings and talking, as if they were in a club where people are glad to find themselves among others from the same world. That is how I explained to myself the strange impression I had of be being the odd man out, a kind of intruder’[11]
Not only does this highlight Meursault’s exclusion, it explicitly infers a sense of cohesion on the part of the judge and the jurors; of the inherent right of those ‘from the same world’ to judge someone who is not. Although Meursault’s exclusion at this point is believed to be because of the murder, the impending farcicality of the trial makes it clear that he is not actually being judged for that crime. As the trial begins, Meursault is questioned relentlessly about his Mother and witnesses are called to give evidence regarding Meursault’s demeanour immediately after her death. It becomes clear then, that his calmness during the funeral is a point of clear contention for the judge; a fact irreconcilable with normative ideas of grief. Meursault’s indifference to his Mother’s death, is in stark contrast to her friend, Thomas Perez, who is called as a witness by the prosecution. Perez proves to be an unreliable witness in relation to Meursault’s character, because his ‘sadness made it impossible to see anything’.[12] It is precisely because of this that he represents the ideal individual, one that adheres to expected norms. It is his grief therefore, that provides the strongest indictment of Meursault’s character as a hostile threat to normative society. Thus, it is fitting that when the caretaker testifies that Meursault didn’t want to see his Mother after she died, that Meursault notices a ‘stirring in the room’ and realizes for the first time that he is guilty.[13] It is the absurdity of the trial that unveils the perverse functions of the justice system; using its authority to legitimise and perpetuate its power.[14] Camus’ portrayal of justice therefore, is based on illogical criteria which in turn reveals the arbitrary nature of discourse of power within the law.[15]
It is within these inquisitions, that the courtroom needs to be reminded that an actual crime was committed. Even more surprisingly, it is the defence lawyer who gives the reminder as part of Meursault’s defence, ‘Come now, is my client on trial for burying his mother or for killing a man?’. It is this passage of The Stranger that clearly illuminates the fact that Meursault’s true guilt is altogether distinct from his crime, further reinforcing the notion of justice as a construct. In doing so, Camus is seemingly suggesting that had Meursault actually been on trial for the murder — as opposed to a moral based judgment of his character — then he would have had a better chance of winning the case.[16]
The role of remorse
It seems absurd that someone would be tried and condemned to death for their overt indifference to their Mother’s death, and yet that is precisely the reason behind Meursault’s guilty verdict. The irrationality of Meursault being tried and convicted for his failure to cry at his Mother’s funeral, when viewed through a Foucauldian lens, reveals the justice system as a tool for reinforcing the dominant value system.[17] Although Meursault has committed murder, the evidence and subsequent judgement, primarily concern his inability to understand why he should have grieved for his Mother. Camus’ denigration of the law as but a construct created by and for the purpose of discourse in order to ensure its power, is Nietzsche in its execution, and relays his understanding that the law is a tool for ensuring the boundaries of the dominant system remain in place.[18] Thus, when the judge accuses Meursault of having a ‘criminal soul’,[19] it is not because of the murder but it is due to his overt failure to recognise and comply with these social norms, that is the clearest indicator of his guilt. As a result, the jury is unable to grieve for Meursault, as ‘not one of the moral principles that stand guard over the hearts of men was accessible’ to him.[20] Understanding that Meursault has a criminal soul due to his insubordination of these social rules, is to recognise why the jury are unable to sympathise with Meursault; for how could their morality allow them to weep for a man who shows no remorse at not crying at his mother’s funeral? It is clear then, that remorse plays a fundamental role in mitigating guilt within the justice system as it indicates whether an offender is capable of being reintegrated within the dominant value system. Remorse therefore, is a vital cog in the mechanism of social control that the law adjudicates.
Meursault’s failure to cry can be analogised as a refusal to repent for transgressing the social norms required by the dominant value system. This becomes significant if one considers remorse to be a form personal condemnation which in turn, publicly affirms the legal ‘truth’.[21] Because showing remorse is an outward display of the internalization of agency,[22] it presents to the wider public a responsibility of action. It is this recognition of responsibility for transgressing the law that marks an offender as repentant,[23] and less deserving of punishment. Although Meursault doesn’t show remorse for the murder, it becomes subordinate when compared to his lack of remorse in failing to grieve for his Mother. It is important that this distinction is made clear. A Foucauldian reading of The Stranger implies that failing to cry was outside the legal and social discourse, and failing to be governed by such discourse marks Meursault as the ‘stranger’. However, it is precisely his lack of remorse in breaching this norm that ultimately condemns him in the face of his peers, for as the prosecution remarks, Meursault did not have any ‘of the moral principles that govern men’s hearts’ within his reach.[24] When read through a Foucauldian lens, remorse signifies a subservience to the dominant value system — I have breached society’s rules for which I am sorry — which in turn reaffirms the law as the measurement for this universal value system.[25] Failing to recognise and repent for this transgression, effectively transforms Meursault from a docile receptor of discourse into a threat to the dominant system of power, for which he must ‘have his head cut off…in the name of the French people’.[26] For Foucault, it is likely that Meursault exhibits a form of resistance, by refusing to adhere to the internalisation of norms. Once again Camus’ explanation that Meursault is condemned for ‘not playing the game’, justifies this Foucauldian approach.
The idea of being condemned for a lack of remorse, although absurd when presented in The Stranger, is not altogether incongruous with the reality and function the justice system. If the law is but a discursive mechanism for perpetuating norm conforming behaviour, then remorse is welcomed in individuals who transgress these universal values.[27] Viewing laws as prescriptive discourses allows us to understand that criminals are merely those who transgress these universal values. Remorse then, alleviates the anxiety that partners transgression, and indicates the offender’s willingness to admit guilt and effectively pledge allegiance to the normative order.[28] In The Stranger however, these values are destabilized, and Camus makes clear the norm affirming role of the law by subverting Meursault’s guilt; he is not a criminal for the murder, but for his outward rejection of social values. When Meursault rejects the chaplains offer of absolution, he rejects these moral universalities and the laws role in entrenching them, thereby excluding him from society and he protection afforded by remorse.[29] His assertion that he ‘had been right, was still right and had always been right’,[30] indicates his dismissal of laws discourse, which is reaffirmed through his belief that no one in the world had any right to weep for his mother.[31]
By not showing remorse, Meursault fails to evidence a change of heart, and by extension, is unable to engender a change of heart of the jury.[32] Because remorse ensures the perpetrator has a level moral integrity — by which the dominant discourse is perpetuated — it effectively blunts the blade of retribution,[33] which may lead to a reduced sentence. If Meursault had shown remorse therefore, he may not have been condemned to death. Although this article focuses primarily on the representations of law and justice within The Stranger, it is interesting to note that critics belittle any attempts to analogise Camus’ trial with understandings of the legal system. US Jurist, Richard Posner, refutes the idea that The Stranger offers any insight into the justice system, but rather, is primarily concerned with the neoromantic tradition of portraying criminals as heroes.[34] Regardless of the merits of Posner’s argument, his criticism fits neatly within this analysis and seemingly, dare I say, reinforces the primary argument of this article; that the law is a perpetuator of dominant discourse.
Although I am not suggesting that an individual would ever be convicted on the grounds of not crying at the funeral of a family member, it is nonetheless useful to acknowledge that an offender who shows remorse, effectively vindicates the law’s efforts to entrench legal rules as norms, which in turn, create moral obligations.[35] Because this post-modern reading of The Stranger refutes the notion that law is objective it effectively creates a forum for discussing how the law can better accommodate those who are ‘strangers’ to the dominant society. Accepting Meursault’s calmness defies the logic of his Mother’s death, is to accept Camus’ portrayal of the law as a normative enforcing mechanism that can’t possibly be based on universal truths; because evidently they don’t exist. This understanding of law, also gives credence to the notion that the law is unnecessarily austere and forces us to consider that it was also jury’s inability to sympathise with Meursault, that hastens his condemnation.
The question of sympathy
Whilst Meursault may have been condemned for breaching these societal norms, it is equally valid to assume that had the court understood the reasons behind his emotional dissociation, then perhaps they would have been less likely to view him as a threat and condemn his lack of remorse. Perhaps if the court was instructed to sympathise with offenders, then the risk of austerity being used as a mechanism for perpetuating the laws discursive power would be minimised. As has been discussed, the jury is unwilling to sympathise with, or even attempt to understand Meursault. This inability produces anxiety over his moral transgression and leads ultimately to his condemnation. In contrast, sympathy involves an external perspective on the plight of others,[36] and whilst the reader is able to sympathise with Meursault, Camus’ court refuses to do so. The utility of sympathy therefore, lies in its ability to take into account the circumstances of a specific context, without compromising the sympathisers perspective. This is achieved specifically through its external centricity, in contrast to an empathetic response, which requires an individual to inhabit the state of mind of the offender,[37] which as has been discussed, would be of little help to Meursault.
It would be remiss however, to state that sympathy is not only required, but possible in all circumstances. Obviously, an overly sympathetic court would be as equally problematic as a court that is exclusively concerned with maintaining dominant power structures. The court cannot possibly entertain a sympathetic response to certain crimes, such as breaches of jus cogens, as not only would that be near impossible, it would clearly destroy public confidence in the legal system. It would hardly be desirable or indeed warranted for sympathy to have played a part at the Nuremberg trials for example. Despite this however, The Stranger indicates that a sympathetic response to Meursault, would have at the very least ensured that his trial remained solely fixed on his actual crime, and not his moral offensiveness. Nevertheless, it is through the trial of Meursault, that Camus can critique the legal system and its claims of universality.[38] This sentimental education provides a forum whereby investigations on the functions and forms of law and justice can flourish, and thus the utility of law in literature is realised.
The Stranger offers a view on law and justice that imaginatively refutes its claims of objectivity and universality. Rather, Camus makes clear that the law is but a social construct, designed to set, surveil, and enforce normative thought and action. Actions that fall outside these clearly demarcated boundaries are in danger of being held accountable to the highest level, regardless of their triviality. Although Camus is afforded a high degree of literary embellishment, The Stranger nonetheless creates a space for a discussion of the relationship between the law and discourse; specifically the notion of justice as a progeny of discourse in order to ensure the perpetuation of its power.
[1] Lissa Lincoln, ‘Justice Imagined: Albert Camus’ Politics of Subversion’ (2011) 5(1) Law and Humanities 271, 271.
[2] Ibid.
[3] Gary Minda, Postmodern Legal Movements (New York University Press, 1995) 2.
[4] Lincoln (n 1) 272.
[5] Albert Camus, The Stranger (Vintage International, 2014) Preface.
[6] Lincoln (n 1) 274.
[7] Camus (n 5) 91.
[8] Lincoln (n 1) 275.
[9] Barry Allen, ‘Government in Foucault’ 21(4) Canadian Journal of Philosophy 421.
[10] Lincoln (n 1) 276.
[11] Camus (n 5) 84.
[12] Ibid 91.
[13] Ibid 90.
[14] Lincoln (n 1) 276.
[15] Ibid.
[16] David Carroll, ‘Guilt by Race: Injustice in Camus’ The Stranger’, (2005) 26(6) Cardozo Law Review 2331, 2337.
[17] Lincoln (n 1) 274.
[18] Malini Manickavasagam, ‘The Sovereign Individual as a Legal Creation in Literature’, (2000) UCL Jurisprudence Review 1, 5.
[19] Camus (n 5) 99.
[20] Ibid 100.
[21] Michel Foucault, Discipline and Punishment, (Penguin, 1975).
[22] Austin Sarat, ‘Remorse, Responsibility, and Criminal Punishment: An Analysis of Popular Culture’ in S.A Bandes (ed) The Passions of Law (New York university press, 1999) 169.
[23] Ibid 170.
[24] Camus (n 5) 100.
[25] Lincoln (n 1).
[26] Camus (n 5) 107.
[27]Lincoln (n 1) 276.
[28] Sarat (n 24) 120.
[29] Ibid.
[30] Camus (n 5) 121.
[31] Ibid 122.
[32] Sarat (n 24) 169
[33] Ibid.
[34] Richard Posner, Law and Literature, (Harvard University Press, 1988) 90 cited in Martha Grace, ‘A Strange Liking: Our Admiration for Criminals’ (1991) University of Illinois Law Review 1, 41.
[35]H.L.A Hart, ‘The Concept of Law’, (Clarendon Press, 1961) 85.
[36] Peter Goldie, ‘The Emotions’ (Oxford, New York 2000) cited in Serene J. Khader ‘ Victims’ Stories and the Postcolonial Politics of Empathy’ (2018) 49 Metaphilosophy 13, 14–15.
[37] Ibid 15.
[38] Lincoln (n 1).
