What is 'collective failure'? When did it begin, and what might collective hope look like in its place?
"I am a great believer in giving hope, no matter the situation."
That line from a thoughtful reader stayed with me after publishing my piece on the Irish housing crisis and Rollo May's invocation of Orestes. It reminded me that even within the weight of anxiety, uncertainty, and stagnation, there's room for something else: the hope that we can do things differently, not just individually, but collectively.
The comment opened up a powerful line of inquiry:
The Myth of the Individual vs. the Reality of the Collective
Existentialism, particularly in May's rendering, is often read as a philosophy of radical individualism: face your fears, take responsibility, become who you are. And yet, as the commenter asked, does existentialism do collectivism?
I think it must, if we understand "the collective" not as a herd to conform to, but as a shared space in which individual meaning can be born. Rollo May's work invites us to see the individual in context, always embedded in culture, family, history, and economy. In other words, your search for self is never yours alone.
What Is Collective Failure?
We feel it all around us:
- A failure to provide housing
- A failure to make space for psychological growth
- A failure to invite people into adulthood with dignity
- A failure to honour the inner lives of citizens, not just their productivity
But collective failure didn't begin with housing. Its roots are older: in consumerism replacing community, in the outsourcing of morality to algorithms, in education systems that reward obedience over inquiry.
As the commenter so brilliantly noted, "existentialism is the enemy of systems that tell you who you are before you've even asked the question." Whether it's religious dogma, authoritarian regimes, or profit-driven marketing, these forces thrive by bypassing the inner world.
Existentialism disrupts this. It slows us down. It says, ' Don't outsource your soul.'
The Umbilical Cord We Can't Cut
Rollo May spoke of the difficulty of leaving the family home, not just physically, but psychologically. In a world where housing is insecure and institutions feel cold or indifferent, is it any wonder that the umbilical cord remains uncut?
But it's not just about property. It's about what the home symbolises:
- Safety
- Belonging
- A place where one's existence is acknowledged
The absence of a trustworthy world makes individuation harder. But that doesn't mean it's impossible.
Can We Have Collective Hope?
Here's where I find the conversation turns to hope. Not naive optimism, but the existential kind. A hope grounded in the courage to face the world as it is, and to still choose to participate in its transformation.
What might collective hope look like?
- Housing as a right, not a privilege
- Education that invites questions, not just answers
- A culture that values introspection as much as innovation
- Leaders who ask, What is it like to be you?, not just What can you produce?
These hopes are not utopian. They are achievable. But they require something rare: a willingness to examine ourselves and the systems we've built.
So, Where Do We Begin?
If existentialism has taught me anything, it's this: meaning is not something we wait to receive; it's something we uncover through action, reflection, and relationships.
We don't need perfect conditions to begin this work. We need only enough stability to ask fundamental questions. And we need one another to listen, to challenge, to reflect.
Perhaps the antidote to collective failure is not collective perfection but collective courage.
The courage to ask: What kind of world would make it easier to grow?
And then to act, together, to make it real.
Sean Phelan is an existential psychotherapist in private practice. He writes about anxiety, purpose, and the search for meaning in modern life.
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