Albert Camus and His Fatal Car Accident: The Warnings of Astrology
The Irony of the Unused Ticket
On the 4th of January, 1960, the French-Algerian philosopher and Nobel laureate Albert Camus died instantly when the Facel Vega HK500 he was travelling in struck a plane tree on a long, straight stretch of road near Villeblevin in northern France. Driving the vehicle was his publisher and close friend, Michel Gallimard, who would also succumb to his injuries days later. In a bitter twist of fate that reads almost like a line from one of his own novels, Camus had a completely unused train ticket to Paris in his pocket. He had decided at the very last minute to catch a lift instead.
Camus is inextricably linked to the philosophical concept of the Absurd, the fundamental conflict between the human tendency to seek inherent value and meaning in life, and the silent, meaningless universe. He reportedly once remarked that the most absurd way to die would be in a car crash. From a purely rational standpoint, his death was a tragic, random accident. However, when viewed through the combined lenses of Jungian psychology and traditional astrology, this sudden end reveals profound, deeply symbolic undercurrents.
At the Wilfred Hazelwood Clinic, our lead therapist Martyn J. Shrewsbury frequently explores how our internal philosophies mirror our external realities. With his academic background in Classics and Social Anthropology from Swansea University, Martyn understands how myth and archetype bleed into lived reality. When we examine the astrological weather surrounding Camus's death, the alignment of the planets starkly reflects the sudden, disruptive end of a man who built his legacy on the unpredictable nature of existence.
A Hellenistic View: The Activation of Mars
To understand the astrological warnings present at the time of the crash, we must look at Camus’s birth chart using ancient techniques. Martyn’s comprehensive training in Hellenistic Astrology at The Astrology School of Chris Brennan equips him to analyse the precise, mechanical timing techniques used by astrologers two thousand years ago. One such technique is Annual Profections, a method where specific years of life activate specific planets in the natal chart.
Born on the 7th of November, 1913, at 2:00 AM, Camus had a "night chart," meaning the Sun was below the horizon. In Hellenistic astrology, the distinction between day and night is crucial; it determines which planets act as helpful guides and which present the greatest challenges. For a night birth, Saturn is considered the most difficult planet, the malefic contrary to sect. Mars, while still a malefic, is considered less destructive.
Camus had a Virgo Ascendant, placing his natal Mars in the sign of Cancer. When he turned 46 in November 1959, he entered an 11th-house profection year. Because Cancer is the 11th sign from Virgo, this specific year activated his natal Mars. Suddenly, the martial themes of speed, metal, severance, and danger became the focal point of his astrological timeline.
Tragically, in early January 1960, transiting Saturn, the most challenging planet in his night chart, was moving through Capricorn, casting a direct, aggressive opposition across the sky to his newly activated natal Mars in Cancer. In traditional astrology, an opposition between Mars and Saturn is notorious for bringing things to a sudden, immovable halt. It is the archetypal clash of an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object, or, in literal terms, a speeding sports car meeting a deeply rooted tree.
Synchronicity and the Shadow of Fate
While the Hellenistic framework provides a stunningly accurate temporal map of the event, psychological astrology asks a different question: why did Camus get in the car instead of taking the train?
Following his Post-Graduate Diploma in Jungian Studies and his clinical training with The Centre for Applied Jungian Studies, Martyn J. Shrewsbury looks at such events through the lens of synchronicity. Carl Jung defined synchronicity as an acausal connecting principle, meaningful coincidences where an external event perfectly mirrors an internal psychological state, without one directly causing the other.
Camus spent his life wrestling with the chaotic, uncontrollable nature of the universe. His shadow, the unacknowledged or unintegrated parts of the psyche, was deeply entwined with the concept of abrupt, meaningless mortality. Getting into Gallimard's car was a conscious choice, but from a Jungian perspective, it can be viewed as an unconscious alignment with his own deeply held philosophy. The outer world (the Saturn-Mars transit) and the inner world (his lifelong meditation on the Absurd) violently collided.
Navigating the Unpredictable in Therapy
It is crucial to note that modern psychological astrology, which Martyn continues to study with the Mercury School of John Green, does not use birth charts to predict death. The future is not a fixed script. Instead, astrology is a diagnostic tool used to highlight periods of intense psychological pressure or environmental friction.
Had Camus consulted an astrologer versed in these ancient and modern techniques, he might have been advised that the winter of 1959-1960 was a time of significant hazard, a period where rash decisions (Mars) could meet severe, restrictive consequences (Saturn). The advice would not have been a sentence of doom, but a caution for profound mindfulness and care during those specific months.
At the Wilfred Hazelwood Clinic, we use this integrated approach to help clients navigate their own periods of difficulty. By combining the rigorous predictive frameworks of Steve Judd and Hellenistic traditions with the deep, empathetic insights of post-Jungian clinical concepts, Martyn provides a space where clients can anticipate their challenges. We cannot remove the absurdity or unpredictability of life, but by understanding the archetypal forces at play, we can choose whether to step into the speeding car or safely take the train.
