Living in the face of death
It is an inescapable reality, a timeless law of nature. From the moment we are born, one thing is certain: one day we will die. It happens to all of us, the ancient Roman philosopher Seneca already pointed out, “it happened to your father, your mother, your forefathers, it happens to all people before you and after you.” As far as we know, humans are the only living beings on earth who are aware of this. We have to face death, whether we like it or not. “Death stands there as the only reality,” the French existentialist philosopher Albert Camus wrote in The Myth of Sisyphus. And so we have to find a way to deal with this reality.
Some people would rather not think about death. Death freaks them out, because it is, well, the end. Final and irreversible. This is true. “After death, everything ends,” Camus said, and I share his conviction. Death is the end of life and after that, nothing follows. So why is it that there are many people who believe that after death, something will follow? A new life, a heavenly existence. Stories and myths about death and what comes after exist in almost all cultures and religions. The German philosopher Wilhelm Schmid therefore argues that the idea of death as “the absolute boundary of life” is culturally determined. “Death does not necessarily mean that life is over in all respects, but that it is over in this form,” he writes. “Death is a boundary,” according to Schmid, but a boundary that “depends on the idea you have of it, and that in turn depends on the culture in which you live.”
In my opinion, Schmid takes relativism a step too far here. It’s a denial of what death is. These culturally determined ideas about death do not so much relate to what death actually is, but rather to what people hope it is. They reflect our lack of knowledge about death and appeal to people’s fear of it. People don’t want their lives to end, or their loved ones gone forever, so what if death isn’t really the end? With myths about death people try to alleviate the suffering of dying. (Also, these myths are used in a manipulative way to influence people’s behavior, by telling them that after ‘the last judgment’ they will be rewarded in heaven or doomed to burn in hell. An unacceptable form of religious mental abuse that only increases the fear of death.)
Myths promise a heavenly existence, or a return to earth (reincarnation), and thus create the image that life does not end; there is life after death. For many people, such myths provide a relief from fear or sorrow. But they are also ways of denying the truth, denying one’s own temporality, of not having to face the inevitable reality. For an existentialist, believing in such myths is a form of ‘bad faith’, of insincerity. Existentialists do not believe in life after death or in reincarnation. We only get one shot at life, this is it. And when we die, that’s the end. Our bodies cease to function. Our hearts stop beating, our brain activity – and thus our consciousness – ends, and our organs shut down. Then the natural process of decomposition begins, in which our bodies literally cease to exist. There is no ‘soul’ that lives on independently of our bodies. Death, whatever Wilhelm Schmid thinks of it, marks the “absolute boundary of life.”
And we have no choice. The fact that we will die is beyond our sphere of influence. We do not have the freedom to decide otherwise. Like it or not, death brings an end to our freedom. As Camus states, “I do not have the freedom to continue existing.” We do not even always have the freedom to choose between living and dying. Some people die without wanting to at that moment, as the result of an illness, or an accident, or an act of violence. (As a matter of fact: Camus himself tragically died in a car accident, after accepting a ride from his publisher and friend, even though he had initially planned to take the train. The train ticket was in his pocket when the car crashed…) Other people would like to die, but cannot or are not allowed to. (I think humans are the only species that forces their own kind to stay alive against their will.)
Although we talk about ‘death’, death is no more than a concept; it doesn’t exist in reality. Death is: not living. It is the absence of life. The Dutch philosopher Maarten van Buuren makes the comparison with light and darkness. Light exists, darkness does not, he argues, because darkness is nothing but the absence of light. The same applies to life and death. Death is the absence of life. Life exists, death does not. In other words: all there is, is existence and non-existence. Our life takes place in a brief span between not-yet-existing and no-longer-existing. Dying is the moment when existence changes into non-existence. This is not some modern idea from the era in which “God is dead” (dixit Friedrich Nietzsche), Roman philosopher Seneca already said it two thousand years ago: “Death is: not being,” he said, “after me comes the same as before me.” Or in the words of American writer Mark Twain: “To be dead will not be different from being unborn.” Personally, I find this view of ‘death’ not only plausible, but also very reassuring. “If death is truly the end, then what exactly is there to fear? [Death is] the end of fear,” as Ryan Holiday states in The Daily Stoic. Exactly. Death as the end, with nothing left after that, is a reassuring thought.
Yet many people find this idea hard to accept. They cannot grasp that there is nothing after we die, there must be something. People don’t want to die, at least not yet, and I get that. Most of us prefer to postpone our death as long as possible. Some people would even like to banish their end altogether, be immortal – which, of course, is impossible. It is simply a law of nature that everything in our lives, on our planet and in the universe is temporary. Everything around us, including ourselves, is, to use the words of British historian Edith Hall, “in a permanent process of coming into being or generation, growth, alteration, decay and cessation.” Writer Oliver Burkeman argues that death is actually not the main problem. “The real pain,” he says, “is of course that we are no longer alive.” Most people are attached to life and therefore they don’t want it to end. That’s why, according to the ancient Greek philosopher Aristotle, we find death “the most terrible of all things, for it is the end.”
Admittedly, the idea of dying can be frightening (personally I don’t mind the prospect of being dead, I do sometimes worry about how I will die. I hope it will be quick and painless). The idea of dying is scary because of the unfamiliarity with it, because we don’t know what it will be like. On the one hand dying is a universal human event – it happens to all of us, we will all die one day. At the same time, it is an extremely individual event, which only we can experience ourselves. In the words of the German philosopher Rüdiger Safranski: “Everyone must die their own death.” Even if you have seen someone else die, you don’t know what it is like to die yourself. “Reflecting on our own death,” says the American existentialist philosopher Skye Cleary, “is a vague exercise in imagination. We can’t know what it feels like (…) we don’t know anything about what death involves in any subjective sense.” Dying isn’t something you can learn, or practice. It’s not even something you do, but something that happens to you. Even in the case of a self-chosen death, only the act that leads to death is something you do, the consequence – dying itself – is not. That happens. It’s a natural process. “Flawlessly executed and final,” as the French philosopher Michel de Montaigne dryly remarked.
Just as no one knows in advance what it is like to die, no one can say with certainty what it is like to be dead. We cannot know, simply because we no longer exist. We will one day experience dying, but it is impossible to experience death. We only experience death as a spectator, when other people die. We experience what it is like when someone is no longer here. But we cannot experience what it is like to no longer be here ourselves. “Try to imagine the absence of your own consciousness,” says Rüdiger Safranski. That is impossible. “Death is outside every experience of life and cannot be reconciled with it,” says German philosopher Erich Fromm. Plus there is no point in speculating about what will happen after you die. Edith Hall refers to the Chinese philosopher Kong Fuzi (better known by his Latinized name Confucius), who emphasized that it is more important “to lead a morally good life in the here and now, rather than speculating about ghosts or the afterlife.”
According to the ancient Greek philosopher Epicurus, we should not concern ourselves with death at all during our lives. Because, as he said, “when we exist, death is not yet present, and when death is present, then we do not exist.” Why bother? Existentialists would disagree. The fact that we will die one day is inextricably linked to our lives. And that knowledge, the realization that our lives will end at some point, is an integral part of our thinking and actions, whether we are very consciously aware of it or not. Even if we do not concern ourselves with death in the Epicurean way, we will at some point in our lives be confronted with the inescapable fact that our existence is temporary. That’s why it’s better to consciously relate to your own mortality. Not in a depressing, nihilistic sense (“what’s the point of it all if I’m going to die anyway?”), but to consciously choose life, to live your life the way you want to, and to enjoy it. “Acknowledgement of our mortality and confrontation with its full implications can be used effectively to help us to live and die well,” says Edith Hall. Someone like Steve Jobs also saw the value of this: “Reminding myself that I’m going to be dead in the not-too-distant future is the most important tool I’ve ever had to help me make the big choices in life,” he said before he, well, died.
The finitude of life can serve as a guideline for shaping your life, exactly because life has the end. Even philosopher Wilhelm Schmid agrees with that: “Death as the boundary of life calls people to live and strive for fulfillment. To do this, you do not have to be fixated on death, but only be aware of the boundary. The boundary of life is at the same time the condition that makes it possible: you destroy life if you want to have it forever, just as you destroy a lust if you want to enjoy it forever. All lust wants eternity, but eternity means its death; the same applies to life.” If you were immortal, you would fall into idleness. You would no longer get anything done, because you can keep postponing everything forever. “Why should you live your life now, if you can still do so in the distant future?” Schmid asks rhetorically. Immortality is not at all as attractive as it seems. According to Australian philosopher Roman Krznaric, this is what the phrase ‘carpe diem’ essentially means. ‘Carpe diem’ is not about living without restraints like there is no tomorrow, it’s about “keeping in mind that we do not have eternal life and therefore we must focus on what is really important, and remain true to our values and our personal vision.” At some point in the future, you won’t be here anymore. And time passes quickly. “So don’t wait for life to happen to you,” Krznaric says, “start living it now. You only live once.”
Existentialists don’t think life has an inherent meaning, other than the meaning we give it. The same goes for death. Death itself is as meaningless as life, but we can give death meaning in our lives by living consciously, knowing our time on earth is finite, and being aware of our mortality. Not just letting life pass by, but really living it, while it lasts. Or in the words of Albert Camus: “Facing death. After that, anything is possible.”
