Pendant with a Monk and Death
NOT FEARING DEATH
I don’t fear death. Maybe that sounds extreme. Let me explain.
To be clear, I don’t want to die. I exercise every day; eat healthy; supplement; meditate; don’t smoke; and try to stay up to date on the latest in longevity, health, and fitness. There are many reasons I don’t want to die, but I don’t think fear of death (FoD) is one of them.
First, perhaps there’s an element here of the sunk cost fallacy. I’ve suffered a lot. I’m approaching forty. To die now, before realizing many goals seems (whether rational or not) like a waste. The narrative itself (my life’s story) becomes important to me as I live; it matters whether or not this thing (me) manages to succeed, even if I suffer in the interim.
Second, and perhaps most importantly, I love life. (See FoD VS LoL for more on this) Ultimately, this distills down to an overall sense of gratitude. It’s hard to achieve this if you are suffering deeply; I make no judgment on others here. But I feel like life, generally, on balance, is worth living. That’s all gratitude means to me. It is impossible to achieve, however, without meaning. Suffering and experience may lead to meaning. It requires effort, though. It isn’t just given to you, not any meaning worth having, anyway.
I’m also not arguing life is “long enough.” It might be, if we consider that we exist at all. When one contemplates such things as mass extinction events; 4.5 billion years of Earth’s history; about 14 billion years of Universal history; all the wars and genocides ever; the numerous nuclear near misses; and, oh, the perilous, uncertain road of evolution via natural selection and genetic mutation that got us here, one has to kind of pause and appreciate the unlikeliness, no? The fact that I’m writing this at all is a minor miracle, which is to say nothing about the myriad biological processes occurring in unison to produce it. All that said, forever is a long time. (More on this below, LIVING FOREVER?)
Thing is, and I know it might seem hypocritical, I can’t seem to convince my body of what my mind says. The former seems to call the latter’s bluff. Only, it’s not a bluff! That is, when I think of death, especially of dying, I get anxious, even though I know that ultimately death is what I will want, one day. So what gives?
I think the answer is that FoD is deeply biological.
FoD IS USEFUL
Survival
Firstly, clearly, a good way to stay alive is to be scared to do dangerous things. A fear of heights, for example, makes it rather unlikely you fall off a building, even if the overall likelihood is already low. Of course, fear can be irrational or overwhelming. But, from an evolutionary lens, it’s better to be safe than sorry. That’s a bit of an oversimplification, sure. In nature, there are often competing risks. A fear of heights, for instance, might have obviated a risky opportunity for much-needed resources high up a mountain. Fear is complicated.
Even when we have children, we still fear death. Prima facie, it appears to be an evolutionary paradox. If we have passed on our genes, then why still fear death? Many species, in fact, die shortly after giving birth or mating, as if preprogramed, such as the female octopus and the male leafy seadragon. It seems not unrelated that our children, who share 50% of our genes, need us to survive; they don’t learn to walk within a few hours like some ungulates. In nature and in society, when necessary, parents willingly risk their lives for their offspring. We are useful.
One key difference between us and other animals, however, is that we are not so constrained by natural selection. People can set themselves on fire to protest injustice, say, or hang themselves out of despair. We have a greater degree of agency and abstract thinking.
Should we, then, fear death?
Urgency
Philosophy YouTuber and podcaster Alex O’Connor has argued, notably in a recent podcast, that FoD is, on balance, a good thing as it motivates us to act with a sense of urgency. This is something we all seem to know. Diagnosed with a terminal illness, someone with subjectively important plans, write a book, say, will tend to want to compress their plans to get more done (i.e., write more), not less. Obviously, there are exceptions. Generally, however, mortality seems to have a productive impact on the psyche. Alex points out, we all face a similar kind of diagnosis; it’s called life, by far, the leading cause of death.
One can imagine, if Alex is right, that, without FoD, people might feel unmotivated. They might reason, “Why do anything difficult at all if we’re just going to die?” If death doesn’t seem that bad, why not die now? Why go through any hardship at all? Alternatively, why not commit oneself to hedonism (smoke, do drugs, have unprotected sex, commit crimes, and eat junk food all day)? Perhaps this sense of urgency stems from the significance we attribute to life that itself derives from our inevitable fates. If so, then, without this fear, nothing means anything. Then, truly, there wouldn’t be any good reason to create or to do good. And that would engender a world that few people would want to live in.
So, Alex has a point. People genuinely seem propelled by a sense of death anxiety. They tend to avoid talking about death, especially their own. They mourn losing loved ones. They don’t like receiving a terminal illness. When characters die in movies, that’s sad, unless it’s the villain. People do what they can to live longer, even if they have bad habits. People create things and have children. Finally, and thankfully, suicide is, on a population level, relatively rare.
All good, so far. I ask, though: Is FoD all good?
FoD IS HARMFUL TOO
If we’re going to talk about how FoD is useful, it is only fair to talk about how it is also harmful.
Existential Angst
In some, death anxiety leads to a kind of existential dread. I have felt this. It’s hard to express the subjective character of this experience, a la Thomas Negal. I’ll try, though. It’s kind of like you have a suicide vest on and can’t take it off. You also don’t know how much time you have left; but you know it will go boom, no matter what, one day, hopefully one far away. That’s a debilitating feeling!
I remember feeling like this when I was 16. It seemed scary and unfair to die. After all, I didn’t even ask to be born. It led, among other difficulties, to depression. As a result, I missed what I more readily observe today: the beauty and wonder and meaning to be found in nature, consciousness, life, and the universe. Socrates said, “The unexamined life is not worth living.” That is, we need meaning. (This is to say nothing about how this dread may result in an insidious chronic stress.)
Avoidance Behaviors
FoD, given its emotional basis, can lend itself readily, in some, to excess or irrationality, which can lead to extreme avoidance behaviors. That is, while self-preservation is generally a good thing, never doing anything risky at all is, well, limiting. For example, you might not want to go skydiving or visit a certain country because you feel doing so would incur some special risk. Of course, much of what we do incurs some sort of risk to our well-being. Driving incurs risk, and many of us do this daily. And some people fear flying when it is generally much safer than driving. Such an excessive fear could lead to missing out on something life changing or extremely rewarding, such as creating a special life-long memory or just growing as a person and giving you a newfound sense of freedom and independence. Importantly, you don’t know what you might be missing out on. You could, say, meet your future spouse on that supposedly risky trip overseas. We, also, tend to value experiences and efforts more that undertake greater risk. There is a saying, “No risk, no reward.” I don’t know what it must feel like to summit Mt. Everest. But I imagine it’s pretty fucking awesome.
To be clear, my argument here is not that FoD is more harmful than useful. It appears, based on what I’ve written so far, that the utility of FoD is perhaps greater. Maybe FoD is generally more useful than it is harmful. OK.
I wonder, however, if there is not something altogether more useful, given FoD’s drawbacks.
FoD VS LoL
But what can fill the Nietzschean void left in the absence of FoD? Will to Power? No, love! Some might see this as a contradiction. Let me explain how love of life ((LoL, no pun intended) is different.
Defining LoL
If FoD, as defined here, is an anxiety about one’s mortality, LoL then is the substitution of said anxiety with love. Both, nevertheless, appreciate life. Admittedly, this sounds simplistic. One might ask if there really is a difference.
The podcaster Chris Williamson on Modern Wisdom once asked his guest, Brian Johnson, the millionaire vegan trying to reverse his aging, if he fears death. Johnson replied, “No; I love life.” Williamson asked him if there’s a difference. Johnson replied, “I know what fear feels like; I don’t feel it when contemplating death.” Williamson goes on to question whether or not ultimately this life love stems from fear. Johnson responds he’s motivated by biographies (by life).
It’s a good question. Are they ultimately the same?
The difference, to me, has to do with motivation. The key motivator for FoD is fear. Why does one fear death? It could be because death is the ultimate unknown; because of an irrational fear based in evolution; or because it takes everything you’ve ever done, everything you are and seemingly makes it null. All of the above? On the other hand, the key motivator for LoL is love. Why does one love life? This is more complicated. To me, love implies meaning; it isn’t a simple emotion. There are many kinds of love: agape, eros, brotherly love, etc. That which I apply to life, which makes it worth living, is a love that is embedded with meaning. Parents love their children, for example, not simply because of a biological predisposition. There is deep meaning their kids bring to their lives. An emotional love, closer in analogy to fear, I’d more likely call like.
Still, perhaps LoL leads to FoD. In this way, Williamson would be correct. If you love life, the argument would go, would you not, then, fear the thing that takes it away? Sounds reasonable. I think LoL can, indeed, lead to FoD. You would, I think, want to preserve life; fear may be engendered when it is endangered. Does it inevitably lead to FoD? Well, no. Death may be meaningful (more on this below). Ok, but does FoD lead to LoL (the inverse)? Again, no. Fear does not necessitate meaning. It can foster it, and maybe in some superficial way create it, in some contexts. For example, fear of getting eaten by a lion can make you think about the meaning in your life. But this might culminate in nothing but a bad memory. Meaning is hard to find.
Still, let’s grant, for argument’s sake, that FoD and LoL are the same. I could be wrong. Maybe they’re just two sides of the same coin. If so, let’s consider the consequences of these two frameworks and compare.
What benefits does LoL hold against FoD?
It seems to me that avoidance behaviors likely to be experienced with FoD are less likely under LoL. Let’s use an example. Someone offers you to go skydiving. If you are primarily motivated by fear, or resonate more with the FoD framework, the thought of dying would skew things into the “Hell-no!” direction. Conversely, if one’s motivation is more grounded in love, in appreciation for life itself, then the experience of weightlessness and having a bird’s eye view of the earth might tilt things more in the direction of “Hell yeah!” I mean, what would be the point of loving life if you cannot enjoy it?
Does LoL even have the utility of FoD?
As I alluded to earlier, LoL would also lead to self-preservation because one would have to keep living in order to enjoy (or love) life. Nevertheless, one might imagine a scenario in which, given the satisfaction of one’s purpose (essentially synonymous with love), one might decide to end - not out of sadness but in, dare I say, à la Lex Fridman, love! (Perhaps I have a hot take on suicide. Assuming it is based on sound reason, it’s one’s right to choose to discontinue life. In contemporary society, though, suicide is typically completed out of despair and/or desperation; I wouldn’t wish such an end on anyone.) So, there we have it. LoL might be more conducive to a shorter lifespan in some circumstances when compared to FoD. I concede this point. But, of course, what is more life without meaning attached? This reiterates the core difference. Love is inherently more meaningful than fear.
FoD’s other advantage is urgency in action. Is there the same or similar urgency in action under the LoL framework? First, what is the action that we feel is now more urgent? Hookers and coke? For some, yes. But, for most, no. As mentioned, when faced with approaching death, most people seem to be propelled to more meaningful action. Writers with a terminal illness may hurry to finish their magnum opus in time, so their work may be read, if they’re lucky, decades hence. The metaphor also works with parenthood or with helping others; our good deeds reverberate in the future success or good will of our descendants or fellow humans. The question then becomes, which framework would more likely lead to more meaningful action? Now, to me, the answer becomes clear.
Both FoD and LoL want to avoid death, yet LoL is more anchored in meaning. This means, LoL cares about an existence that is meaningful, and not about one that isn’t. When death looms, LoL would tend to engender action that reinforces the meaning one finds in life significant enough to make it worth living. Meaning is subjective, obviously, but not arbitrary. A LoL can be based on different things (yes, again, even fear). But it cannot be based on something meaningless to the individual. In other words, you cannot fake love, not to yourself, anyway.
Is LoL itself harmful?
If FoD is useful and harmful, then is LoL harmful in some ways, as well? Not really. While just about anything can be harmful, love, as defined here, is inherently positive; it’s like saying well-being. One might argue it’s a rather vague concept. It is, and that is important. We would prefer to find meaning ourselves than to have others tell us what purpose to have. Nietzsche writes in Untimely Meditations, “No one can construct for you the bridge upon which precisely you must cross the stream of life, no one but you yourself alone.”
Alternatively, one can argue that love in life is misplaced. Perhaps there is nothing to love. Again, to me, it’s like saying there’s no meaning in life. Perhaps, to quote Ecclesiastes, “all is vanity.” Well, here we are. Deal with it. We either make meaning, or we have a hard fucking time. I’m not telling you there’s meaning in your life. There likely is. But, again, you are the best person to figure that out. To again quote Nietzsche, this time from On the Genealogy of Morals, “Man would rather will nothingness than not will."
LIVING FOREVER?
Don’t Die
This post has been predicated on the fact that we die. But maybe we won’t - at least, not due to old age. Futurists like Ray Kurzweil have long predicted that death is a disease that will be cured one day. According to him, it’ll happen by 2030! (BTW, wouldn’t it suck to be the among the last naturally dying generation, missing perhaps an extra century - or millennia! - of life by a decade or two? It’s a recurring worry I have. TMI?)
Every day, Brian Johnson, like Kurzweil, takes a ton of pills, exercises vigorously, and experiments with new technologies and medicines. His philosophical approach is, “Don’t die.” Ideas can be limiting. There might not be a more limiting, enduring idea than death. Take Roger Bannister, for example, no one thought a person could run a sub-4-minute mile, until Bannister did it. Then everyone did. It was like the veil of impossibility had been lifted. Likewise, when we view death as inevitable, we live that way; we accept it. To get to a future where it isn’t, we must believe in the possibility of that future. So, let’s assume, for argument’s sake, that death will be cured.
What would living forever be like? Would we want to live forever? Should we want to live forever?
Don’t Die, Yet
I suspect nobody really wants to live forever. It’s difficult to imagine continual growth, fulfillment, purpose, love, and meaning forever and ever, million, billions, trillions of years hence - and then some. There may come a time when tomorrow is a day too far, not out of sadness or boredom or insanity, but, perhaps, out of gratitude; understanding; and, yes, again, love.
What people actually want, I think, is freedom from the human condition as we now know it. Today, we’re lucky to reach 100. The first 20 or so of those years, we typically spend with either little agency or doing stupid shit. The last 20 years or so, we typically spend with little agency or not remembering shit. That means, generally, if we’re lucky, we get to spend 60 years living, more or less, increasingly the way we wish, which is to say nothing about external or biological circumstances that may inhibit our ability to thrive and/or find meaning. Don’t get me wrong. Our early human ancestors would’ve killed, literally, to live the lives we live today. I am more than grateful for the progress and relative comfort we enjoy today. But, assuming good health, would I stop at 80? Hell, no! And I don’t think most would either.
In other words, it’s not that we don’t want to die. We don’t want to have to die. Another way, we don’t want to die yet.
It appears, at some point, we will conquer death from old age. I’m for it. When that moment becomes a reality for most, then our values and beliefs will be challenged. FoD would no longer apply, as it does today, in such a world. Our fear stems from death’s inevitability. When the power is in our hands, when we have all the opportunity to live out our purpose and right wrongs, to write the true narrative of our lives, then death will not be, I suspect, a great villain, but a final chapter in a beautiful story.
Finally, if we should not fear death or want to live forever, then how should we live?
TO LIVE
Life, for many, is often brutal. And there doesn’t appear to be any innate meaning or purpose to any of this. The universe seems random; uncaring; and we, in relation to it, but ants.
What’s more, death, for now, is a certainty. Maybe there is something after all this. I wouldn’t bet on it, though. Generally, I think we think much too much of ourselves for such fantasies to work out. (We can’t even agree on the fantasies!)
I think we should live with all this in mind. Treat death as inevitable; it probably is, even if Kurzweil is right (and many people don’t think he is). But, also, like Johnson, live as if you have the chance to escape natural death; you might. But do neither of these absent meaning and love, which take considerable time and effort. Otherwise, you are simply surviving. Fear lack of meaning, lack of purpose, lack of virtue, lack of heart - any of these more than death.
(As an aside, this post took quite some time to create, as I wrote maybe twice a week. Listening to podcasts and such with some of the people mentioned addressing some of these topics forced me to rewrite certain sections and update things. Hopefully, this post is better for it.)