SIEVI: The Socratic Approach to Death (Featuring a Good Helping of Alan Watts)
Death and taxes. The two certainties we know in life, right? Though one of the certainties gets mentioned much, much more than the other, particularly around this time of the tax year.
So let’s talk about death. What is it, why is it, and perhaps most importantly, what does it mean?
It’s actually pretty hard to pinpoint when death occurs. Hospital soap operas often use it as a trope: time of death - 4:12 p.m., as the patient’s ekg flatlines. But is death specifically when the heart stops beating? That doesn’t seem right - hearts can be restarted, not always, but sometimes with electrical shocks and whatnot. Is death rather when brain function ceases? The brain is complicated. Very complicated. It seems in some way to contain us - whatever we are. But cells and brain cells specifically can carry on working for minutes or longer after all our critical organs shut down. These cells will die eventually, but not at that moment.
Is death then when cell death occurs en masse? That’s a problem too: we want death to have a rigorous definition, but in that case death would be more like a spectrum of number of cells dead or alive. Regardless of these objections, we can approximate death as the permanent end of critical body functions. That’s pretty close to the working clinical model of death as the end of breathing and circulation. As medicine advances we might have a more precise answer to these questions.
The medical-biological approach you might notice doesn’t say anything about the subjective nature of death. Is experiencing death like walking down a dark tunnel, with a light at the end? Do we ascend to heaven on a celestial elevator, or fall through the earth into fire and brimstone? Or does nothing happen at all? But I’ll leave that aspect of death aside for now.
Why death occurs is probably the easiest question to answer in this series. Death occurs because life occurs. Life is temporary. Therefore, life must end, and the end to life is death. Even if you manage to avoid particularly gruesome death in war for example, your body will age. It’s our biological programming. There is and has been research into the specifics of aging. Some think the ends of our chromosomes, capped with telomeres that gradually fall apart, to play a role in us getting older. Reversal of aging has been a fantasy since human civilization began, the fountain of youth being one notable example. I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were someone wishing to not grow old. And if you’re trying to avoid death, preventing aging will only delay it. It comes for us all, eventually. Even the most well-lived of lives necessitates you and everyone you know, at some point facing death.
As for what it means, conversation needs to go a bit deeper. Death may as well be a four-letter word in modern life. Rarely talked about. Not all cultures have this attitude. Dia de muertos, the day of the dead in Mexico is a notable example of the opposite attitude toward death: the dead ones are celebrated and venerated and brought to the forefront of everyone’s thoughts. Ancestor worship was and is a central part of many cultures in Asia, and of course the vast majority of our ancestors are now deceased.
But the most inevitable of fates for all of the living is swept under the rug, as it were, in our typical American fashion. It’s considered very rude to point out mortality in most contexts. Certainly, death does not need to be the centerpiece of every conversation. But why do we avoid it like the plague?
Well, an immediate answer is that death indicates the plague. Biologically, we have impulses to survive and reproduce. Through a combination of innate cues and learned conditioning, our species generally avoids the sick. And because sickness leads to death, we therefore avoid death. But this doesn’t explain why illnesses and viruses are generally fine for normal conversation, and even discussions of mortality rates stemming from those illnesses. You can’t follow up on that topic with the destiny of everyone to eventually follow in the path of the afflicted, and cross the veil of death into whatever is beyond.
It’s almost as if we treat dying itself as a disease. Alan Watts in one of his many lectures pointed out as much, and rejected the idea. Alan didn’t think there was anything essentially wrong with getting old, and getting sick, and dying. It’s of course not good to get anyone else sick along with oneself, but the actual act of dying is not morally wrong.
Now it should be said that I don’t advocate for any sort of death cult. I do not think death and suffering are morally good. And inflicting these on others does in fact seem wrong. The great hunger famine of Ukraine, called the Holodomor, though I’m probably not pronouncing that right, was as far as I can tell an act of pure, cold, calculating evil. For those who don’t know, the Soviet Union in the 30s implemented policies in Ukraine and across its nation collectivizing farms and output from farms, which reduced and wasted much productive capacity. But this gave the national government the ability to reallocate resources from one part of the nation to the other. So, in addition to reduced output to begin with, Ukraine farms had to give most of their food to others. Private property was largely outlawed, so taking part of that food for oneself was punishable by death. Many perished with gunfire, and many more simply starved. Whether the Holodomor was intentional genocide or cold indifference to human suffering, it was evil.
What Alan Watts was proposing is that it’s okay for you, in your own conscious experience, to stop having that conscious experience. There’s no necessity for you to go on living forever. Why would there be? Nothing about our biology or life indicates anything to do with immortality. And in that sense, death is not bad. It is maybe the most natural thing about life.
Whether death is treated as wrong or not, its impression on almost all of us is certain to bring up bittersweet memories.
After all, to be dead, one must also have been alive. My grandmother is no longer with us, but while she was she left memories that have stayed with me many years. Of cutting grape stems with scissors and holding her coat sleeves open for her to slip into and brace for the bitter cold.
Sometimes it’s hard to see the positives in losing someone dear to us. Some people are so broken by it that they never recover. It’s an absolutely understandable, human response to losing that which is most precious to us. Some turn their loss into creative endeavors.
Death and loss can inspire artwork, such as the painting “The Death of Socrates” by Jacques-Louis David, which drew its inspiration from the Athenian trial and eventual execution of Socrates for the crimes of corrupting the youth and denying the existence of the gods.
The Phaedo, written by Plato, represents the last days of Socrates as he awaited execution. David’s painting captures the spirit Socrates had before drinking poison hemlock, as prescribed by the citizens of Athens. Confident, poised, with his hand pointing upward. Pictured around him are people in various states of distress, unable to cope with their mentor and friend passing on from the world.
Socrates was given the opportunity to escape from his fate. As good friends do, the companions of Socrates were willing to risk punishment from Athens and pay big prices to help their friend in mortal peril. But Socrates said no. This was told in Plato’s Crito, where a friend came to visit Socrates in his cell in the time after the trial. This friend was capable of breaking Socrates out and arranging safe passage elsewhere. However, Socrates argued that he had agreed to live out the laws of Athens by participating in and being a citizen of Athens. To turn his back on the laws now would be to do injustice to Athens. And as a philosopher and a searcher for the truth and justice, Socrates could not in good conscience permit his own soul or that of his friends to be stained with injustice.
On the day of his execution, with his friends and companions gathered around, Socrates discussed the philosophical approach to death as fitted the occasion. Remember that this also comes from Plato, the Phaedo specifically concerns the death of Socrates. Plato and Socrates shared a common view of the nature of reality: they believed that things like goodness and virtue exist as ideal forms in a place outside our world. The things we call good only approximate what the ideal good is. And the goal of philosophy is understanding of the ideal world of forms, of ideal goodness, not just the good found in places like Athens.
To achieve this goal of understanding ideal goodness, Socrates argued our bodies are essentially useless. Our wants and needs and desires serve to distract us from deep contemplation. In fact the only way our bodies can be said to help us is the extent to which they leave us alone with our thoughts. So, Socrates thought that death cannot be a bad thing if it can grant us the freedom needed for philosophy.
As for the actual experience of death, Socrates had this to say: that either there are gods after death, and gods are nothing to fear, or that there are no gods after death, and we cease to exist. The first option assumes that gods are just. It may be hard to see the truth of that when such incredible suffering and injustice occurs in the world we live in. Would the god or gods of the afterlife have any reason to be different? Well, it’s quite possible that the gods would know this, and to the extent to which you’ve experienced injustice in life is the extent to which you receive justice in the afterlife. It’s also possible that the Judeo-Christian God for example planned out your life from the start to create you into the person you become at the time of your death. Your suffering and pain and hardship were necessary to mold you into the shape which you took upon passing. Would an all-knowing, all-loving, all-powerful God create injustice in the world for just such a purpose? I can’t answer that question for you.
The second option given by Socrates, ceasing to exist after death, may sound terrifying at first, but hear this out.
This was brought into conversation by a man worrying about the “dissolution of the soul” after death into thin air as it were. No self, no afterlife, just nothingness. Socrates however did not think cessation of existence to be likely, and it’s due to the fact of the balance of opposites. Sleep has to have a waking, see, and so if death is like a dreamless slumber then there must be life on the other end.
This is very similar to Alan Watts’ approach to death. Alan once said it like this: “You can’t have an experience of nothing. Nature abhors a vacuum. So after you are dead, the only thing that can happen to you is the same experience or the same sort of experience as when you were born.”
Try to imagine going to sleep and never waking up. Ever. It’s absurd to even try, right? Eternity is a long, long time. But if the cessation of existence theory is true, then that is what will happen to you. Or rather, what won’t happen to you. Forever. That’s not actually so bad, is it? Sleep, forever. Regardless of if that seems likely or not, the fact that we’re discussing it as a possibility only makes your time here that much more precious. If it’s the only time you’ve got, I’d say it’s priceless.
And if we want to take a purely objective scientific view to it, I don’t think the “dissolution” theory of the soul holds up to modern physics. Matter cannot be created or destroyed. The law of the conservation of mass. If your self, your ego or whatever, dissolves after death, it’s not gone. It must still exist as something, perhaps disparate and scattered and transformed, but it cannot as it were “disappear into thin air”.
Turning instead to the religious attitude, if heaven turns out to be real, still, all earthly things are transient, all things must pass. Not only other people and things, but ourselves as well, and the great Earth too.
If you truly believe in the afterlife, then you should try to live out that truth in your life now. Material substance, all this that we see, should be trifles on the path to eternity. And if they’re not, perhaps ask yourself why you feel so attached to things which you believe you will someday transcend.
Meditation on death can bring about strange realizations like the previous discussion points, as it has in my life.
My own approach to the inevitable end of my consciousness has been a mixed bag. It’s hard to maintain a stoic attitude at all times in the face of what might be oblivion. The afterlife if it exists is probably something so strange as to be unrecognizable to my simple dummy human brain. There’s no reason to assume that heaven would even be comprehensible to creatures such as us.
At my place of employment, I keep these words taped to my monitor: “memento mori”. A Latin phrase, translated into English “remember that you must die”.
It’s true that I think about death quite a lot, probably more than most. I draw motivation from it when I can. There is so little time that we have in the places we are. Petty things just kind of fall by the wayside when looking at the bigger picture.
If death still terrifies you, we can again draw wisdom from Socrates, who argued that philosophy practiced in the proper way is the act of preparation for death. If you concern yourself with matters of the flesh your entire life without once pausing for reflection, then you might be justified in fearing the end of the life you know and the great unknown afterward. But if instead you turn your attention toward that very fact, and think on it as I and many others have, you may find it’s not such a bad thing after all, and you at least might be able to justify the life you’ve lived in spite of death.
And that circles back round to this basic fact: we all die alone. Kind of a cliche phrase, but it’s true. And we know it’s true due to two facts: One, that we all must die. And two, because we experience our consciousness alone. When our consciousness fades away, it will do so on its own. Our dearest loved ones will at best be able to watch us die. Death Cab For Cutie’s song “What Sarah Said” expressed this sentiment: “Love is watching someone die. So who’s gonna watch you die?”.
Excellent question. I’ll leave you to it.
I’m Tony Remis. This has been Tony Talks Back.