The Day My Father Died
Last year was, without any doubt, the worst of my life.
Among the adverse events, the most shocking was the death of my father. He was more than 6000 miles away, and the news surprised me in the middle of a series of circumstances that made it impossible for me to attend his funeral.
Within minutes of receiving the news, I tried to calm down myself. I had been studying this subject for years -I said to myself: seminars, conferences, classes. Nevertheless, as we have always known, death not only leaves us speechless but also exceeds any reflection.
In those moments, one tries to remember the last handbook about the philosophy of death. Rational arguments come to our minds, trying to give us back the tranquility of our everyday lives. Usually, most of the soothing advice comes from science.
In all of them, there is a recurrent idea that death is not a problem. The real issue has to do with the cessation of life. It might seem the same, but it is not, in the former, we are speaking about death itself, in the later, we refer to the biological foundations of life. From biology, neurophysiology, biochemistry, and medicine, scholars wonder about the natural conditions that make life possible. Under this perspective, one explains dying as the halting of the homeostatic process of brain or cardiovascular functions.
However, the naked facts of science do not speak of the meaning that the death of the other has. The other can be the unknown person, an enemy, but also a friend, your mother, or a father.
Hence, it is the person in front of us, the one that has a life we cannot fully grasp.
Thinking of Death
When we face this type of situation, whether due to academic duties or the misfortunes of life, we usually see first the overwhelming and incomprehensible theme of death in itself.
Regarding this experience, the first thing offered to us is the news of the death. For example, when we ask: When did it happen? Where? Or even when we say, “350 dead in the first attacks”. However, it may also be possible that we witness firsthand a murder or the death of an elderly relative. In every case, various circumstances cover the other and the meaning of his decease.
Many people report having near-death experiences, with numerous accounts from individuals who have emerged from comas sharing tales of these encounters. Some of the most notable experiences include seeing a light at the end of a tunnel or conversing with a departed loved one. However, verifying these experiences poses a significant challenge. Even if we accept these testimonies at face value, they seldom provide detailed insights beyond the brink of death, often limited to brief descriptions.
We cannot witness our annihilation as human and finite beings. Although death is as real as the passing of cars, its essence is mediated by a different experience. In other words, since the experience of death itself is doubtful and complicated, we depend entirely on the other to be able to think about its meaning and scope.
Death and the Other. Some Approaches
This relationship between mortality and the other is not new. Several cases confirm it, from ancient myths to more recent philosophical ideas.
For example, in the stories about the gods of ancient Egypt, Babylon, or Mesopotamia, we can see the importance played by the death of the hero – a sort of other that summed up the potential of humankind – to sustain the mystery of life and the religion of the State.
Let us remember one of the many stories of Egyptian mythology. According to the myth, the god Set killed his brother Osiris and put him in a coffin that was thrown into the Nile.
Then, Isis, wife, and sister of the betrayed god, along with his son Horus, collected the pieces of the scattered body throughout Egypt. In this way, Osiris – as a figure of the other – ensures a mortuary ritual that will be important for the mythology and religion of that culture.
Socrates
Mythology across various cultures has richly explored the concept of death and its connection to the afterlife, paralleled by numerous philosophical interpretations of the relationship between death and the beyond. A prominent figure in this discourse is Socrates (c.470–399 BC).
The Greek philosopher, sentenced to death by the democratic government of his time, articulated a perspective that has resonated through centuries of philosophical thought: viewing the philosophical life as a preparation for death. This viewpoint was eloquently presented in his final address before consuming the hemlock that would end his life.
Socrates’ philosophy extends beyond the realm of professional philosophers to anyone who values wisdom and moderation as the foundation of their life. According to Socrates, true knowledge involves more than speculative thought about abstract entities; it necessitates a deep self-examination. It’s about systematically dismantling any part of oneself not rooted in solid, ethical principles. Thus, death is the ultimate trial every individual must undergo to validate their moral convictions. Therefore, the demise of the physical body marks the beginning of the soul’s journey towards readiness and spiritual enrichment.
Stoicism and Epicureanism
We find excellent examples of this idea in the Stoicism and Epicureanism. Both schools existed, flourished, and declined between the Hellenistic and the Roman era — a time-lapse characterized by great theoretical diversity and the spread of classical philosophy in a much more universal context.
To live fully and in harmony with nature, the Stoics believed in the importance of preparing for death in advance. This preparation entailed engaging in spiritual exercises designed to deepen our connection with our own soul and with others. Also, in the case of Epicureanism, the fear of death is not such because, according to Epicurus (341–270 BC), the foremost thinker of that current, when it comes, we are no longer in this world, and when we exist, death is not here. Therefore, there is no need to fear what we cannot know.
The list of thinkers and schools regarding this topic can be endless. However, what seems contradictory is the meaning of the death of the other in our current world.
Dying Today
On one side, advancements in medical procedures and technological progress have led to an increasing separation from all reminders of life’s end, including the dead, the sick, the marginalized, and the elderly. On the other hand, our mass culture is experiencing a surge in violent and oppressive scenarios.
The gap we create between ourselves and death is not about traditional practices such as burial customs, farewell ceremonies, or the mourning process. These rites are essential aspects of parting and have been since time immemorial. Rather, it concerns the adoption of an ideology centered on eternal life that begins to influence our lives from birth.
Consider the excessive use of pharmaceuticals to combat illness, the pervasive preoccupation with weight, and various other bodily concerns. In our media landscape, we cannot overlook the invincible superhero who endures endless conflicts or the movies that promise eternal life and celebrate technology’s triumph over human frailty. Across the spectrum of our modern culture, there emerges a baseless optimism in eternal life and a victory over death.
When the Other is a Zombie
The core issue, as has been pointed out, is not merely the rapid advancements in technology, industry, and genetics but how these developments intertwine with a rising tide of violence and the depiction of death in both real and virtual contexts.
An illustrative, albeit somewhat trivial, example of how death has been excessively normalized within cultural discourse is seen in society’s fascination with zombies.
Death remains a complicated and sensitive topic, yet there’s been an almost frenzied proliferation of zombie-themed entertainment in recent years. This includes a vast array of television series, movies, and documentaries centered around zombies. While on the surface, the zombie phenomenon might seem like a straightforward metaphor, it’s actually indicative of a much deeper cultural preoccupation with death. Beneath this metaphorical iceberg lies an extensive array of media and narratives featuring not just fictional undead but real-life “others” – be they immigrants, the terminally ill, or individuals caught in conflict zones.
These depictions are a reflection of society’s general concerns and attitudes towards death, as well as its distancing from the realities faced by marginalized groups. By juxtaposing the fantastic horror of zombies with the genuine horrors experienced by real people around the world, we can see how contemporary culture both fears and trivializes death. This duality highlights a disconcerting disconnect between the entertainment value derived from fictional depictions of death and the profound tragedy of real loss and suffering.
Between Jean-Paul Sartre and Emmanuel Levinas
Death and Sartrean Existentialism
We can easily understand all these images and metaphors of death with a particular philosophical theory, a conception that was elaborated by the father of French existentialism, Jean-Paul Sartre (1905–1980).
Existentialism posits that our existence is not predefined by any essence, such as God, values, or innate ideas, among others. Instead, individuals first exist within their own reality and subsequently define themselves. This philosophy emphasizes that humans craft their identities through the freedom of choice, shaping their lives autonomously and without reliance on any higher or external forces. As Sartre articulates:
“Man is not only that which he conceives himself to be, but that which he wills himself to be, and since he conceives of himself only after he exists, just as he wills himself to be after being thrown into existence, man is nothing other than what he makes of himself. This is the first principle of existentialism.” [1]
This idea took on an exceptional meaning for the contemporaries of the Second World War, but it also involved a series of setbacks that we cannot enumerate right now.
Consequently, and according to Sartre, death does not determine us in anything. It happens when we pass away, but it does not help us understand what we are or want. In the same way, as death has no role to play in our existence, the other becomes my enemy. When I die, he is the one who appropriates my life, my memories, and my actions. This is true, but from this idea, Sartre concludes that the other is hell.
It is evident that the other can sometimes be cruel, violent, and so many other things. Maybe he can be a dictator or a murderer, but reality convinces us that we also discover goodwill, solidarity, fraternity, love, and hope in our relationship with the world.
Emmanuel Levinas and the Death of the Other
Emmanuel Levinas (1906–1995) tried to define a relationship with the other differently. He was born in Lithuania and is one of the most celebrated representatives of continental philosophy. In Time and the Other, he says:
I hope to be able to show that the relationship with the Other is as entirely different from what the existentialists propose…[2]
Thanks to his outstanding work, we know that philosophy places ethics at the center of all understanding. Besides, the encounter with the death of the other is the origin of my responsibility:
“The death of the other who dies affects me in my very identity as a responsible ‘me’… My being affected by the death of the other is precisely that, my relation with his death. In my relation, it is my deference to someone who no longer responds, already a culpability—the culpability of the survivor.” [3]
If we consider ourselves determined solely by absolute freedom, it might lead us to infringe upon the lives of others, encroach upon their boundaries, or even annihilate their cultures.
In such a mindset, the other becomes akin to a zombie, perceived as a threat from which we must protect ourselves. However, Levinas presents a contrasting view: it is through the death of the other that we become acutely aware of their vulnerability and our inherent responsibility towards them.
These reflections and more flooded my thoughts on the morning my father died. In that moment, I sought clarity in the sterile glow of a computer screen, only to find silence. It seems, then, that this marks the start of an extensive quest for understanding.
A version of this article will be published in the magazine ThinkNow (March /2020).
Notes
[1] Sartre, Jean Paul. Existentialism is a Humanism. Yale University Press. London. p. 22.
[2] Levinas, Emmanuel. “Time and the Other” in The Levinas Reader. Basil Blackwell. Cambridge. 1989. p. 45.
[3] Levinas, Emmanuel. God, death, and Time. Stanford University Press. California. 2000. p. 12.
