How Should We Think About Death?
Death in Philosophy: From West to East
In “Phaedo,” Plato endeavors to prove the immortality of the soul. Socrates, the central figure, asserts that practicing philosophy is essentially a preparation for death. He argues that a true philosopher, who remains fearless in the face of death, should also welcome it. Thus, Socrates exemplifies both fearlessness and willingness when it comes to death. After all, isn’t practicing philosophy, in a sense, daring to confront death and approach it closely?
Underlying this idea is an implicit acceptance of certain dualities. The duality of death and life mirrors the duality of God and man in Plato’s philosophy. According to Plato, our physical existence or earthly life is merely a deceptive transitional phase. What continues to exist eternally after the death of the body is our spiritual essence.
Therefore, from the perspective we see in Socrates and Plato, we should regard death as a transition from illusion to reality. In this sense, death becomes the ultimate goal of life. This philosophical viewpoint, which has persisted since Plato, reaches its pinnacle in the work of Martin Heidegger. If I were to summarize his book Being and Time in one sentence, it would be this: the meaning of being (where “being” refers to the human existence known as Dasein) is fundamentally the awareness that we are living towards death. We are not only living towards death, but we are also aware of this fact. According to Heidegger, what makes Dasein truly Dasein is this very awareness.
Therefore, when we examine Heidegger’s philosophy, we encounter a philosophical narrative that centers on death, a theme that extends from Plato through medieval Christian philosophy. As I mentioned earlier, these perspectives attempt to convey the incompleteness of life and its fulfillment through death.
Conversely, another viewpoint that focuses on death highlights its role in giving life meaning and value. Consider the Stoic philosophers, for example. The Stoics assert that death is the most significant event in life. Seneca famously said, “No man enjoys the true taste of life but he who is ready and willing to quit it.” Additionally, the phrase “memento mori,” meaning “remember death,” was popularized by the Stoics.
How can remembering death enrich our lives? Reflecting on death reminds us that our time here is limited and that we are inevitably moving towards death, emphasizing our transience. With this awareness, instead of squandering our time on meaningless pursuits, we are motivated to refine ourselves, our thoughts, and our actions. The recognition of life’s finitude is one of the key factors that make our brief time here more meaningful.
That’s why many painters during the Middle Ages and Renaissance would often incorporate a skull into the corners or margins of their artwork. Even in still life paintings portraying scattered fruits, musical instruments, or wilting flowers, the aim was not just decoration but to convey the transience of life. The underlying message is consistent: you are mortal, and the time here is fleeting. Live with this awareness.
The narrative that death establishes the meaning of life is a common theme found in the ideas of Heidegger and subsequent existentialist philosophers. While Albert Camus discusses how death binds humans to life, Sartre famously stated that the only beings who do not fear death are those who are already dead. Contemplating death is what defines humanity. However, Western philosophical perspectives on death are not limited to this view. There’s also a perspective that considers death as merely an external connection to life, not worth contemplating. It wouldn’t be wrong to say that one of the early representatives of this perspective was Epicurus. He said, “Death is nothing to us. When we exist, death is not; and when death exists, we are not.” Therefore, as long as we exist, breathe, and experience life, there’s no need to fear death. And when death comes, there won’t be a subject to worry about our own demise, so the problem ceases to exist.
Fernando Pessoa also conveyed an idea similar to this, when you begin to fret about your death, think about the time before your birth. Just as I don’t worry about the time I didn’t exist before my birth, worrying about the time after my death seems equally absurd. Of course, it’s not as simple as that. Because now I’m born, I’m here, experiencing life. Once you’re born, firstly, you understand what the experience of life is like, and secondly, there’s a fear due to not having definite knowledge of what will happen after death.
Contrary to the tradition stretching from Plato to Heidegger, there are figures like Spinoza, Nietzsche, or Deleuze who present a different perspective. Deleuze, often seen as a successor to Spinoza or Nietzsche, articulates in his work “Spinoza: Practical Philosophy” that philosophy, rather than being a preparation for death as seen in the Socratic tradition, is, in fact, a meditation on life. He argues that contemplating death always leads to a negative encounter. This notion drives Deleuze to position death as the outermost aspect of life, attempting to illuminate its meaning within the internal dynamics of existence.
While the traditional viewpoint, notably in Plato and Christianity, posits dual levels of existence — physical and spiritual, earthly and afterlife — Deleuze’s philosophy challenges this dichotomy. Instead, he emphasizes the singular nature of existence, viewing it as an ongoing event or process. In Deleuze’s framework, life transcends individual experiences like those of Dilara, A, or B. Rather than a mere concept, life becomes a philosophical phenomenon — an intricate network of relationships, an organic force, an unfolding event.
In this perspective, even if my individual experience were to fade, the essence of life persists, rendering my death as an individual relatively inconsequential to the broader concept of life. By refraining from labeling life as a concept, I acknowledge its dynamic nature. Viewing life through the lens of Deleuze’s philosophy, it becomes evident that it is not a static entity but an open system characterized by movement and continual transformation. This understanding resonates deeply with me.
When contrasting traditional Western philosophy with Chinese philosophy, which also draws from Vedic culture, we find similar ideas in Indian philosophy. Here, the absence of a concept of beginning implies the absence of an end. Think of it like this: Where does a circle begin? There’s no definitive starting point, right? Contemplating the beginning of a circle isn’t particularly meaningful; what matters is its circular nature. By transcending notions of beginning and end, and instead envisioning existence or life as a cyclical journey, akin to a closed loop, we come to view death and life as complementary transitions. Classical Chinese philosophy doesn’t present a worldview or life concept originating from a transcendent principle external to itself. Rather, at its core, it embodies autopoiesis — the process of life creating itself through its internal dynamics. From an ontological perspective, it suggests that the cosmos is an endless, perpetual, transformative process with no discernible beginning or end. If existence is indeed a transformative process, then life and death aren’t distinct entities but rather stages within this ongoing transformation. Consequently, death should be regarded as a facet of change. However, this perspective doesn’t negate the presence of fear of death in Chinese philosophy or among its adherents. Instead, death is viewed as a transitional phase. Since there’s no narrative of post-death judgment, akin to the countless processes in nature, death becomes naturalized rather than feared. Here, death is simply a part of the ongoing transformation of existence.
Confucius once said, “If we don’t understand life, how can we comprehend death?” This statement suggests that to grasp the concept of death, we must first understand life itself. Through meditation on life, observing its creation, transformation, and change, we come to recognize death as an inherent aspect of life. What I find valuable about this perspective is that our inability to answer significant questions about beginnings, creation, or death doesn’t arise from a lack of knowledge about these topics, but from a lack of understanding of life itself. It is because we haven’t delved deeply enough into the nature of life that we struggle to comprehend death or origins. I am eager to hear your thoughts on this matter.
