There has always been a tendency to regard death as something sad and unfair. We think that our time in life is insufficient and we realise too late what we should have started to do. Both religion and science share a respect for the unknown, such as death. In this context, philosopher and theologian Kostas Vrachnos explains that Christianity and scientism have in common the fight against the evil that leads to pain, ageing and death. Furthermore, he explains that one of the consequences of progressive enthusiasm is to think that scientific development will solve all problems, without being aware of what it entails to address these issues.
—What did he die of??
—From nothing. His health is over.
Clarice Lispector: The hour of the star
The day came when Methuselah, the archetype of longevity, eventually died. Whether the cause was natural or supernatural, it is almost the same thing, because when we consider life as a non-negotiable right and death as the enemy par excellence of life, we always die prematurely and old age, the final phase of our journey on earth, always takes on the character of a sad and unjust stage. Now, whether or not the cessation of vital functions means the extinction of the person, fortunately, we verify it after death, never before. Pascal says: "I do not know who brought me into the world, nor what the world is, nor what I am myself; I am in a terrible ignorance of everything (...) The only thing I know is that I am going to die soon, but what I am most ignorant of is this very death that I am unable to avoid". And he asks: "Why is my duration limited to a hundred years and not a thousand? But what difference does it make? Whatever the maximum duration of human life, it would seem to us, firstly, natural, and, secondly, insufficient, man being as he is: split, dual, contradictory, insecure, agonising, eager to be/to want/to know, impotent, unsatisfied and insatiable. "There is no man so decrepit that, as he sees Methuselah ahead of him, he does not think that he still has twenty years left in his body" observes Montaigne. From our spatio-temporal and comprehensive limitation, our hopes are so boundless that for their realisation "Methuselah himself would have died too young" (A. Schopenhauer); and the feeling of precocity accompanies us to the most extreme old age, for, however long we have lived, we never cease to feel (and to be) new-born and childlike. Marcus Aurelius observes: "Look behind you into the abyss of eternity and before you into another infinity. In view of that, how does the child who has lived three days differ from the child who has lived three times as long as Gereneus?". It is not only that life never seems enough, but that one always realises too late what one thinks one should have started from. Husserl himself, no less, at the age of 70, declares himself "a true beginner" and adds that, had he been granted "the age of Methuselah, he would almost dare to glimpse the possibility of becoming a philosopher". In fact, the spark of philosophising goes back to the first wonder at what is there, and this wonder becomes a person's existential and spiritual regulator. "The more vulgar man is, the less enigmatic the world seems to him", Schopenhauer rightly pointed out.
"No matter how long we have lived, we never stop feeling (and being) newborns and children".
This world that has been given to us is full of mystery, yet despite its utterly indecipherable, contingent and "arbitrary" character, we have no choice but to accept its conditions and laws as they are implemented on Earth, which represents our only possibility of life. The earthly presence is experienced as something totally unintelligible and at the same time familiar, as something gratuitous and at the same time absolute. This "schizophrenia" eloquently reflects the profoundly metaphysical dimension of existence, the oblivion of which generates the greatest of human anomalies in not marvelling at it and by extension degrading it from mystery to "problem" and immediately demanding "solution". On this scale, is anything solved by living longer, much longer or forever: for example, "is an enigma solved because I live forever" (L. Wittgenstein). It turns out that the mystery does not consist in what we do not yet know, but in what the human intellect, despite its incredible advances, will never explain.
Basically, religion and science have the same metaphysical origin and share the same respect for the unknown and the unknowable, but over the centuries, the scientistic - and lately economistic - mentality has been displacing the basic forms of spirituality, which - regardless of their "practical verifiability" - keep man in close relation to his transcendental dimension, which transcends - and in part belies - their definition in exclusive terms of matter, mechanics or biology. In reality, this historical turn (the gradual elimination of the sense of mystery) has brought about an unprecedented anthropological alteration, and to it we owe much of the supposedly new or casual human misfortunes and crises. According to G.K. Chesterton's diagnosis: "As long as there is mystery there is health, and when mystery is destroyed, disease appears". The reins of the planet, progress and the well-being of humanity have passed into the hands of people - according to Unamuno - "devoid of any philosophical culture (...) who believe too much in science, and more than in science itself - for this faith is all very well - in the less than absolute value of its aspirations and in the fact that science makes progress - this other fetish - and progress makes human happiness". One of the consequences and watchwords of progressive enthusiasm has been the entrenchment of the optimistic faith that all problems can be solved and that scientific and technological development will correct all the hardships afflicting the species, not only political, economic and social, but also existential ones. Unwilling to meditate on the abysmal and holistic nature of its problems, the new science rushes with too much self-confidence and haste to solve them. The situation becomes more complicated when we deal with issues involving facets, perspectives and dynamics whose thoughtless treatment may have irreversible effects on the species or the planet itself. This is the case with pain, ageing and death, which for the dominant anti-metaphysical mentality, i.e. the agenda of the Zeitgeist that sets the standards and imposes its measures and priorities, represent unpleasant flaws to be fixed, while for the deeply humanistic sensibility they are unfathomable mysteries to be experienced and probed. Today's world, with its individualistic, materialistic, hedonistic, utilitarian, consumerist, ultra-productive, quantitative, gregarious, pressing and so on, shows little interest in the eternal questions and in no way recognises them as unconditional and invariable factors - similar to physical constants (e.g. gravitation, the speed of light) - of supreme symbolic and vital relevance, on whose vigour the totality of human activities depends. Among these constants which man can neither elude nor interpret, temporality stands out, for Unamuno "the terrible mystery of time, the most terrible of all mysteries, the father of them all", one of the "elements" of Being, no less incomprehensible and mysterious than Being itself, linked more than any other to the most firm, palpable and anguished experience of time as finitude, expiration, irreversibility, fleetingness and brevity.
The first of the four noble truths of Buddhism, dukkha (= suffering), goes like this: "Birth is suffering, old age is suffering, sickness is suffering, death is suffering". Although the Western worldview is at the antipodes of India, it shares with it all these premises except the first one, because for us birth is the supreme gift and life the absolute value; so absolute that we do not consent that it should end so soon or even end at all. (Western) man carries in his core a longing for permanence, expansion and propagation, hence he opposes death, which, denying him this instinct, sows and strengthens in him the agony of his overcoming. Having received Being, or rather Becoming, he wants to retain and conserve that which has once been given to him: he clings desperately to his gift and does not let go of it. Dilthey alludes to the "profound enigma of the expiration in time and of the sameness of our existence, which calls for the cancellation of becoming in being".
For very different reasons Christianity and scientism share the same goal of dealing with pain, ageing and death. For both, psychic and bodily discomfort, progressive biological deterioration and mortality are an evil. For the former, however, they are a "metaphysical evil", hence their therapeutic tools are exclusively spiritual, while for the latter they are medicine, pharmaceuticals, chemistry, dietetics, surgery, physiotherapy, nanotechnology, cryonisation, etc.; "an incurable evil", laments Jean Améry, whose only cure comes to an end after death. The transhumanist project, in particular, is not content with offering an image of the world, but is determined to reshape nature by seeking the remedy for all "metaphysical ills" while we are alive, in effect proposing an "anti-human" anthropological model, devoid of any possibility of existential self-justification. For transhumanism, which unearths old and repressed reveries of humanity, "Nature is the old age that weakens us and it is death that ends our life" (Michael Hauskeller). Happy immortality or eternal youth (let's not forget poor Titono!) has always been dreamt of through mythological and religious narratives, which have endowed life with values, meanings, interpretations, motives and ends, as well as constituting whole systems of liberation and deification. Since the paradigm shifted, and metaphysics (and religion) began to recede from the scene, the dream of paradise has been succeeded by utopian fantasies, and the yearning for salvation has been replaced by a concern for mere survival. Modern man, while repressing the image of his imminent end, opts for the illusion of an unlimited continuation of life, "an unusual occupation that does not correspond to any meaning or end" (M. Scheler), based more on the rejection of finitude than on an ideal of existence. The gerontologist Leonard Hayflick spoke of an "attempt to deceive Mother Nature", an enterprise with no chance of success or equivalent to a Pyrrhic victory. For the moment, Nature, God willing, does not seem willing to be fooled. No matter how much life expectancy increases, the maximum lifespan remains eternally "stuck" at around 120 years. But even if it is extended by a few more years, it will always be regarded as hopelessly short. And from the point of view of faith, almost ridiculous, as St. Basil of Caesarea notes in his discourse To the Young: "Even if I am told of the old age of Titonus or of Argantonius or of our very long-lived Methuselah, who is said to have lived nine hundred and seventy years (...) I shall laugh as at a child's witticism, as I look on eternity, long and without old age". In any case, the determination of scientists and entrepreneurs committed to the bio-onto-logical transformation of the species is frightening; the absence of philosophical reflection, bioethical responsibility and social conscience in their strategy to carry out such an existential and political, moral and demographic nightmare is frightening. Saving distances, it would not be an exaggeration to affirm that, if on a historical level the imposition of paradise on earth meant totalitarianism, on a biological level the bionic metamorphosis would be equivalent to a second original sin.
With all this panic-stricken or otherwise "positive" culture, in which we move "from happiness as a right to happiness as an obligation" (Pascal Bruckner), not only does the obsession with not growing old or dying go down the drain, but the original pleasures that life has to offer are spoiled; in other words, we kill ourselves to live longer, to recall Barbara Ehrenreich's beautiful book. As Bruckner notes in An Eternal Instant. Philosophy of longevity: "The important thing is no longer to live to the full the time allotted to us, but to stay alive as long as possible: the notion of successive stages of life has been replaced by that of longevity". We have thus moved from a framework where the natural and existential constants of pain, ageing and death were treated as "meaningful mysteries to be discovered" to being treated as "meaningless problems to be eradicated". Unfortunately, the position that is gaining ground is that of the view that does not suspect that the "obstacles" of finitude, suffering, ageing or death are indispensable conditions for meaning. All the "enemies" that today's dominant science (and economy) insists on neutralising are in fact the principles that guarantee the value, meaning and beauty of life itself. "Finitude, temporality, is not only an essential characteristic of life, it is also a constitutive factor of the very meaning of life. The meaning of human existence is based precisely on its irreversible character," says pain expert Viktor Frankl. The fact of being short-lived and passing quickly is the quintessence of life, the foundation of its preciousness. Otherwise, warns Savater: "Perpetual life would lose any meaning (...) because we would have plenty of time to undertake everything, achieve everything and renounce everything. The only intelligible interpretation of what we call giving meaning to life is the this-or-that administration of the scarcity of time available to us". If we were immortal, would we be in a position to act or would we be condemned to absolute laziness and the most radical meaninglessness? The great Khankelevitch says: "Death is the condition of life, insofar as it is paradoxically the negation of that life (...) without death life would not be worth living (...) an everlasting duration, an indefinitely prolonged existence would be in a certain sense the most characteristic form of damnation". And, echoing Seneca, he concludes: "He who does not live, a fortiori does not suffer, knows neither illness, nor ageing, nor the anguish of agony, nor the supreme tearing apart (...) there is no advantage without a counterpart, let us answer without hesitation: yes, a thousand times yes, to know the inestimable treasure of life, it is worth accepting at the same time the bitter trial of death"; and of old age, "the metaphysical illness of temporality". In fact, "science and culture do not think of death as a metaphysical mystery, and certainly do not consider it to be the origin of the meaning of life. Rather, for modern people death is a technical problem that we can and should solve" (Yuval Noah Hariri). This would not be possible, if what Ivan Ilyich called "medical civilisation" had not prevailed, which tends to turn pain into a technical problem, depriving suffering of its personal meaning and undermining the ability of individuals to face their reality, to express their own values and "to accept such inevitable and often irremediable things as pain and disability, ageing and death". It is not only the suppression of resistance that undermines the vital compensations that produce meaning and the universe of values, elements that make life worthy and worth living. The relentless race towards perfection makes us forget that euphoria in intramundane terms never fills us to the brim. As long as our antinomic structure remains unchanged, desire is never definitively satisfied; and it is precisely this structural dissatisfaction that is the inexhaustible source of our actions.
Undoubtedly, the improvement in the quality of life thanks to scientific and social advances in nutrition, hygiene, public health, health care and working conditions has led to a significant increase in life expectancy. However, the drive to increase and prolong life expectancy at all costs and with a thousand sacrifices has not at all brought the desired results. Because, beyond the need to meet certain basic material-economic requirements, the balance and happiness of the elderly depends on non-material things, such as family and friendship ties, hobbies, personal legacy and, above all, world view, the degree of spirituality. Cicero, the first gerontologist among philosophers, states: "Would old age be milder if one lived 800 years instead of 80? However long one's life may have been, no consolation could have softened foolish old age". It is often forgotten that old age is forged from youth; as well as that every old man has been fully young; and that a life devoid of spiritual, ethical and aesthetic values and concerns, and above all indifferent to the mystery of the world and ungrateful to the gift of life is doomed from very early on to meaninglessness; which with the years leads gradually to despair (depression or hysteria). Shipwreck is inevitable when the young do not learn to be grown up and the old do not accept the hard fate of being grown up. This becomes even more dramatic depending on which form of non-acceptance is chosen; the range extends from the beautifying masking of the calamities of senescence (Norberto Bobbio) to the misery of the will to imitate youth (Hermann Hesse), frustrated ways of repressing both the truth and also the justice of nature, since decline and death affect everyone indiscriminately; all - it goes without saying - those children, young people and adults who are fortunate enough not to die before their 60th birthday.
"We do not know who we are if we do not know what we will be: let us recognise ourselves in this old man, in this old woman. This is how it has to be if we want to assume our human condition in its entirety", says Simone de Beauvoir in her famous study on old age. Considering the former cult of youth, nowadays rampant, a symptom of alienated and ageing societies, the position of the elderly today in the West symbolises an unsuspected failure, which, in addition to displaying the monstrous dimensions of a pathogenesis, is a real catastrophe for the human species, according to Frank Schirrmacher and his book Methuselah's Plot. Gerontophobia and ageism consolidate a kind of "racism against old age", and apart from marginalising the elderly, condemning them to indignity and shame, they are responsible for a misrepresentation of unprecedented anthropological consequences: forgetting that "perhaps one day I too will be old" (Norbert Elias), cultivating the illusion that the old are the other, even feeling disgust for the elderly, which is equivalent to being disgusted with oneself in advance. The reintegration of the elderly into life depends more on the authorities, institutions and the self-respect of society than on the effort of the elderly to tune in to the exaggerated demands of the times. There is no doubt that the technological/digital literacy of the older generations is urgently needed, because the world, "bewitched by the demon of speed" according to the octogenarian Ramón y Cajal, is advancing and progressing vertiginously and mercilessly; Meanwhile, for its part, society, no less urgently and as a first step, needs to learn slowness from its older citizens and to recover what Byung-Chul Han calls "the aroma of time", which is to reclaim the contemplative in the maelstrom of the hyperactive in this age of haste. Humanity will never mature until it takes care of its parents/progenitors and makes use of their experience, wisdom and wise ignorance. Humanity's days or centuries - it makes no difference - are numbered if it continues to neglect the highly mysterious and marvellous condition of the world, the awareness of which separates us from the risk of falling into animality. What is always at stake is meaning, which lies not in eugenics and biological duration but in euthanasia and biographical quality. Humanity has to reintegrate the "negative" in the past and accept it as an essential part of the gift of existence. And to continue to compensate for it with deep gratitude or - why not - by celebrating it, as Philostratus tells of the inhabitants of ancient Gades (today's so jaded Cadiz), who had an altar to Old Age and honoured Death with hymns.
Memento mori
No pretendo ser original ni deseo perderme en disquisiciones de salón o erudiciones absurdas ante la realidad más evidente, la muerte. Me gustaría hacer una breve consideración con la naturalidad con que Jorge Manrique se expresa en sus Coplas o con ese estoicismo que el hombre de campo, valga el tópico, lo hace. Con esa severa naturalidad de la gente sencilla que tiene poco por vivir y que ha dejado mucho vivido. Tarea compleja, sin duda.
Cómo de entre mis manos te resbalas!
¡Oh, cómo te deslizas, edad mía!
¡Qué mudos pasos traes, oh, muerte fría,
pues con callado pie todo lo igualas!
Estos versos sabidos y conocidos de Quevedo son los que me han venido a la mente. Y el memento mori. Y “se muere como se vive”, voz de la sabiduría popular que he visto tantas veces en mi vida, para bien o para mal, aunque quizá sea el último caso el más evidente y más tremendo; en el primer caso me he sentido atrapado por una paz infinita al ver de forma tangible, evidente y sin ambages ese “buen morir” de la gente buena. Esa realidad de la muerte digna y ejemplar de la gente que muere rodeada de cariño y de la pena serena pero llena de esperanza y de sentido transcendente de los suyos me trae a la cabeza el “confieso que he vivido”, que he vivido como un ser humano, lo otro, el mal morir tras una vida de rabia y de hacer rabiar, es muerte de perro. Y hay muchos perros.
La vida es agua que resbala entre las manos y olvidarlo es morir en vida. “Pañales y mortaja”, continuando con el clásico, principio y fin, partida y destino, demasiado juntos. Ante la realidad del morir, la cuestión es cómo afrontar esa verdad. Por eso los mayores son los más sabios, porque queda tan poco que la perspectiva es enorme hacia atrás y las ganas de vivir mirando hacia delante son intensas. O lo tomas o lo dejas, porque un mal de nuestro tiempo es el negacionismo, que no es negar la realidad, es negar que esto (aquí es morir, pero esa palabra trae otras realidades negadas) me pueda pasar a mí, a mí. Y negamos y morimos rabiando, huyendo de mi realidad y cuando alguien huye de su realidad deja de existir como ser humano.
Por eso la vida no es vana -y aquí me aparto de don Francisco de Quevedo en su soneto que cito-, ni frágil, ni mísera. La vida está plena plenitud, es fuerte y es rica. Mentira esos arrebatos escatológicos. Yo creo que un cielo en un infierno cabe, vaya si cabe, y no hay claros desengaños, hay luz y cuanto más nos acercamos a la postrera sombra, mejor, muchísimo mejor.
Por eso me gusta ir a la cama con un pijama digno y transcurrir tantas horas entre sábanas. ¿Y esto a qué viene? Pues otra vez voy a Quevedo:
¿Con qué culpa tan grave,
sueño blando y suave,
pude en largo destierro merecerte
que se aparte de mí tu olvido manso?
Pues no te busco yo por ser descanso,
sino por muda imagen de la muerte.
No diré más, amigo, saca conclusiones. Pero por favor, una sonrisa, al Maestre de Santiago la parca le llamó “buen amigo”, por eso camino con la descarnada del brazo, nos reímos de tanto necio, nos tomamos un buen vino, me calma cuando la cuesta de la vida se pone casi vertical y me aconseja dar gracias a Dios por todo lo bueno y lo malo, al fin y al cabo Dios es su patrón y cuando me lo recuerda veo que de miedo nada, nada de nada. Por eso le dediqué una obrita a mi amiga, a la que le di forma de hombre elegante en El hombre que viaja.
Yo era Carlos, el protagonista, en un trasunto de mí mismo. La muerte le hizo ver a Carlos su realidad y porque en un futuro muy lejano entonces, debería encontrarse con ella/él y ese encuentro que sea consecuencia de cómo habría vivido. Menos miedo, pues, menos elucubraciones y disquisiciones. Salud.
It seems quite obvious that, as my admired Vrachnós reminds us, "whatever the maximum duration of human life may be, it would seem to us, first, natural, and, second, insufficient". The question is to try to interpret the reason why this is the case. My impression is that Vrachnós emphasises the inevitable and inherently unsatisfied condition of the human being, as well as the terror of conceiving oneself dead (in other words, the extreme dissatisfaction with one's own finitude). However, it could be argued that one considers one's remaining time to be insufficient, simply because one still has things to do and no time to do them.
There is no doubt that the Greek is right in his diagnosis of the dangers of an anti-metaphysical mentality that degrades the mystery of existence to a mere problem, and not content with this, he tries to find a solution to this problem through technoscience. But it gives the impression that, in doing so, he is inclined to think that the metaphysical attitude to such a mystery should be, fundamentally - or so at least the text suggests - the Stoic assumption of temporal limitation, when in reality, equally metaphysical may be the unconditional adherence to that yearning for extra time which is the object of our disquisition.
As the lucid article with which I am trying to dialogue certifies, the idiosyncrasy of the West, unlike a certain Eastern spirituality, flees in terror from death, old age and suffering, and this flight, which is basically a blindness, implies not understanding a fundamental part of the meaning of life. However, this meaning is not exhausted here; rather, the meaning of life is given, to an equal or perhaps greater extent, by the life project that each one of us is capable of constructing for ourselves, as Ortega reminds us when defining what the radical reality that we truly are consists of: our individual life. And it so happens that there can only be a project where there is time. So it is perfectly legitimate, and I would even say salvific, to always want to live longer, under the condition, of course, that the time we are granted is not wasted simply surviving or vegetating, but that it is dedicated precisely to saving us; saving us -observe- from being inauthentically, or what is the same, from not being at all, from nothingness, from death. This two-headed condition of the human being, that of an entity that is obliged to assume its mortal condition at the same time as it is also obliged to avoid it, is one more of the multiple paradoxes that define us. As the author says, the yearning for salvation, supplanted today by a mere desire for survival, must be restored to its original dignity, but that salvation, in turn, can (and must) incorporate an infinite desire for time, provided that this time is used to project a full life, that is, to save oneself, to save life from nothingness.
To illustrate this, I use one of the pairs of concepts with which Aristotle turns the study of being upside down once and for all: act and potency. A seed is a seed in act, but a tree in potency, just as a 70-year-old man is in act a man who cannot speak, say, French, but in potency he is a 75-year-old man capable of expressing himself in that language because he learned it in the last five years. One's being is not fully defined until the last moment of life, when there is no longer any possibility of being in potential, nor any possibility of a project, because there is no time either.
Vrachnós ends his profound dissertation by alluding to the contempt of senescence on the part of the less advanced ages, but once again he puts the meaning of this contempt in the inability (or fear) of accepting our human reality as perishable, expired and, in the end, mortal beings. But I believe that beneath this contempt there is actually an error in the perception of senescence as a time when one sits waiting for death, when in fact nothing prevents it from being a vital stage in which, despite the progressive diminution of available time, one can be able to project oneself into the future with greater enthusiasm; a stage in which one can be who one is in a more authentic way; a stage in which - in short - one is more alive and less dead.
Does the meaning of life depend on its own prolongation?
Recall the ancient myth of Titono: Eos, goddess of Dawn, in love with him, begs Zeus to grant him immortality, but forgets to ask for eternal youth. As a result, his hair turns white, his face fills with wrinkles, he gradually loses his youthful complexion and Titono finally reaches a pathetic old age. Only his voice remains as sweet as before, so the gods take pity on him and transform him into a cicada. Careful: they transform him into a cicada, like the one in Aesop's legend who spends the whole summer singing carefree and unprepared for the harsh winter (as, on the contrary, the ant does) that will come and destroy it. Lesson of life? Perhaps yes. Titono, from a suffering immortal old man, is transformed into an ephemeral being who sings of life, undisturbed by death. Here, by the way, the prolongation of life does not matter at all, well-being depends on the happy moment, even if it lasts only a short time.
Let us turn to another example of a life of a different time and perception: Within the spiritual tradition of the Orthodox Church the monk is called kalogeros, i.e. "good old man": that is, he has to cultivate himself in order to become a good old man, and constantly fight against the weaknesses of his character which in an advanced age will increase and become a burden for all those around him. It is obvious that the concept here implies that the subject is approaching the calm of the sage, which is a constant in all religious traditions of the East.
For antiquity, dominated by the imaginary model of the hero, the one who is willing to sacrifice himself for the good of the city in order to gain fame among his fellow citizens, the important thing is precisely that same unique moment he seeks to demonstrate his courage. It is the triumphant moment of a lifetime when one is called upon to say the big No, after many Yeses - to recall Cavafis - and to fight for it. On the other hand, in the Christian community the imaginary model of the saint wants to be established only in the memory of God and not of people, so a longer life usually offers more opportunities for forgiveness and repentance. These are two different perceptions of life, but equally relevant.
However, our world no longer lives by the didactic myths of antiquity, it is quite post-Christian and fast enough to be interested in the patience of existence. Before thinking about prolongation, it is necessary to reflect on a personal life project, and this is today the most difficult of all projects.