Death and the (Mistaken?) Privileging of Consciousness

I believe that one day in the next sixty years I will cease to exist. I will die. I don’t believe I’ve got a soul, immortal or otherwise. Perhaps a soul is possible—though the notion doesn’t make sense to me—but we shouldn’t confuse possibility with probability. My ceasing to exist one day causes me a fair amount of unease. It’s rather untoward of life to do such a thing as cease—human life, anyway—my life and those I love, anyway. But whence this unease? Well, I value my experiences and much else besides. Upon bodily death, those experiences (my consciousness and memories) will cease and I will exit the stage of my relationships.

But what if I am wrong to value my continued consciousness so highly? What if there was some other aspect of me that was more valuable and which might continue on in some fashion upon my bodily death? What more could I be though, besides my conscious body, which will expire? I have long given pride of place to my consciousness when thinking about death. No consciousness = no me = sad/terrified/uneasy me prior to death. But since the death of my former wife, Jennie Wrisley, I have been intensely interested in achieving a better understanding of what it is to be a person, to figure out whether I am contained between my hat and boots—whether any one is (though not between MY hat and boots). My anxiousness about death and my drive to understand personhood is why I am teaching a class called “Death and Awe” this fall. I plan to use it as an opportunity to get clearer on these issues.

Continue reading

Share

Is it true that nothing really matters because one day I or the universe will cease to be?

There are a number of things that might concern one about death and the meaning of one’s life. Two related concerns are that in a million years nothing we do now will matter and, assuming there is no soul-like immortality, because life on earth is finite, nothing has any meaning. Something like these two ideas seems to be running through the following quote from Hans Küng regarding Simone de Beauvoir:

Simone de Beauvoir, the companion of Jean Paul Sartre, growing old, finished the third volume of her memoirs, Force of Circumstance, with a review of the life she had so passionately affirmed:  “Yet I loathe the thought of annihilating myself quite as much now as I ever did. I think with sadness of all the books I’ve read, all the places I’ve seen, all the knowledge I’ve amassed and that will be no more. All the music, all the paintings, all the culture, so many places: and suddenly nothing…. If it had at least enriched the earth; if it had given birth to…what? A hill? A rocket? But no. Nothing will have taken place, I can still see the hedge of hazel trees flurried by the wind and the promises with which I fed my beating heart while I stood gazing at the gold-mine at my feet: a whole life to live.  The promises have all been kept.  And yet, turning an incredulous gaze towards that young and credulous girl, I realize with stupor how much I was gypped.”  (p693, From Hans Küng, Does God Exist?)

This is quite a depressing attitude. All those things and experiences will cease to mean anything once de Beauvoir ceases to exist. But why must their meaningfulness depend on her continued existence? Does it really? Let’s try to answer this latter question by looking at what might it mean to say that in a million years nothing we do now will matter? Here are some possibilities: Continue reading

Share

The Relational Identity of Persons and the Importance of Personal Projects

What follows are some first steps in thinking through an aspect of the possible relational identity of persons. I imagine there is a great deal of confusion herein. But so it goes with many beginnings. The question “What is it to be an…..?” is often, if not always, difficult to answer. Pick any object around the house, a chair, for example, and ask what is it that makes it a chair, and you can discover the difficulty. But when we ask, “What is it to be a person?” we face a more difficult than usual version of the question. I take it that this question is different, though related, to, “What is it to be a human being?”—a question that is most easily interpreted as, “What is it to be a Homo sapiens?” They are different because it is quite conceivable to imagine a creature that is not Homo sapiens that deserves to be called a person and we can easily imagine a particular Homo sapiens that doesn’t deserve to be called, at least not fully, a person. Some kind of intelligent alien might fit the former description, and some kind of human who is less than fully engaged with life might fit the latter (I’ll return to the latter example below).

My concern with personal identity is primarily due to its implications for death. In the west it is usual to either identify oneself as a soul that will go to heaven or hell, or with one’s body, in which case death means the cessation of existence. Things are, of course, more complicated than this. Leaving aside the possibility, much less the nature, of a soul, philosophers are less than agreed as to what constitutes personal identity, what makes person A at time t1 the same person as B at time t2. Continue reading

Share

Buddhism and Aristotle on the Appropriateness of Suffering Grief: A Further Mark Against Buddhism

In the well-known parable of the arrow, the Buddha responds negatively to the usefulness of answering certain metaphysical questions. The point that he makes is that they are not important for furthering the goal of alleviating dukkha (suffering/existential dissatisfaction):

Whether the view is held that the world is eternal or not, Malunkyaputta, there is still birth, old age, death, grief, suffering, sorrow and despair – and these can be destroyed in this life! I have not explained these other things because they are not useful, they are not conducive to tranquility and Nirvana. What I have explained is suffering, the cause of suffering, the destruction of suffering and the path that leads to the destruction of suffering. This is useful, leading to non-attachment, the absence of passion, perfect knowledge. (Found here. My emphasis.)

The Buddha seeks to live a full life, but one that eliminates suffering and the cycle of rebirths. Since the whole purpose of Buddhism is to alleviate suffering, it isn’t wrong to say that suffering has a negative value for Buddhists. This need not imply that it is never instrumentally valuable for the Buddhist; nevertheless, any instrumental value it has is to be transcended, ultimately leaving the suffering behind, negatively valued. For more detail on the value of suffering, see here and here.

Buddhism’s view of suffering and happiness is not as crude as Bentham’s, for whom pain varied only in intensity, duration, certainty/uncertainty, and propinquity/remoteness, but not quality: consider the difference between stubbing your toe, nausea, and the death of a loved one. Nevertheless, for both suffering is bad and happiness is good, even if “happiness” means very different things for each. An important difference between Buddhists and Bentham is that the Buddhists don’t understand all pleasures as being intrinsically valuable. They would presumably say the pleasure of meditating is positive (barring attachment to it), whereas the pleasure of heroin and a dozen donuts at one sitting is negative. Bentham, on the other hand, seems to say that when considering actions, it’s simply a matter of summing pleasure and summing pain, and if the balance is on the side of pleasure, then the act tends toward good and vice versa (See chapter IV of Bentham’s An Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legislation).

Continue reading

Share

Nietzschean Buddhism: An Experiment

I have long been drawn to Buddhism and to Nietzsche’s ideas. After much thought, I propose a reconciliation; I propose the creation of a Nietzschean Buddhism. How could this be a possibility? After all, the third noble truth of Buddhism is that there is a way out of suffering, and the fourth noble truth gives us the way out. Suffering is optional, as is staying in samsara, the eternal recurrence of rebirth and a life of suffering. How is that reconcilable with Nietzsche, who writes:

You want, if possible—and there is no more insane “if possible”—to abolish suffering.  And we?  It really seems that we would rather have it higher and worse than ever. Well-being as you understand it—that is no goal, that seems to us an end, a state that soon makes man ridiculous and contemptible—that makes his destruction desirable  (Beyond Good and Evil, 225).

Yet it is exactly along the lines of the value of suffering that a most fruitful reconciliation is possible. I want to sketch out a way in which Buddhism and Nietzsche’s thought can combine along the lines of the value of suffering, the nature of compassion, the importance of psychology, and the role of mindfulness. I will not address all of these issues here. Those that I don’t will be addressed later.

Continue reading

Share

The Relational Nature of Personal Identity Part II

In the original essay on the relational nature of personal identity, from October 10th, 2010, I wrote the following:

What are some of the typical components of personal identity?
1) Body
2) Consciousness associate with/centered in one body (including will and self-consciousness).
3) Memories of consciousness (as the direct causal product of 2)

But it seems to me that we should also include things such as:

4) Sets of beliefs
5) Attitudes/dispositions
6) Emotional make up
7) Ways of thinking about and approaching and evaluating the world (including others)

Now one might object that two individuals, X and Y, who are unknown to one another, who live on opposite ends of the earth might have exactly the same 4)-7), but we would not say that they are thereby, or to that extent, the same person; rather, they are just similar in those respects.

Continue reading

Share

The Great Clod: Earth, Identity, and Death

Taoism strikes me as similar to quantum mechanics in at least one respect: if you claim to grasp it, then you don’t. Nevertheless, that doesn’t preclude approaching an understanding of either. In his What is Taoism? H.G. Creel has an excellent chapter entitled, “The Great Clod”—a chapter that is quite helpful in regard to one aspect of Taoism.

In explaining the meaning and role of “the Great Clod” in Taoism, Creel quotes, in order to set up a contrast, a part of William Cullen Bryant’s “Thanatopsis”:

Earth that nourished thee, shall claim
Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again,
And, lost each human trace, surrendering up
Thine individual being, thou shalt go
To mix forever with the elements,
To be a brother to the insensible rock
And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain
Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak
Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce they mould. (31-32)

Continue reading

Share

When Death Comes

The first poem I ever learned by heart was Mary Oliver’s “When Death Comes.”

When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps his purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox;

when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth
tending as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.

When it’s over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was a bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it’s over, I don’t want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened
or full of argument.

I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.

The poem is, I think, powerful and beautiful. Nevertheless, I am unable to muster the prerequisite attitude that would allow for me to “step through the door full of curiosity…” for I have been unable to shake the belief that bodily death means the end of my conscious existence.

Continue reading

Share

The Relational Nature of Personal Identity and What it Means for Us and the Death of Those We Love

Life as tapestry: the whole cloth is the great clod, our lives patterns of thread in relation to each other—the patterns, the threads of those dearest to us are interwoven with our own, and in places here and there the interwoven threads merge as our identities flow into each other….

The above is meant to be a poetic expression of the following, hopefully, more philosophically rigorous idea.  Having lost my ex-wife, Jennie, to suicide seven months ago (and “ex-wife” does not properly characterize the ongoing love we had for one another), and having just now (October 9th) gone through the memorial service for her sister, Lindsay, who killed herself seven months after Jennie, I am prompted to think the following.

So many of the fibers of my being are ones I shared with Jennie; they are the  product of, and constitute, our shared identities.  Part of her is gone, and part of her remains in me, as me.  Such a beautiful thing; and I am so terribly grateful for it.

While personal identity is not a stable or constant thing, nevertheless, given the extent to which Jennie is a part of who I am, I can move forward with my life without worrying about leaving her behind or forgetting her, something I have been afraid of doing.  This is a great comfort.

One might even say that that part of me that is Jennie is very much alive (she lives) and she will continue to evolve as I evolve through my interactions with others and the world more generally.

But how might I lay this all out in more rigorous, philosophical detail?  Well, what are some of the typical components of personal identity?

1) Body

2) Consciousness associate with/centered in one body (including will and self-consciousness).

3) Memories of consciousness (as the direct causal product of 2)

But it seems to me that we should also include things such as:

4) Sets of beliefs

5) Attitudes/dispositions

6) Emotional make up

7) Ways of thinking about and approaching and evaluating the world (including others)

Now one might object that two individuals, X and Y, who are unknown to one another, who live on opposite ends of the earth might have exactly the same 4)-7), but we would not say that they are thereby, or to that extent, the same person; rather, they are just similar in those respects.

I am certainly sympathetic to that objection.  However, here is where and how the threads of our identities begin to merge.  When two people with different backgrounds and only some overlap regarding 4)-7) meet and then spend much time together, intimately engaging each other, and through that shared experience form common memories (so 3)) and in combination therewith exert causal/rational influence on each others’ 4)-7), creating a new kind of equilibrium in regard to them, then it is not that there is similarity of 4)-7) that constitutes shared identity.  Rather, it is the mutual shaping of each other’s, and intermixing of, 4)-7) that allows for/constitutes this merging of certain threads/fibers of our being.  It’s the causal/rational influence/connection between two people’s 4)-7), not just the similarity of their content that makes all the difference—the fact that two people’s shared 4)-7) is the product of mutual, reciprocal influence and not just coincidental similarity that constitutes the merged threads.

Now to some extent this phenomenon of shared identities occurs more broadly, especially and more and more with the use of technology to communicate and shape each others’ 4)-7).   But it is strongest with those with whom we are closest:  family, friends, partners/lovers.

Notice that I have not attempted to speak of 1)-7) in terms of necessary and sufficient conditions for personal identity.  I am not sure, I am indeed doubtful, that personal identity lends itself to such analysis.   But that is not necessarily an objection to the idea of personal identity or to my reasoning above.

Share

Three Attitudes Toward Suffering — Choices, Choices, Choices

If we can be certain of anything, then it is of death (of course) and……not taxes (for one might live where there are no taxes)…..but suffering: death and suffering confront us as part of what it is to be human.  Just as we must eat and drink to live, so too we must suffer and eventually die.  Much may come between birth and death—real love and fulfillment would be “nice”—but two of the most important questions we should ask ourselves in our role as humans concern what our attitude toward death and suffering should be.  Here I will talk only about suffering.  There are, I suggest, three main possibilities for our attitude toward suffering.  I will refer to them as Buddhist, Christian, and Affirmative.

What I am calling the “Buddhist attitude” is not meant to be true to all the subtleties of the various forms of Buddhism.  Nevertheless it is a kind of distillation of a key aspect of the Buddhist world view. The key idea is that happiness (I will speak of happiness instead of Nirvana) results from escaping suffering; and suffering is caused by incorrect views and actions in regard to our habitual desires, especially the desire to control how things are.  We don’t want to wait in line; we wish the line would move faster; and what happens?  We suffer.  We don’t have enough cash, but we don’t want to wait to buy an Ipod; so either we suffer or we buy one on credit, putting off the suffering.  If we remove the desire and accept how things are, then we remove the suffering.  It is only through such relinquishing of desire that we can avoid suffering; and it is only through avoiding suffering that we can truly be happy.  There is, of course, much more to Buddhism than this.  But central to the Buddhist view for our purposes is the idea that suffering is an impediment to happiness.

Just as with the Buddhist attitude, what I am calling the “Christian attitude” is not meant to be true to all of the subtleties of the various forms of Christianity.  Nevertheless it is a kind of distillation of a key aspect of the Christian world view.  The key idea is that happiness results from transcending the physical world and achieving some kind of union with the divine.  Hell is separation from God; heaven is union with God.  As long as we are on this earth we are separate from God, despite how close we may feel at certain moments of prayer or ecstasy.  Further, and importantly, we are fallen creatures who are destined to sin no matter how hard we try.  And it is through our sinning that we bring suffering upon ourselves and those we love.  So we are to blame for our suffering; the best we can do to be happy is to focus on God and following God’s commandments, all the while hoping to transcend this world to one much better.

What I am calling the “Affirmative attitude” owes much to ideas found in the writings of Nietzsche.  The fundamental insight is that happiness of the kind that we should be concerned with is not to be equated with a lack of suffering or some merely positive, fleeting feeling.  Rather, happiness, a life worth living, demands a certain kind of action and creativity that is only possible through suffering.  Suffering, or at least certain types, is valuable as a means.  We must either actually suffer or risk great suffering if we are to create a life that is valuable.

For the moment I am going to remain vague on the kinds of suffering I am talking about.  Instead I want to note that there is the problem of the suffering that does not seem to contribute to such lofty goals.  For example, the quotidian suffering from headaches, hangnails, and hangovers.  But more importantly, the suffering of illness that is either debilitating or (inclusive “or”) terminal.  The “quotidian” suffering may be justified along the lines that if we cannot bear such suffering, then how can we hope to bear the more profound kinds of suffering needed to live well?  So that suffering is a kind of “practice.”  But the suffering from debilitating/terminal illness cannot necessarily be handled in the same way.  We may in the end simply have to say that not all suffering is of value.

And that leads to the point that, of course, the three attitudes above need not be, nor are they in real life, separate.  Anyone growing up in some kind of Judeo-Christian (Muslim?) society will have imbibed aspects of all three.  We naturally seek to avoid suffering (Buddhist attitude), we learn to blame ourselves for certain kinds of suffering and hope for a better life, if not in “heaven,” then in the future (Christian attitude), and we pay lip service, at least, to the idea that greatness doesn’t come easy (Affirmative attitude).  The question is which of them should prevail over the others—not necessarily to the full exclusion of the others.  We can, after all, adopt the affirmative attitude and still seek to avoid getting cancer or wish that we didn’t have some debilitating neuro-muscular disorder or debilitating migraines.

The point to all of this is that “western” cultures/societies uncritically, and without any sort of awareness of what they are doing, adopt a combination of the Buddhist and Christian attitudes.  In general the Affirmative attitude is relegated to those few necessary evils we must do to get that promotion, buy the house, go on the nice vacation, etc.; and then the Affirmative attitude isn’t affirmative at all, but full of resentment:  “Why can’t this be easier?”  Without giving any reason here, now, I will simply assert that those of us who can (and I am not saying I could) should adopt more fully and with full awareness the Affirmative attitude.

Share