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CONQUEST OF DEATH: THE NEED FOR EARLY KNOWLEDGE

by Clement Liebovitz 
clem@seymour.ucs.ualberta.ca

 I knew I would come out of the operation room with two
extensions to my body: two bottles which would be the equivalent
of an ambulatory W.C. I woke up from anaesthesia and started
feeling my sides with my hands. I had undergone an operation
aright, but there was no sign of bottles.

The meaning was clear. The surgeon must have seen no point in
proceeding with the operation as first scheduled. Finding out
that I was doomed he must have decided to extract no organ and
to "close me up" over my tumour.

My guess was correct. When the doctor came for the daily visit,
I smiled and reminded him that I wanted him to be frank, even
blunt. I then asked how much longer I was expected to live.

I looked at him with some uneasiness and replied:

"Poor doctor! Is it not hard on you to have to bring such news
to your patients?"

"I thought", said he, "that it was the other way around."

What my thoughts were at the time is not relevant. The important
thing is that, for the first time in years, I slept well and
went on enjoying life, keeping my sense of humour and ready to
make and accept jokes about the fact that I was a dying man.

"When will I start eating", I asked my doctor.

"It is dangerous", he replied, "to eat before a sure sign that
your bowels can handle food. You may not eat or drink before you
have some gas exhaust."

Three days passed and my nourishment was still intravenous. The
doctor noticed my gloomy face.

"What is the problem", he asked

"To fart or not to fart, that is the problem", said I.

The doctor pretended to lose his temper:

"You are told you have one year to live, and all you worry about
is to fart 'a la Shakespeare'!"

My wife and the children were surely concerned. However, they
could not but take it easier since I, myself, was in no way
behaving like a dying man.

I remember one day, I choose to play a particular cassette and
asked my wife for a dance. While dancing she asked the name of
the tune.

"It is 'The Merry Widow'", said I. And we both burst into a
healthy laughter.

No, it is not as simple as that. Inside me there was an animal
who was afraid to die, who was causing a pain in my throat and
making it hard for me to swallow. As for me, I was observing the
animal, astonished at his existence, and well decided to keep
him under leash. While the animal remained anxious, I was
blooming, feeling the full strength of my being and determined
to use my time in the best way, according to a criterion of my
own. More about this later. As time went on, it became clear
that this one year, 'my dying year', would be the most
enjoyable, the most productive year of my life.

My happiness was communicative and, instead of feeling sad at
seeing me, people were happy at being able to be proud of me.

Comparisons were made between me and others in the same
condition. Friends and acquaintances said that my attitude was
somewhat special, but nobody knew why.

I knew.

What made me special was that, a long time ago, at a time when I
was still healthy, when my death seemed so remote, I decided for
some reason to think about the meaning of death. In doing so, I
reached an understanding of death, and it so happened that it
was the kind I could come to terms with. In a sense, I had
conquered death.

THE NATURE OF THE FEAR OF DEATH

More than once in the course of my life I have found myself in
dangerous situations which could have had a regretful ending. I
know that my nature is such that I 'perform' best under such
circumstances. Reason, wisdom and memory are then mobilised. A
sudden strength and calm descends upon me and, in most cases, I
do the very thing that most efficiently would take me safely out
of the difficulty.

I remember that once, on a rainy cold day, I picked up what
seemed to be a desperate hitch-hiker. I asked him where he was
going and then suggested I drop him of at a bus station. He
insisted I should bring him to his destination.

"I am in a hurry", I said, "and cannot afford to bring you
there. The bus station is a heated one. From there you have a
direct connection."

"Do you know, said he, "that I have a knife with me?"

"Do you know", I replied very calmly, "that I graduated from a
course to handle people like you?"

He looked intensely at me. He must have been impressed with my
calm and seriousness.

"I was joking", he said.

"I was not", I retorted.

A few moments later I dropped him at the closest bus station.

This calm and courageous man I seem to be, is struck with panic
in much less dangerous circumstances. On a ladder thrown
horizontally on the floor, I have no difficulty walking,
running, jumping; always hitting the proper step without ever
failing. The likelihood that I will miss a step is virtually
nil. But raise the horizontal ladder one meter high, and not
only do I start to shake, I also lose my hold on reason, wisdom
and memory and the only thing left is to fall shamefully on the
floor. My ability to move like a virtuoso, easily, elegantly
along the ladder, disappears totally.

This cannot be due to fear for myself. I am ready to jump a
meter high, and I do it sometimes while descending stairs. But
then, the height is on an incline and not seen vertically. I am
not afraid in much more dangerous situations but I am afflicted
with the 'fear of heights'. It is an instinctive fear that would
remain with me even if I were given wings. I have no fear
travelling by air and I enjoy the window view; but then, my head
is recessed in the cabin and cannot look straight down at the
ground.

I refuse to get out on a balcony in a high rise building. Even
if there is a protecting wall as high as my shoulder, I would
never dare to lean down over the wall. I would then feel that my
head is heavier than the rest of my body and will pull me down
to the ground below.

Not everyone is afflicted with this fear. People could be less
courageous than me in other circumstances and still not be
afflicted with it. It is my particular genetic makeup that
forces this fear on me. No bird can evolve from my genetic stock
unless somehow there is a drastic change in this respect.

I do realise that my fear of heights is irrational. I know of
cases where such a fear was overcome with gradual exposure. I
can imagine myself practising on an horizontal ladder which
would be raised daily by a millimetre. In a matter of three
years I would no longer be afraid of walking and running on a
one meter high horizontal ladder. A combination of acquired
reactions would have overcome my instinctive fear. Practising is
the way by which people overcome the fear of parachuting.

The problem with death, is that you cannot practice it, though
it is as much a genetic rooted fear as is the fear of heights.

In 'The Restaurant at the End of the Universe' by Douglas Adams
(Pan books 1980), there is on pages 92 to 94, a passage which is
as funny in its dark humour, as it is profound. It concerns a
very peculiar cow with the ability to speak English and to argue
with as much logic as a human being. This in itself is
remarkable enough. However, there is something much more unique
about this cow. She works as a waitress in a restaurant and goes
from table to table recommending parts of her body and accepting
orders for these parts, to be cooked as the customer requests.
The cow is filled with joy at the idea of providing so much
culinary delight to so many people, and she is overwhelmed with
happiness at the thought of her being eaten. She looks forward
to being killed and cooked.

The variety of animal behaviours reflects the variety of genetic
makeups of the species. D. Adams forces us to consider the
possible existence of a particular makeup that would result in
an intelligent being who delights at the idea of death. Though
it can be conceptualised, it is very unlikely, for obvious
reasons, that evolution would ever bring about such a species.
However, the mere fact that such a genetic composition is
conceptually possible illustrates the fact that the fear of
death and the unwillingness to think about it before being
forced to, is not due to death being in itself an abject and
fearful concept. It has to do with the fact that evolution has
developed in us a fear of death as a tool for survival. It would
have been better if our fear of death would have been restricted
to 'avoidable death' and would not include 'ineluctable death'.
Evolution was not so subtle. The realisation that death is not
bad in the absolute and that its 'badness' had to be felt
instinctively for the sake of species preservation, allows us to
look into it and raise the instinctive veil lowered on it by
evolution.

THE FEAR OF DEATH AND FAITH IN HEREAFTER

To loose consciousness every night while sleeping, and wake up
in the morning, is no wonder. We do not fear it. Why then should
a believer dread the end of life on this earth if he has no
doubt that it would be followed by awaking in the next world?
Why should he dread it if he is certain that life in the next
world is much better and more enjoyable than life in this world?

There is no logic in the fear of death felt by a believer in a
better next world. If feelings were ruled by logic, a believer
would be exceedingly happy to learn that his child is about to
die. What can be dearer to a good father or a good mother than
to be sure that the son or daughter is dying at an innocent age
and is about to go directly to Heaven! Such a parent should
consider him/herself very lucky and blessed. S/He should then
throw a party to which the fellow-believers would come, not to
console but to congratulate the lucky parents. But were I to
come with a bottle of champagne to the house of a dying child
and shout: "let us dance, your child is dying!", I would likely
be beaten, thrown out of the house, or at least considered mad.
Are not the really mad those believers who are desperately sad
over their child moving to a better world?

Religion may help to dismiss death until it is about to hit.
Then it is of little help. No one, believer or not, feels about
death like Adam's cow. No one looks at it with anticipation. No
one complains that with his good health and bad luck, death is
not about to come!

To wake up in a better world is, no doubt, preferable to waking
up in the same earthy world. However, evolution has developed
the fear of dying and not the fear of sleeping and waking.
Therefore the believer fears death - i.e. awaking in the better
world - and does not fear falling asleep. We may day dream of
waking up in a bigger and nicer house; no scary feeling about
it. But we do not daydream the joy of passing away.

I do not say that religion is of no help or concern when it
comes to dying; I am just saying that it does not tear away from
death its dreadful character.

A non-believer would argue that the fact that a believer is
saddened by the death of his child, proves that, in a way he
would not admit, a believer has strong doubts. He feels guilty
about it. He tries to manifest an absolute faith. He is
deceiving himself since, at the moment of truth, he remains as
afraid of death as the non-believer, as attached to life as the
non- believer. 

There may be some validity in that argument. However, instincts
are not rational, and the belief in a better hereafter is
powerless against the instincts developed by aeons of evolution.

A LOOK AT THE INDIVIDUAL

I was told that Jim died recently. I never met him and knew very
little about him.

"What was his age", I asked.

"He was seventy-eight", came the reply.

"It is a good age", I commented.

This conversation displays the way I feel about the death of a
person with whom I am not related. Just before dying. Jim was
aware that he was seventy-eight. It is likely that he did not
consider his own death in this casual way. When it comes to our
own death, it is difficult to be objective. My death would not
mean much to Jim. His death did not mean much to me. 

Having a good heart, I wish to everyone a long and happy life
ending with a painless death. What can I wish more for my
neighbour? Why should I feel grieved when he dies at
seventy-eight? He had what I wish for myself. Five minutes
later, I may forget Jim. 

Had he died in his teens or in terrible pain, the news would
have haunted me a day or two. But he died at seventy-eight and
it almost sounded like good news.

My mother died at eighty. It is also a good age. I miss her very
much. I do not miss Jim. My mother, at eighty, wanted very much
to live longer, a lot longer. I could not tell her that eighty
was a good age.

Jim dying at seventy-eight sounds like good news. My mother
dying at eighty is for me a tragedy. It is difficult to be
objective when it comes to death. It seems that I cannot love my
neighbour quite as myself.

In the measure in which the survival of the fittest affected
evolution, the person who loved himself more than his neighbour,
cared more for his own life and increased his chances at having
a larger progeny. Likewise, the groups in which altruism was
more of a characteristic, had more chances for survival as a
group, compared to other groups. As a result, I am capable of
both altruism and egoism. As a member of the human species I am
altruist. As a fit survivor, as an individual, I am egoist and I
care more about my death than for Jim's. I cannot understand
death without understanding what is an individual.

According to dictionaries, an individual is a complete and
separate entity, strikingly different from any other. But when a
dog is compared to a cat, differences are established between
the two species. When one dog is compared to another,
differences are discovered between the two INDIVIDUAL dogs. In
order to speak meaningfully about individuals, it must be
established or implicitly meant, that the two individuals
pertain to the same species. In other words, they can be
different as individuals ONLY if they are similar enough to
belong to the same species. INDIVIDUALS ARE DIFFERENT IN
PARTICULARS BECAUSE THEY ARE SIMILAR IN FUNDAMENTALS.

Even fundamental features can be shared between species. The
existence of laws forbidding cruelty to animals reflects our
belief that animals, like humans, do experience pain. Many
vegetarians have adopted their particular style of life
motivated by the belief in the closeness of animals to humans.
The love people feel towards pets is often rooted in the belief
that it is reciprocated by the animals. In many ways we are
similar to animals, more so to some than to others.

Since individuals of different species can share some
fundamental attributes, how much closer must then be the
attributes of two individuals belonging to the same species?

Nevertheless, there is no denying that within the same species,
differences between individuals may be striking. What makes an
individual strikingly different from another? Is it the
uniqueness of an individual genetic makeup? Is it the uniqueness
of an individual life-experience? Does the combination of an
unique genetic makeup with an unique life-experience lead to an
unique 'package' of memories, feelings and patterns of behaviour?

THE GENETIC UNIQUENESS

It could be said that the individual is a complete, separate
entity strikingly different from any other because each
individual has a unique genetic make-up. 

Then, what about true twins? Their genetic make-up is absolutely
identical but, at a given age, they have different memories and
different behaviours produced by different environments and
learning processes. If by chance, one of the two goes to jail
and is beaten, he becomes a different individual, different from
what he was, and different from his twin brother. To witness an
act of aggression will not mean the same thing to both, will not
provoke the same feelings. 

One of the twins could be raised in a conservative Japanese
family, the other by an Iranian supporter of Khomeini. The two
children with identical genetic makeups would then have very
different traditions and beliefs which would contribute to the
display of different personalities. The tendency to be pleasant
or aggressive can be affected by different life-experiences, and
the two children may grow up into two persons of almost opposed
individualities. The twins would be, no doubt, no less different
individuals as persons with different genetic makeup. The
uniqueness of the individual is not the consequence of the
genetic makeup.

More striking than the genetic identity in the case of twins, is
the genetic identity of a man kept unchanged during the whole of
his lifetime. A man at one time may be quite different from
himself at another time. It could even occur that a given man at
forty may differ more from what he was at twenty than from his
contemporary friend. How can I therefore say that the man at
twenty and forty is the same individual, strikingly different
from any other? Why should the time continuity for any given
person be more important than that of the community of species?

Let us consider the following fictional story illustrating the
difficulty of grasping the concept of individuality based on
genetic makeup.

John has just died at the age of 80 and appears before God. He
is senile and the Lord is reluctant to save him in a state of
senility. It is not the best state for enjoying life in Heaven.

"John", says the Lord, "I could save you as the individual you
now are, or I could save you as the individual you were at any
time in your life. The choice is yours. Speak up!"

"My Lord", replies John, I cannot remember well enough all the
aspects of my life and find out the one which is closer to my
heart. How can I choose between my different selves at different
ages?"

"It must be admitted", replied the Lord, "that, coming from a
senile person, your answer makes a lot of sense. I will
therefore bring to life some of your selves at different ages.
In a moment there will be four of you sitting around the table."

And so it was.

Around the table one could distinguish John20, John40, John60
and John80. The Lord said to them:

"Only one of you can be saved to represent the individual John
in the hereafter. I would like to hear the opinion of each one
concerning the choice of the saved one."

John20 looked at his elders. He seemed bewildered:

"It is hard", he said, "to believe that John80 is me. He is
senile, worries only about taking his medicine in time and the
difficulty of remembering which one to take and when. He has
already forgotten he died and what this meeting is about.

"As to John60, I hate him. I am convinced of the truth of the
theology of liberation, while John60 is a born again Christian
who does not care about poverty and exploitation of the people.
John60 has betrayed the poor of the world. As to John40 he has
married Evelyn who is physically repugnant to me. He finds her
beautiful. How could he forget my love for Mary? I can't bear
his self-righteousness knowing he most cares for making money
and avoiding taxes. I wish I had died at twenty. There would
then be no question as to who is to be saved."

John40 was next to speak.

"At twenty my heart was faster than my reason. With time I
understood that it is not possible to find fast solutions to the
problems of this world. Money can do a lot of good, and the more
I have the more I can help the poor. Mary did not see it this
way. Evelyn was more mature and more reasonable. A middle of the
road position is a sign of maturity. While helping myself I
still had at heart the good of the poor. I contributed to many
good charities and took consolation in the knowledge that God
wanted it the way it was. As for John60, he went a bit too far.
I don't think that God wanted us to concentrate all our efforts
towards our own salvation and to threaten with hell all the
people who think differently than we do. All things considered,
I think that I should be the individual John to be saved".

John60 was quick to follow.

"I look in horror at the sinner I was at the age of 20 and 40.
Then Jesus was not the master of my heart. Be it with Evelyn or
Mary, I reckon that a marriage not based on Jesus' rule is based
on lust. I have no doubt that John20 and John40 would have ended
up in Hell. Even the care for the poor can be a temptation
taking us away from the love of Jesus. Poverty can be a test,
and since it also comes from God, it must be accepted thankfully
without a sense of revolt. Helping the poor understand this, is
more important than relieving them from the state of poverty. Is
it not more important that the poor be saved than that they
cease to be poor? John80 is a good man. The measure in which he
is less dedicated to Jesus is only the result of senility. I do
not doubt that John80 himself would agree that I am the best
representative of the individual John."

It was now John80's turn to speak but he was soundly asleep.

This story is not so far fetched. I remember quite well the
person I was at the age of 20 and 40. Those two persons are
dead. My taste is today different from theirs. My understanding
of life is different from theirs. I have many friends whom I
consider much closer to me than the person I was at 20. 

The individuality of a person evolves with time. The change is
generally slow but, at times, can be quite abrupt. This is
recognised in the common saying: "He is no longer the same!"

  Churchill once said that a person who is not a radical at
twenty, has no heart. But if he is still a radical at forty, he
has no brain. Churchill relates radicalism at 40 to 'lack of
brain'; he thus reveals his prejudice in favour of conservatism.
However, his observation has some truth in the sense that, in
many cases, a man is a strikingly different individual at 40
than he was at 20.

THE UNIQUENESS OF A LIFETIME-EXPERIENCE

The fact remains that, at any given moment of his own life a
person feels himself as distinct from any other. If he is
beaten, he alone feels the pain, and no one else. This feeling
of being distinct, a unit separated from others, makes him feel
that he is an individual. When his finger touches a red hot
iron, signals will move from HIS finger to HIS brain. He will
feel an excruciating pain, and this pain remains within himself.
He could communicate to someone "the idea of his pain" but not
the pain itself. The fact that descriptions of feelings can be
communicated, but not the feelings themselves, may be taken as a
proof of the uniqueness of the individual endowed with a
separate and unique set of feelings.

But this is not true. If John burned his finger last year, there
are so many Peters, Edwards and Johns who, at one time or
another, burned theirs. And when Peter and Edward hear John
describing what he felt a year ago, they feel it too, not
through the description but through recollections of their own
experience. They do feel what John feels.

When George is in love, I don't need his description. I too am
in love and I know what that means. When Bob is starving, I may
not be able to feel it through similar recollections of
starvation. But I once was told that I was about to die. I was
also very very hungry at times. I combine those recollections to
give some vividness supplementing the description of starvation. 

No doubt that a person who has actually experienced starvation,
can complement such descriptions with more vivid reminiscences.
The fact remains that starving, unhappily, is not a unique
individual experience.

I can safely say that the life-experience of any one individual,
has been experienced by others. It may not be possible to find a
single person who has experienced it all, but some of the pains
may have been experienced by one individual, other pains by
other individuals. The same can be said for the pleasures, the
hopes, the expectations, the fears, the aesthetic enjoyments
etc... The life-experience of any one individual is duplicated
thousands of times, each duplication being distributed among a
number of different people.

I have known the frustration of interrupting my school education
for lack of money. So did Bob. I have known the exhilaration of
a comeback to school after years of interruption. So did Henry.
I have known the anxiety resulting from the Nazi victories in
North-Africa and the advance of their armies towards Alexandria
where I lived at the time (before they were stopped at El-
Alamein). So did hundreds of thousands who did not have to
abandon school against their wish. So did millions when the
Nazis were approaching their cities.

Each one of my feelings has been felt by someone I know or by a
stranger. No one has felt exactly, and in the same way, the
whole collection of my experiences. But I can hardly point to
one experience which could not possibly have been felt, in a
very similar way, by someone, somewhere, sometime.

True individuality is a myth. The individual I am, cannot be
separated from the effect society has and had on me, cannot be
isolated form the history of the species which has modelled my
opinions, my tastes, my reactions to events and my behaviour
with relatives, friends and strangers.

BUILDING YOUR OWN ETERNITY

Self-preservation is an illusion. It is good for as long as It
lasts, and then a person has to die after having contributed, in
some smaller or greater way, to the life of the species which
goes on. The individual is ephemeral, the species is long
lasting. In the measure in which a person forgets that his
belonging to the species is more important than his own
individuality, in this same measure the individual is absolutely
mortal. He has all the reasons to fear death which, in his case,
represents a total annihilation of what matters most for him:
his individuality as distinct from the species.

But there is an alternative.

One way of defining an individual is to list his heroes, the
kind of people he respects most and loves most and, last but not
least, his preoccupations. As the individuality of a person
evolves with time, so evolves the realm of his affections and
his preoccupations. The individual who was me 40 years ago had a
quite different realm of affections and preoccupations. This
individual, as far as I am concerned is as good as fiction: he
does not exist any longer, he died a long time ago.

Why then should I fear my possible death today, when I did not
shed a tear over the repeated death of my individuality, which
took a number of strikingly different shapes over the years?

It could be said that passing away very gradually, during the
decades it takes for a striking change of individuality, is
different from physical death and the dramatic change which
occur at one very definite moment: just a second before, the man
now dead, was still alive. Is that not so?

It depends.

At a given period of my life, my heroes were my parents and my
previous teachers. My preferred occupations were: studying on my
own, playing chess, walking along the beach (Alexandria's),
improving my understanding of the workings of a radio set. My
main worry was my inability to overcome my shyness with girls.

That was not much, but that was me, and as such, there was
nothing more important for me. To die was the end of that me.

I knew there were other young chess players, but I was not
interested in them. I knew that other people liked to walk along
the beach, but I did not care for them. Death would be the end
of me.                                 

In time, I evolved and have become like a tuning fork that
resonates at specific frequencies, the spectrum of which covers
the full range of my preoccupations.

The search for truth, for example, has become for me very
important. I don't pretend to be closer to truth than others.
What matters to me is that I care enough for truth not to accept
a convenient substitute, not to ignore how much personal
prejudices, social influences, traditions, can prevent me from
reaching it. I know that I am not alone. I care not only for
truth, but also for those who care for it. They are me. I am
them. Galileo is one of my heroes.

I love honesty, and I love honest people. They are plentiful. I
am them they are me.

I love sincerity, courage and altruism. I do not know how much I
myself can be courageous and altruist. If someone is more
courageous more sincere and more altruist than I, I would like
to love him more than myself; at any rate, I do love him much. I
want to be him. I wish he were I. Such people are plentiful.

Peter has been tortured by the Nazis. He was thrown in a cell
after a terrible session. His outlook is bleak. He can not stop
feeling his pain and fears the tortures he will be submitted to
next session. He is feeling very down, alone, cut from the
world, totally helpless. While moving along the walls in the
cell, he discovers a message engraved in the chalk layers
covering the walls. It says: "Do not despair, my friend, our
cause will win. Be strong". Peter  then feels differently. He is
no longer alone.

Who wrote this message, a message of love, of courage and
wisdom? I wish it were I and, because I wish it so, it becomes
me indeed. By identifying myself with Peter reading the message
and with the unknown writer, I become one of them, I am carrying
their spirit. I become them and they are in me not less than
myself of twenty years ago is still somewhat in me.

By loving what is honest, courageous and wise, a person reaches
out of his individuality and 'trespasses' into the individuality
of all similar people. 

The bond between my present and the present, past and future of
all that is loveable, is much stronger than the bond between me
and my past. This is possible only when love is strong,
unselfish and goes beyond the individual. In this way I ensure
my eternity. My eternity resides in the people past present and
future whom I love more than myself. My eternity is in the
children who risked their lives to save that of an unknown girl
who fell in the river through thin ice. My eternity is with
people who struggle for peace, freedom, justice and tolerance.

I was told that I had one year to live. I remembered a movie in
which a girl who was about to die, made a list of all that she
had not yet experienced but would have liked to. She passed the
remainder of her short life trying to fulfil these many dreams.
I was advised to do the same, to spare no effort to enjoy what I
love best of music, theatre, travel and such.

But what would remain of my enjoyment? It would matter little,
after my death, how much I enjoyed my last year. I had to become
the others so as to remain alive in spite of death. By following
the news, by reading, by writing, I have identified myself with
the millions of my choice. Eternity becomes possible.

That is why I am more afraid of a nuclear war occurring in the
future, which would obliterate those millions, my eternity, than
of my own death, be it next year, earlier or later. 

Love is the road to eternity.