Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 1.14

M. But the greatest proof of all is, that nature herself gives a silent judgment in favor of the immortality of the soul, inasmuch as all are anxious, and that to a great degree, about the things which concern futurity: 

 

“One plants what future ages shall enjoy,”

 

as Statius saith in his Synephebi. What is his object in doing so, except that he is interested in posterity? Shall the industrious husbandman, then, plant trees the fruit of which he shall never see? And shall not the great man found laws, institutions, and a republic? What does the procreation of children imply, and our care to continue our names, and our adoptions, and our scrupulous exactness in drawing up wills, and the inscriptions on monuments, and panegyrics, but that our thoughts run on futurity? 

 

There is no doubt but a judgment may be formed of nature in general, from looking at each nature in its most perfect specimens; and what is a more perfect specimen of a man than those are who look on themselves as born for the assistance, the protection, and the preservation of others? Hercules has gone to heaven; he never would have gone thither had he not, while among men, made that road for himself. These things are of old date, and have, besides, the sanction of universal religion.

 

Another interesting indicator of how important immortality is for us, and perhaps a hint that our desire might reflect something that nature intends for us, can be found in our deep concern for our posterity. 

 

So much of our time and effort is expended in making use of what we have now in order to assure something else for the future, such that we regularly think of our happiness in the long term, hoping that our merits will yield lasting results. We not only do so to attain satisfaction when we are older, but also to leave our marks well past our deaths. 

 

The expectation of what will come can be far more powerful for us than the appreciation of what is now. We are moved to have children, or at least leave behind admirers and followers, who will remember us, and we try to make certain of this by establishing some sort of heritage, a body of worth for which we can be recognized. 

 

On a symbolic level, at least, we seem to be pursuing immortality by being remembered and by continuing to be relevant. We live on, even if the body has perished, by our words and deeds. 

 

How many rich men have I now met who give money to have their names engraved on buildings? How many writers have I now befriended who dream of becoming esteemed posthumously? 

When I was only around twelve or thirteen, I erected a small yet sturdy cairn in a remote valley in the Austrian Alps, thinking that, many years from now, someone might come across it, and wonder who had put it there. 

 

As my old friends The Fixx put it, “It doesn’t mean much now—it’s built for the future.”

 

For Cicero, however, it also works on another, far more literal level. As he has already said, what’s the use of caring about something if you won’t be around to appreciate it?

 

None of it will give me any satisfaction when there is nothing of “me” left over. I may well be, however implicitly, assuming that I will have the opportunity to look down at it all, and sigh with relief at a job well done, content that it all played itself out just right, however long it may have taken. 

 

Since my consciousness is the very means by which I define myself, I can hardly imagine being without it, or thinking of the future without being there to observe it. 

 

Similarly, I can’t tell you how often I have been grateful for the work of another who is now passed away, and then instinctively look up to the sky with a smile. I simply do it, not thinking about it at the moment.

 

I’m not sure what that tells me, but it surely comes from very deep inside of me. Even when I have moments where I most certainly don’t want to live forever, a little voice gently reminds me that it will be necessary for me to go on, however strange or surprising the transformation might be. 

 

To smugly attribute it to “psychology”, in such a case, doesn’t make the experience any less real. Joined to God or food or worms? Either is a sort of legacy. 

 

Now the strict Stoic may object to all this speculation, on the grounds that we should busy ourselves with what is within our power, and not with what is outside of our power. 

 

I don’t control what happens to me, only what I think and what I do, and so I should spend less time worrying about some future state, and instead get down with the now. What happens after death is secondary to the current living. 

 

Indeed, and I don’t think Cicero is dodging his responsibility for being a prudent, brave, temperate, and just fellow on this day, by asking these annoying questions about tomorrow. Remember, he is casting his net wide, as every good philosopher, and every decent person, ought to do. 

 

The ultimate intent is to demonstrate that any circumstances in our future, whatever they may be, and whatever we may hope for, can all offer us the opportunity for happiness. 

Written in 3/1996