No general statement can be made, therefore, with regard to the question whether, when a power beyond our control threatens us with death, we should anticipate death, or await it. For there are many arguments to pull us in either direction.
If one death is accompanied by torture, and the other is simple and easy, why not snatch the latter? Just as I shall select my ship when I am about to go on a voyage or my house when I propose to take a residence, so I shall choose my death when I am about to depart from life.
Moreover, just as a long-drawn out life does not necessarily mean a better one, so a long-drawn-out death necessarily means a worse one. There is no occasion when the soul should be humored more than at the moment of death. Let the soul depart as it feels itself impelled to go; whether it seeks the sword, or the halter, or some draught that attacks the veins, let it proceed and burst the bonds of its slavery.
Every man ought to make his life acceptable to others besides himself, but his death to himself alone. The best form of death is the one we like.
Men are foolish who reflect thus: "One person will say that my conduct was not brave enough; another, that I was too headstrong; a third, that a particular kind of death would have betokened more spirit."
What you should really reflect is: "I have under consideration a purpose with which the talk of men has no concern!"
Your sole aim should be to escape from Fortune as speedily as possible; otherwise, there will be no lack of persons who will think ill of what you have done.
If one death is accompanied by torture, and the other is simple and easy, why not snatch the latter? Just as I shall select my ship when I am about to go on a voyage or my house when I propose to take a residence, so I shall choose my death when I am about to depart from life.
Moreover, just as a long-drawn out life does not necessarily mean a better one, so a long-drawn-out death necessarily means a worse one. There is no occasion when the soul should be humored more than at the moment of death. Let the soul depart as it feels itself impelled to go; whether it seeks the sword, or the halter, or some draught that attacks the veins, let it proceed and burst the bonds of its slavery.
Every man ought to make his life acceptable to others besides himself, but his death to himself alone. The best form of death is the one we like.
Men are foolish who reflect thus: "One person will say that my conduct was not brave enough; another, that I was too headstrong; a third, that a particular kind of death would have betokened more spirit."
What you should really reflect is: "I have under consideration a purpose with which the talk of men has no concern!"
Your sole aim should be to escape from Fortune as speedily as possible; otherwise, there will be no lack of persons who will think ill of what you have done.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 70
I may wish to be given a simple rule to follow, and yet it really ceases to be a rule in the fullest sense if I merely obey out of conformity, instead of understanding through the power of my own reason. If a quick summary is called for, I tell myself that I am only free to depart this world when the choice of dying would do more good for my soul than to continue with living.
And since I know full well, despite all the excuses I might be tempted to make, that the human good is never measured by convenience or gratification, this does not reduce staying or leaving to just haggling about fear or pain. What will come will come, and what remains for me to decide is whether I care more for virtue than I do for survival.
I am hesitant to speak about dying “on my own terms”, since that could be too easily confused with seeking to dictate the circumstances. Nevertheless, if my end is already inevitable, I see no shame in preferring to relieve the agony, or if I am called to stand up for what is right, I am content to be cut down before my time, as a fitting result of such a commitment. Once again, a longer life is not necessarily the same thing as a better life.
Three examples immediately come to mind that may offend my more conservative friends, but I can only ask them to carefully think about the principles before hastily condemning any practices:
In many “primitive” societies, the old who can be of no further service to the young will quietly take a one-way trip into the wilderness. They do so out of love, not out of misery.
In the modern world, a terminal patient who faces intense suffering may ask his doctor for drugs that will both ease his anguish and speed his passing. If judgment remains sound, I would neither refuse to ask nor to grant this.
A pilot sees that he can best do his duty by crashing his plane into the enemy ship, and though he knows he will die, he also knows he will die with dignity. I respect the call he makes, and I honor him, even if he happens to be my foe.
All these instances have their own peculiarities, but they all generally fall into what the Catholic intellectual tradition calls Double Effect Theory, where an unintended effect is necessarily bound to an intended purpose.
While I suspect that some of the examples provided by Seneca seriously push the envelope of such a model, I believe they share in a common spirit: there is no good in desiring death for its own sake, though there can be great good in accepting death for the sake of character.
If my biggest worry is about what other people might think or say about my decision, I am confusing the cause and the consequence. Fortune is to be borne for as long as my own conscience bids, not for as long as she blindly demands.
I may wish to be given a simple rule to follow, and yet it really ceases to be a rule in the fullest sense if I merely obey out of conformity, instead of understanding through the power of my own reason. If a quick summary is called for, I tell myself that I am only free to depart this world when the choice of dying would do more good for my soul than to continue with living.
And since I know full well, despite all the excuses I might be tempted to make, that the human good is never measured by convenience or gratification, this does not reduce staying or leaving to just haggling about fear or pain. What will come will come, and what remains for me to decide is whether I care more for virtue than I do for survival.
I am hesitant to speak about dying “on my own terms”, since that could be too easily confused with seeking to dictate the circumstances. Nevertheless, if my end is already inevitable, I see no shame in preferring to relieve the agony, or if I am called to stand up for what is right, I am content to be cut down before my time, as a fitting result of such a commitment. Once again, a longer life is not necessarily the same thing as a better life.
Three examples immediately come to mind that may offend my more conservative friends, but I can only ask them to carefully think about the principles before hastily condemning any practices:
In many “primitive” societies, the old who can be of no further service to the young will quietly take a one-way trip into the wilderness. They do so out of love, not out of misery.
In the modern world, a terminal patient who faces intense suffering may ask his doctor for drugs that will both ease his anguish and speed his passing. If judgment remains sound, I would neither refuse to ask nor to grant this.
A pilot sees that he can best do his duty by crashing his plane into the enemy ship, and though he knows he will die, he also knows he will die with dignity. I respect the call he makes, and I honor him, even if he happens to be my foe.
All these instances have their own peculiarities, but they all generally fall into what the Catholic intellectual tradition calls Double Effect Theory, where an unintended effect is necessarily bound to an intended purpose.
While I suspect that some of the examples provided by Seneca seriously push the envelope of such a model, I believe they share in a common spirit: there is no good in desiring death for its own sake, though there can be great good in accepting death for the sake of character.
If my biggest worry is about what other people might think or say about my decision, I am confusing the cause and the consequence. Fortune is to be borne for as long as my own conscience bids, not for as long as she blindly demands.
—Reflection written in 8/2013
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