Plans hatched by Silicon Valley tech gurus to become immortal attract much mirth. But beyond the enormous egos of cryogenic capitalists is a death denial that’s much more widespread in society.
Who among us really thinks about death? Thinks, that is, in a philosophical sense. The Ancient Greeks were obsessed with the subject, constantly quizzing about whether to fear death and why thinking about your demise can make living more invigorating.
In more recent times, such concerns have drifted out of everyday consciousness – thanks to longer life expectancies.
“Though it’s very difficult to derive mortality rates for Ireland before the 19th century,” says historian Clodagh Tait, “it’s possible that 20 to 30 per cent of children died before their fifth birthdays, and rates might be worse in urban areas.”
Tait, who is a keynote speaker at a conference in Dublin this week, The Dead Body in Modern Ireland, observes that “the history of death is a relatively new field”. However, recent years has seen much academic focus on the topic – research into fatalities at mother and baby homes being part of that.
A lecturer at Mary Immaculate College at the University of Limerick, she notes the rates of infant mortality among both the rich and poor in early modern Ireland “give a picture of a level of suffering and loss that seems hardly imaginable to us”.
Moreover, death usually occurred at home which fostered an even greater familiarity with grief. “Every time I reach for the Calpol I think of parents in the past who might lose children to fairly minor illnesses, just because they didn’t have simple tools like paracetamol and ibuprofen.”
In terms of coping mechanisms, Tait says, “Christianity totally permeates Irish attitudes towards death, from the middle ages to the present”. This included a once common belief in providence.
“Nowadays we might be startled reading letters of consolation in which the writers sought to comfort the bereaved by statements like ‘your child’s death is the will of God and you should place your thoughts on the joys they are experiencing in heaven’. But we know people did find such thoughts comforting even amidst the agony of their grief,” Tait explains.
When I talk in public about ghosts, people often come and tell me ghost stories
— Clodagh Tait
The frequency of plagues in western Europe led to “a rise in the popularity of the ‘ars moriendi’, the art of dying”, Tait says. People were reminded of the inevitability of death in church paintings and slogans like “memento mori” – remember death.
“We might see these as fatalistic – reminding vulnerable populations that everyone must die – but really their message was intended to be positive. Everyone will die, but if you live and die well you will go on to a better life. There’s a ‘self-help’ element to this – one could be proactive. You could put your time to good use by ‘learning to die’.”
The notion of a “good death” stretches back to Aristotle who believed dying in battle was the most preferable way of snuffing it, or rather the least undesirable. This sentiment is secularised today in the idea that it’s best to go out “doing what you loved”.
But some people die in awful circumstances that they’d never willingly choose. Are these to be categorised “bad deaths” if we are to uphold a concept of good ones?
Describing the more positive aspects of “ars moriendi”, Tait says: “The rhetoric of dying well placed the dying person at the centre of their own death – it gave them some sense of agency and control over an uncontrollable situation. But the key to the good death lay also in a good life.
“Someone who lived with devotion, kindness, charity and honestly, who was not wasteful or careless, was already at an advantage when it came to dying well. That a loved one had been adjudged to die well was also a comfort to those left behind.”
It would be ludicrous to romanticise about an era of deadly poxes and superstition. But is there value in bringing the idea of a “good death” back to public consciousness?
“That medieval and early modern emphasis on support – from the whole community – and on the agency of the dying person, as well as the realisation that facilitating as ‘good’ a death as possible can be of benefit to the bereaved as well as the deceased, obviously have as much resonance as ever. But sadly with an overburdened health and social care service, the circumstances may not always be optimal,” Tait says.
What finally about superstition and its possible role? Tait has a particular interest in stories of ghouls and the occult, which prompts the question: Why do we never hear of apparitions in Ireland any more?
“We do,” she replies. “You’re not talking to the right people! Seriously though, when it comes to apparitions or manifestations of the dead – whatever about apparitions of saints, which I’m not an expert in – I find that when I talk in public about ghosts, people often come and tell me ghost stories, often experiences that they’ve personally had that they interpret as communications from the dead.
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“If you give people space to speak about ghosts they do, and the stories may be funny or serious, but they’re often very meaningful to the people who tell them.”
The Dead Body in Modern Ireland, a two-day conference held by Trinity Long Room Hub and Dublin Cemeteries Trust/Glasnevin Cemetery starts on Thursday. See tcd.ie/trinitylongroomhub/ for more information
Rite & Reason is published on Sundays at https://www.irishtimes.com/opinion/