Materialism and Cartesian Dualism - Or Belief in the Immortal Soul

As a materialist, I've always found death to be easy to comprehend, but hard to cope with. Without the immortal soul to use as an emotional cushion, death is terrifying in its finality. Humans are fundamentally uncomfortable with meaninglessness, myself included, and it's in our best interest to resist accepting it. As emotional creatures, we create systems of belief in magic and hyper-analyze the arbitrary movements of celestial bodies to explain personality traits and find our paths. We always have--just ask the Babylonians. I've never felt pulled toward religion for any reason other than belonging somewhere--you know, having some kind of cultural identity (Judaism is good at that). But Cartesian Dualism--the disembodied soul that survives our tenure on Earth? That has always seemed pretty illogical and far fetched. But still, we humans have to find a way to assign meaning. How else can we cope with death, believe that love is anything more than the physical manifestation of biochemistry, or justify imposing what we believe to be objective morality on society as a whole? How can we know if we've been good children or bad children if we don't have a cosmic parent doling out ancient universal truths?

Salvation Mountain, California, November 2017

Determining Morality without Religion

Finding morality without God has always been an easy one for me. The so-called "Golden Rule" seems to work well enough. "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you" (kindly note the irony in pulling from a Biblical quote). Don't hurt other people, to the best of your ability, or colloquially, let's say--don't be a dick. Congratulations, you're a good person. Simple enough.

The Paradox of Morality

In reality, both "objective morality" and "subjective morality" are oxymorons. Morality manifests itself differently in different cultures, and presumably, we accept that more than one of those belief systems are valid (lest we allow American imperialist ideology to get the best of us). From that we are forced to conclude that morality cannot be objective. But morality, by definition, cannot be subjective either. Morality mandates that good and bad objectively exist in some form and can be acted on. For morality to exist, there has to be an external force outlining its rules; not only must there be a judge, but there must be a correct judge. So is morality itself something that fundamentally cannot exist without a dogmatic belief in God that also requires accepting the superiority of your god? Universal truths are hard to come by without religion.

Progressiveness vs. Piousness, and Supposed Moral Truth

I recently found myself discussing the immortal soul and the objectivity of morality among a group of people who I think many would characterize as "hippies" (though I would simply characterize them as residents of Los Angeles). Non-belief in religion--or as people might say, spirituality (I fail to see the difference)--is decidedly out of fashion among millennials in LA, and tends to inspire some incredulous reactions. To express that you believe that one's soul exists purely in the confines of the brain is literal heresy. How couldn't you believe that we're all "one with the universe" (or however one prefers to phrase it)? But let's put aside the immortal soul and discuss morality. Progressives are a highly moral bunch, whether or not they see it that way. Whereas many conservatives believe in piousness, progressives believe in enforcing what they see as human rights through government intervention. I'm not lending my opinion here, other than to say that neither religious piousness nor human rights contain objective moral truths, which I think I've already adequately demonstrated cannot exist except under circumstances most of us would find uncomfortable.

Irwindale, California May 2018

The Death of My Grandmother Through the Lens of Materialism

My grandmother passed away a couple of weeks ago at the ripe old age of 97.5 years old. While, as I mentioned before, death ordinarily makes me feel exceedingly uncomfortable, my ability to cope with this death in particular has been easier for me through the materialist lens. I was very close with her and I love her dearly, and losing her leaves a gaping hole in my life. She was the best person I have ever met, and I say that without exaggeration. But the physical circumstances of her death have brought a smile to my face, and very few tears. Allow me to explain.

You see, my grandmother lived nearly a century, and she didn't leave this world in pain or sickness. I have a video of her tap dancing less than a week before her death (a lifelong passion of hers). She laughed and smiled until the end. She lived in a community for active seniors, still autonomous, still in a clean home, never having to rely on nurses. She dressed up and did her hair every morning (she always said it was important to look your best no matter what--to give up on self care is to give up on life). Her heart was her weakest link; she'd been diagnosed with congestive heart failure for nearly a decade (around the same time that my grandfather passed away), but aside from some shortness of breath, it didn't really interfere with her quality of life. For the past five years, I had been the recipient of many "just in case I die tomorrow" speeches, and we had reached a point of comfort in talking about it. In her final hours, she won that week's bingo game. She went upstairs with a smile on her face, sat down on her bed (still in her finest dinner attire!), and enjoyed some chocolates in self-satisfied victory. And she died suddenly as her heart stopped beating, departing painlessly, leaving behind a world where she was widely adored. She always talked about how she feared the thought of having to die sick and in pain, dependent on others, but she never had to experience that. I can't imagine a more beautiful, happy death.

When I gave my eulogy at her memorial, I said as much to a room of friends and family. ("If I may put in a humble request, I would also like to leave this world enjoying some chocolate.") My speech was sandwiched between others talking about how heaven has just gained another beautiful angel and how she will be watching over us. But from my perspective, whether or not she has an immortal soul which has joined her late husband in heaven, her last moments were pretty amazing, and I'm sure she would have been thrilled to know that she left this world enjoying some chocolate and would have laughed if I could have given her the heads up. I smile just thinking about it, though I'd imagine it wasn't the most comforting way to present it all to a room full of senior citizens, many of whom likely believe that they one day will join their loved ones. I ended my speech with an apology for the slightly macabre assessment of her passing and unconventional eulogy. Even at funerals, it's pretty rare to be so blunt about death--not even among us materialists, who tend to be the least blunt of all when faced with having to cope with finality; that's the burden we bear when we reject the comforts that spirituality could offer us.