by Umberto
Eco
I am
not saying anything original, but one of the biggest problems of a human being
is how to face death. It seems that the problem is hard for non-believers
(how to face the Nothingness that awaits?) but statistics say that the question
also troubles many believers, who resolutely hold that there is life after
death, yet anyhow think that life before death is in itself so enjoyable to
consider its end unpleasant; they strive to reunite with angels, but as late as
possible.
Evidently,
I am speaking of the problem of what it means to be-for-death, or even just to
recognize that all humans are mortal. It seems easy as long as it concerns
Socrates, but it becomes troublesome when it concerns us. And the most
difficult moment will be the one in which we'll realize that for an instant we
are still here, and the instant afterwards we will be no more.
Recently
a thoughtful practitioner (some Crito) asked me: Teacher, how can we
best
approach
death? I replied that the only way to prepare for death is to convince oneself
that everybody else is an idiot*.
I
clarified to the surprised Crito. See, I said, how can you approach
death, even as a believer, if you think that while you die, strapping
youngsters of either sex dance in a club enjoying themselves tremendously,
brilliant scientists violate the last mysteries of the cosmos, honest
politicians build a better society, media outlets strive to give just the
relevant news, responsible entrepreneurs are preoccupied to ensure
that their products don't harm the environment and apply themselves to restore
nature to its clear streams, verdant woods, clear skies free of ozone and
strewn with soft clouds full of sweet rain.
The
thought that while all these marvelous things are happening you depart is
unbearable. I am just trying to think that, just when you realize that
you are leaving this world, you have the unfading certainty that the world
(five billion human beings) is full of idiots, idiots dancing in clubs, idiot
scientists convinced to have solved the mysteries of the cosmos, idiot
politicians who propose solutions to all our troubles, idiots who fill pages
and pages of insults and marginal gossip, idiot and suicidal manufacturers who
are destroying the planet. Would you not be happy, then, to depart this world
of idiots?
Crito
then asked me: Teacher, but when should I start thinking this way? I answered
that you should not start too soon, because somebody at twenty or thirty years
of age thinking that everybody else is an idiot is an idiot and will never
achieve wisdom. We should start thinking that everybody else is better than us,
then evolve bit by bit, have the first doubts around forty, begin a revision
between fifty and sixty, and reach certainty while you march towards one
hundred, but ready to call it just as soon as your number is up.
To
convince oneself that all the others around us (five billion) are idiots is a
subtle and shrewd art, not available to this or that Cebes with an earring (or nose
ring). It requires study and effort. You can't rush it. You need to achieve it
just in time to die in serenity. But the day before we must still think that
somebody, who we admire and love, is not yet a complete idiot. Wisdom lies in
recognizing at the right time, and not sooner, that they, too, are idiots. Just
then it is fine to die.
Therefore
the great art is to study bit by bit universal thought, to scan pop culture, to
monitor day by day the media, the statements of self-confident artists, the free-wheeling
declamations of politicians, the philosophical statements of apocalyptic
critics, the aphorisms of enigmatic heroes, studying the theories, proposals,
calls to action, images and wraiths. Only then you will have the overwhelming
realization that everybody is an idiot. And then you will be ready to
face death.
You
will need to resist until the end to reach this unconvertible realization. You
will continue thinking that somebody is still saying sensible things, that that
book is better than others, that that leader really wants the common good. It
is natural, it is humane, it is innate in our species to refuse the notion that
everybody else is an utter idiot, otherwise why would it be worth living? But
when in the end you do know, you will comprehend why it is worth it, even
splendid, to die.
Crito
then told me: Teacher, I don't want to make rash decisions, but I think you are
an idiot. See, I said, you are on the right path.
First
published in Espresso, June 12th 1997
*
coglione: lit. testicle
