On the Virtue of Having One’s Head Cut Off, Frozen, and Put in a Jar
I like my head, and I like even better that it is attached to my body. Despite the title of this post, I have no plans to have my head cut off, frozen, and kept in a jar. But to a certain extent, I can respect the decision of those who do follow this decapitative path (pardon the neologism). This might seem like science fiction; but as of May 2015, 86 people were being kept in neurocryopreservation at a facility in Scottsdale, Arizona. In other words, these 86 people have had their head removed (after clinical death), cryogenically frozen, and kept in preservation. At Alcor Life Extension Foundation, $200,000 can purchase whole-body cryopreservation, while $80,000 gets you neurocryopreservation (i.e. just the head). Alcor currently has over a thousand members registered to receive cryopreservation at their (clinical) death. The basic idea behind all of this is that technology will eventually advance to such an extent that those kept preserved – so-called ‘cryonauts’ – will be able to be revived and to continue living their life. Cryonics companies – Alcor being one among several others – suggest two principal technologies that might one day restore life to those in suspension: mind-uploading, the first possible method, involves reproducing a brain’s neural pathways in computer hardware and software in order to wake the mind up again; the second possible method involves scanning the brain and rebuilding it along with a body. If these technologies are developed, losing one’s head literally need not imply losing it figuratively.
Some might level the following objections against this practice: (1) it involves a naïve faith in technology; (2) the conception of personal identity underlying these proposed technologies may be philosophically suspect; (3) it reflects a kind of Gnostic dualism in which the mind flees the evil of the body; and (4) it represents a transhumanism that endeavours to reshape and transcend human nature rather than finding flourishing in living in accord with our nature, including the limitations of that nature. I agree with all of these objections, but think that the impulse toward cryopreservation nevertheless reflects a deep truth about our existence: the human story is not meant to end with death. All of this technological struggle against death should further strengthen the conviction in us that death is not meant to be the last word for human beings – indeed, we yearn for immortality. Those who try to avoid thinking about death by endlessly distracting themselves from this question obscure this truth much more than those who face it and decide to struggle against death through technology. Christians, too, should be mindful of death.
One of the great traditions to emerge from Medieval Christendom was the memento mori, the practice of reflecting on one’s death so as to develop virtue and hope in the salvific work of God. The memento mori reminds us that, as in the Book of Ecclesiastes, everything done under the sun is but vanity and a chasing after the wind. On Ash Wednesday, many Christians receive the imposition of ashes accompanied by the reminder that we are but dust and that to dust we shall return. Properly reflecting on our death this way helps us to cultivate the art of dying well, by which we avoid despair at the end of our life and humbly trust in Christ’s redemptive love, a love that encompasses the end of pain and the wiping away of every tear in a renewed eternal existence. The purpose of the memento mori, then, is to lead us to an ever deeper faith in God. One famous memento mori is that of a skull on a desk (pictured above right). One could also imagine a frozen head in a container, a reminder that we should ultimately trust God and not our own technological mastery of the world, but also a reminder that death is not meant to be the end of our story.
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About The Author
Elliot Rossiter
Elliot Rossiter is a Visiting Fellow in the Department of Philosophy and Religious Studies at Concordia University of Edmonton. He earned a PhD in Philosophy in 2014 from the University of Western Ontario; the subject of this dissertation concerned John Locke’s view of the moral and physical laws of nature. He has a new-found love of the Rocky Mountains and enjoys cycling, watching sunsets, and popping the perfect pot of popcorn. He and his wife Sarah are members of St Joseph’s Roman Catholic Basilica in Edmonton, Alberta.
This leads me to think about how Christians ought to view death and the afterlife. In particular, I wonder if we ought to accept or reject an objection like (4), but which is directed at our views. In other words, should our hope be described with reference to human nature as we now find it and the flourishing we are now capable of, or is having a hope which includes a reshaped and transcendent version of human nature not a problem? Some passages which suggest that something is added to our human nature by what happened at the cross are: Romans 6:6-11; 8:11; Galatians 2:20; Ephesians 4:20-24; Colossians 2:12-3:1. Obviously, 1 Corinthians 15 is important for thinking about how our ultimate hope transcends our human nature, as we are told there that we will possess ‘spiritual bodies.’
These passages lead me to suspect that our hope cannot be formulated merely in terms of an understanding of created nature, but must reference to our sharing in Christ’s resurrected life. Would that mean an objection like (4) is perhaps not very strong from a Christian perspective?
Robert, thank you for your thoughtful comment, with which I very much agree. What I was primarily thinking about in (4) is the fact that we are dependent beings, both on the community around us and ultimately on God. I think that there is a pretty close connection between the spirit of technology and and an unhealthy independence. This isn’t to say that technology is bad, but that it becomes unhealthy when it takes us away from community, including our dependencies on others. It is, for instance, an important virtue to be able to receive grace well (both from others and God). But being overly focused on independence can conflict with the development of this virtue. (It is a fault in Aristotle that he does not identify this as a virtue. See Alasdair MacIntyre’s Dependent Rational Animals.) It seems to me that the process of sanctification, which culminates in the resurrected life, is one of learning ever greater dependence on God. But you are right that limitations, especially fleshly limitations (sarx not soma), will be transcended in the resurrection.
So, a relevant difference between the transhumanist hope that is described here and the Christian hope is that the transhumanist hope takes us away from our dependency on others and God, while the Christian hope means increasing this dependency, or maybe accepting and living well with it. I agree.
I very much agree with the general point that there is a danger of using technology in a way that undermines participating in community. An example of how technology threatens to replace community for me is my watching people rant about politics on Youtube rather than discussing it with people. Also, have you heard of ASMR? I would be interested to hear your thoughts about it. I wonder if there is a way to enjoy ASMR videos without having them act as a supplement for affection and intimacy.
It is interesting to think about how having your head frozen in hopes of coming back one day is or threatens to be a replacement for human community and dependency on others. Obviously, they are not depending on God to be resurrected. Are they also becoming disconnected from human community in some way? Are their families able to remember their deaths as being a part of a good life? Did they die well? Can these questions be answered generally for everyone who undergoes this process or does it depend on their lives and how they made the decision?
Thanks again for your comment, Robert. You’re right that technology can often substitute for community. Following McLuhan’s thought that the medium is the message, I think that technologically-mediated community shapes the kind of community that it is possible through it. Facebook comment threads, for instance, are a much worse medium for allowing dialectic synthesis about issues than a face-to-face conversation. I just looked up ASMR videos and agree with you they seem to represent a kind of substitute. One my favourite authors on this subject is Sherry Turkle, a psychologist at MIT. She’s interested in the effects of technology on community and our sense of self. She doesn’t think that we should completely move away from technology but she argues that we need to create ‘sacred spaces’ in which we have some critical distance from technology.