The Fear of Death and the Fight for Life
Let’s be clear I’m not interested in dying. If I had a say in how the universe works, I’d vote against mortality entirely. It just seems like a bad idea. Of course, on a logical level, I get that life and death are interconnected. Planets wouldn’t exist without stars dying, and every living thing relies on the cycle of life. But still, on a personal level, I’d rather stick around as long as possible.
I love being alive. I don’t want to miss out on how things unfold whether in history, science, or even just my own life. It’s like walking out of a movie before it’s over. Even if the credits are rolling, I want to stay and see if there’s a post-credits scene. Honestly, my fear of death is strong enough that I’d call myself a coward. Maybe that’s why I’ve thrown myself into risky situations, like trying to stop U.S. interventions in war zones. As Aristotle said, we become brave by doing brave things even if they start as attempts to fight our own fears.
A Reminder of Mortality
I’m writing this on Ash Wednesday, the start of Lent. During the service, a priest places ashes on people’s foreheads while saying, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” It’s a moment that forces you to confront your own mortality. Psalm 103 puts it poetically:
“The life of mortals is like grass,
they flourish like a flower of the field;
the wind blows over it and it is gone,
and its place remembers it no more.”
Even if you’re not religious, the image is haunting this idea that, one day, the world moves on and forgets us.
Lately, my fear of death has been on my mind as I watch what’s happening in Ukraine. So many people there are fighting with the belief that it’s better to die on your feet than live on your knees. It’s a saying I first heard during the Contra war in Nicaragua, though it’s been repeated by revolutionaries like Emiliano Zapata and Dolores Ibárruri. I admire that kind of courage, but I don’t know if I share it. When I think about death—whether it’s dignified or not I just feel afraid.
When Death Becomes a Number
It’s unsettling to realize that I agree with Donald Trump on something: the horror of how many people are dying in Ukraine. I want the war to end. I don’t want anyone else to lose their shot at seeing how life plays out. But at the same time, I understand why people choose to fight, whether in Ukraine, Gaza, or anywhere else where freedom is at stake.
There’s a quote often attributed to Stalin (though it likely comes from a German essay): “The death of one man is a tragedy. The death of millions is a statistic.” The truth behind it is disturbing our brains struggle to process large numbers, even when it comes to human lives. We can feel the weight of one person’s death, but when the numbers rise into the thousands or millions, it starts to feel distant. And that’s something we should never let happen.
