Even today, the belief in some sort of existence after death is widely held by the religious and non-religious alike. For the Christian religion in particular it is a fundamental tenet of faith, as continued existence in a better world justifies a miserable existence on this one and thereby overcomes the fundamental contradiction identified in "the Problem of Pain" between the notion of God as Love and God as sole creator of the universe. Okay, runs the argument, so this world is no great shakes; but it's just a testing ground, a rite of passage to better things. God loves us really, it's just that because he's a spirit and the things on this earth are mostly physical we can't see him for what he really is. But wait till you die and then you’ll know the truth.
This necessity for the existence of an afterlife to justify the actions of God the Creator perhaps goes some way to explaining why "heaven" and "eternal life" are such vague terms. They're two of those infuriating Christian jargon phrases, like "the son of God" and the evangelical "give yourself up to Jesus" that are bandied about without any clear definition of exactly what they mean. The word "heaven" for example, conjures up for most people images of clouds, angels playing harps and, possibly, an old man with a long white beard sitting in a judgement seat, with a younger man standing on his right hand and a dove hovering over his head. Whilst no-one can deny the charm and power of these images (Powell and Pressburger have a lot to answer for), I personally would not fancy spending eternity in such a place and nor, I think, would many others. No, heaven has got to mean more than that if it means anything, and in this essay I want to examine more closely the concept of an afterlife, and using rational argument and what knowledge is available, try to come up with a more plausible description of what happens when we die.
For a continued existence after death, some aspect of a person must continue after the body ceases to function. In Christian terms this is the soul, yet another infuriatingly nebulous concept. So what could the soul consist of? To answer this we'll have to look at what factors define the self, the things that make me unique, that determine what "I" am.
Well, here's my personal inventory: there's my physical body, of course, and my personality, which I'll define as my characteristic responses, values and modes of expression (verbal, physical etc.). Then there's the things that are related to my personality: the objects or concepts that I create (such as this essay), the clothes, furniture, music etc. that I choose to surround myself with, and the relationships I form with other people. Other factors unique to me are my DNA, my memories, and my personal history (which I shall define as the environmental stimuli that influenced my mental and physical development). All of these things contribute to the definition of the entity "me" and removing any one of them would render it incomplete.
So which of these could constitute the "soul"? Well, obviously not the body - it is a physical fact that this ceases to function on death (in fact it's how we define death) and the phrase "body and soul" sums up the clear distinction between them. Other things in the list above that are related to the body are also clearly out, such as characteristic physical expressions and DNA. Created things and the things we like to have around us can continue after death but are subject to change or destruction, and certainly would not be regarded by Christians as part of someone's soul (this may because they are not pure expressions of someone's personality - all artistic creations, for example, are limited by the medium used).
So we are left with those aspects of personality not directly related to the physical body, relationships, memories and personal history as possible constituents of the soul. This makes sense, as the factors we've eliminated would, I think, be regarded as the less important variables in the human equation. Great writers create fictional characters who live on in people's memories often with very little reference to their physical appearance or taste in furniture, but a character without a characteristic means of expressing themselves or any memories is somehow nebulous and unreal. I for one would be quite happy to go into an afterlife with just these four aspects of me left; the loss of my body and the physical things I take pleasure in would be a blow, but I could live without them. Forever, if necessary.
But is it possible that these four aspects can actually survive in any meaningful way after the death of the body? Let's start with memory. Firstly, memory as we all know is not an eternal thing but is constantly changing. This in itself would appear to rule it out as a possible component of the soul, which is supposed to be eternal. Secondly, memory appears to be closely related to the brain; we have all heard of amnesia, where damage to the brain affects our memories. The nature of the relationship between brain and memory is not clear as no-one understands exactly how the brain works, but the most likely explanation is that a memory is stored as a neurone firing pattern which is triggered by the activation of previous patterns which are associated with the memory concerned (though this doesn't explain how we can consciously search out a memory; if I want to remember the shape of a red setter called Rex, for example, the concepts "red", "red setter" and "Rex" ought to lead to all sorts of memories but not necessarily the one I want). If this is the case, then the death of the neurones in my brain would result in the loss of all my memories, like volatile memory in a computer when you switch off the power. The only way this could be avoided was if the disposition of all my neurones were somehow simultaneously read at the moment of death and the information encoded therein transferred to some other storage medium. If this were to happen, there ought to be a physical sign of it (you'd have to know where all the molecules in all the neurones are, for example, which involves bouncing something off them), which has never been detected.
And if memory goes then the whole house of cards comes crashing down. All my learned reflexes disappear and with it a great deal of my personality; my relationships end because I can't remember them; and my personal history ceases to have any influence since only my memory connects the events that happened to me to my current state of mind (and without a body with which to experience my environment, I'm unlikely to have any more personal history). Thus my soul would have to consist of aspects of my personality which are not influenced by genetics or personal history.
Whether there are any aspects of personality which are indeed independent of the brain has of course been a subject of debate between the religious and the non-religious for many centuries. At present it is unanswerable, ironically largely because of the failure of scientists to come up with an adequate explanation of the way the brain functions (who would have thought that the major philosophical question of the existence of the soul may be answered in a laboratory?). I would however argue that the gap available for non-environmental or -genetic influences on personality is becoming smaller, as more factors are identified that influence people's behaviour. Whether the gap will ever close completely is anybody's guess, but for the purposes of this argument it doesn't matter. The fact remains that only a tiny part of the entity that is a human being can reasonably be expected to survive after the death of the body and, quite frankly, the bit that remains isn't me at all. Too much has been taken away with the loss of memory; I, as I understand myself to be, will cease to exist when my body dies and all its associated functions cease. The continuation of a soul which I don't recognise as being myself is just as much a comfort as knowing that the atoms that were once part of my body will continue to exist until the universe ends, i.e. precious little.
Now this is a depressing conclusion, and I quite understand the very natural reluctance of some people to accept it (I have some difficulty accepting it myself). It is of course possible that a miracle does occur at death that somehow allows the continuation of memories and personality, and perhaps belief in such a miracle is preferable to the despair and fear engendered by the thought of de facto extinction. But I think we must accept that this is an irrational view that flies in the face of the evidence, and as such it must be personal and not imposed on others.
[Addendum January 2003. I now think that the above paragraph is too generous to the notion of "the miracle of memory", for the following reasons, two logistical, one moral:
The clear implication, of course, is that promises of a heavenly reward after death for the virtuous should not be part of Christian teaching and morality when the available evidence suggests that the reward isn't worth the candle. We are also going to have to find new meanings for the terms "eternal life" and "heaven" that don't imply a cruel deception.
This revision may however have positive benefits for Christianity as well. If three score years and ten is truly all we've got, then life becomes something infinitely precious and beautiful, and the loss of life through accident or deliberate purpose a thing devoutly to be avoided. The quality of life which has always been at the heart of the Christian worldview becomes of prime importance. To live fully, we must learn to see beauty and goodness even in the dirt and grime of our everyday existence, and perhaps when we have done so we shall know Eternal Life. There is a dreadful pop song with the line "we'll make Heaven a place on earth" and perhaps that is our purpose, to bring the Kingdom of God to earth, to give up part of our lives to help others to live as fully as they can in the short time that they have. And the image of Christ on the Cross, which represents all this, becomes even more profoundly meaningful and important.
Mark Tolley 1/8/93