The Fetishisation of Perfection

Head of a Nymph, Sophie Anderson

I must confess a penchant for complex systems.

There is little more pleasant than the intricacy of checks & balances, although I only enjoy them if my understanding of them arrives through noting the overall patterns that result, rather than through crude mechanistic analysis. Appreciating the underlying ebb & flow of emergent phenomena speaks to what Jung would have termed my intuitive rational nature.

My fondness and aptitude for noticing these mechanisms is at least part of what attracted me to psychiatry. The mind is doubly complex, consisting as it does of both physical and psychic constructs. The physical is the complexity of our neuroanatomical wiring and the neurochemical connections within that network. While some argue that theoretically the psychic world can be entirely understood through the physical, even such reductionist evangelists would admit that our current understanding is a long way from complete.

The psychic world is the more intriguing. It consists of our modes of thought: how we view ourselves, others, and the interplay between these entities. We create an internal construct of both ourselves & others, often built upon rather dubious foundations, and our entire understanding of the world in predicated upon these constructs. Some of the constructs emerge through experience, some are models formally taught to us, and some are probably rooted in a genetic hard-wiring. Even more amusingly, we are only generally aware of a small minority of the conceptual filters through which we view the world, which gives rise to what Freud would term the unconscious mind and perhaps also to what the spiritual would call the soul.

Regular readers know I enjoy a variety of complex systems; not just psychiatry & psychology but also clothes, economics, philosophy and some kinds of art. The common thread linking these interests are the delightful emergent patterns that are created through expression & exploration these systems. Different schools of art & philosophy, different conceptual models of the mind & human behaviour, different fashions & economic systems… they are all best considered not as absolutes with pros & cons relative to some theoretical gold standard, but as different sensory modalities. No-one would ever claim that smell is better than sound, or sight is better than touch.

Of course, this very relativist and individualist intellectual position of mine is itself derived from a set of preconceptions. In the end, everything anyone can attempt to say really is nonsense, if Wittgenstein will pardon the liberty of my paraphrasing. But this is to miss the point entirely: it’s rather delightful to play the game anyway.

The title of this post is a lament at how much of the world either cannot play, or refuses to play. Instead, they focus on improving things in an endless search for perfection. While superficially a laudable goal, the problem is that in order to improve a situation, you must understand the system well enough to know what improvement means. Simply having one specific goal in mind frequently – possibly, inevitably – leads to problems in other important areas. Imagine a fat woman being squeezed into a too-small corset: the narrow waist comes at the high price of either fat spilling over as visible unsightliness elsewhere, or internal distress. Similarly, targets and outcome measures can lead to many more negative issues in unexpected areas even if the target is achieved. Better to appreciate the system for what it is, and harmonise your existence within it, which can mean insulating yourself from its excesses by detaching yourself from its impact through rising above it.

Naturally, I am extremely grateful that most people prefer to seek perfection. It has led to tremendous improvements in material comforts, and grants me the luxury of not having to live a purely subsistence lifestyle myself. Nonetheless, those capable of broader perspective will be happier for indulging that aloofness rather than chasing the flitting faerie nymph of perfection. The nymph, you will recall, generally doomed her lover.

Measuring Power

Image by JAS_photo via Flickr

Forbes magazine loves lists. One of their annual features is World’s Most Powerful People, the latest revision of which has just been published. The names on the list change occasionally; the order of the names changes more frequently. But what is power, why does it matter, and can it really be measured?

For Forbes, a business-orientated publication, the answer is a calculus of the financial, human and physical resources an individual can draw upon. Unsurprisingly, their list is therefore dominated by global political and business leaders. This demonstrates an important feature of power: it is as much in the eye of beholder (or in this case, beholden?) as beauty is.

On a global scale, Forbes’ list is not a bad attempt. If the world is a pond, Forbes measures the potential ripple effect created by an individual landing on its smooth surface. Current #1 Barack Obama is undeniably a bigger stone to throw in than a random African villager.

Another analogy would be the distortion of the fabric of space-time by large celestial objects. Massive bodies like the Sun or Jupiter create deep gravity wells, drawing other objects into their influence, to the point of bending light around them. At a gravitational extreme, a black hole creates a gaping maw that does not permit anything else to shine. People can create a similar effect on those around them.

One theory of planet formation is that small particles gradually accrete together, eventually forming planets. This analogy allows for an understanding of how large organisations wield power. Obama is not powerful because he is Obama; he is powerful ex officio as a result of the combined wealth & military might of the United States, and there are certainly those in the world who, rightly or wrongly, like to complain that the USA doesn’t let them shine.

Maintaining the strength of an organisation is therefore one method of its leader maintaining power. A more sophisticated analysis would point to the increasing importance of networks rather than organisations. To use Obama again, the power of the President of the USA is magnified through the network of allied nations whose political favours it can draw upon. On a more modest level, an individual’s power over their own network is magnified if they are the hub or major node of the network rather than a distant spoke.

All these forms of power are extrinsic in nature; they correlate power with the ability of an individual to influence the world around them. I would argue that this is a fundamentally unwise way to measure power.

Why? Because it is ultimately dis-empowering; it is a game no participant can definitively win. It is impossible for an individual to maintain their position at the head of an organisation or network indefinitely; new players keep entering the field, and the field of play itself continuously mutates. Essentially, to play this game requires you to accept a life of running to stand still, akin to a giant hamster wheel. It is not the act of a powerful person to subjugate themselves to a system in this way.

True power is intrinsic. It is the acceptance of self that comes from being able to stop. Epicurus famously said, “I would rather be first in a little Iberian village than second in Rome”, and the logical extension of this is to reduce the circle of concern to that within which it is small enough to remain permanently first. This is of course the individual himself. Mastery over one’s own life & emotions is the real challenge, and true mastery over these domains is real power.

Epicurus goes on to describe the nature of this challenge: “the art of living well and the art of dying well are one”. In other words, in order to achieve mastery over self, it is necessary to come to terms with death and the end of one’s existence. This is easy on an abstract level, and much harder on practical/personal one. Nonetheless, it is good to acknowledge the reality of the problem facing us instead of pursuing the endless distraction of extrinsic power. “It is better for you to be free of fear lying upon a pallet, than to have a golden couch and a rich table and be full of trouble”, as the aforementioned philosopher also said.

As those who know me will attest, I am no fan of a poverty-stricken hairshirt existence. Money is important. It has an undoubted – and powerful – insulating effect, permitting an individual the necessary psychological breathing space required to focus on the self. But if I may be permitted a final quote: “Not what we have but what we enjoy, constitutes our abundance”.

The Modern-Day Monk

It is not surprising that several guests at Friday’s Royal Wedding were anonymously quoted as “feeling jaded” yesterday. Anticipation of great events is commonly followed by a drained numbness, even if the event meets elevated expectations. Life thus passes by as a series of interspersed highs and, if not lows, mediocre neutrals. Is this the sum total of the human experience?

Man has historically found three ways to neutralise this nihilistic perspective: fame, religion and propagation.

Fame, with its associated glamour, can be fleeting or it can last a lifetime. Occasionally it outlasts its originating source and is considered worthy – or notorious – enough to be important to historical and cultural record. Whether transient or semi-permanent, its nourishment to the famous person is thin when weighed against the permanence of death. It can sustain the mind in the short-term, but is ultimately lacking.

To combat this failure of Temporal Power to assuage anomie, religion developed to offer believers escape from death, whether through reincarnation or heaven. Such Spiritual Might remains a comfort to many, channelling and guiding human emotion into soothingly predictable paths. Like Temporal Power, it offers individuals a larger sense of self that is part of a grander existence than Hobbes’ description of Man’s life as “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short”.

But for many, meaningful fame is impossible (the Warhol-esque 15 minutes of reality TV or social networking hardly counts) and religious faith escapes them, or is actively shunned. Frequently, their final refuge is propagation and it is a rare parent indeed that does not think of their children as the best thing they ever did.

Creating the next generation is certainly a valuable role; I would not want to see the human species wiped out! But does it truly offer a solution to the impermanence of man? I suggest not; the real essence of even the best of parents is lost from collective memory within at most four generations. As long as the parent does not think too deeply about this inevitable historical dissipation, Familial Legacy can substitute for either Temporal Power or Spiritual Might and stave off despair at the prospect of death.

What if none of the above are to the liking of the individual, if all are thought to fail the essential test of overcoming fear of death and giving life meaning, what then?

Enter the Modern-Day Monk.

The archetype of the man who seeks spiritual enlightenment through disengagement from the world is an ancient one. We see echoes of his presence in all the major world religions, mythologies and philosophies. Traditionally, the Monk has sought physical separation from the world; either to wander alone or in the company of select fellow travellers on a similar journey. He has used asceticism as a tool to aid enlightenment. Asceticism encourages the abandonment of sensual pleasure and material wealth, deeming these to be distractions from personal growth.

The Modern-Day Monk follows a different path to individuation. It is not physical abandonment of the world that is important, but intellectual detachment. This detachment from the value systems of others (the Temporal, Spiritual and Familial spheres) nonetheless permits material and emotional engagement with the world. He is able to weigh up and measure situations and people rapidly, allowing only positive effects through to his inner self. He comes across to others as tolerant and moderate, as he has no need to be otherwise. He enjoys the world, but does not let the world rule his inner heart. And in the face of new challenges, he has an inner core of willpower – a clear sense of self – to neutralise against torment.

The more philosophically (or religiously) minded will have already identified the characteristics outlined in the preceding four sentence as the Four Cardinal Virtues: Prudence, Temperance, Justice, and Fortitude respectively. The virtues are named Cardinal for being the hinge (L. cardo) upon which rests the door of life. It is not the door to a physical retreat from the world as the first step to an afterlife. It is a system to support and enhance our human desire to be part of the world, while not being ruled by it.

The Modern-Day Monk lives well, as well as wisely.

The Aesthetic Life, or Why Clothes Matter

Mandalas are Eastern abstract artforms used by Carl Jung to explore the unconscious mind

From the division of Man into introvert and extrovert, came the suggestion that the conscious mind of the introvert is driven by his ego, and the extrovert by his sense of relatedness with the world. Subconciously, the introvert finds joy when emotionally satisfied by a beautiful intellectual system, whereas the extrovert finds happiness when held intellectually rapt by a beautiful sensual world. It is the dual satisfaction of both conscious will and unconscious mind that results in an optimal state of well-being.

Schiller suggested that “creative/wise play” allowed for the appreciation and development of Art/Beauty. This appreciation of the Aesthetic allows both introvert and extrovert to satisfy their conscious and unconscious needs. It is interesting to consider what forms of Art miight satisfy these two different types. It has been suggested that two branches of Art exist: the Empathic and the Abstract. Empathic art creates identifiable objects; representations of reality to which we feel an emotional response. An example would be the work of an Old Master. Abstract art requires an intellectual leap of reasoning to imbue with it with meaning and emotional content. Examples would include modern works of installation art.

Empathic art derives its power from its representative function; the real world idea it depicts and gives larger-than-life meaning to. It is not a stretch to suggest that it would appeal more to an introvert, who, in their desire to externalise themselves onto the outside world, consciously recognises the depicted idea, and fills it with emotional meaning in their subconscious inner world. Abstract art may appeal more to the extrovert, who notes his own overt emotional response to an otherwise meaningless abstraction and is then forced to internally derive an intellectual meaning. Thus, each type of art encourages each type of man to draw on both his conscious and subconscious mind into order to fully appreciate it, albeit by mirror-image methods.

Of course few of us are extremes of type, so few of us consume Art so rigidly. And even in extreme cases, practice and familiarity can lead to appreciation of the other form of Art than would otherwise be predicted. But the underlying theme being suggested is that when indulging in creative play, the form of play chosen by each type is such that it satisfies both conscious and unconscious yearnings.

The appreciation of the aesthetic thus enriches our entire psyche and so increases our sense of fulfilment and happiness. It is, as one writer put it, “objectified self-enjoyment”.

It does not require a great artist to appreciate the aesthetic; merely a mind willing to appreciate possibilities other than the crudely concrete. On the other hand, the creation of art offers a more interactive, possibly synergistic, medium for achieving happiness compared to the mere appreciation of pre-existing work. Naturally, not all of us are meant to be the next Turner Prize winner, but it is not the end-point of Art that is important, nor even the nature of it, but rather the process by which it is created, that is likely to drive the enrichment of our whole self. Whether the Art produced is bad or good is largely irrelevant under this theory.

What is more, Art can be defined exceptionally broadly. It is not just painting or sculpture, nor just literature or music. It is any activity where the aim is to blend conscious and unconscious, and rationality with sensuality. That opens it up to nearly everyone, although not all will feel confident enough to try.

For myself, as a strongly expressed introvert with no great skill with a brush or pen, one example of how I find some small creative release is the simple act of dressing every day. What are clothes but a means by which we design a collage for the day, or a theme to whistle as we go out about our life? We choose colour, pattern, form and shape and blend them together, adding in the vital ingredients of intellectual design and emotional response, and crucially, we do this to our very bodies, and then wear the product in full view of the outside world. What more vital way of creating Art could there be?

Perhaps I over-reach, and in truth, my tongue felt firmly pressed against my cheek while typing the more purple patches of prose in the above paragraph. But I do believe this: finding, appreciating and creating Art in its broadest sense – living the aesthetic life – elevates an otherwise mundane and tramelled existence into something that can satisfy both the conscious and the unconscious mind, and so pave the way to self-actualisation and individuation.

In short? Happiness beckons for the snappy dresser!

The Higher Path

Image via Wikipedia

Psychoanalysis is a technique to cure excessively suffering individuals of the unconsciously misdirected desires and hostilities that weave around them their private webs of unreal terrors and ambivalent attractions. The patient released from these finds himself able to participate with comparative satisfaction in the more realistic fears, hostilities, erotic and religious practices, business enterprises, wars, pastimes and household tasks offered to him by his particular culture.

But for the one who has deliberately undertaken the difficult and dangerous journey beyond the village compound, these interests too are to be regarded as based on error.

With these words in The Hero with a Thousand Faces, Joseph Campbell describes the two types of journey most humans travel on through their lives, and the different ways they can react to therapy.

One group – the majority – seek out only a return to a shared delusion of normality: “the last projected fantasies of primitive physical will to live like other human beings; the will to live according to normal motives of desire and hostility, in a delusory ambient of phenomenal causes, ends and means”. This is nothing more than procrastination, but many people are not ready for something more, and at least it allows them to function within society.

Another group seek something higher. The subconscious conflict they feel between a yearning for life/flesh and a wish for death/peace is such that before they can return to the normal world, they must walk a different path. Many religions attempt to find a solution by theorising that the mortal life is fundamentally flawed (“sinful”), only to be redeemed after death; or that a true understanding of life can only come about through leaving behind physical limitations and accepting a transcendental unity (Buddhism). Clearly, these can be interpreted as two sides of the same coin.

Can this sense of tranquillity with existence be achieved during life itself? Again, I find myself returning to Epicurus for an answer:

• We must free ourselves from the prison of everyday affairs and politics
• The tranquil man is not troublesome to himself or to another
• There is also a limit to frugality. The man unable to consider this suffers a similar end as the man who indulges in excess
• The greatest fruit of self-sufficiency is freedom

All are taken from the Vatican Sayings, but I have taken the liberty of re-ordering them to make this point: the more the noble soul involves himself in the affairs of those trapped in unhappy states, the unhappier he will become. That does not mean he looks down on others, but simply recognises he operates differently. By limiting his exposure to the necessary minimum for his needs, he will be as free as possible.

And from freedom, comes tranquillity, or true happiness.

Mistress Fate vs Lady Luck

There is an eternal battle fought out across the entire gamut of human experience from quantum physics and abstruse philosophy right through to our daily lives.

The two players in this game compete under many guises: Destiny and Chance, Causality and Spontaneity, Order and Chaos, Linearity and Turbulence, Mistress Fate and Lady Luck. But the rules of the game are always the same: are we governed by a pre-destined pattern or are our lives merely a cumulation of dice rolls.

While most of us will hold an intellectual opinion on this, even if we haven’t thought about it much before, it’s interesting to observe just how quickly our preconceptions collapse in the face of adversity. I’ve seen atheists turn to fervent prayer in times of psychological crisis, and the zealously pious lose their faith. Pain – mental or physical – challenges our assumptions about the world, including the role of chance.

Most of us normally operate under a fundamental attribution error in our worldview: we tend to view others’ misfortune as deserved and our own as bad luck. Or conversely, we assume our success is down to hard work and that of others as the equivalent of a  fortunate lottery win. This has a corrosive effect on both our ability to read situations accurately and on our ability to understand ourselves. In short, it diminishes our insight. And poor insight causes us to make poor decisions, limiting our scope for happiness.

The Greek philosopher Epicurus has an elegant solution to the problem:

Some things happen by necessity, others as the result of chance. Other things are subject to our control.

… Necessity is not accountable to anyone [and] chance is unstable, but what lies in our control is subject to no master. It naturally follows then that blame or praise attend our decisions.

Understanding that chance is neither a god… nor an unstable cause of all things, the wise man does not think that either good or evil is furnished by chance to humankind for the purpose of living a happy life, but that the opportunity for great good or evil are bestowed by it. He thinks that it is preferable to remain prudent and suffer ill fortune, than it is to enjoy good luck while acting foolishly.

It is better in human actions that the sound decision fail than that the rash decision turn out well due to luck.

- Epicurus, on Prudence, from the Letter to Menoeceus.

Epicurus’ solution to the never-ending war between Mistress Fate and Lady Luck is thus deliciously simple: Ignore it.

If we cannot alter destiny and we cannot affect chance, then there isn’t any point worrying about which is true. All we can do is take decisions with as much information and insight as we can muster, to be prudent in our choices, and to accept the consequences with equanimity as they were the best decisions we could make at the time.

Think, but don’t stress.

Procrastinating Life, Hastening Death

We are born once and cannot be born twice, but we must be no more for all time. Not being master of tomorrow, you nonetheless delay your happiness. Life is consumed by procrastination, and each of us dies without providing leisure for himself.

- Epicurus, the 14th Vatican Saying

The topic of death has been playing on my mind recently. I have blogged about death previously, but my most recent post, combined with the blog entry of a friend, has motivated me to revisit the topic. The more I consider matters, the more I feel that Epicurus is correct.

The image of Death as the Grim Reaper is responsible for much of the structure of our society. Together with Birth, it provides a narrative structure of life, with a beginning and an end. There naturally follows a desire to be able to tell a good tale – to give the ending some drama and meaning – much like the successful denouement of a play.

This encourages us to measure our achievements against those of others, to consider our status in the eyes of the world and in posterity. Will our descendants speak fondly of us, will others still read our wisdom after we are gone, will some part of us thus live forever? All of the structures of society stem from these core concerns.

The problem with this way of thinking is that it forces us to view Life as an unfinished work-in-progress, not to be considered complete until we die. This is a dangerous way to interpret our existence as it encourages us to procrastinate happiness in favour of working on our image. What is the true value of respectful descendants, or the admiration of a future world, or a glowing place in the history books, when we are dead?

I would argue, there is none. It can offer us no joy after we are gone.

Thinking and planning ahead is always going to be part of ensuring joy over our entire lifespan, but essential planning should not be allowed to mutate into indefinite procrastination of pleasure. The true value of Life is not in the tale that will be told of us after we are dead, but in the joy of the living.

Work Ethic – damaging to your health

There’s something seriously unhealthy in the world today, and it’s called the work-ethic.

It can be simply defined as a belief in the moral value of working hard; that hard work per se leads to spiritual improvement and emotional happiness. It is a belief rooted in the Protestant/Calvinist theory that hard work is a sign of personal salvation and so the only way to prove (if only to oneself) that you are worthy of redemption from mankind’s original sin is to work hard.

There is a disturbing showiness about this; a histrionic martyrdom to drive oneself to ever greater physical and mental stress to demonstrate that you are a worthy human being. This is not a healthy way to exist; it precludes the possibility of developing a calm inner world, because of its emphasis on making ever greater personal sacrifices in the temporal world. Working so hard that you lack the time to think about yourself is not the same as being happy in yourself.

The theory behind the work ethic was gladly co-opted by modern industrial cultures as it provides a ready-made system to keep a workforce happy and contented. Work hard, and you’ll be rewarded… if not with salvation and an afterlife, at least with a promotion, a corner office and a healthy pension pot. This work ethic is a system of control that binds and blinds people to the life they are leading.

What is the alternative? I would argue it is to value personal development and internal esoteric knowledge rather than work and exoteric stress. Working hard has no value in and of itself. But hard work done in the service of understanding and the development of personal insight and emotional maturity has massive utility. Insight is the first step towards deciding what you value the most, and so taking the first steps down the road to individuation and an inner sense of tranquillity.

It is impossible to live a pleasant life without living wisely and well and justly. And it is impossible to live wisely and well and justly without living a pleasant life.

- Epicurus

Why I hate menus

I love eating out and I love good food and good wine. What I dislike are the vast majority of restaurant menus. They are a derogation of responsibility on the part of the restaurant. Why? Because typically they substitute choice for quality. It is a false choice because no matter what option you pick, you get served something unpalatable.

What I want when I go to a restaurant is well-prepared tasty food and a reasonably paired glass or two of wine. I want knowledgeable, courteous staff and quiet, convivial surroundings. What I do not want is a menu that runs to multiple pages, with half a dozen specials and a variety of different cuisines. This is not good food, this is the sit-down equivalent of a vending machine.

How can any kitchen possibly expect to maintain quality if they expect staff to cook that kind of menu? The answer is that the food will be heavily pre-prepared, involve little skill in cooking and will be totally lacking in any sense of pride on the part of those cooking the food. This is food by numbers and it adds up to a pretty sickening sum total.

Ideally, I don’t even want to see a menu. I want to be able to trust a restaurant’s staff enough to just be able to walk in, sit down and know I will be served a good quality tasty meal. I will be able to chat to my dining companions without having to bother dealing with the nonsense of trawling a book of random options. If there absolutely must be choice, to cater for those with unusual dietary requirements, let there be 3 choices for each of starter, main and dessert. That’s it, nothing more. Change the choices frequently to account for seasonal produce but only have 3 choices for each at any given time.

In short, don’t make me waste my energy choosing between non-options.

And for those of you thinking this post was actually just about restaurants, I recommend you go back to browsing the menu.

Death

“One can survive everything nowadays, except death, and live down anything, except a good reputation.”

- Oscar Wilde

Death remains our fiercest taboo.

Uniquely on this planet, humans are able to anticipate their own death. A friend recently asked if we think enough about it, so I felt obliged to offer my own thoughts.

Death lurks in the darkest recesses of our collective psyche. The major world religions have all devised strategies for side-stepping death. According to the Jewish Talmud, the soul maintains a relationship with the body for a year after death. The righteous then gain entrance to Paradise (Gan Eden) and the wicked are cast into Geihinnom (transliterated to Greek as Gehenna). At the coming of Messiah, Orthodox Jews believe the soul will return to the dust and the body resurrected.

Christianity incorporated this belief in a life after death, refining notions of Heaven and Hell and the concept of a Judgement Day where the worth of souls is weighed and measured to determine whether one is doomed to burn in Hell or live forever at God’s side. Islam also claims a reward of life after death if one lives according to that religion’s values during life. Hinduism and Buddhism don’t go that far. Instead they recycle mortal life until Moksha or Nirvana is reached, at which time unity with the universe itself (another form of life everlasting) is achieved.

The totalitarian political ideologies of the 20th century – communism and fascism – attempted to override our fear of death by creating greater fear of the State. Both failed to frighten us enough, and so failed as ideologies themselves. The ideology that survived the 20th century – capitalism – instead uses Money, as the key secondary reinforcer, to substitute for religious salvation. By chasing money, we forget to chase life’s meaning, and instead can live in a drug-addled haze of false hope.

If religion and politics have both failed to solve the problem of death, perhaps we should turn to philosophy. The Ancients focused on what made for a just or a happy life, in the belief that this would assuage the eventual pain of death. Epicurus bravely tried to define death out of existence as it being merely “the deprivation of sensation” and so not to be feared. More recent thinkers have welcomed death as freeing us from the burden of life (Schopenhauer) or that death is as meaninglessness and non-existent as life (nihilism and its postmodern variants).

Psychology also attempts to help us accept death. Erik Erikson suggested that human existence has eight stages, the last of which is characterised by a conflict between feelings of integrity at a life well-lived and despair at its imminent end. Acceptance is brought about by the wisdom to acknowledge that on balance the positive was enough. It is a hopeful thought, that in the end we will be able to sigh, smile and breathe our last with contentment. I like the idea, but wonder if it is possible.

Humanity also still yearns for something more. Science Fiction is full of tales of DNA rejuvenation, human/computer interfaces and other fantastical devices for indefinitely prolonging life. Barely a month goes by without a feature in one of the glossy Sunday supplements of age-defying new medical therapies just over the horizon that will allow mankind to live forever. Craig Ventner recently hit the headlines when he created a synthetic cell, and one of the first questions journalists asked was whether it was a way to eternal life. The Grail Myth and its Elixir of Eternal Youth never quite disappears…

But for all these attempts to understand or evade Death, we can forget something more vital. We are a Death Cult. Our awareness of death has forced mankind to think, to adapt, to evolve, to strive to outwit the Reaper. It is the ultimate mother of invention. Our lives are seen through the prism of our mortality. Fear of death has built modern civilisation.