The Difference Between Existing & Living
Many people age, but do not truly “live”. I am not the first to express such a sentiment. There are many like sentiments that have been expressed before, about the difference between being alive or merely existing. Philosophically, this could be traced back to Greek philosophical thought of what constitutes a “good life”, although I would argue that this concept more closely relates to Kierkegaard’s authentic life than the former.
I shall begin with a few notable Western historical examples. Napoleon Bonaparte was one of the most notable and accomplished Europeans, albeit died in exile and a state of melancholy. Could one argue that his unfortunate end invalidated or eclipsed his previous accomplishments? I don’t believe many would; it would be a rather tenuous argument. The Napoleonic Code has had significant international spread, influencing all of Europe to some degree and many other states besides. Then, how about a more controversial example.
Let’s also take the case of Adolf Hitler. He reached grand heights like Napoleon, although took his own life swiftly before facing a more publicly disgraceful demise. He did not ultimately succeed in his vision for the German volk. Nevertheless, he is spoken of in ways that few others throughout history could come close to reputation-wise; his name on its own, in many ways, exceeds any deeds that he was, or was not, responsible for. For instance, attributing traits or words to Hitler that may not necessarily be applicable or contextual.
Let us also take the cases of two of Hitler’s notable geopolitical rivals. Josef Stalin ended up on the prevailing side of the Second World War, and had disposed of many of his nemeses throughout his leadership. He died of a brain aneurysm, and according to some accounts, his guards feared and despised him enough to have left him in that state deliberately. As with Hitler, Stalin’s reputation also generates much controversy; his name is also a byword for certain actions or outcomes, albeit often in somewhat of a different context.
Franklin Delano Roosevelt is the last example I will use for WW2 contemporaries. Although it’s a stretch to say he is universally loved, he is also looked upon fondly by many Americans and others abroad. Despite suffering from crippling polio, that is also not something most would say is a defining characteristic of his presidency, although he went to great lengths to hide from the public. Even while critically ill, he put all of his remaining energy into his role in office. Although I don’t intend to get much into overt political discussion in this post, even as I’ve become more cynical about policies such as FDR as I’ve gotten older, I do respect his dedication (or selfishness?) to push through the end in such a dire state.
Here are two more contemporary American presidents. Jimmy Carter at age 100 looks like a shell of a human being. Ronald Reagan suffered from Alzheimer’s in his last decade or so. And yet, it makes more sense to look at their existence holistically rather than zooming in on solely their days of suffering and wasting away.
Does this necessarily mean one has “lived”, to be remembered in such a fashion that far exceeds their memory? Obviously, there is a degree of subjectivity, even within people within their own nations and cultures. And even in the examples I used, I am keeping it rather brief, and there’s lots of “but what about” specifics one can (often validly) bring up.
Of course, I am just using very notable historical examples. One can tone this down a bit and bring up various celebrities, for instance, or refer to people in their own life.
As a more personal example, my dear late grandfather, who passed away very recently — during the drafting process for this very post, and who inspired it to a large extent — lived to nearly 90 years old. He suffered a stroke and ended up in the hospital, and seemed to have recovered it from quite a bit rapidly, which was quite atypical for his age. However, he indicated that it was time for him to go, and it was something that he seemed to embrace. Not in a dejected or morbid fashion that many older people do who are sick of living, but genuinely excited for what could come next and eager to leave behind his current state because of that. Eventually, his ability to breathe slowly shut down, despite showing every indication of regaining his mobility from a stroke, and thus ended his life. Without getting too into the specifics, he indicated that he was having a sort of spiritual experience after his stroke, which was quite unlike him for someone who had claimed to be an atheist for as long as I had known him (although he had previously told me that everyone had their own God, which I think is more like being an agnostic). He was baptized as Orthodox Christian and went to church with family while very, he never professed his faith for as long as myself or my immediately relatives know him. And yet, he seemed to have a revelation and contentment of sorts in his final days. He had accomplished many other more social/material things in his existence, and played a key role in developing my historical and geographic interests from a personal standpoint. And more than that, he was my oldest and truest friend, unfailingly showing me compassion, care, and gentleness extending that to his relatives as well. Many others could say the same of their late relatives, who they would insist lived a full life.
If this post is somewhat rambling, incomplete, and disjointed, it is because I am still processing and organizing my thoughts around this to a large extent. Nonetheless, it’s often better to get your thoughts down rather than have them fade away into oblivion, as I’ve experienced many times throughout the writing process. There’s a sincerity in raw emotion that cold logic often overlooks, particularly when it comes to significant life events; the reasoning of heart and head are seldom actually diametrically opposed to each other. Regardless, he was cognizant of his fate and his surroundings until the very end, which is something that few could say at his age.
As someone who knew my grandfather, I would say he lived a full, authentic life, and that he did not waste away or merely end up just existing despite living to an old age. He had people around him who cared for him, loved him and supported him until the end. If someone’s presence in your life is missed, it’s hard to say that haven’t at least added some value to it. One’s faith (or perceived faith) also plays a role in if someone is perceived to “live” or just exist, whether during their life or after. This is a more controversial example, not only because one can disagree about religious matters, but also one’s own personal experience with belief.
Bringing up philosophers again, albeit in a more personal context, Kierkegaard, as well as no shortage of other philosophers, claimed to suffer deeply, despite his renowned philosophical contributions. Think of those who deeply ruined their lives - or their lives were ruined for them - and went on to repair them and do better. Think of those who had good lives but they were ruined by factors in or out of their control. Think of those who destroyed or saved the lives of others.
With all this in mind, I could — not inaccurately say — “living vs existing is subjective” and leave it at that. There are philosophical traditions that would see this as the logical answer. But that doesn’t encapsulate the full dilemma and it is an unsatisfying answer for me as well.
The key point is that there is YOUR life vs the life PERCEIVED by others. I’ll be honest, my knowledge here is lacking, as I’ve only taken a few philosophy courses besides my interest in the topic, and I haven’t self-studied philosophy as much as other subjects as I am interested in. Part of this is on me, but also I find philosophy much more engaging to be discussed as opposed to reading, even though I typically enjoy accumulating knowledge for reading.
To elaborate, one’s own life compared to the one perceived by others is an instance of having “multiple lives”, rather than being subjective. It’s not really a binary where it’s “this is me” vs “this is how others see me”, unless your social circle is so small that people see you in the exact same way. Just like how it is said that one lives on in the memory of others, it can never be identical to your own lived experience. Understandably, this can seem like I am debating the semantics of subjectivity. But no, what I am arguing how are you are perceived comes down to separate entity/ies entirely. Only you (and God) can truly answer if you feel that you lived a worth living. Some people are never in the position where they can ever make that judgment, due to a critical lack of self-reflection or lack of cognitive ability. However, the legacy you leave in that regard is different. Yes, one could arrive at similar conclusion if you lived or did not live by what they know about you, whether they knew you personally or not.
As I see it, you as a person ought to be aware of the reputational “life” after your physical life, at least one that you are cognizant of. Yes, your “other lives” are not something that is in your hands entirely, as you can only affect that so much. Especially over time, as memories fade and various things that were once said and done turn into an intergenerational game of telephone. At the same time, only living your life in the physical state and not caring about any legacy or image of yours is a sad way to live. Of course, being too absorbed in one’s self-image can impact how authentically you live life. This is why humans wish to pass on lessons to their descendants to a large degree.
Despite this, it is still fundamentally a difficult question to grapple with, not in the least because living authentically to someone could mean partaking in certain activities that are very immoral and/or harmful to themselves and others; there should be a particular standard to follow. But intuitively, I know that authenticity is needed to live a psychologically healthy “good” life at the very least. You can go against your conscience fool the world without authenticity, perhaps. But you are only living part of a life without in.