Article
Creed
Death & life
Easter
Film & TV
4 min read

Don’t die: the relentless pursuit of life

If there was a way beyond death, shouldn't we give up everything to find it?

Josh is a curate in London, and is completing a PhD in theology.

A man stands in his home wearing a black t-shirt that reads 'DON'T DIE'.
Ryan Johnson at home.
Netflix.

In the days before my daughter's birth, I was reading about the fear of death. Ernest Becker won a Pulitzer Prize in 1974 for his book The Denial of Death. In it, he argues that our lives are structured around the fear of death. In the posthumously published follow-up, Escape from Evil, Becker writes:

"Man wants to persevere as does any animal…but man is cursed with a burden no animal has to bear: he is conscious that his own end is inevitable."  

For Becker, human culture is really a series of attempts to avoid or transcend the reality of death. We follow charismatic leaders in the hope of becoming part of something greater. We have children in the hope that something of us will last beyond the span of one lifetime. We collude to marginalise pensioners and prisoners and any other reminders of our frailty, hiding them away so we can briefly pretend at immortality.  

Last week I thought of Becker when I watched Don’t Die: The Man Who Wants to Live Forever on Netflix. The documentary follows Bryan Johnson, who made his millions in tech and is now going to extremes to undo the impact of ageing on his body. An exacting routine of dieting, sleep, fitness and medication is augmented by riskier interventions, such as experimental gene therapies. 

As Johnson tells it, his past struggles with mental ill health and suicidal ideation led him to pursue a life less reliant on his mind. He seeks instead to listen to what his organs tell him they need via algorithms and diagnostics: fallible humanity corrected by data. 

Johnson is resolute that it is not fear of death that drives the enterprise but a desire to live, particularly to live as long as possible with his son. One of the documentary’s strangest and most touching scenes is an inter-generational plasma transfer. There is evidence that plasma from a younger donor can have a de-ageing effect on a recipients' organs. So, Bryan decides to give his dad some of his plasma and his son gives him some plasma. Each of the three men, we learn, have experienced isolation after leaving Mormonism. The transfer becomes a kind of founding of a family outside the faith they have each rejected and been rejected by. 

Johnson’s pursuit of longevity now plays an equivalent role in his life to that faith– not just as a source of belief and human purpose, but of human connection. The documentary ends with a montage of "Don't Die" communities around the world hiking and dancing and celebrating life together.  

In the months after my daughter's birth, I recognised something of what Becker names. Here is someone who will outlast me, something of me will transcend the limits of my life. And here is someone who reminds me of those limits. Here is this great gift and joy who will sit in the front row at my funeral: the embodiment of life’s goodness a witness to its end.  

Are we wrong to fear death? If there was a way beyond it, shouldn't we give up everything to find it?

There is more going on in Bryan Johnson and the wider de-ageing movement than Becker's analysis would perhaps allow. Fear of death is not the only story here. When is it ever, really? Fear only makes sense alongside—and in light of— goodness, life, gift. To fear loss, you must have something to lose.  

And yet, the story Becker tells about culture does seem to ring truer in the years since his death. As technology improves, death's denial becomes more convenient. As the natural world degrades, it becomes more compelling. And as wealthy men become wealthier still, their denial on behalf of us all becomes ever more creative.  

And who can blame us—any of us? Are we wrong to fear death? If there was a way beyond it, shouldn't we give up everything to find it? 

This Wednesday, Ash Wednesday, marks the beginning of Lent, the Christian season of reflection and self-denial. On Wednesday, I will receive an ash cross, and as I draw that same cross on forehead after forehead, I will repeat these words:  

"Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return,  
turn away from Sin and be faithful to Christ."  

I will hear the invitation, in my voice and not my own, to give up the futile theatrics of a deathless life. I will pray for the strength to live what I have spoken. I will say goodbye to those who I marked, each of us now a signpost to our shared mortality. And then I will go home to yoghurty hands, bathtime songs and giggles at the funny smudge on my face.

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Review
Art
Culture
Film & TV
War & peace
4 min read

Not for glory or galleries, capturing modern wars through art

Mary Kinmonth documents the battles women artists see.
In a bombed-out tiled room, two art works hang in the shape of a tiled jacket and shape
Second Hand 7, by Zhanna Kadyrova
Foxtrot Films.

 

When it comes to war, what do women see that men don’t? This is the question asked repeatedly throughout British filmmaker Margy Kinmonth’s new documentary War Paint: Women at War. The third part of a trilogy, the film focuses on the stories of female artists who have created art in their experience of war and conflict. From British women during the London Blitz to those responding to contemporary conflicts in Iran, Ukraine and Sudan, the film takes a thoughtful look into how war has been experienced by those who have been previously excluded from the story. 

Zhanna Kadyrova is a Ukranian artist working from a progressing front line. One sequence shows a fight against time as her team attempts to remove one of her public sculptures as the front line draws closer. Kadyrova operates in recent conflict zones– one of her series involves transforming tiled walls in bombed-out rubble into clothes that appear to hang from the remaining walls. In the wake of violent destruction, Kadyrova wants you to remember the lives left behind. 

Shirin Neshat is an Iranian photographer and artist working from New York. Her work brings together the weapon, the human body, the veil, and the text of the Qu’ran to ask questions of the impacts of the Iranian war on women.  Neshat makes you look right into the eyes of these women– she puts weapons of war into their hands and thus gives them agency that the Iranian government has taken away. 

Marcelle Hanselaar’s work shows the unspoken side of war- depicting the aftermath of violence and sexual assault that many women experience when conflict rips through their homes. 

Women at War brings the audience through one female artist after another, depicting a diversity of styles, voices, and perspectives that range from official war commissions to illegal graffiti. The artists shown don’t even all agree with filmmaker Margy Kinmonth’s premise - that women always see things differently from men. But what they bring together is a view of war far removed from ideas of national glory that often line the halls of national galleries. 

The filmmaker’s own art teacher, the painter Maggi Hambling, says this: 

“For men, victory and defeat marks the end of a war. For the woman, the war doesn’t end.” 

Knowing the consequences and aftermath of war– destroyed communities, post traumatic stress disorder, sexual violence, broken families, that war is more than valiance– isn’t a perspective held by women alone. 

According to a recent YouGov poll, “a third of 18-40 year olds would refuse to serve in the event of a world war – even if the UK were under imminent threat of invasion.” Among reasons listed are an unwillingness “to fight for the rich and powerful – who they see as profiteers or otherwise unfairly able to avoid the consequences of conflict themselves.”

As one respondent put it: "My life is more valuable than being wasted in a war caused by rich people’s greed."

Women have been speaking up for the last 50 years, and the young have heard them. War is not glory, but trauma. Young people see this when they look around. They don’t easily buy into nationalist rhetoric and have no pretenses about the glory of war. They know war is not a place to seek accolades upon accolades, but an evil reality that pays an inordinate toll on human society. 

Today, global tensions are high, and war seems more possible a reality for many in England than previously. Keir Starmer has said the government will increase military defence spending to 2.5 per cent of the national budget by 2027. But Brits aren’t lining up to buy their uniforms. 

If the UK government expects its young citizens to prepare for conflict, they need to be honest about what that involves. They need to be prepared to face a knowing crowd about the realities of war and show a willingness to fight for their lives during peacetime. It’s not that young people are politically disinterested or unwilling to take a stand when it matters. Students at universities rising up in pro-Palestine protests or climate activism reveal that they care greatly about the world they are living in. They want to take an active role in shaping it, and aren’t afraid to face consequences if they find a worthy fight. 

Political commentators used to think we have reached “the end of history” with liberal democracy the last man standing. But War Paint: Women at War shows us that even an end to war doesn’t bring the end of suffering. It complicates the narrative that war is a path to victory. Everyone pays the price of war, yet those in power rarely bear the burden. If leaders want young people to fight for their country, they must first prove they are fighting for them. Otherwise, no one will answer the call.

 

View stills from the film and find screening times.

Watch the trailer

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